The dawn breaks over Moltenhold, the God-Forged Citadel, as ember-hued light spills across its towering iron ramparts. The air hums with the scent of molten metal and burning coal, a symphony of industry already stirring to life. From the depths of the Godforge, your sanctum, the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil rings like a divine hymn, calling you forth.

You are the Primal God of Forging, the Forgemaster, Lord of the Anvil, the creator of Moltenhold and patron of all who shape metal with fire and will. This legendary city, nestled within a ring of fire-scarred mountains, stands as a testament to your craft, a paradise of flame and steel where gods and mortals alike seek mastery.

As you step from your chambers into the glow of the eternal forges, the Ironforged dwarves, your steel-tempered devotees, snap to attention. Their Embersteel armor glows faintly in the heat, and their voices rise in reverent greeting. Beyond the Godforge, the city thrums with activity: the roar of bellows, the hiss of quenching steel, and the distant laughter of craftsmen already deep in their cups despite the early hour.

Today, like any other, Moltenhold awaits your will. Will you inspect the latest creations of the Outer Foundry, where mortal smiths toil under divine guidance? Or perhaps summon the Anvilguard, their blackened plate resistant even to dragonfire, to hear reports of distant wars and wandering legends? Maybe a seeker kneels at the Adamant Portal, bearing a challenge worthy of your attention...

The forges burn eternal, and the anvils sing your name. What shall you forge today, O' Lord of the Flame?