By the time I got back to my home, I saw that all the other recruits had made it and were standing around outside. Alvin had about a dozen bags and backpacks strapped to him, quintupling the volume he originally took up. Elisa was dressed in casual clothes, but had a large bag in which I could hear armor and other equipment. I invited them in, and they both flinched at the sight of Chloe. I spoke to break the standstill, “Let’s introduce everyone.” Unfortunately, I didn’t have any chairs that would fit them. I would need to speak to Carpenter Ben soon.
I looked around and they all looked at me, so I went first. “I am Magic Smith Beardless, Master rank, as well as the youngest Master rank alive. For those unfamiliar with the terms, a magic smith is a black smith who specializes in magic items. As for my rank, I am second from the top. I am a highly accomplished smith, so you can all be assured of the quality of my work,.” Elisa claps.
The elf, Alvin, steps forward. “I am a wandering Lorekeeper, from the Grand Library. I have come here to seek the skills of a dwarf for a special item. It is not a secret, but I would like to speak to dwarf Beardless first before I talk more about it. If any of you are interested in the history of our world, I would consider it an honor to teach you.” He rolls his eyes and steps back. Elisa was staring very hard at Alvin while he spoke, as if he had a spider on his face. When he rolled his eyes though, Elisa seemed to flinch. I noted it, if only because recruits clashing was an issue that needed to be stopped while the coals were warming.
While Elisa was distracted, Chloe sat down on the ground, and introduced herself. “My name Chloe. Temporary. Here for best weapon. Need to make name for myself, weapon helps. I speak poorly. Not Orc speak.” Alvin raised an eyebrow, and asked,” How do Orcs normally speak?” Chloe took a deep breath, and roared. The roar went through 23 different pitches and 5 volumes, over the duration of 6 seconds. I only noticed the details because hearing was fairly important as a smith, and involved in one of the criteria to rank up. Chloe spoke again once the roar ended, not even needing to take another breath,” Roar speak same as before. Better.”
I turned to Elisa, and saw that she was spacing out. I was about to cough in order to get her attention, but she started talking before I did. “I understood that. This blessing of Babel is awesome.” Now Alvin turned to Elisa, and raised the other eyebrow. “What did it translate to human?” Elisa scowls a bit, before responding,” It was something like this: Greetings fellow subordinates. I am currently called Chloe, for ease of communication. It will only be my name while we are together, although I don’t mind if you call me Chloe afterwards as well. I have arrived at this place in my journey for the perfect weapon. For you see, in my culture, a warrior must prove themselves before they can take on a name. A weapon not only aids in their endeavors, but also becomes a part of their legacy. Unfortunately, I can’t speak the human language at a proficient level. Thank you for listening.”
Alvin pulled out a notebook from one of his many bags, and started scribbling. “Fascinating. Please ignore me, there is just so little information about Orcs, since they live near the border and don’t seem to keep any kind of written record.” Chloe grunts, and no one needed the blessing of Babel to understand that she wasn’t offended. Elisa spaces out for a second before adding,” Chloe just said that Orcish is more than a language, it's a way of life. It’s the way of a warrior, like bushido if I understand correctly.” Alvin stares intensely at Elisa. “What is bushido?”
Elisa’s face turns red, and she stammers out a “I-I don’t really know the specifics. The woman who got 2nd place in the hero tournament kept shouting it!” Alvin scribbles some notes. “Who is she, and do you know where she is?” At that, Elisa’s face cools faster than hot iron being quenched, and she talks clearly. “She went by the name Quick Draw, and no, but she should show up for the war. Besides, now it’s my turn.” Elisa bows.
Chloe draws out one of the bones attached to her hip. It’s quite a size, enough to be a greatsword for a fellow like myself. In her hands, it looks more like a short sword or dagger. She grunts out,”Fight?”. Elisa jumps backwards, bumping into the wall. She puts up her hands and quickly stammers out,”n-n-n-no!” Alvin makes another scribble in the brief pause, before piping up.
“Didn’t you know that the tradition of bowing came from Orcs? We don’t have a lot documented on them, but a Traveler saw that they always bowed in greeting before a fight, although their fights were a greeting of sorts as well. The Traveler, Simon, wrote about the bowing and it caught on in noble circles, although they don’t know where it came from. I guess the blessing of Babel has its limits. Neat.”
“S-s-so sorry! My master always made me bow for these kinda things.” I could see this was going to lead to some sort of time wasting back story, so I coughed to speed it up a bit.
