As we approached I could hear the chime of the smith’s hammer like morning church bells.
The smells and sounds of the new day all came back in full swing just as it had when we first arrived. It was lively and exciting, each stand opening up shop for the day as customers began to line up for the first purchase of the morning. Farmers, who had been tending the fields in some of the smaller branch settlements, had made their way in to sell their produce to merchants, guards of varying sizes and races headed for the main gate, and even some larvae children were around scuffling along beside their parents. It was so warm compared to the fear I had felt when we traveled through the underbrush, and I began to feel nervous about today’s journey.
It seemed like Foghurdt, the large multi-limbed brother, and Fogdahn, the horrifying giant eyeball brother, would be most likely to see combat since they were headed directly for enemy forces. Still, those [Brush Tigers] had been dangerous. Fogwarth held his own to be sure, but if there were a few more I don’t know if we’d have been so lucky.
We approached the siblings, each of which was waiting for us before the smith’s forge, and they turned to acknowledge us.
“He has come,” Foghurdt practically grunted. “Rumors must be true.”
“I wasss not doubtful for even a moment,” the serpentine sister added, her tongue flickering as she peered at us. “It hasss been a long time coming.”
Fogdahn remained silent. Silent, and absolutely terrifying. His tattered black robes moved as whatever his underneath writhed, and he passed it his steaming mug of what I assumed was tea. It crunched, just as last night, and he didn’t bother retrieving the cup.
Fogwen ignored them and looked to me. “And our dearest brother has brought a snack for the long trip south. How wonderful.”
“Laugh it up, Princess,” I answered her. “This is one berry you can’t hope to squish. When I evolve we’ll see if you’re still talking big.”
I gave her a confident smirk, keeping our banter light but reminding her I’m off the menu.
She gave me a lopsided grin. “Do not be so presumptuous. Had your evolution path been that of a cobbler or pie then perhaps I would assist you in said evolution.” Fogwen punctuated her statement with a wink and shifted focus to Fogwarth. “Tell me, brother. Has the moment come?”
Fogwarth nodded. “It has. It truly has. Do you know if dear H’Acur has completed my requests?”
Fogetha smiled, revealing her snake fangs. “He hasss only jussst completed them mere momentsss before your arrival.”
Fogwarth looked out into the clouded sky, watching the gray and white mounds shift and swim across its expanse. Everyone was quiet for a moment, allowing the inch worm to take in whatever it was he was searching for. His expression was one of longing or regret, as if the sky itself had wronged him in some way. I was so close that I could hear a rattle in his breath and a slight tremor in his voice.
“Looks like rain, sir berry,” he said as he began to remove me. “Perhaps fate and destiny are but simple dance partners, swaying to the strum of a humble tune. Who am I to separate such a duo in a storm’s serenade?”
He reached out and handed me off like a discarded newborn. I expected Fogwen to grab the ropes of my makeshift harness, but instead it was Foghurdt. He hoisted me up and lifted me to his shoulder, holding me in place as if he were a warehouse worker moving packages.
“Please, see that sir berry is outfitted properly. I will be back in but a moment,” Fogwarth said, giving me a halfhearted smile and nodding his affirmation.
“Hey, Foggy,” I said just as he began to turn around. “Is everything okay? Will you be okay? What is happening?”
He nodded once more but did not answer, then moved across the street towards a large stone church-like building. It had no windows and all of the stones were weathered and faded with the endless passing of time. The steps creaked, sounding just like Aspenoc’s voice, and Fogwarth disappeared behind the massive doors.
“Well, Barry,” Fogwen said, feigning a yawn. “My sister and I have to begin our quests, I am afraid. The eastern and western border walls are a great distance away, much further than the northern path our brothers make for. They will see that the smith gifts you with all that Fogwarth had requested.”
She walked over, standing before me and placing a hand on me again just as she had done in the spire. “I wish you luck on your quest, and luck on your evolution. I should hope that next we meet you will have obtained one of your paths.” She leaned in closer, practically knocked Foghurdt over as she did so. Under her breath she whispered, “take care of Heir 7th. His boldness is but a mask, and beneath it he may be even more afraid than yourself.”
I just stared at her as she pulled away, fixing her normal arrogant grin back on her face and giving me a last wave before heading off with her serpentine sister.
What had she meant by that? She wants me to look out for him? Me. The over-sized, armless, weaponless, talking blueberry, and him, the linebacker inch worm with blade skills that would make Gordan Ramsey go back to the culinary. The most I could offer Fogwarth was my company, which I doubt he needed seeing how extroverted he was at all times, or a nice meal. Hell, even if I evolved it wouldn’t make me any better of a fighter if shit hit the fan. I was really hoping to learn something about the class abilities before I had to head out again, that seemed like a better option for me if there were spells or something like that, but no luck there. I was destined to be both delicious and useless.
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“Right,” Foghurdt said, turning and heading into the forge. “Let us get this over with. We have an entire [Raid Unit] to assemble. Brother, let us move.”
The eyeball robe guy followed behind silently as we entered the forge. This time I braced for the heat and didn’t need to waste time sulking about how miserable it was in there. H’Acur spun, lowering his hammer and putting a fresh dagger into the cool water with a puff of steam. He greeted the two brothers and myself.
“And, where is Fogwarth?” The blacksmith beetle asked.
“He will be with us shortly,” Fogdahn answered, raising his hand out from his cloak to lay down a small mound of coins on the nearby counter. “For my armament.”
