Foreman Grourge stomped through the noisy corridors of the Borthuum Company. Checklist in hand, he made stops into various workrooms along his circuit. The dwarves of the woodcarving room, littered with curls of chiseled lumber, worked with freshly cut mistwood. The glaes room was filled with bags of sorted colored glaes chips, harvested from the dusty and crunchy floor of the workshop. The assembly room had dwarves mounting table tops onto lathed columns that had been freshly stained and polished. The mosaic room had dwarves with magnifying lenses meticulously placing tiny colored glaes chips into the table's surfaces. Foreman Grourge checked everything off his work order from the owner of the Golden Helm with a satisfied grunt, noting that the delivery would be on time. He stomped into his office for a celebratory ale, slamming the door behind him and causing the tools hanging on the wall outside to rattle.
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