Henry Butcher, Human Great weapon Fighter
"I beg your forgiveness, Master Tregar but I believe my need is urgent. I do not know if you are aware of the call to arms that has been issued this night but I have decided...I have to..."
The big man's voice died away as he sought for a way to explain his need.
"'Tis a long story, sir, but at the end, it is that I wish to join the call-up. However, long ago I gave away my halberd when I left...my former employ. I have this poleaxe which I use at the abattoir but although the balance is very good it is not what I am accustomed to. I was hoping you could perhaps change the head..."
His look was one of pleading and Tregar, nay anybody with an ounce of sense, could tell there was a tale worthy of a bard lurking behind this simple request. It was something in the eyes.
Looking at the man, Tregar was torn, he had received a vision of an overrun monastary, but here was someone requiring his aid to also help in pushing back the horde. He was about to turn the man away, when he saw the look in Henry's eyes.
Knowing full well the pain that the past can bring and what people do to try and move past it, Tregar felt a moment of pity for the man. He thought back to his past, the events that drove him from his own clan and to Overlook. They still stung him, despite the decades since his arrival here, Tregar placed his hand on the humans shoulder, standing on his toes to get there, and simply nodded.
"If this isn't the work of Moradin I don't know what is" Tregar thought as he took the shaft from Henry, directing him to help with the bellows, while the dwarf began stoking the fires of the forge to the correct temperature. Tregar felt a calm replacing the earlier confusion and hurriedness he felt before the human's arrival. He entered into an almost trancelike state, calmly going through the same steps he went through every day for the last few decades.
He pulled on the toughened leather gloves, perfectly molded to Tregar's hands after months of breaking them in, followed by the leather apron, protecting himself from the burning embers and metal shavings that might come off. Tregar had initially thought about giving Henry one of his standard axe heads, he kept a few in stock for the watch, but knew that this man required something special if he was to overcome his internal conflict.
Going to his storage room, Tregar closed the door behind him and went to another secret compartment. He paused when he saw the glistening, silvery metal block sitting there, Tregar stopped for a moment and almost reconsidered. This particular treasure was one he had took with him from his birthplace and one of the few strings still connecting him to that place. Something spurred him on, whether it was himself or some divine inspiration, Tregar didn't know. He brought the block back into his work area and waved Henry outside. This would require his utmost concentration and he couldn't be distracted by another.
Grasping the tongs in his left hand, Tregar began working the metal into the shape he desired. Luckily, the
mithril block was easier to work with than his standard steel or iron.
"No wonder the elves like working with is the dwarf thought as he pulled it out of the flames and continued hammering it on the anvil.
After only a couple hours, Tregar looked with admiration at the nearly completed piece, it was still glowing white hot from the intense heat, but it was far and away the best piece he'd ever created. Tregar felt something guiding his hand that day and he knew that this weapon would be destined for great things. While it was still hot, Tregar grabbed the holy symbol of Moradin and pressed it against one of the sides of the head. The
mithrilhead took the imprint, but the action ruined the holy symbol, melting most of the inlay. Allowing it to cool Tregar retrieved the shaft and affixed the head to it. He tested the weight and balance of the implement and was amazed at how lightweight and fluid the weapon felt. Even he was able to wield it with relative ease, Tregar couldn't wait to see what it would be like in the hands of a trained fighter.
Returning from the forge, Tregar reverently held the poleaxe in front of him lengthwise, across both hands. He handed over the weapon with mixed feelings, he had the distinct feeling that this was his zenith, no other creation he ever made would match the level of this poleaxe.
"Please, try it out" Tregar said in hushed tones to Henry