The Scourge’s underground laboratory is overwhelmed by the scent of vanilla. Jeremy didn’t imagine dandelion sap would produce such sweet odors — and he wonders if being in a closed room might not be the safest idea.
He was getting a bit lightheaded and he could feel sharp pains in the back of his skull. He opens a door to get some fresh air, before securing the smaller trinkets and pieces of paper within the room.
Satisfied with his work, he opens a coin-sized portal to Aventor, one of the highest points in all the hells. It was home to infernal harpies who pluck the souls of mortals, sending them crashing to their doom over and over again.
It was one of Jeremy’s favorite hells.
The minuscule portal opens, sucking the air from the room. Jeremy holds the door open, keeping it secure to avoid any accidents. The negative flow of air also produced an artificial breeze as air from outside the room starts to flow towards it.
Quite refreshing.
The vats of sap were hardening, but his previous experiments revealed they could be remolded by boiling them in oil.
The sap was integral to his plans — but it was not the heart of it. Going forward would require a bit of bargaining.
It was time for a meeting.
***
Belsebas couldn’t believe the dandelion harvest went so well. At first, he thought Shelby was going to be a problem — especially after she ran out to greet their visitors. The poor boys were scared out of their wits. He was surprised none of them soiled their breeches.
By late afternoon, the mood suddenly changed. When he brought out drinks and snacks, the boys seemed happy. Some of them were even playing with Shelby, getting rides or chasing the zooming snail.
Kids...
Sometimes the snail was easier to understand.
The door opens, halting his reverie — it was the dwarf.
“Mister Siege, it’s always good to see you again,” he greets. “You’re Lifesavers™ have been ready for quite a while.”
Siege approaches the counter and receives the miraculous drop. True to his request, the drop was purple and stamped with the image of a closed fist.
The dwarf smiles and hands out a pouch of gold. 200 gold was no small amount for the dwarf. He could use the gold to live in luxury for two months — three if he chose the right inns. He could get eight new swords or maybe get a mildly enchanted one. However, the dwarf gladly paid the gold — it was a second life after all, and he had the experience to prove it.
“Thanks,” Siege stammers. The shopkeeper probably noticed his musings. I hope he doesn’t jack up the prices.
“If I may ask?” Sebas gestures towards the drop.
“The fist? It is my clan’s crest,” the dwarf explains. “Some say it is to grab destiny, but the elders say it is merely meant to depict resolve.”
Sebas nods as he counts the coins. He separates 30 gold coins — returning them to the dwarf along with the pouch.
“For the day before yesterday,” Sebas gives Siege a bow of gratitude. “How did it go by the way?”
The dwarf pockets the pouch, waving off the shopkeeper before scanning the rest of the items in the shop.
“Eh,” he spats. “Most of them weren’t interested, but one of them asked for more details.” The dwarf moves to a corner of the room where most of the weapons were stored.
“We restocked the shop. More customers coming every day — thanks to your party’s kind words.”
Sebas’ words hardly reach the dwarf. He was staring at a dagger —it was crudely made with barely an edge.
“What is that...”
“This?” Sebas frowns picking up the dagger. “Why did I even put this on the wall? It’s not on par with the rest of the weapons in the shop.”
Siege nods in assent — that dagger was certainly not an ordinary weapon.
“It’s a bauble the Master made when he dabbled in smithing,” Sebas stares at the dagger, running his finger on its non-existent edge. He hands it to the dwarf. “He stopped it after making this dagger and switched to alchemy.”
The dwarf stares at the dagger in his hand. Even the most inept dwarven smiths could make daggers infinitely better than this one — but that wasn’t the point.
“Here,” Sebas gestures towards a wall. The wooden wall had a multitude of cuts and holes, probably made by thrown daggers or similar weapons. “Try to hit it.”
“Where exactly?” Siege asks. While he wasn’t an elf, his throwing skills were certainly not to be discounted. Within 10 steps, he was sure to hit the eye of an enemy, especially one lying still.
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“Anywhere will do.”
Siege shrugs before casually tossing the dagger at the wall.
It slips from his hand just before his intended release.
To his horror and fascination, the dagger veers towards the shopkeeper — striking him in the center of his chest right where his heart should be.
“Ouch,” Sebas catches the dagger as it drops to the ground. “That’ll leave a bruise.”
Somehow the dwarf doubts his words. He had never heard a cry of pain delivered in such a measured voice. It even sounded rehearsed — like an actor reading lines but trying his best to take the emotions out of them.
“See, a child’s toy,” the shopkeeper hands the dagger back to the dwarf. “Maybe nobles could use it to impress guests — but this one would serve no purpose in the battlefield.
“How much for the dagger?” Siege asks, running the blade dagger on his arm — even boking his hand with its point. Try as he can, he couldn’t even pierce his skin with it — however, he knew his elders would wage war to learn the makings of this dagger.
“Sadly, this isn’t for sale.” Sebas frowns. It was his master’s first attempt at smithing, and it served as a reminder of his folly. He didn’t want such an inferior product coming out of their shop.
“Then I want one for myself,” clamors the dwarf. “I’ll work the forge and bring the ores. I’ll even make swords of dwarven quality for your shop for a month — two if you prefer!”
