At first sight
Solgar is a Trollkin woman with a kind smile. She shares what she can, but might seem a little lonely with her husband Karstor Ironshield missing for several years, and son Grottar Ironshield left the city to discover his own path in life. Solgar works hard in the local smithy, many of the twigs and moss that cover other Trollkin regularly burnt off her rough skin. At the smit she is partnered with Kaldir (Priestsmith). Often hanging around the smith is Eirok Mirestep (hunter).
Description Smithy
As you approach the home of Priestsmith Kaldir, the first thing you notice is the thick column of smoke rising from the chimney that juts out near the eastern side of the house. This modest dwelling is surrounded by a lush expanse of grass, the verdant green framing the rugged stone and wood structure. A well-trodden road passes along the western side, leading to the heart of Prinberg.
Out back, the scene is alive with activity and purpose. Kaldir, the priestsmith, stands by the forge, his muscular frame glowing in the flickering light of the flames as he tends to the furnace with practiced skill. His Trollkin partner, Solgar, a robust figure with a hearty laugh, assists in stoking the fire, their movements synchronized from years of working together. The air is filled with the sharp tang of burning coal and the faint metallic scent of heated metal.
Nearby, a circle of stones marks a sacred area around the furnace. This is where sermons are held in honor of Midgond, the bronze snake god of Craft. The stones are smooth and worn from countless rituals, their surfaces etched with intricate runes that glint in the firelight. The area has a palpable aura of reverence and craftsmanship, a sacred space dedicated to creation and skill.
Amidst this industrious setting, a half-elf hunter sits to the side, carefully treating animal skins. His nimble fingers work deftly, the soft rustle of the hides mingling with the crackle of the forge. He is deeply engaged in a religious discussion with Kaldir and Solgar, their voices rising and falling in earnest tones. The conversation, punctuated by the occasional clang of metal and the roar of the fire, centers on the teachings of Midgond and the divine inspiration behind their craft. Other gods are only mentioned briefly.
The air is thick with the smells of forge and forest, of sweat and sanctity.
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