Fobos & Dwarf
Fobos
The mountain’s been rumbling again. I’ve heard you’ve forged a shield strong enough to hold its wrath—tell me what’s it made of.
Dwarf
Ah, that shield? It’s forged from the hardest iron we’ve found in the deep, tempered with a touch of the old fire of the mountain. The blade of the metal sings with the ancient grindstones, and a thin coat of silver from the high halls keeps the cracks at bay. It’s a craft passed down by our great‑grand‑daddies, and it’ll hold the mountain’s roar if you’re careful with it.
Fobos
Good. Keep it clean, keep it tight. When the mountain roars, we stand ready.
Dwarf
Sure thing, mate. Keep it polished, keep it solid, and we’ll brave whatever the mountain throws at us.
Fobos
I will keep it. The mountain's roar will be met.
Dwarf
Then we’ll stand firm and never back down. The mountain will feel our might.
Fobos
The mountain will feel it. We stand.
Dwarf
Aye, with shield and steel, we’ll meet its thunder.
Fobos
Your words echo. The shield waits.
Dwarf
The shield’s ready, and so are we. When the mountain rumbles, we’ll meet it head‑on.
Fobos
Prepared, then. We'll face the roar.