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Chapter Two
'Discovery'

'The City of Akathgethor, 21st Slate, 36'
'The Den of Thieves'

Asmel Wheelscalded, Impborn was now 21 years of age. His mother had died when he was 15 when she was caught stealing from the warehouse overground in Akathgethor, along with some of the Den's best thieves. His father, Muthkat the fire imp died of grief 2 years later and Asmel took up the mantle of being a metalsmith, like Muthkat before him, and running down a long line of metalsmiths.

Asmel hammered into shape a superb steel maul, ordered  for the latest thief to be enlisted, Vabok Ancientangel, a very skilled hammerbold. Spare metal was scarce in the Den and only the elite or highly proficient, like Vabok were given new weapons. Most thieves either crafted wooden weaponry, made stone weaponry or stole metal from the surface. It was hard to dig, seeing as most of their pickaxes had bent since the days of Momuz, the leader of the expedition by day, the master of the Den by night. He was a very old gremlin now, but in his youth he had commanded the respect of both the lawful and unlawful.

Vabok walked in to the forge. He was a tall kobold, strangely muscled, especially for his kind. He had a deep, growling voice, as if he was a wolf given voice. He had bronzed skin, tanned by the endless summer days of stealing from the marketplaces of Winterdirge. It had been a nice summer up there, apparently.
'So, where is my hammer, Impborn?' informed Vabok with a hint of scorn. Asmel's status was not high, and it had not been made any better by being a half-breed. There were some, like Urist, another kobold thief, or Melbedil, the new doctor, who took more kindly to him, but for the most part, people treated him badly. Asmel picked the freshly made iron maul from the anvil. It was beautiful, with intricate engravings in the handle, and the carving of a flame on both sides of the head. Vabok snatched it from Asmel's hands and examined it. 'Your father did better work than this,' he spat. 'But I suppose I'll have to settle for you.' He left the forge and Asmel scowled. 'Arrogant bastard,' he muttered and got to work, melting down a batch of incendium stolen from the surface.

Asmel was a tall dwarf, with amber skin, tinged with red, a hint of his ancestry. He had differently colored eyes, one turqoise, his mother's eye color, one yellow, his father's. He had long fingers for a dwarf, and some of his facial features looked impish: his mischievious smile, the slightly pointed ears and the eyes, they looked like they hid something. He had a hoarse voice from working in the forge, and he was strong from years of hammering. He was suited to the heat: after all, his father had been a fire imp.

Vabok walked back in. 'What is this piece of crap?!', he boomed as he threw the now bent iron maul Asmel had just given him. Asmel scowled. 'I worked hours on that, you prick,' he muttered. 'Well, Impborn, I guess you'll have to work on it again!' Vabok laughed, and Asmel only remembered two things from the next two minutes that followed: a fire appearing in his hands, and Vabok screaming.

Asmel looked down. Vabok was writhing, a large, severe burn in his side. Asmel could instinctively tell that Vabok would not survive: the burn was so deep, you could see his ribs in places. Vabok tried to grab Asmel's foot but he was kicked savagely in the burn by Asmel, and Vabok went still,
'What have I done?', Asmel asked to himself. He was puzzled to how he had managed to burn Vabok badly enough to kill him, when he saw a small, but bright fireball in the palm of his hand.