H’Acur accepted the coins, counting them and shuffling them into a small burlap sack, then he went around the corner and retrieved-
“A scythe?!” I shouted directly in Foghurdt’s ear, causing him to nearly drop me. “Really? You use a Goddamn scythe?!”
Fogdahn simply looked at me, replied with, “Yes,” then grabbed his weapon. He approached me and brought it close, the haft practically touched my face. I was nervous for a moment, then confused for several more moments before I realized what he was doing. I looked down at it and focused, glaring at it just as I had with the big tome back in the tower. Sure enough it popped up.
[Eldritch Scythe of the Canaan Mists. Type: Polearm. Rarity: Epic. Damage Type: 31% Slashing, 28% Arcane, 41% Dark. Requirements: Tier 2 Evolution, Level 23. Effects: Has a 12% chance to create the dense Canaan Mists with every sweeping strike. 3% chance to instakill a foe under level 10. Description: A polearm initially used for the reaping of fields for the harvesting of crops, the scythe has become the feared sign of death throughout history and is still utilized for both farming and death to this day. This scythe has been infused with the illusive powers of Eldritch magic deep in the forbidden Canaan Mistlands]
“O-Oh… Oh wow…” I said, reading and rereading the description. I had no idea what a lot of it meant, but this thing was impressive. Black haft with glowing sickly green runes pulsing over its surface and a huge crescent moon blade the color of the midnight sky. The blade had pearl inlays throughout it in swoops and swirls that reminded me of moving clouds. “This thing really is epic.”
Fogdahn laughed, and it sent shivers through my berry. “Thank you,” he answered, pulling the weapon back and offering a slight bow in my direction. “It is very special to me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Foghurdt interrupted, signaling to the smith. He hoisted me up by my harness and shook me around in the air. “Let us get this gift wrapped up nicely for my half-brother, yeah? I have things to do, enemies to kill.”
“Right, bring him over,” H’Acur answered with a huff of exhaustion, and Foghurdt only happily obliged.
There was a worktable made of a stone slab, and on top of it sat a weird metallic bowl thing. I don’t really know what it was. It shined in the same way the guard’s armor had, with the interior of the bowl a mixture of leather and some kind of soft hide, while the outside was loaded with evenly placed pyramid spikes that lifted it off of the table. Beside it lay an equal half, but both didn’t seem to totally line up unless there was to be some kind of small gaps when they were combined.
Hey… wait a minute…
“Go on,” H’Acur grunted, motioning to the bowls. “Throw em’ on in.”
“Woah, throw me in what? The bowls?” I said, looking between the bowls and the smith.
“Yup, get on in there,” he said again, and Foghurdt proceeded to undo the harness and drop me in like a wadded up tissue in a trash can. “Right then, let me get a look at’cha.” H’Acur grabbed me on either side and adjusted me, spinning me until my eyes and mouth lined up with the openings he had left on the bowls. Without another word he grabbed the other half, flipping it and placing it down on me where it locked into place with a perfect fit. My eyes had individual openings, along with another for my mouth. “Ah, yes. Like a glove. Perfect fit. Come here, get a look at em’,” he called to the brothers.
They gave their praise and critiques, studying me inside of my spiky metal egg and rolling me around. Several times I shouted because Foghurdt had picked me up and dropped me all the way to the ground as a test of the steel ball’s strength, but it had held together without an issue. I had barely even felt the fall at all, or when Foghurdt had decided to punch at my encasement. Feeling curious, I tried to study the weird ball contraption like I had with the scythe, but this time it was no use.
“Status,” Fogdahn said, watching me try to focus on my egg shell. “Open your interface and bring up your status. It is an equipped item now.”
I closed my eyes and focused, pulling up my status and avatar and looking for the tab he mentioned.
Before I found the tab I took a look at my avatar. Sure enough I was wearing the metal ball, spinning in place as I studied it. I also saw that my status had changed a bit, with my equipment level going from 0 to 83. So Fogdahn was right then, this shell did count as equipped. I found the tab just below my avatar’s image and prompted it to expand, showing me my current equipped items. As expected there was none save for one piece where the icon of a human torso was.
[Spherical Spiked Carapace. Type: Armor, Torso. Rarity: Uncommon. Defense: +17% slash resistance, + 34% pierce resistance, +11% blunt resistance. Effect: Attackers have 19% of their damage reflected to them. Description: Armor created by H’Acur, Forgemaster of the lost Beetleloid race. Armor encapsulates the wearer entirely, offering high defense at the cost of mobility]
“Hey… Hey! Wow!” I exclaimed, studying the piece carefully. “This is amazing! It’s armor! This is incredible, H’Acur. And the spikes actually inflict damage back? Does this mean what I think it means?”
H’Acur didn’t answer and instead just smiled and looked up toward the doorway. As he did so the others all followed, and Foghurdt did the honors of snatching me up so I could look as well.
“Not only that, sir berry,” the voice of my Companion boomed into the forge, somehow even more boisterous than before. “But with your armor combined with my new strength, we shall turn your hearty defense into a mighty offense.”
“Fo… Fogwarth?” I said, losing my voice as I mumbled his name.
The being in the doorway sounded like Fogwarth, talked like Fogwarth, and even smiled like Fogwarth. Yet, it was no inch worm. This was a large humanoid figure, soft green flesh that had rolls and folds that showed even from the large Mothric robe, and a broad, powerful frame. His head was plump with a double-double chin, two curling pearlescent ram’s horns on the forehead, and almond shaped human eyes that looked like two pearls with black pupils. He extended his two arms, walked in with his two legs, and the ground trembled from the sheer force of his steps.
[Your Companion, Fogwarth, has lost a title: The Unevolved Son]