Lorne

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Lorne is or was a human blacksmith in the city of Aldritch. He sports a bushy beard and mustache of orangeish-red hair that curls slightly and reaches down to his chest. His hair is the same color, worn down and falling to his shoulders unless he is in his smithy, in which case he ties it back into a low ponytail. He is quick to smile and laugh, with permanent laugh lines creasing the corners of his eyes to prove it. He knows how to act gruff, though it is usually only for show. He rarely gets truly angry but when he does, woe to the transgressors. Well-muscled and strong, Lorne ran one of the main blacksmith shops in Aldritch. A short time ago, however, an unknown number of Streets burned his shop, along with everything in it, down to the ground. It is unknown whether he survived the fire. His whereabouts if he did survive are unknown as well.

Lorne grew up in a small village on the edge of the south-eastern part of the Southern Dwarven Forge Mountains, almost to the border of the East Moonwold forest. His father was a blacksmith as well and Lorne took after him almost from the time he could walk, hanging around the forge and learning different tools and what they did. He had an insatiable thirst for knowledge of all things blacksmithing as he grew. He took his father’s knowledge of the craft and furthered it, venturing into many places to learn what he could, from the capitol city of Dreshnaul to the Aberdeen plains and beyond. He joined a number of adventuring gangs over the years but eventually tired of running around and settled down in Aldritch, the city where he met and fell in love with his beautiful wife, a woman by the name of Rosalyn. Lorne acquiesced to her wishes to stay in the city in which she grew up and they loved each other deeply and built a life for themselves in Aldritch. Rosalyn and Lorne tried for many years to have children, though they were never successful. In their tenth year of marriage, Rosalyn grew ill and died. Devastated, Lorne closed his shop and mourned for the better part of two years, until one of his old adventuring friends came through the city and helped to draw Lorne out again. Though he still grieves at her passing, it has been almost ten years now since her death and Lorne is mostly back to his normal self.

For a few years after coming back to himself, things were fairly normal. He stayed in Aldritch to keep the memories of Rosalyn close and because he had grown to love the city itself. His skill at blacksmithing as well as his general trustworthiness led to him becoming one of the most sought after blacksmiths in Aldritch, of which he was justly proud. One cold winter’s morning, he found a Street named Ears fast asleep in his smithy. He generally stayed out of Street business but the poor thing looked ragged and starved near to death. Her features when she awoke, too! He scarcely believed it but she was a full elf! He had never heard of an elven Street before – most of the elves that came through the town didn’t stay for too long and they didn’t bring children with them, either. Something about her looks too – the color of her hair and a certain tilt of her chin reminded him of someone he had once known or met, back in his adventuring days. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he felt like he should recognize those features. At any rate, he decided he couldn’t leave the girl to starve, especially one so young. He gave her food and let her stay in his shop to help test his locks and tidy up small things around the store. Over the winter and into spring they became very close. He could tell the look of a fellow adventurer, though, and he knew her restlessness would cause her to leave before too long. Plus the other Streets had come along a number of times to try to rough her up and bring her back to the bad side of town. He knew she would probably want to get away from that too – He knew he would, if it was him. He decided he would rather her be prepared than strike out on her own with nothing but the clothes he had given her. He gave her some money to help her on her journey as well as a silver crescent moon pendant to remember him by, one that would have gone to his daughter had he ever had one. A fitting gift it was too, as it had actually been given to him by an elf many, many years ago on one of his first adventures, in payment for saving the elf’s life. He wished her well as she left, though he knew that she would return, in time, and with wonderful stories to share.

Lorne

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