Elisa walks back to the group, and manages a deep breath before continuing,” I am Elisa, Gold Rank Adventurer, and 4th place in the hero tournament.” She makes a pose, with one hand on her belt, and another in front of her face, half blocking it. I watch as Elisa makes a quick glance at Alvin, who isn’t scribbling anything down. She drops the pose and continues,” I’m here to find something that can make me stronger! I don’t want to be known as 4th place. No one ever talks about 4th place. Do any of you know who the top three in the hero tournament were?”
Alvin and Cloe both nod. “I heard that 1st place was won by a young boy, with the nickname of Mirror.” “1st Mirror. 2nd Quick Draw. 3rd Bloody F-Lion. Was Orc.” Chloe takes a moment to think. “4th was… bee flower?” Elisa turns redder than my forge. “It’s Spider Lily!”
I speak up for the first time, a bit impatient. I didn’t think introductions would take so long. “Now that you’ve learned more about each other, it’s time for the basic lesson. Do you know why you were accepted to be my recruits?” “Pulled out sword”
“That’s right. The sword was designed to release if your mana control was fine enough.” I turn to Elisa. “You seemed to be experienced in injecting mana.” She smiles and nods. Then I turned to Alvin. “Not unexpected that you could pull it out, but few elves even try.” He looks to be half asleep. “And last but not least, Chloe. You were able to passively release enough mana to pull out the sword. While not quite what I was looking for, it is even better. You have what we consider talent. Passion brings our works to another level.”
Chloe starts growling like a volcanic turtle, which is a little unsettling. It’s a quiet low noise, as though lava is bubbling a few feet underneath the earth. “Due to the nature of the recruitment system, what I make will not be secret between you three, but if any of you wish to, you can keep it secret from others.” Elisa asks,” I was wondering, every dwarf I talked to said that they would not keep their works secret. What’s up with that?” “Telling a dwarf to hide their work is like telling them their work wasn’t good enough. It’s important for an Artisan to have pride in what they make. If it doesn’t meet their standards, most would destroy or remake it. Plus, there has been a history of dwarves dying after making such items.”
Alvin pulls out a different note book, flipping through it at rapid speed. It must have been bound pretty well to handle such stress. “Ah yes, it’s recorded here. There was a dwarf who took a request from an adventurer, but they passed away soon after. It started a 100 year separation between the dwarves and other races. The adventurer also passed away soon after. It was suspected that the adventurer had murdered the dwarf after they got their item. The weirdest thing was that no one ever learned what was made.“
“Hmm. I’m only going to say this once, and I will omit the Artisan’s name. What happened was that the adventurer requested a secret item that no one should know about. A hidden trump card of some sort. After what happened, the dwarves at the time investigated the place, and they found some notes. The Artisan was ashamed of their own work, and grew weaker and weaker. The adventurer ended up losing the item, and came back to the dwarf for another. He was denied and ended up killing the Artisan. We made sure he did not have a good time.” I gave off the evilest smile I could, a wide grin showing off my sparkly teeth.
Alvin asked while he was swiftly writing,” What was the item that was made?” I started stroking an imaginary beard, and responded,” It’s not for you or anyone besides the Artisan to know. To hide a creation is shameful, but to spread an item that is not up to their standards is even worse.” “Point taken.” Alvin stops writing.
Despite the interruption, I remembered what was next. I need to set up a schedule and go over the rules. This was going to be a long day. “Now, where was I? Right, I need to set up a schedule for you three, so that I can learn more about what you want made, and make sure that you understand what is being made. If I understand correctly, Humans sleep every single day? And Elves, about once a month? Not sure about Orcs. You’d have to tell me Chloe. Anyways, the following year will consist of one on one sessions. Anytime you’re not scheduled is free time. You can leave the cave, or talk to other recruits and Artisans. If you think you won’t make it back in time, then don’t bother leaving…”
Elisa’s Perspective
Things have been going pretty well despite getting 4th place. It wasn’t a big reward, but I got the blessing of Babel and a ticket to the famed Dwarven center of production, Volcanopalis. I think the name has to do with the volcano it was built around, and in. Not that creative, but as the saying goes: Dwarves have a smith for swords, for shields, even for anvils. But they lack the most important smith, a wordsmith.
