Omen: 10, 19

“I should have expected you,” Adam said, looking up towards the pair of Iyrmen.

“Have you been well?” Aizaban asked, shaking Adam’s forearm.

“I have heard that you have had some fun recently,” Lanban said, shaking Adam’s forearm after his sister.

“Something like that,” Adam said, chuckling. “Are you here to claim your rewards?”

“In Twilight Month?” Aizaban asked. “We are not here to kill you, Adam.”

“Really?” Adam replied, joking. “You know what I mean. Do you want to design your weapons?”

“That’s right,” Aizaban said, her eyes falling to the Dwarf, who was currently admiring Adam’s greatest work to date.

‘He made this?’ Redboulder thought, staring at the axe. The axe itself was of decent enough make, only the finest of Dwarven Smiths would dare to scoff at such a weapon. It was certainly of Iyrman make, but the enchantment was something he hadn’t seen before.

‘He’s only a young lad, but he can make something like this?’ Redboulder had asked Adam several times for the truth, wondering where he had found the blade, or who his master was, but Adam had stated several times that the axe was his work. ‘No. He must have had someone else make it.’

“Have you two been well?” Adam asked, taking a seat, with the pair following him to the table.

“Yes,” Aizaban replied. “We returned not long ago. White’s Grace and we had barely missed one another, by only a few days.”

“Damn,” Adam said. “That’s quite… unfortunate.” Adam tried to think about when he last used Omen, but thinking about it, he gathered that perhaps he had something to do with their unfortunate luck. ‘No, that’s too coincidental, isn’t it?’

“Ah figured it out,” Redboulder said. “Yah did not make it, lad, did yah?”

“Master Redboulder, please,” Elowen said, causing the Dwarf to bow his head in shame.

“Lady Elowen, yah don’t understand. It’s…”

“From what we know of Adam, is this truly the most unbelievable thing?” Elowen asked.

Redboulder froze for a moment to think. “Aye, yer right. Sorry, lad.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adam said. “If you really don’t believe me, you should ask the Iyrmen. They’ll confirm it.”

Redboulder nodded, going off to ask the Iyrmen about the axe, about who made it and who had enchanted it.

“Anyway,” Adam said. “What are you looking for?”

“A mace,” Aizaban replied.

“A maul,” Lanban replied.

“Yeah, but, you know,” Adam said. “What kind of enchantment?”

“Which enchantments are you offering?” Aizaban asked.

“A basic enchantment, right? A small bonus, plus something else?” Adam replied, unsure of what he should make. He wasn’t going to make a simple +1 weapon, that would be ridiculous. They had helped him so much.

“You are willing to enchant a basic bonus and more?” Aizaban asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then come and speak to our children,” she said. “They will know what they want.”

“Alright,” Adam said.

They arrived at the shared family house, where Aizaban and the others lived with three other families. The children were all sitting down on a blanket, reading their own books quietly. Some were young, so they would listen to their older siblings while their eyes scanned the pages of the same book.

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“Come, Raizaban, Polban,” Aizaban called, whereas Lanban called for Linban.

Linban was a young teen, whereas Raizaban and Polban were younger. Raizaban seemed almost ten, and Polban was around Turot’s age. Whereas Linban looked like his father, and Raizaban looked like her mother, Polban looked more like Paul. He also looked sour, half glaring at Adam.

“Hello,” Adam said. “Adam Fateson, Nephew of the Rot family.”

“Linban, son of Lanban,” the teen said. He was fairly tall, and was well built already.

“Raizaban, daughter of Aizaban,” she said, hands at her waist as she puffed up her chest.

“Polban,” the boy said. “Son of Aizaban.”

“I can see Paul in the pair of you,” Adam said, smiling at the pair. “Your father has helped me a lot, so don’t be a stranger, alright?”

The three looked to their respective parent, unsure of what to do, or as to why Adam was here.

“Adam has promised to create an enchanted weapon for our work,” Aizaban said. “The three of you will receive a magical weapon each. You may speak with him about the enchantment, we will go find the weapons he will enchant.”

“I’m not sure when I can enchant them, but I’ll try to enchant them soon,” Adam said.

“It is Twilight Month,” Polban said. “You must not enchant.”

“I won’t,” Adam replied, chuckling. “I hear I’ll die if I try.”

Polban nodded his head. “It is dangerous.”

