After another ten minutes, Uther excitedly walked out from the Jarl’s quarters and came over to the sweaty horse than had brought him the first place. The tired equine was not as excited to see Uther. Still, it submitted to his Beast Handling skill and carried the Fettore to his next destination. Uther actually even gained a level in the rarely used skill after he decided to let the horse walk instead of gallop for a few minutes after he noticed it breathing really heavily.
First, he headed north, closer to the central volcano located in his homeland. Despite the danger the active volcano represented, a good number of people had settled around it. Many of those people were smiths, crafters, even surprisingly enough, miners. All of them worked with the volcano and its resources. One of those people, Uther had come to see, Silvarin. Uther dismounted and headed into a stone structure partially built into the volcano. A large plume of smoke continuously exited out from a chimney above it.
After he opened the heavy stone door, he grimaced as he was struck by a wave of intense heat. Uther was at first uncomfortable, but it became rapidly much more bearable to the doomed’s skin. He walked forward fifty-strides until he found a simplistic small room with a central forge and three anvils. The central forge was being stoked by a young dwarf with just stubble on his face three dwarves hammered on molten metal. At each of the forges, three more dwarves also worked on projects, but they used a fine chisel as opposed to blunt hammers. while a thin but very muscular elf worked a piece of molten metal. Each dwarf beared down on their projects with absolute focus.
It was a good thing too, because circling around the smiths with his hands behind his back and his keen eyes focused was their master, Silvarin Starwhisper. The dwarves at the forge hammered in sync with a strong rigidity, while the ones at the anvils chiseled in a staccato melody. The actions along with the rhythmic bellowing of the flames all formed a strange and beautiful song.
“Switch!” Silvarin called out.
Silently, the dwarves hammering and those chiseling dropped their tools switched locations, now switching their tasks. They kept up the pattern without skipping a beat. Uther caught Silvarin’s eye. The Fettore raised his hand to wave hello, but when Silvarin raised a finger and gave the doomed a serious stare to not interrupt. Uther raised his hands in submission, and pressed his back against a nearby wall to wait. He continued to watch the skilled smiths focus on their crafts with complete determination. Uther wondered if they even noticed he was there. All the while Silvarin watched them with such a stern focus that almost came off as savage.
Silvarin Starwhisper was among the most unique of Skjoldheim’s citizens. First off, the blacksmith was an elf. While elves were certainly a rarity amongst most places in the world, what also made him distinct was his patronage. Silvarin was one of the few within Skjoldheim that possessed a pact or bond, but not to Gungnir. No, Silvarin had a pact with the legendary dwarf craftsman, Ivaldi. Ivaldi was the patriarch of his clan, and his sons Brokkr and Sindri were the ones actually responsible for Gungnir’s creation. It was that very reason that the elf was welcomed with open arms.
Skjoldheim at its heart, was a warrior nation. As such, they focused on and produced many competent fighters. So, those pact or bond-wielders who focus on crafting and economics that are approved by the jarl and swear an oath to do no harm to Skjoldheim with their actions, have been accepted amongst the people. Despite Silvarin’s patron being a long-passed dwarven hero and him being definitely not a dwarf, the dwarf blacksmiths that he worked with in his shop treated the elf with much respect. Even his competitors gave him begrudging respect for being recognized by one of their race’s heroes. He was meticulous, expensive, and a more than a good bit manic when it came to his craft, but Silvarin Starwhisper was the best smith in all of Skjoldheim.
Uther and the smith got along great. He came off as an asshole when working, but Uther had come to learn it was just when he was in his “crafting” session. He did not ever want to be disturbed when crafting unless it was a life and death situation and even then, the elf would still be grumpy. Still, Silvarin and Uther had developed a good relationship. One of the big factors was that Uther often brought him rare items and ingredients for his unique crafting ventures. Being a professional hunter allowed for the Fettore to often come into contact with rare things for a magical crafter to use. “Good!” The elf shouted. “Now present your crafts to me.”
The dwarves wordlessly complied. Each of them then displayed ballistae bolts about the size of Uther’s arm, all of which were still various degrees of red-orange from the forge. Silvarin quickly examined each of them with a meticulous eye. He grunted in approval, and all the dwarves visibly relaxed in relief.
Silvarin rushed over to a nearby stone door and went inside. In a matter of moments, he was back and gripping a glass jar with a swirling grey gas in it. He pulled out a small silver instrument that reminded Uther of a quill. “Ready?” He asked his apprentices. Before any could respond though, he opened the jar. A violent gust of wind surged out from the small container like a storm. Uther nearly summoned his spear as he was pressed hard against the stone wall he’d been leaning against. Amidst the rush from all the wind, he could swear that he heard someone trying to say something to him, but it was too subtle for him to discern.