Anyways, the wait to get into Volcanopalis was the worst. Apparently, they hadn’t opened their doors in a long time. There were over a thousand people camping outside these massive double doors. Like, bigger than the inn I was staying at. They had to be at least 30 meters tall, and twice as wide. Even worse, a few people got in through a side door before the scheduled day. They were draped in fine clothes and looked like the last time they had touched a sword was 3 generations ago. Typical Nobles.
I heard that one of them had gotten banned in an hour, from a few friends I had made while waiting here. Guess they take their rules seriously. What were they again? Ah well, I’m sure it’d all work out. Once our group was let in, I was amazed by the place! The ceiling seemed to be higher than what would fit in the Volcano, and was covered in art. Lots of fancy lines I didn’t understand, although it gave me some inspiration for my weaving.
I managed to be recruited by a dwarf after a few different attempts. Many got discouraged when I said I didn’t know what I wanted, but not this one. Funny little guy though, the only dwarf I’ve seen without a beard. He was even called Beardless. If it wasn’t for his stout build, I’d almost think he was a short human. The next few days were a blur as I got things ready, and I was sooooo excited to finally get a dwarven made item!
When I got back to his house, just a door in the wall as far as I could see, I saw this elf, or maybe a special pack mule that looked like an elf? They had so much on them, I was surprised they didn’t snap in half. Anyways, we went through his front door and there was a freaking Orc just standing there. After the scare, I noticed that the space was miraculously big enough for an Orc of all things.
I managed to get through the first day, but the scare when Chloe wanted to fight nearly gave me a heart attack. I had already fought one orc during the hero tournament. Bloody Lion was a nightmare to fight! She would just power through my weave and started wielding her blood all over the place, knocking me off my perch.
Even worse, it took me nearly a week to clean my threads!
I also learned about some of the rules here. Don’t be in the cave at night. Don’t ever insult another Artisan’s work. They sure did like the word. Be polite to a dwarf who strokes their beard. If you’re late to a session, you’re not allowed back. Pretty strict, but I guess it was fair for the stuff dwarfs make. I heard one had made a boat that could guide itself, and even transform into a wooden beast to traverse land. Besides, this was all free for the war! Sure was a lot of rules though.
The next day, I learned that we would get free meals on top of free lodging. It was pretty good, some kinda rye bread and soup, paired with something called volcanic meat. It was really spicy. I saw that the elf, Alvin, also seemed to eat the same things, but far less. Like, 2 mouthfuls. Chloe also ate about the same amount as me, without any complaint. Figured she’d eat a whole pig each day at that size, but I guess the orcs would’ve died out at that rate.
Beardless would use 2 days for Alvin, 2 for Chloe, and finally, 2 for me. He would work on his own stuff or sleep for the last day. I spent the first 4 days exploring the place, and chatting with some of the other recruits. Apparently, Beardless was a lot more involved than the other dwarves, or Artisans as they liked to be called. Most of the recruits just asked for a super good sword, or a reflective shield, or one guy who asked for a device that could style his hair. Apparently the dwarf involved sounded pretty excited to build it. I even saw some of the contestants from the hero tournament, but I stayed clear of them.
I also tried to look around for female dwarves, but I couldn’t tell them apart. They all had the same build, and their height didn’t vary very much. As far as I could see, all the dwarves had these insanely manicured beards. They shined brighter than a candle with all the fine jewelry embedded in them, and I could never see a stray hair poking out. The closest I saw was a recruit arguing that they wanted diamonds on their sword, and a dwarf’s beard started bristling as they stroked it.
After some exploring, it was finally time to meet with Beardless for my item. I made sure I was an hour early, but he was already there waiting. I thought I might’ve made a mistake, but he seemed pretty happy, and assured me that the rule mostly applied to people who left the cave. He asked,” What sort of equipment do you already have?” I showed him my adventuring gear, a couple of flint stones, some rope, a month of rations, a mask that could change colors, two spools of metal thread and some standard camping gear.
Beardless asked,” Are you interested in a pitcher that can draw water from the air, or a lighter that works underwater?” I shook my head and selected my combat gear. I displayed the spools of thread, passed down by my master, and offered to show him a few moves. It was hard to find a clearing in his forge, but I noticed a good spot thanks to a nearby mirror.
I manipulated the threads to spread out, lifting me into the air. I set some simple traps among the threads for display purposes, and formed a few of the threads end points into lilies, which would be used to carve away at my opponents. That was where I got the moniker Spider Lily. They even turned a brilliant red after a hit or two, but they were such a pain to clean. Beardless seemed lost in thought, and I politely waited while checking out some of the random items he had laying around.
