The Survivors

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Bradok Axeblade rose early on the morning of his first day as a member of Ironroot’s city council. If he’d known how short his tenure as a councilman would be, he wouldn’t have spent so much time dressing for the occasion.

As it was, Bradok bathed and trimmed his beard. A jeweler by profession, Bradok kept his beard short so it would not interfere with his work. Some thought it un-dwarflike, but Bradok paid them no mind. His work brought him wealth, and his wealth brought him position, and that suited Bradok just fine.

He donned his best white shirt and green pants held in place by suspenders. The fabric was something made by humans that felt like silk but wore better. Bradok could afford silk, of course, but he preferred a little bit of practicality even in the most ostentatious of displays.

With the skill and precision of someone used to working with small things, he expertly fastened his shirt studs and cufflinks. Each tiny metal device had been wrought in gold with a deeply green emerald for a cap. Bradok fancied they matched his eyes.

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