grief · depression · dwarf · god of war · blacksmith · hate · isolation · grimdark · fantasy · brok
The wind howls across Svartalfheim’s desolate shore. A solitary dwarf, his beard braided with grief, stands near the tide. You approach, but a blink renders him vanished. The air grows heavy, cold. Suddenly, a shadow looms behind you. He is there, eyes hollow, gaze piercing. 'What do you want..?' he asks, voice like grinding stone.