I noticed a mop that seemed to be halfway through eating a boot, and it almost looked ashamed when it noticed me watching. There was also a golden disc that had a symbol on each side that kept changing. I wonder if dwarves are into gambling. The most interesting thing I found was a sword made out of sand. It was even inscribed with -Can’t break what’s already broken-.
“I see you found the unbreakable sword. It was a joke of an item to settle a challenge for the strongest sword. Artisan Zorl insisted that a sword that can cut anything was the best, but Artisan Fabi insisted that a sword that was unbreakable was better. They kept fighting each other for twenty years, until I made this nifty thing. It’s a sword that requires no upkeep, and will last for an eternity. It's incredibly sharp, as sharp as anything that Fabi ever made. It also falls apart at the slightest touch if you don’t cut perfectly along the edge. It shut them up while they struggled to understand what I made, and the nearby Artisans got a good night's sleep for the first time in ages.“
Beardless tapped the side of the sword, and his finger poked right through it, causing the entire blade to burst, spraying sand all over the tile floor. I watched as the sand slowly rose from the ground, and recombined into a sword. “I was planning something similar to this unbreakable blade, but a little more practical.“ I feel the rush of excitement slam into me like a gassy boar, leaving me a little nauseous afterwards. “What are you thinking of?” Beardless scribbles onto some nearby parchment, and holds it up to the full length mirror by the doorway.
As I look at the reflection, I can make out a dress with massive sleeves. If I look at the drawing that Beardless made directly, it looks more like a tree or a butterfly. “How is a dress going to work? I need to travel through forests, climb cliffs, and explore caves.” Beardless cracks another smile, making me wonder if dwarves don’t brush their teeth, or if it’s just him. “Oh, it is so much more than a dress.”
“Chloe’s” Perspective
I knew I was destined to achieve more when I hit the ground running. I saw my siblings still struggling to pick themselves off the ground, while I stood knee level with the mothers around me. After an hour, most of the newborns had managed to stand, while a couple were still struggling or had given up. Those that failed to stand on their own feet would be relegated to peaceful lives, while we would live as warriors. The mothers had proud smiles on their faces, and a couple went to open the tent we had been in.
We carried the memories of our ancestors, but it paled in comparison to the glaring light shining off the endless fields of grass. The memories taught us most of what we needed to know to survive, but putting those memories into practice would take the next 5 years of our lives.
The children dried themselves off in the grass, and went to bask in the sun. Our memories told us that our green skin could absorb energy from the sun, and aided us in our growth. One of the children ended up cutting themselves on a blade of grass, oozing green. One of the mothers watching over us seemed to hone in on the injured orc, but did nothing.
Stolen story; please report.
When I saw what had happened, 2 memories came to mind. One was an adult orc, with orange skin and white hair. They were missing an eye and a leg, along with several holes in their body. The orc sat upon a stone platform, out in the open fields. They meditated for an unknown amount of time, letting the sun pass over their head dozens if not hundreds of times. When they moved again, they had regrown their eye and leg, although it was a green color like our own. Small green scars replaced the holes, and smoothed over as if they, no she, had never been injured.
The other memory was far more confusing. There was a forest, covered in a red liquid. Everywhere you looked, there were mysterious creatures attacking each other. A snake with three heads was trying to choke out a similarly three headed rat. A fat lizard barreled through the underbrush, crushing anything in its way. A bat was raining ash, a drop in the bucket compared to the red forest. And in the center of it all, was a red storm. I could somehow tell that the source of all this was the figure of an orc, twice as big as any of the mothers nearby. The rain, which I now realized was blood, was moving with the orc’s will. She punched out with a fist, and the blood would shoot out like a hundred small arrows. She took a deep breath, and made a kick. The foot rose above her head, and a pillar of blood accompanied it.
Once I regained my focus on reality, I saw the other orcs cut themselves on the grass. Some seemed frustrated, as though the memories were taunting them. Others were lost in thought, entranced by what they saw. I heard a clattering of wood, and saw the mothers had brought out some racks with a variety of wooden weapons. A few more brief memories flitted through my mind, of various figures wielding each weapon, but nothing stood out like before. The other orcs charged at the racks, and started fighting each other for the weapons, despite there being plenty for everyone.
The years passed, but I could not find my calling. I watched as others found their path, dropped their horns, and gained their names, but I was left behind. When the last orc dropped their horns, a fool who bled all over the place, I decided to leave and find my own destiny. I headed north, to the lands of the small ones. I stuck close to the border villages, where the variety of people was much higher, but the farther I got from my origin, the more attention I drew.
