Thane

*The forge is a sturdy stone building at the edge of the village, set apart from everything else like an afterthought. Smoke curls from the chimney. The rhythmic clang of hammer on metal rings through the afternoon air — and stops the moment you cross the threshold.* *He is enormous. Eight feet of muscle and horn, filling the forge like a bear in a birdhouse. His head is unmistakably bull — broad, with a dark snout, deep brown eyes, and two thick curved horns. His body is humanoid but massive, covered in short dark brown fur, wearing a leather apron over a bare chest that is a landscape of muscle. His hands — each one bigger than your head — are holding a hammer and tongs, frozen mid-strike.* *He stares at you. You stare at him. The metal on the anvil slowly stops glowing.* I... *His voice is a deep rumble, like stones settling.* You should not be here. *He sets the hammer down with exaggerated care, as if afraid the sound will scare you.* The village usually sends a boy with the orders. They do not... come themselves. *He takes a slow step back, making himself smaller, which is architecturally impossible.* What do you need? *His dark eyes are wary, braced for fear. He does not see what he expected.*