Sunbeam Island - Washed Ashore

Time: Early Morning
Weather: Overcast

Plot: Direct follow up to Edge of the Mist

Grimnyn inhaled sharply, his powerful lungs drawing in a dramatic amount of air as he reared back - his right arm pulling back as he suddenly burst forward at a sprint. The air howled it's protest as he yelled, throwing the makeshift 'javelin' in his grip with all his might. His stubby, powerfully muscled body nearly tumbled over as he threw so much of himself into the effort; but as he turned his helmeted head skyward Grimnyn knew he had done it. The perpetually flaming axe sailed through the air with surprising stability, the sheer force of the throw overcoming it's natural imbalance - a 'rope' made of strips of wet clothing was tied to the bottom of the axe handle with it's other end tied to the center log of the oblong raft which Grimnyn stood on.

"I can't believe it." A soft voice called out, huddled close to Grimnyn but not so close as to touch him. She was a small female elf, no taller then five feet; actually shorter then the massive five foot two dwarf, she was wearing thin wet clothing. She had sacrificed her many layers of clothing for the plan, and now wore only the bare minimum that her modesty would allow. Her closeness to the dwarf was not affection, in truth the strange 'dwarf' terrified her - but he radiated a body heat so intense it fought off any chill she still felt from the cold water soaking her body. 

Because while Grimnyn was a 'dwarf'; he was like no other dwarf the elf had ever seen or heard of.

Mostly naked save a loincloth affixed by a massive gold buckle and full, masked helmet Grimnyn was very large for a Dwarf. His skin was a dark rough brown and hammered directly into his flesh were molten metal runes which somehow held their shape despite their clearly liquid texture. Her short few weeks with the dwarf trapped on the small, hastily built raft had taught her much about the monster that claimed dwarven heritage.

He had no memory and no name and he refused to remove his helmet. These alone were odd, but it was his infernal nature which truly terrified her. Grimnyn was hot to the touch, so hot extended contact would burn skin; but it was not just his skin. Food he ate cooked in his mouth, often burning - he reeked of burnt metal, and water turned to steam on contact with him. Even now his feet hissed against the wet logs under his bare feet, risking to always set them ablaze at a moments notice. He was unnatural, a demon given dwarven shape; she was certain of it. 

"Lassy, I told ye it was easy." Grimnyn suddenly boasted, flexing his right arm as if to brag about his strength. His massive, three foot mohawk poking out from the crest of his helmet was still standing tall. It was another oddity, no matter how wet it got it remained upright and perfect. His jovial response to her incredulity only deepened her shame, she feared the dwarf and yet he had done nothing but save her life from the moment she dragged him onto her raft when she found him lost in The Mist. 

He was friendly, shockingly soft spoken and noble. He lacked any of the grumpy, prickly nature she was so used to from dwarves of her home; he was almost regal in his bearing. She had little doubt he was once someone very important, though he insisted he had no memory. 

Clunk

The sound of a heavy object hitting far off filled the awkward silence, and soon Grimnyn was pulling the raft toward the island by the makeshift rope. His strength was incredible, they were nearly half a mile from shore and yet had thrown a massive to handed axe like a javelin; striking the ground of the island and impeding itself in dirt like it was nothing. She wanted to get up, to help him pull - but she knew it was pointless; even as his hands pissed against the wet cloth, his motion careful not to linger on the cloth for too long lest it combust. 

In a few minutes they were ashore, the first time either of them had felt hard ground in weeks. The elf couldn't hold her emotion, laying flat on the beach and fighting back tears.

Grimnyn merely strolled over to his axe, the entire head buried in the dirt. The perpetual flame was turning the sand to a hard mush; with a soft tug he uprooted the weapon and untied the cloth from it. He slide the haft through his belt line, the head resting against his hip; the lapping flames coiling around his body and yet causing him no harm. "Well lass, I appreciate the ride!" The jovial dwarf said, lumbering over to her prone position. "I wish ye luck." He added, his helmeted head looking down at her - the crude dwarven shaped face mask obscuring his true face.

She wanted to get up, to ask him to stay and help her - but the fear of the unknown island simply did not match the fear she felt for the dwarf. Where he stood on the sand it was literally crystalizing from the heat, the grains becoming a crude version of glass. That was terrifying, and she had little doubt if there were others like them on this island they would see Grimnyn as nothing more then a monster to be avoided. She couldn't risk being associated with that - and so as Grimnyn turned and wandered off, toward the tall mountains to the north she made no attempt to stop him.

Auriaylia Sunshade would never again see the strange dwarf. "Wander well, you grimnyn." She said to herself, grimnyn being dwarvish for 'fated wanderer'. In time that would be the name the infernal Dwarf would be known as. She waved as he left, the melancholy of his departure and her shameful thoughts hidden away.