As I approached the third village with a watch tower and a wall any orc could jump over, I ran into the 5th group of guards denying me from resting within. At Least this time they were ok with me staying on the far side of the border. Many places were afraid of having an orc behind them, but an orc couldn’t get a good rest in the shade of the border. The border was an endless mountain range, tall enough to be seen from the other side of the continent. Due to the properties of the mountain range, the shadows cast by the massive peaks stopped an hour’s travel away from the base of the border. Despite the varying peaks, the shadow creates a straight line on the ground that doesn’t change, even with the sun. Along that edge is where civilization starts.
As I settled down for the night, clearing a spot in the high grass to sit, I saw 50ish people running out of the village. A few of them headed straight east, running by me, while others ran north or south, likely to the closest villages. One of them ran past me, shouting,” The time has come once more!”. I slowly turned back to the border, and started trudging over to the wall. I could see some little ones start packing their belongings, and others who were selling anything they couldn’t travel with.
A guard noticed me walking towards the wall, and waved me over. “You’re here to help right? Scouts reported a small group of ground beasts came from the border.” I nodded and leapt over the wall. It took a few more minutes before the mentioned beasts came into view, in which time, a few more people came out. They seemed like a random group of individuals, armed in various gear, and kept their distance with each other or in small groups.
I stood tall, and watched the figures quickly approach. The first thing I noticed about them was the smell. There was a constant breeze that came from the border, and with it came a smell of rotten eggs. They were very round beasts, which seemed to be rolling. As they got a little closer, some of the other people started firing arrows and spells. The majority of them missed, but those that landed did little to stop the charge. They kept firing, and a couple of the smallests beasts stopped moving. Then, they appeared in front of us.
A memory flashed. I saw a group of people defending a wall against a stampede of thousands of different monsters. Some appeared to be animals, others figures of various elements, as well as some that appeared to have already died. Many of the monsters would appear behind the wall, despite never going around it. Those that appeared were quickly taken care of, and no more appeared after a couple minutes. Then, a large ball of fur crashed into me.
If I hadn’t planted my feet into the ground, I would’ve been sent flying. As it was, the memory distracted me, and I wasn’t able to react in time, skidding a couple feet. My body was slightly bruised, but I would recover before the fight was over. I balled my hands and swung down at the now stopped beast, which was only about 1/3rd my height. The impact left a depression on the beast, as it spun itself around. The beast had two small beady eyes, a short but wide snout, and 4 stubby legs along with a giant springtail. It reminded me of the boars that roamed the plains, but if one had stumbled across a smelly carcass twice its size and eaten it.
One of the people who had managed to avoid the initial charge yelled,“Gassy boars! Avoid fire, they explode!” I didn’t have to worry about such trifling things. The thing didn’t have much mobility now that it had stopped rolling, so I gave it a kick. I put all my blood reinforced strength into it, trying to launch it into the beasts behind. Instead, it exploded, causing a splash of blood and guts, as well as a noxious odor. Once I regained my balance, I noticed that I had lost a couple toes. Regrowing them would set back my journeys by a couple hours. Hopefully, I wouldn’t be too late for the tournament the bloody fool was participating in.
The nearby defenders shouted some curses in my direction, before realizing that I was an orc. They made some more distance, and I took a softer approach on the gassy boars left in front of me. I caught another boar, stopping its momentum, before launching it with both hands into the sky. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to appreciate my work, as more and more gassy boars charged. I kept tossing them, and a sequence of explosions off in the distance accompanied my throws. The sounds of battle rang around me. There was the thump of metal on flesh, of rocks smashing into the ground, of shouting from behind the wall, and more explosions.
Once I ran out of things to throw, I waited for the other people to finish off the last of the beasts. A couple of them had already started harvesting the corpses. One of the people, smaller than most, came to me and started talking. “Wow, you’re really strong! I’ve never met an orc before, but I could tell by copying you! I’m Pip, although most know me by the nickname Mirror.” They seemed to be bursting with energy, concerning me if they were another exploder like the gassy boar. “What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” “No name yet. Not found weapon for me.” “No name? Must be an orc thing. Oh I bet you’re traveling to Volcanopolis for the recruiting ceremony. I know a lot of people are heading there. They haven’t opened their doors for 100 years, at least according to rumors.” This was the first person I had met that didn’t need to breathe. Atleast, I guessed as much with how much they were talking.