The dwarves held their bolts out with all their might. Silvarin then took his strange, metallic quill and spun it. Within a matter of seconds, the wind was being controlled by the item. It spun in a tight twister above the item before the elf sent it forward once more. This time however, instead of a wild wind, it moved with purpose. It split off into 6 beams and struck each of the bolts. The dwarves’ arms shook visibly as they fought to hang on. After a few more moments though, the wind disappeared, seemingly absorbed by the semi-molten bolts.
“Don’t just stand there! Quench them!” The elf shouted.
All the dwarves gasped in surprise and instantly rushed off to the barrel of water.
In a complete one-eighty of emotions, the stern visage of the elf immediately lightened up to rival that of an excited child. “Why Mister Krillku, it is so good to see you again. What can I do for one of my favorite business partners?”
“You can tell me what you did there. That was something to see, Silvarin.”
“Ah! I enfused the bolts with whispers of the wind. While many are not so fortunate as to have a pact or bond like you and I, improving our soldier’s weaponry can make all the difference. Don’t you think?”
Uther nodded. “Indeed, that’s actually why I’ve come here.” He then summoned his spear. This one has served me well, but I think it’s time for an upgrade.” His spear was certainly high-quality but after reflection and cooling off his temper, Uther realized that his weapon stood no chance against the specialized spear that Durgoth wielded in a trade of blows. Now with some gold to spend and an important mission given by the jarl herself, Uther wanted to ensure he had the best chance to kill his foe.
“Certainly, Mister Krillku. Come to my office.” Silvarin then gestured to the nearby stone door that he had went into earlier to retrieve the jar. Uther was led in a cozy room with a stone desk carved out from the room itself, three chairs, and a couch. There was a table with a tea set in between the chairs and couch. Aside from that, the walls around the room were adorned with various pieces of crafting equipment, indescript chests or boxes, and glass jars containing a myriad of random things from organs floating in liquid to a subtly glowing purple rock. The lighting in the place was much more stable and uniform compared to the dark forge area with the pulsing blazes of heat and light Uther had just experienced.
Uther turned back to face Silvarin. The elf wore a sleeveless tunic that showed his body full of whipcord muscle. He had tanned skin despite his uncountable hours in the dark of his forge. Like most elves, Silvarin had long ears ending at a fine point, sharp features to his face, and pupilless eyes, his the color of hazel. His thin body stood a good two inches above Uther’s six feet in height with the elf’s long red hair ending at his shoulder. On Silvarin’s right forearm was a tattoo, the mark of his pact. It was a burning forge inside a mountain. Uther knew elves lived long lives, but the smith gave off the air that he was young amongst his people.
After Silvarin closed the door, all sound left from the forge room. They both then sat down, and he spoke again. “Now, Mister Krillku. I am delighted that you have finally decided to use my services again. What are you looking for specifically?”
The elf was right, Uther had hired him once before. The elf was clearly talented, but he was also very expensive. Often it was too much for Uther to feel comfortable with spending, but he had negotiated with the elf early on that Uther could use his services for a discounted price if he would bring rare materials from his kills to the elf before any of Silvarin’s competitors. Still, even with the discount, Uther often didn’t have the funds for the elf or risk losing it all when he did. This time however, with quest given to him by the jarl, and it being System-recognized, Uther genuinely felt this was the right moment to hire Silvarin once more. He fortunately had the coins to spare from his recent bounty.
The room was much cooler than the strong heat of the forge. Uther subconsciously pulled on his cloak a little. His skin had quickly grown accustomed to the heat, so the shift was a bit sudden for him. He didn’t favor the cold. “Um, a way to improve my weapon? When I saw the spear Durgoth held-“
“The Reforged?” Silvarin interrupted. “Fascinating projects, their weapons. The jarl tasked me herself to make their spears personally, you know? I about burnt out even my tempered body working on that tired fellow’s…”
“Anyway,” Uther said, bringing the conversation back on topic. “I would like something like that, but for more tailored for me. I want my weapon to grow and become stronger so that I may become a better warrior. Is that something you can do?”
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“Something I can do? Pfft! Of course I can, Mister Krillku! I can easily improve this weapon. I will just need a week’s time to gather the required materials and my gold.”
“Unfortunately, I’m short on time. Do you have any items here that you can use here instead?” Uther asked, gesturing to the various materials along the walls.