All that for a dagger? It didn’t seem right — unless the dwarf was opening a school and wanted training weapons.
“I’ll discuss it with Master Jeremy,” he reassures the dwarf. “I’ll send word the day after tomorrow.”
The dwarf gives his thanks, checking his pockets for his Lifesaver and pouch.
Sebas follows him to the door. He would have to close early. The master told him to plan a feast and he had less than a day to prepare.
***
Farmer Wentworth watches the boys working the fields. They’ve been there for four hours with no whining or complaints. They usually took breaks every couple of hours or so — now they’re happily toiling as if they enjoyed it.
Was it the snail that scared them straight?
It was probably something else. He saw some of the boys playing with the giant beast before they left — even allowing it to run over them and pretend to eat them.
The boys were talking and laughing as they plowed the fields. He would have stopped such shenanigans, barking at them to focus on the task at hand — but they were working faster than he expected.
They were breaking ground on a new field and it was fairly dry last season — it should be hard work. He expected them to finish in two — maybe three days. At this rate, they would be done before the sun sets.
He notices a pile of shoes in the corner — frowning in dismay. Winslow told him it was something about feeling the earth beneath their feet and between their toes. Worms — worms are what they’ll get.
He wanted to smack his son and get him to put on his shoes — but that would make for an awkward scene and alienate him from the others. Well, they’ll all be getting worms by the morrow — so much for camaraderie.
Be that as it may, the boys were doing a fine job. He did say he would pay them for three days of labor. Perhaps he should open a few more fields….
***
Jeremy was glad he finally had a proper mount. Speeding through three outposts took him around 10 minutes — with most of the time explaining to the guards that Shelby was harmless and that — no, she doesn’t eat people.
Not that she couldn’t — but the wizard felt it would be like asking a noble to eat boiled maggot stew. No, Shelby was a good girl. A few daily infusions of mana and a few rocks around the house seemed to satisfy the giant snail.
She even told him that she could go alone and get the guards to sign their reports ahead of time while he stayed at home.
It was a kind gesture, but he doubts the guards would understand her — much less keep their weapons at their sides when confronted by Shelby.
Letting her do that might end up with her knowing how people tasted — and he didn’t want his precious mount to suffer eating boiled maggots.
He places a hand on Shelby’s shell, infusing her with mana. She gives a few clicks and whistles as a warning, before zooming towards their destination.
Bountiful.
He didn’t expect to be back so soon, but it was a necessary undertaking. Forge was too far, and he doubts they would let a wizard riding a giant snail into the city. Their guards would also be unfamiliar with his life ward, as well as his unusual condition. He would probably be turned away — or they would try to arrest or eliminate him.
Bountiful was the only place he could get what he needed.
As expected, the guards were taken aback by his glorious mount. They were scrambling to greet them as they neared, presenting their arms as a sign of respect — or so, he told Shelby.
She would have none of it, swinging her flails protectively, as if to block arrows yet to come.
Fortunately, Levan kept his men in check.
He doubts Shelby would attack the guards without provocation — but things could have turned south if one of them loosed their crossbows.
A single bolt might not even harm Shelby, but that would be an affront to his person — one that he would have to address. There were lines you simply didn’t cross when facing a wizard.
And Jeremy was no ordinary wizard. He was the son of the Blackstaff.
It would besmirch his father’s name just knowing his son was treated asl such. He doubts a small city like Bountiful could stand against his father’s wrath, or the connections he could mobilize.
In a way, Levan unknowingly saved the city from a complicated situation.
He says the snail needed to remain outside the walls — but even then it would probably attract too much attention.
Jeremy explains the situation while apologizing to Shelby for the guards.
The snail seems to hiss at the guards, before distancing herself from the city walls and burrowing into the ground. One of her flail-like stalks remains sticking out, looking like an odd mushroom.
Crisis averted, Jeremy enters the city.
All that trouble for the sake of dinner preparations.
Jeremy sighs. He needed to see his noble contacts and ask them about cutlery. While he certainly had a few knives and spoons, he needed ones made of bronze.
Plain iron or even silver wouldn’t do — but he remembered seeing bronze cutlery in the Lilac kitchen. He would either borrow them or ask where they were sold.
He would be hosting royalty — he needed to present his best side.
CITY DEFENSE REPORT
RE: Scourge’s Giant Snail
According to various reports, the snail was seen moving at speeds that would rival a charging horse. It is estimated to weigh several thousand pounds and it has been seen hoisting a wagon. It can create a sea of glass in its wake, but it has stopped doing so after the first such incident.
The creature’s flail-like appendages can be used in both attack and defense. Several spies reported almost being crushed by them when they ventured near the Scourge’s home during the night. Whether the snail issued a warning strike or it was merely inaccurate is unclear.
It appears to be sentient to a certain degree. It follows the direction of the Scourge — but it exhibited autonomous will when confronted (or when the Scourge was confronted Edit: City Lord) by hostility.
The creature can burrow through the earth with seeming ease — allowing it to bypass the city walls if it chooses to do so.
Threat Level: Indeterminate. Assumptions range from Moderate to High.