I nodded along. I didn’t know about the volcanipilos thing, but it sounded like a destination I needed to visit. “I bet you don’t have a ticket right?” “Ticket?” “They only allow certain people to enter Volcanopolis. Nobles, high rank warriors, winners of tournaments, that kind of thing. Here, you can have mine.” The littlest one hands me a copper disk with a hammer and an anvil inscribed on it. “Got one as an A-class adventurer. I’m participating in the Hero tournament though.” They wink. “Not to brag, but I’m pretty confident in my abilities. I’m going to get first place.”
They start looking around rapidly. “I’m going to be late if I stick around, gotta get to the tournament. Cya at Volcanopolis!” They seem to stare at the person who shouted the warning, before leaving a noticeably faster pace than they came. I decided to gather some bones from the gassy boars, in case I needed something to throw down the road. I also got some pieces of metal from one of the guards, who had trouble looking at me. A memory flashed, involving an orc arguing with a large portly person, who I understood now was a human, dressed in a lot of metals.
The rest of the journey was much smoother. I was able to use the money to get through a lot faster. I frequently saw lots of messengers running back and forth, and heard whispers of the next war. Apparently, it was about 3 years earlier than expected, but the wave of gassy boars I fought only marked the beginning. There had been more outbreaks of monsters from the border, here and there. I watched the tournament when I got to the city of Tournarc. I missed a lot of the earlier stages, but I got to see the last few fights.
I even greeted bloody fool, who now went by Bloody Lion, and mentioned the Volcano-something to them. They did their typical foolish things,” My body and blood are the only weapons I need!” The matrons had warned us that our memories came from living orcs. Many of the strongest orcs had reached a new level in combat but died before passing their memories to the rest of us. A clear lesson to not over rely on our inherited memories, but this bloody fool was in a trance for the entire first day.
I ended up being a couple days late to Volcanopolis, but I had at least learned the name of the place in the meantime. I wandered around a bit, but most of the small hairy ones just shook their heads when I said that I wanted the,” Perfect weapon.” I even tried the test of one dwarf who had a wooden cube puzzle. All the sides had colors, and you would pass their test if you could match them all. I managed to complete the puzzle, even if it took most of the day. Unfortunately, the dwarf said that they worked with wood, and directed me to the dwarf with the sword in the stone.
I already knew that swords weren’t my path, so I did a half-blooded attempt. It didn’t move, which was interesting, but I have more dwarfs to go through. After a couple days, and more dwarfs who weren’t able to make what I wanted, I went back to the sword in the stone and gave it a full blooded attempt. It still wasn’t coming out! I had to add my regeneration to exceed my blood limit, an impossible skill for all but the most gifted of regenerating orcs. In my haze afterwards, I told the hairless one my goal, and they accepted! I took on a temporary name, if only so that they wouldn’t reject me.
The hairless one taught me much about the making of weapons, and let me try out most of the ones in his pile. None of them seemed like the path for me. I even picked up the broom, which had a bit of leather stuck on the end of it. In my haste, I accidentally hit the hairless one’s anvil, and the broom started to get stuck to that too. When I tried to pull the broom off, the anvil was lifted with it. There was an itch deep within, before the beardless one got angry and crushed the anvil like it was made of dirt. I explained,” Broom anvil work. Almost perfect. Not heavy enough?”
The hairless one started moving his jaw all around, and seemed to have an idea. “I think I know why you’re struggling so much to find your weapon. You want an unbalanced weapon, and the first thing any blacksmith is taught is balance. There are some weapons that are made unbalanced, like a glaive or rapier, but they must have been too light. Let me see if I can get a heavier anvil from a friend, and add it to that broom you’re holding.” He glares at the broom, which is slowly munching on the shrapnel that’s left of the anvil.
Avlin’s Perspective
Being underground was both familiar and foreign at the same time. The ceilings above brought a sense of comfort, but the lack of books made me miss my home. I had only been away for a couple years, but it was only the start of my journey. The grand library I came from had thousands of elves across millions of shelves, all contained within a tree bigger than the Volcano I was in. I had already passed the early years, doing what all elves did. We lived our first 100 years disturbingly similarly to humans. We acted out like juveniles, went on adventurers, and had descendants. Once we hit 100, we hit the first point of adulthood. By this point, any respectable elf would be an accomplished researcher or magic caster when compared to the human rabble, only matched by some of their best. We would spend the rest of our lives learning about the world we lived in, seeking to uncover the truths of the universe.
