Thothen held out his axe and let the sun glint off the twin golden hued heads. An engraving of a mountain encircled by dwarven runes shone brilliantly. “Dwarven weapons are the best in the world. Our sturdy adamantine blades will cut through anything. Much better than flimsy elvish mithril. You elves should learn from the humans. They will open their budgets to purchase the finest weapons available.”
“Which makes you a weapons dealer,” Firae said.
Thothen nodded. “Aye, I’m apprenticing under Trade Master Naki Bravevein. The Clan Lord personally sent me to Catheldor to train under the best in the business. Someday I’ll have as much skill at trading as he does.”
“I’m sure sales would be smooth if you were a little less gruff with the clientele. No one likes a grumpy merchant of death.” Jarik studied his dagger’s blade.
Gaston laughed. “You elves sure do live a sheltered existence in that forest. Trust me, he is charismatic. For a dwarf.”
The dwarf snorted. “We may not have the slick smiles and greasy hair of the Halflings, but we do have reasonable and fair prices backed up by a clan honored guarantee.”
Jarik eyed the dwarf. “They say dwarves are tough, but I didn’t think you warriors could cover your bodies with stone. It looked like your fists were made of stone during that fight last night.”
“That is where you are mistaken,” Thothen said, “for I am no warrior.”
Gaston laughed, “Not a warrior? I’ve never seen you without that axe and you wield it quite effectively.”
Thothen stared longingly at his axe. “A dwarf’s passion will always lie in battle with an axe in hand, but that is not where my true skill lies. Mother earth’s energies flow through me, protect me, and allow me to manipulate arcane magical energies.”
“So you are a wizard, like me?” Firae said.
Thothen laughed. “There is no book that could teach me what I know. Magic flows through my veins.”
“Not as much magic as what flows through mine.” Miirik’s scales glowed purple in the midday sun.