[center][h1][b]Ǫlni The Forgemaster[/b][/h1][/center]
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[hider=Shop: Outside View][img]https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/033/289/637/large/shengkai-tang-repair-shop-mainshot.jpg?1609085803[/img][/hider]

Ǫlni watched the suit of armor in an almost trance-like state. To the untrained eye, he was merely gazing at it, but in truth he was working. One needed to know the next step before they continued with a work of art, and whilst usually it was instinctive for a dwarf like he, this was a suit of armor he was attempting to refurbish for the current times. Mail had been replaced with nanotubes and the steel plate had been reforged with stronger material, increasing its hardness to 55 rockwell. Now he needed to find the attachments with it, and perhaps armor that reached the legs. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, until a bright light and a familiar face suddenly appeared before him. 

"Grimnir's oath!" He barked, hustling over to her. His face was ever grim, but ones who knew him and were used to his perpetually sullen features could spot the change of his demeanor. He did not have anything to aid Sayeeda here, and he owed the Valkyrie. Cursing, Ǫlni passed through his workshop to get his keys. He left the small section of the warehouse set aside for the armor, passing by his automatic repair section of the large room, where he kept various tools on the wall like extension bars and impact wrenches. He stepped over the rise that led up to a ruined, stripped car and stomped passed the chamber where he kept a more traditional forge, with tongs, hammers, chisels, and sandpaper, and all the rest. An iron symbol of Odin was above the forge room's door. He passed the bathroom and the diminutive kitchen was to the far right, across the spacious room. He reached the office at the front and grabbed his keys hanging by the door, stepping passed the counter and out the door, now outside and climbing up into his old pick up. 

He revved the engine, planting himself atop a slab of stone he kept as a booster on the front seat. He knew a doctor he could trust. A Harald Osberg, a first generation immigrant from norway, completing his residency in the United States. Just a few miles down the road to his place, he was going to [b]hit the streets[/b]. 

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[hider]Rolled a [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/25307]9[/url][/hider]