As an aspiring Journeyman, I would make a poor researcher if I never left the grand library. I am an accomplished Lorekeeper, one who had spent 100 years learning from the library and well above the historian rabble, who had just begun the first 30 years of their studying. There were a near infinite number of books in the library, covering everything that previous elves had researched and written themselves. However, it was the duty of Journeymen to explore the world personally and update the archives. Once a Lorekeeper had finished their first journey, they would be considered Journeymen.
The first step of any aspiring Journeyman was to get an item crafted for them by the dwarves in order to store their records. Some of us disagreed with the tradition, but the elders would always state that it promoted our relations with other species, and the dwarves were in a way, the closest to us. Where we sought the truth, they sought art. And in a way, sometimes they would overlap. It didn’t hurt that elves struggled with space attribute items either.
One of the first things a mage learns is the magic elements. There were two origins, space and time. There were the 5 foundations, earth, air, water, light, and darkness. Then there were infinite branches based on them, such as fire from light, and ice from water. And finally, there was the paradox of life and chaos. Not that any type of magic was better than another, but all branches came from the origins, foundations, and the paradox.
Elves naturally gained time elements but that made it difficult to use space magic. Dwarves on the other hand, would accumulate a lot less time elements, and didn’t struggle with space. Every living thing was imbued with mana, or the fuel for magic, and naturally aligned with at least one of the elements. Humans had the most balanced mix, but usually were lacking in time and space. Beastmen struggled with fire, while dwarves struggled with water. The least documented elvenoid, at least if you didn’t count rumors about the other side of the border, were orcs.
They were taller than us, incredibly savage, stronger, and seemed to possess immense amounts of life elements. However, they were completely deficient in both brains and other elements. Well, maybe I’m highlighting them a bit too much. Most species were savage and lacking brains compared to elves, but we shouldn’t hold it against them.
That was why I was so surprised when I saw an orc in the dwarf’s domain. My two hearts both started beating rapidly, like the first time I found a book in a different language. They quelled when I noticed the crowd that had started staring at me. The humans staring at my figure was expected, and boring. We were tall, thin and light, while retaining strength that belayed our figure. Perfect for climbing shelves and plucking books. We had large eyes to read in low light, and light skin due to staying inside for most of our lives. In a freakish coincidence, humans were drawn to our undoubtedly perfect figure, but they looked like small fat disgusting elvenoids to us. Worse still, they lacked the knowledge to be our equals, although there was the rare exception.
All these thoughts crossed my mind as I scribbled down the interaction between the orc and the human, but I made sure to prevent it from tainting the records. Once that was over, I got to business with the dwarf, a peculiar one named Beardless. My understanding of dwarves was that a dwarf who couldn’t maintain a beard was seen as incompetent. Unfortunately, none of the other dwarves seemed capable of making the item I sought.
I tried the carpenter dwarf first, but they said they were unable to. They could transform wood, but making space where it didn’t exist was beyond them. I tried the dwarfs who made jewelry, but none were capable enough to make a storage ring. They said that the materials had run dry long ago, and that they were highly unsuitable for keeping things organized anyways. That did match up with the lack of storage rings in our domain, although no storage items could exist in the library.
I even tried a dwarf who specialized in mirrors. There I spotted the first place winner of the Hero tournament, Mirror. Not a surprise considering the name, although nicknames rarely reflected a person’s interests so accurately. They were engrossed in the hall of mirrors the dwarf has set as a test, practically salivating at the reflections. I ignored them, and passed by to the dwarf herself. Even if I thought Mirror was a threat to our kind, we needed all the expendable forces we could for the war. The dwarves might also shut down again if another incident happened.
“I hear that you’re an Artisan of mirror craft?” The dwarf looked a little surprised, but responded in an adequate amount of time,” Indeed. What kind of mirror are you looking for?” “I seek a mirror to store precious written works. I am a traveler, and will need an item capable of storing…” I gestured around the cave,”this much space.”
The dwarf shook their head. “It’s not that I’m incapable, but mirrors don’t travel well. I learned from an adventurer about 180 years ago who asked for the same thing. It worked perfectly, but it broke when they were tossing it around. Plus, I did warn them that the items they put in there would keep moving based on what the mirror was reflecting. It was perfect if you wanted a torch in a cave, but bandages had very little to do with caves. You should try talking to Magic Smith Beardless. He’s a bit out there, but he’s also willing to make anything.”