The elf bunched his lips then shook his head. “Unfortunately Mister Krillku, all of the items you see before you are already tied up with other orders I’ve accepted. While I would normally be delighted to use one for your spear, I cannot go back on my word. A deal’s a deal.”
While disappointed Uther understood, Silvarin was a smith in-demand. Normally, one had to wait months before he could even start on a project for them. Uther coming up to him like this last-second was the exception, and that was only because of their prior history. Uther looked down to his weapon on his lap. He analyzed it using his unique Fettore ability, Odin’s eye.
Name: Hunter’s Spear
Type: Item – Weapon
Quality: Fine
Rarity: Rare
Damage: 10-15
Effect: Works in tandem with those who possess the Hunter profession.
+5% Damage to target previously marked by the “Mark Prey” ability.
Description: Crafted with by fusing a silversteel spearhead with an ironoak wooden base, this weapon has felled many a foe. This spear was crafted by a skilled elven smith and is the primary weapon of a Fettore warrior. The warrior has used it to such great effect, that the spearhead has been permanently tinted red from its victims’ blood.
All in all, it had been a great weapon for the man. When Uther was freshly initiated into the Fettore, he used all of his coin to commission it. “Maybe next time I collect a rare item from my hunting, I’ll think to keep it for myself.” He thought. That’s when an idea struck him. “What can you do with this?” He asked as he pulled out a jar of his own. There, inside a mix of blood and bodily fluids was a heart that was pale white.
The elf’s eyes widened. “The heart of a bonded vampire, and harvested when the body was freshly killed? Where did you acquire this?”
“Off a job I took from an Imperial Bounty.”
“Truly? I thought you focused on beasts and mindless monsters.”
“He wasn’t mindless, but he was a monster.”
Silvarin nodded appreciatively, “Indeed. Well, your harvesting skills are quite impressive, Mister Krillku. You’ve come a long way since you acquired your Hunter Profession. There’s not a defect on this specimen.”
After a few seconds of the elf just staring at the heart, Uther asked. “Can you use it for my spear?”
“What? Oh, yes! I know just thing. Fortunately for you Mister Krillku, it should only take a couple hours.” The elf then hurried away to the forge to begn working on his custom last-second order. The Fettore was pressed for time, but fortunately could spare a couple hours. The ship heading for the job was departing at sunset. It was not long after mid-day. So to prepare himself further, he took off his cuirass and began tending to it while he waited in Silvarin’s office.
The black leather was made using the scaly hide of a shadowmire drake, a predator that only resides in the shadowmire bog towards the northern edge of the Skjoldheim. Only the Fettore may hunt them as they are too cunning and strong for most. As such, only the Fettore had any of the materials that came from the drake. The armor was not invincible, but it was rare and provided the stealth bonuses Uther had at a minimum.
Uther had collected the materials needed to repair his armor when he visited his order’s headquarters that was also the Jarl’s longhouse. As a Fettore, it was his duty to tend to his armor set provided to him. That meant he and every member of the Fettore all possessed the Leatherworking skill. While not as high as some of his combat skills, it was indeed a valuable asset to his repertoire. He finished his repairs just in time.
Right after he re-equipped his cuirass, the elf came barging into the office. His entire body was covered in a layer of heavy soot. He stomped over and stuck his arm out. “Quick, your hand.”
Though confused, Uther silently complied with Silvarin’s request and stuck out his left palm. “Ow!” He said, as the elf sliced his palm with something. Uther made to pull back, but the smith grabbed onto his wrist to prevent that.
He pressed the thing that had cut Uther flat against his now readily bleeding palm. “Squeeze around it tight.”
Uther sighed but did as bid. Wrapping his hand around the large thing, Uther quickly realized it was a spearhead. At least it seemed like one, just very large. After a silent half minute of Uther just squeezing the spearhead and his blood forming a thick pool on the stone floor. Silvarin had him open his hand. The elf carefully removed the spearhead from Uther’s grip and held it out away from his soot-covered body as if the thing was alive and would attack him. Without even acknowledging Uther, Silvarin left to the forge room once more.
The Fettore sighed then quickly took a spare cloth he had and wrapped his palm. “What is the elf doing?” He wondered to himself. Just as Uther was beginning to lose patience, Silvarin stepped back in. The soot had been wiped off his face which now showed a big grin. In his hands was Uther’s new and improved spear.
