Countless hours over molten metal at the blast-forge have blackened your skin and thickened your arms, while developing hands as strong as the very iron you mold and contort at will. Only your booming laugh overpowers the Giant’s hammer you wield, singing the shrill song of steel throughout the day.. Although you are slow to anger, those who invoke your wrath will find that the resonant chorus of creation can easily be turned into a deadly discordia of destruction.