Finding a good close combat weapon was proving to be a problem. Being just a little guy now, any of the real weapons were well outside my capabilities. Even the smallest daggers and throwing knives were cumbersome and unwieldy in my grabbers.

After giving up on the purpose made weapons I was forced to look for a less conventional solution for my armament needs.

I gave a filigreed letter opener a few test swings before discarding it. The balance was shit, and the metal was too soft to hold a real edge. Not to mention it looked like a claymore in my paws. I actually had absolutely no fucking clue how to fight with a longsword, aside from “Front towards enemy. Swing real hard”. Yeah sure, that overall strategy wasn't too far off from my mace technique but at least I’d had practice at that.

I was looking for something on the scale of a short sword, which I was at least somewhat passable with. Not enough that I would fancy my chances in a straight up duel of orthodox swordplay on even footing against any kind of competently trained sword fighter. Hey, you can’t be good at everything. I am however a pretty darn good knife fighter, which is very much a different skill set with its own strategies and tactics. So, I tend to get by, by pretending short swords are just oversized daggers.

Yeah, laugh it up, but keep in mind that’s just an appraisal of my pure technical skill in a theoretical “fair fight” scenario. In my view if you aren’t cheating you aren’t really fighting. My odds tend to perk up nicely once some pocket sand is added to the mix.

Metaphorically speaking, of course. Fine, yes, sometimes literally. It’s a classic for a reason, ok.

Anyway, sure, I could completely lean into one of my established styles and gear up with a couple itty bitty mini knives, like with the arrowhead dagger I had. However, I really needed every extra little bit of reach and cutting depth I could get if I wanted to remain a credible threat when I was up close and personal. So, we come back to short sword equivalents.

It was looking like I’d have to move up my plans on visiting a blacksmith when I finally found something with real potential.

A slim straight edged wood carving knife. The bulbous wooden handle of the tool had seen better days so it was easy to wiggle the blade free of it. Doing that revealed the tang to be a long narrow spar that fit comfortably enough in my grip. The blade had clearly seen a lot of use, but the edge had been well cared for, the steel was of high quality, was still rust free under a light sheen of oil, and the balance wasn’t even too bad to boot. Some ever useful cordage as a wrap and it was going to do nicely.

I decided to wait and see if the blade could earn a name for itself rather than just making something up for it. Bit of a tradition, edging up on a superstition, I picked up from an old mentor. Swords all having individual personalities and all that. Not in the literal, Dunnie stuck someone in there, kinda way. You know what I mean. They’re all unique and such. I might not have been a sword guy but I could still respect sword stuff.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Digging up a sheath meant for a belt knife and a length of strap to bodge together as a back scabbard was a great deal easier than finding the blade.

With my short range offence sorted I moved on to my mid range. I’d liked the Spear of Poking and how it had performed in the Battle of the Bats. So, I went about searching for a good Spear of Poking II. That turned out to be as simple as sifting through the bundles of arrows. I went for a steel shafted arbalist bolt with a leaf bladed head. Good heft but not outside the comfort zone of my ratty strength. It just needed some sharpening so I tossed a small wet stone on my pile. I should have gotten one when I was hunting up utility gear anyway. I asked Gig, but she already had one she liked at home.

A little more strapping and my back sheath also had a spear cinch. It wasn’t the greatest for mobility, but I could always drop it If I was about to get into a tide tossle.

Or, have Gig hold on to it for me, kids gotta earn her keep after all.

With myself sorted for death dealers we turned to choosing Gig her own implements of destruction. She didn’t really have the weight to put behind a mace. A sawn off spear would work, I’d seen how the girl could swing a shovel, but it just didn’t quite suit her. We settled on a matched pair of throwing hatchets, which looked like battle axes in the goblin’s hands. I wouldn’t be teaching her to dual wield anytime soon, but no harm in having a backup with you. A little fussing and the belt holsters we’d found with them also got a new life as back sheaths.

Then rustled her up a pair of decent belt knives. Knives are good, carry knives.

There wasn’t anything in the shop Gig could use as a proper shield, so we’d just have to be on the lookout elsewhere. Same with all the armour really, not even any of the helms would’ve fit her little goblin noggin’. There had to be a goblin arms dealer with goblin sized gear around here somewhere. If not just more bespoke items on the list for the blacksmith. If Gig was going to learn anything worthwhile from me it was going to be good shield work, and you needed something better than a pot lid for that.

Speaking of pot lids I still had to figure out a shield for myself. The Shield of Not Getting My Ass Bitten had done in the pinch, but I was hoping to do better for myself this time. I wasn’t so lucky as to find a perfectly crafted toy knight’s shield or the like, but I did find a chunky wax crusted bronze candle holder that had solid possibilities. It was just a crudely cast flat disk with a stubby pricket in the middle. By the by prickets are what spikes you stick candles on are called, your fact for the day there.

Gig once again unleashed her weedling powers on Dinkum to let us use some of the tools laying around to see what we could do about shielding it up. I’m not gonna lie, it took us an embarrassingly long time to figure it out. So much so at one point Dinkum even took pity on us and brought us some mint tea, apparently Gig’s favourite. But finally after our long struggle we managed to clear off most of the wax, boar some anchor holes, and securely rivet in the arm straps with only a few near misses from a warhammer.

In the end I dubbed it The Shield of Waxing Defence. Because there was no one who could stop me from doing so.

Now that I was at long last fully kitted out to my liking again, it was time to see what there was to see of the shop's more esoteric offerings.

After snacks and some more tea, all that crafting really took it out of me.