“Even your son is looking after me, Paul,” Adam said, rubbing his forehead. “If you worry after me, Polban, your father will bully me.”

“Father will not bully you,” Polban said. “He is right to tell you off if you are bad.”

Adam laughed. “Yeah, something like that. Alright, why don’t you guys tell me what kind of enchantments you want and I’ll see if I can help you.”

“What kind of enchantments can you enchant?” Linban asked.

“I can enchant a lot,” Adam said. “I have too many to list. I assume you want damage.”

“I would like my maul to be fiery,” Linban said, simply.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“I want a fiery mace,” Raizaban said, copying her cousin.

“I want a fiery sword,” Polban said.

“A sword?” Adam asked. “Not a maul or a mace?”

“No,” Polban said, his eyes twinkling. “I like father’s sword the most.”

‘What a cute kid you have,’ Adam thought. “Okay. Let’s chat about the kind of fiery enchantment you want then.”

“He is quite in depth,” Lanban said, returning to find his children speaking with Adam, all the while the Half Elf was writing notes about what enchantments they wanted.

Though they all wanted fiery weapons, they were all going to be fiery in different ways. Linban wanted a weapon which could expend charges for a burst of fire. Raizaban wanted a mace which held a more permanent flame every time she used it.

Polban, the youngest of all three, wished to summon a Dragon made of fire from his sword.

“You cannot summon a Dragon from a blade,” Raizaban said. “Dragons come from eggs.”

“I will summon a Dragon from a blade,” Polban said. “I am an Iyrman!”

‘Damn, Paul,' Adam thought. ‘Your kid is cool as hell!’

“It cannot be done,” Raizaban said, patting her little brother’s head, as though trying to reassure his stupidity.

“I can’t promise a Dragon, but I will try my very best,” Adam said, scribbling furiously about the idea of a dragon appearing from a sword. ‘Should I make something like that for me too?’

“You will do it?” Polban asked.

“I will try my very best, young man,” Adam said. “Since you are Paul’s son, I will try my utmost best for you.”

“Yes,” Polban said. “I am father’s son.” His sour face lightened up to a smile for a moment.

Adam quickly left them, heading back to the shared family estate, placing his book away. He noted that Sonarot had brought the axe design, and he considered his Omen.

He made his way to the warehouse, and then to the forge to smith an axe, all the while thinking about how he could enchant a Dragon coming out of a sword.

Smithing Check (Strength)

D20 + 6 = 13 (7)

Omen: 10, 19 -> 10

19 + 6 = 25

He screamed in utter joy as lightning crashed down from the heavens. The hordes of beasts fell under the lightning, which continued to rain down against them.

“I knew I chose the right place!” Strom said, catching a feral Wyvern’s poisonous stinger with one hand, before punching the creature down towards the rest of the creatures which were being fried by his lightning.

Smithing Check (Constitution)

D20 + 5 = 24 (19)

He forged the axehead out of Iyrsteel, hoping that Sonarot would be able to assist in case there was an issue in the future with him using the steel. He wasn’t exhausted after the process, his arms only burning slightly. He admired the axehead, as it had come out near perfect. Even after checking it for minutes, he couldn’t spot the difference between the design of the blueprint and his axe head.

“Nice.”

He returned back to the estate, where he spotted Laygak. “Hey, Laygak,” Adam called, revealing the axehead to the young Iyrman. “I am planning on making a few axes throughout this month. Will you help me make some handles? I’ll pay you some gold for each handle.”

“How much?”

“How much do you want?” Adam asked.

“Two gold.”

Adam shook the Iyrman’s forearm. “Deal.”

“I will make it,” he said. “Which wood do you wish to use?”

“Something basic but decent,” Adam said. “I don’t know anything about wood, so I’ll trust that matter to you.”

“I will do my best,” Laygak said. “It may require a few days, and you may need to spend multiple gold for the wood.”

“Don’t worry about the money,” Adam said. “I’ll pay the gold required. Don’t pick an expensive wood, though, otherwise how can I afford to make your magical weapon?”

Laygak remained silent for a moment. “I will make the handles for free, Adam.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adam said, patting his shoulder. “Two gold a handle and I’ll pay for the wood. If you don’t make it good enough, I’ll expect you to remake it, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll copy the design for you so you know what I’m looking for.”

Laygak felt slightly guilty for charging Adam gold when he promised the young Iyrman a magical weapon. ‘I will make the best handles.’