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When Orn's tale began, the dwarves sat quietly and listened. A few made appropriate noises at various parts of the story: encouraging grunts and smiles at their victories, grim grumbling at their defeats, hearty laughs at the funny parts, and so on. Svior himself was a little less emotive than his kin, but the look in his eye was sharp and astute. When the table fell quiet once more, a smile crossed his bearded lips.

"Orn my lad, you have spoken to us much of the skill of you and your allies in combat. But your cause, I would say, is better chosen than your fights. You've the hardiness and hammer-hand of a warrior, but you've the heart of heroes."

His gaze turned to Orn's warhammer, the family heirloom recovered from the Old Troll's cave.

"You are not the first in your line that I have battled alongside. Aye, in his final years as a warrior, and my earliest, I battled the foes of our people alongside your grandfather in the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. He also spoke of that hammer, Rukhs-barzûl, which was lost in the fall of Khazad-dûm. It was his hope that he would recover it after the Battle of Azanulbizar, but... alas, he perished on the field, his axe having hewn many orc-heads from their bodies. Your father took that axe with him, and I suppose it rests now in Erebor, where it ought. It gladdens my heart to see it restored to its rightful owner."

Svior nodded then, holding the hammer in his eyes for a few moments longer. In that moment, the streaks of grey in his beard seemed pronounced, the wrinkles on his face deepened, and he seemed more akin to the elders of their people than a great captain. The moment passed, and he clasped Orn upon the shoulder with a stony hand, meeting his eyes with renewed vigor. "You have honored his name with your deeds. I bid you to continue doing so, and may all foes of this decent land come to know it's name in fear!"

Lifting a pint, he held it up as a toast, before saying in Khuzdul, "May our fathers be remembered, and may our deeds be worthy of song!" To this, all the other dwarves clanked their mugs to his, cheering, "Hear, hear!"

OOC: Apologies for the delay, friend! We can continue this scene a bit longer if you'd like, but if not, know that you now have Svior as a Patron! You can call favors from him, or seek his advice, but he may do likewise to you in time.

As a quick reminder, recall that Orn also found a letter within a puzzle-box from Balin meant for Svior's sister, back in the Old Troll's cave. You may turn this over to Svior for the same reward, if you'd like.

@Papa Bear

When Orn's tale began, the dwarves sat quietly and listened. A few made appropriate noises at various parts of the story: encouraging grunts and smiles at their victories, grim grumbling at their defeats, hearty laughs at the funny parts, and so on. Svior himself was a little less emotive than his kin, but the look in his eye was sharp and astute. When the table fell quiet once more, a smile crossed his bearded lips.

"Orn my lad, you have spoken to us much of the skill of you and your allies in combat. But your cause, I would say, is better chosen than your fights. You've the hardiness and hammer-hand of a warrior, but you've the heart of heroes."

His gaze turned to Orn's warhammer, the family heirloom recovered from the Old Troll's cave.

"You are not the first in your line that I have battled alongside. Aye, in his final years as a warrior, and my earliest, I battled the foes of our people alongside your grandfather in the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. He also spoke of that hammer, Rukhs-barzûl, which was lost in the fall of Khazad-dûm. It was his hope that he would recover it after the Battle of Azanulbizar, but... alas, he perished on the field, his axe having hewn many orc-heads from their bodies. Your father took that axe with him, and I suppose it rests now in Erebor, where it ought. It gladdens my heart to see it restored to its rightful owner."

Svior nodded then, holding the hammer in his eyes for a few moments longer. In that moment, the streaks of grey in his beard seemed pronounced, the wrinkles on his face deepened, and he seemed more akin to the elders of their people than a great captain. The moment passed, and he clasped Orn upon the shoulder with a stony hand, meeting his eyes with renewed vigor. "You have honored his name with your deeds. I bid you to continue doing so, and may all foes of this decent land come to know it's name in fear!"

Lifting a pint, he held it up as a toast, before saying in Khuzdul, "May our fathers be remembered, and may our deeds be worthy of song!" To this, all the other dwarves clanked their mugs to his, cheering, "Hear, hear!"

OOC: Apologies for the delay, friend! We can continue this scene a bit longer if you'd like, but if not, know that you now have Svior as a Patron! You can call favors from him, or seek his advice, but he may do likewise to you in time.

As a quick reminder, recall that Orn also found a letter within a puzzle-box from Balin meant for Svior's sister. You may turn this over to Svior for the same reward, if you'd like.

@Papa Bear