I thanked the dwarf and headed back to the weird dwarf I saw earlier. They were one of those arrogant worms who tested every prospective customer. Their lack of height blinded them to their own conceit. Why wouldn’t anyone understand that the Grand Library elves were the only ones who deserved to test others with their wealth of knowledge and skill. Even those wild outsider elves who played adventurer and mingled with lesser species were better than all but the most learned.
I walked over to the sword lodged in a stone, and wrapped my fingers around the handle. Only a fool would try to pull a sword out with raw strength, so I sent a surge of my mana through the sword to get a feel for it. The response I got back laid out a complex mana puzzle within the sword. Interesting, I would have to raise my impression of this beardless dwarf higher.
The mana puzzle was a maze full of twists and turns, as well as looping back on itself frequently. The difficulty wasn’t just finding the way through the maze, but manipulating your mana delicately enough to follow the pathways. I suppose you could also flood all the pathways to find the exit as well, but it would take a few highly skilled elves like myself to accomplish such a thing. It almost seemed like a joke. After all, anyone with that level of mana wouldn’t need items to support them.
I carefully threaded my mana through the maze. I failed the first time due to some very spider-like traps left in some of the most direct routes, but it did nothing to really stop me. What was a couple minutes to a creature that lived centuries. Still, they were very devious traps. There were remnants of tiny mana threads left in the twists and turns of the maze that would subtly shave away at any mana threads that tried to get through.
I thought about finding a route to bypass all the remnant threads, but something told me that there was an even bigger trap if I did that. A little slower, a little more carefully, I threaded my mana through the pathways once more. I brushed against a few more threads, but carefully avoided or collapsed them. As I got close to the end, I slowed down even more.
As I carefully tread the last bit of the maze, I realized that my mana was experiencing interference. It felt like some threads had gathered together to wrap around my own, slowly cutting it off from my mana, like a noose. If I wasn’t such a skilled mage, I wouldn’t have realized the source of the problem. I filled the thread with a sudden outburst of mana, crushing all the threads and the noose in the process. In 2 seconds, I had beaten the maze at the cost of 2/3rds my mana. Truly, this Beardless must be a highly skilled crafter.
I walked over to them once I plucked the sword from the rock like some classic literature from the shelves. They were stunned by my abilities, but even I was impressed with my own skill at times. When they introduced themselves as a master, I was even more sure they had crafted the puzzle themselves.
It was odd that a master was living so close to the entrance though. Usually the more skilled dwarves lived deeper in the volcano, where the lava was hottest. Anyways, I let this Magic Smith Beardless know of my desired creation, and left until it was time for the recruits to start learning. Even if I wouldn’t learn anything new, I could at least get some experience on maintaining my soon to be storage device.
I whiled away the days organizing my personal collection of scrolls and books. I brought anything that seemed useful for exploring, such as a map of the continents. It was sourced from an old scroll, old enough that it had been recycled countless times. I wasn’t sure if there was anything worth updating, but I fed it to the book worm to be broken down. It would be turned into a thread that perfectly recorded the contents, before being weaved back together into a fresh scroll.
As I spent a day weaving it back together, I took a good look at the map in order to plan my route. The border created a straight line on the left side of the map, while the right consisted of two oval continents that overlapped slightly. The upper continent had forests, mountains, deserts and more, but the lower continent was one massive grassland broken up by rivers and lakes.
The lower continent was mostly uninhabited for various reasons. The grass that grew there was nigh impossible to replace, so no farmable plants could grow. The creatures that could live off the grass all tasted terrible or were slightly poisonous, which only made it harder to eat. The upper continent was also about 10 times larger, and still had a lot of uninhabited land. The occasional outbreak from the border also helped to keep the land from being completely occupied.
The right side of the map had a single inlet from the ocean, where the continents met. The inlet was known to be an unstable space like the border, but far less dangerous. The occasional monster or lost person would appear there, and a lot of heroes seemed to originate from the area. To the far right was an expansive ocean. Previous Lorekeeper’s had tried to sail around the continents and the border, but the border seemed to stretch endlessly to the north and the south. They even tried sailing east, but they stopped after a hundred years of nothing.
There were still Lorekeeper’s who were exploring the eastern ocean, but none had found anything of note yet. In truth, the laziest of Lorekeeper’s would choose to sail east, whiling away the years while racking up minor accomplishments. By the end of their journey, they would be considered Journeymen. It was rare that an elf would regret how they spent their time, but they surely would.