Grummen stood at the entrance to the temple to Moradin, another person might have noticed the architecture or had thoughts about the grandeur or craftsmanship. It struck Grummen as a bigger and gaudier version of Forge’s….forge.
It had not taken him long to be tired of the city. It was loud, people looked at him funny, and he did not know any of these people. It had been a very long day.
Grummen tromped up the stairs to the waiting hall. Forge had asked him to deliver the glowing axe she found to someone here. Another person with a very long name that was too hard to say, but Forge assured him “Beacon” would be sufficient.
Grummen pulled out the small axe Forge wanted delivered as he walked through the doors, the firelight illuminating the glittering scars and the massive greataxe across his back.
There was suddenly a commotion in the hall, two stalwart clerics in armor raised their shields and hands on hammers yet undrawn. “State your business in the Crucible of Moradin!” one of them barked. More were coming; the clank of armor echoed alongside the ring of hammers.
“Grummen find Beacon, Grummen give axe,” he said with a resigned exasperation. This was a lot of trouble for an especially small axe. But it did glow, so he supposed it might make a nice toy, perhaps this Beacon was a child. That would make sense, this was an exceptional gift for a child. Grummen did not remember Forge saying Beacon was her child, but she was using a lot of words when sending him off. She did say “big city” a lot.
The two clerics looked at each other, uncertain but emboldened; their backup had arrived.
One of the newcomers drew their hammer, but held it at their side. “What does a Scarred Eye want in these hallowed halls.” It was not a question. A few of the others drew hammers slowly. The anvils within had gone silent.
“Grummen eyes fine,” he held up the small axe, eliciting a few hammers moved to a ready position, “Forge want Grummen give axe Beacon.” There was some confusion among the faithful. Grummen struggled to find words, “Beacon is here, small blue lizard, yes.” He tried to make it sound like a question, Mari said questions go up.
The dwarves looked at each other again, seeming to deliberate, but were interrupted by the sound of a crash as a small, blue, vaguely kobold-shaped tangle careened out from the back entrance. The kobold came to a stop at the back of the pack of clerics, looked up, and climbed onto the nearest dwarf's shoulders. Standing on top of him, the tips of their horns just reached Grummen's eye level.
"You called for Beacon?" said the kobold, puffing out their chest. "I am they! And you must be - um…" Whatever they'd been about to say died in their throat as they started at the massive orc and his glittering scars.
"Careful, little one," said Resound, the man Beacon was standing on, gently tugging them off his shoulders and setting them down behind him. "D'you see those symbols? It doesn't do well to bring such things into a place like this."
Beacon craned their neck to look between the clerics at the strange new arrival. He was certainly intimidating. And the patterns in his scars made them uneasy, as if the shapes and swirls of them were part of some disquieting machination. But - he wasn't.
“Yes Beacon, Axe give beacon, Forge ask.” Grummen eyed the crowd suspiciously. Forge had said these were people like her. These were not people like her. Forge could be funny that way.
"Perhaps it'd be best if you left here," said Sacrosanct, the cleric standing beside Resound. She had half-removed her dagger from its sheath, and was glaring at Grummen's shoulders as if she could drive out the God of Slaughter with her gaze alone.
"There must be some misunderstanding," Beacon was saying, tugging on Resound's sleeve, but Resound brushed them aside. Their nostrils flared with annoyance as Resound turned back to Grummen.
"She's right," he said. "There's nothing for you here. Leave, before this becomes a problem."
"Would you Listen!" came Beacon's voice, loud enough for the assembled clerics to turn in surprise. Beacon wriggled between Resound and Sacrosanct to stand in front of Grummen. "This is our cousin!" They said, gesturing to him. "I received word from our esteemed ancestor of his arrival. He has come from Quillpond to do acts of good in this city!" They glanced back at Grummen, trying not to look nervous when their eyes landed on his scars. "Perhaps it's an act of penance. For… previous affiliations."
Grummen looked down at the blue lizard. They seemed to fit the description. “You Beacon.”
"Yes, I am Beacon," said Beacon, their voice heavy with exasperation. "And you, I take it, are Grummen, grandson of Forge?"
“Grummen,” he grunted in answer. “Forge say give you axe.” He started to bend down to the tiny creature, and then thought better of it and crouched down to hand the axe to Beacon, a note from Forge tied around the handle.
Beacon took the axe, relieved that they hadn't been terrifyingly mistaken, and read the note.
My dear Beacon, it read,
I hope Grummen found you alright and that you're all in good health. I'm afraid I can't leave Quillpond to make a proper introduction at the moment, but I'm sure you'll get along fabulously. Please take this axe as a token of affection from your old ancestor.
I've heard news that there's a mess of trouble going on in the city. I wish I could be there myself, but I'm sure you and your cousin can handle it. He's bringing along some friends from the village. The two of you ought to visit the Celaeno House sometime soon. I'm sure you'll find lots of interesting things there.
Best wishes, as always. Write soon and let me know how your work on spinning filigree is going.
In the fire of my Forge is something like divinity. Work away, and work hard, and perhaps you will find the spark within the flame.
Underneath the note, she'd drawn a sketch of Grummen and Beacon bumping fists with each other.
Beacon handed off the note to Resound, who sighed heavily as he read it. "Where does she keep finding them?" he muttered to himself. He looked up at Grummen, seemed to steel himself. "Alright," he said. "Grummen. Always happy to meet a new family member. Beacon, why don't you show our cousin to the Celaeno House? I'm sure he could find a… more appropriate lodging there."
As Beacon led Grummen through the city, new axe glowing in a loop on their belt, they did their best not to stare at his scars. The patterns still made them a little queasy. "Sincerest apologies, cousin," they said. "Your arrival was expected, but we had supposed… If I may be frank, we hadn't expected you to sport quite so many symbols of your former allegiance."
“Frank, Bacon?” Grummen grunted quizzically.
"Er," said Beacon. "Yes. Very tasty."
The pair continued in awkward silence for a few minutes, Beacon leading Grummen down alleyways and between market stalls. "'Tis a fine weapon," they said eventually, pointing at the greataxe strapped across his back. "I've a bit of a specialty in axes. I know a good one when I see it."
“Good axe, Forge make, Grummen help.”
The pair rounded the corner to the Celaeno House and were met by an excitable strawberry blonde woman with a small dragon-like creature on her shoulder. “Did you find a new friend?” she called with excitement.
“Found Bacon.” Grummen called back.
“Well that’s good; you like bacon!” she laughed.
“My name is in fact….” Beacon started, “…nevermind.”