Where it once was a red-tinted silversteel spearhead on a brown staff of ironoak wood. The wide spearhead had tapered down to a finer blade and was now dark red, the color of blood. The lower part of the spearhead was now serrated as well. The brown ironoak wood now had a red line the same color as the blade on top spiral down its entire length in tight concentric circles. Where the red spirals were, the wood was slightly raised. At the very bottom of the spear, the butt of the weapon ended in a slightly hooked pommel shaped into that of a crow’s head in honor of the two Ravens that served Odin.
Uther’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t hide his amazement at the smith’s work. Magic was readily apparent throughout Eldryndr, but it was the best description for what the elf just did. It was magic. Silvarin walked over to the Fettore and reverently handed him his new weapon. When Uther gripped it, he could feel the spear somehow “sync” with him. His whole right arm tensed as if the blade was pulling at him. Then, it relaxed.
The Fettore tested the feel and weight of the item. It was perfectly balanced, and the raised red grooves along the wood provided no sensation of discomfort at all. He used Odin’s Eye on it.
Name: Spear of Vampiric Hunter
Type: Item – Weapon (Enchanted)
Quality: Excellent
Rarity: Exception
Damage: 15-20
Effect:
Works in tandem with those who possess the Hunter profession.
+10% Damage to target previously allected by the “Mark Prey” ability.
Possesses the Sanguinous Healing Enchantment - drain 5% of the damage inflicted upon the target, channeling it back to the wielder to replenish their health. If wielder is at full health, the spear will use the blood to repair any damage to itself. Target must have blood for enchantment to activate.
Description: Crafted and enchanted by a skilled elven smith. The spearhead is made from an alloy of silversteel and mithril. This weapon has been bathed in the boiled heart that belonged to to a vampire not only known for his bloodthirstiness, but that was bonded to the Vampire God himself. As such, the weapon has now integrated the vampire’s taste for blood. Still, it will serve its master faithfully, always ensuring that they both have their fill of the sanguine fluid.
“If I had been allowed more time, I know I could’ve gotten it to Masterwork quality. The enchantment would have been much better too.”
Uther coughed, “Shit!” He said below his breath in shock. In terms of quality, the System ranked it from Trash, Shoddy, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Good, Great, Fine, Superb, Excellent, and finally ending at Masterwork. “Better?! Silvarin, this is amazing. You’ve done more than enough. Thank you my friend.” And Uther meant it.
The very professional elf actually blushed a little at the Fettore’s words. He quickly composed himself though, and he put his hands behind his back and returned to his professional demeanor. “Your praise is greatly appreciated, Mister Krillku.”
“Well, I need to get going? What do I owe you?”
“Oh, um, five gold should cover it.”
There was an awkward pause at that. Now five gold was a lot. The average worker amidst the empire brought in five silvers a fortnight and the same could be said of Skjoldheim. So knowing that, five gold was pretty steep. Still, that’s not what made Uther pause.
Uther knew Silvarin to charge much higher prices than just five gold. In fact, he expected to pay more. He had made fifty gold from the vampire’s bounty, plus another three from the extra one the Diamond Dynasty had put out. So, he was prepared, but only five?
The elf seemed to register Uther’s confusion. “You provided the component needed for my enchantment, you have provided me with valuable items for my own business, and you are an important member of the Fettore, Mister Krillku. This is the least I can do.”
Uther shrugged. “Okay.” He then handed the gold to the elf and Silvarin proceeded to escort him out of the smithy. Uther didn’t know why, he could see himself out. He wasn’t going to question it though. It wasn’t his place of business. The elf then spoke up again after they made it outside. “Say, have you tried the seafood restaurant on the southern edge of the island, the one that has the special eel sauce?”
Uther hopped back onto his now much more rested mount and looked back to the elf. “My home is on the southern edge of the island. Every restaurant serves seafood.” He tapped his finger on his chin, “But I do think I know of the one you’re talking about. Why do you ask?”
The elf coughed a little bit, his face getting flush. Uther thought the guy needed to get fresh air more often if this was causing him trouble. “Well, I never have before, and I heard it is really good. Perhaps next time you’re home you can join me there? It would be my treat.”
“Sure,” Uther answered nonchalantly. He really did enjoy eel, and he was always ready for some free food. The doomed then recalled his spear into the pocket of storage space his Bonded Skill, Summon Spear, allowed him to place it in. “That sounds good, man.”
“Really?” This time the elf’s whole face was red.
“Yep, got to go now.” Uther replied. He turned his mount away and rode back south. He really hoped the guy would get out more. The air quality in his forge must be terrible for his lungs if he got so red just after a few seconds of talking. Maybe it was an elf thing? Uther shrugged. He didn’t know, and he honestly didn’t have time to care. He needed to get to the southern coast before sundown to achieve the Jarl’s quest.