Chane grinned and gave me the distinct impression he was going to grab me again. Instead of letting him haul me into the store, I started forward on my own before he could get a grip on me.
After I managed to avoid his grapple, I asked as I crossed the street. “Tell me Chane, enlighten me. Why is it important that I know you have an S-Mart down here?”
I had been through so much in the last few days, I was in a state of chaos. Ready to roll with whatever ridiculous thing happened next.
His grin disappeared and he violently lunged forward, grabbing and pulling me out of the way of a 3 wheeled bicycle-like cart loaded down with heavy looking bags that swiftly and silently rolled by and nearly ran me over.
I laughed again from the sudden spike of adrenaline and shook out of his grip, “And what's with your traffic rules down here?”
“I am glad you are eager to see a familiar sight. I understand S-Mart is a big part of human culture. You must be wary of the couriers though, they have first pass when loaded and going downhill.”
We made it across the street and into the parking lot without being run over, and Chane continued on as we walked through the automatic doors. “The superstore has made quite an impression since we allowed its construction. There are so many options!”
We walked through the doors and passed a cheap 2D holographic greeter. They had opted for the cheap version without any sound or movement, so the stock image old lady stood there with her hand up, with a comic style dialogue bubble bearing the companies “Shop smart, Shop S-Mart!” slogan in bold text.
I was at a loss for words as we moved down the initial lane. The whole front of the store seemed to be devoted entirely to a vast array of alcoholic drinks. There was a couple of skinny dwarves, too young to even grow stubble on their chins, restocking the cleared out section labeled “Brandy”. Chane grabbed a large bottle of rum as we passed by its section, and I caught a whiff of burnt fryer oil coming from somewhere in the mostly empty store.
“You guys take the whole dwarven thing this seriously? I’ve never seen so much booze in one place before.” I gestured to the handle of rum he was carrying along. “Arktria regulates that stuff pretty heavily.”
“Your so-called liquor is one of the few human ingestibles that are compatible with our tract. It makes for great fuel. Why is it regulated in your lands?”
He turned down one of the wide walkways and guided us over to a small and sad little food court. I was surprised to actually see a couple of other humans sitting at one of the tables, picking at trays of unidentifiable food.
“Because it’s bad for you? It’s addictive and bad for your health, plus the whole drunk and reckless thing.” I looked between him with his giant bottle of rum, and the kitchen that definitely had the smell of something burning wafting out from it. “Why are we here though? Did we just stop by so you can get your fix?”
Chane waved the huge bottle towards the counter and the other humans. “This is where you will find your human nourishments, in case you are in need of refueling while Linked-up. We are aware of your frequent eating.” He turned the bottle in his hand and looked over the label. “As for this, I grab one whenever I come through here. They are all so tasty, and I mean to try each of them before deciding on a favorite.”
“Drinking on the job, eh? I didn’t take you for that kind of person, Chane. I’ll admit though, snacks are great.”
I watched the counter, trying to get a peek at whatever was burning in the kitchen behind it.
He paused at the edge of a lonely post-and-ribbon line guide that blocked the way to the counter. “If you agree on snacks, why do you instead look down upon day drinking?”
I was busy craning my neck trying to get a look through the large open windows between the front counter and the kitchen behind it. “Because being drunk makes you stupid, reckless, inebriated, it… you know, lowers your inhibitions, helps you convince yourself to do dumb shit.”
Chane let out a nearly convincing scoff and pulled my attention away from the kitchen. “No, no. Your liquor does not cause inebriation. For that we have fume dust. For us, your alcohol acts as a mild stimulant.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “A mild stimulant? So like coffee, or caff?”
“Sort of. The common metaphor, forged through cultural exchange, is that it is more comparable to what you call energy drinks. Some of the additives have compounding effects.” He smiled and glanced back in the direction of the self-checkout lanes. “Do you wish to stop for a snack while we are here? This is the last location I am required to show you for your tour. You’re free to go back and join the other initiates on the training field, or wander the House grounds.”
I looked back over at the counter, there was definitely a slight haze of smoke back there, then shook my head. “Na, I’m good… I ate a solid meal already today. I do have some questions though. Relik, the armorer back there, does he sell armor made for humans?”
We turned and walked back out of the store after Chane confirmed his purchase of the handle of rum, which he immediately cracked open and started to drink from.
“Not so much. There have been talks with a number of your human factions about the possibility of arms trade, yet that is a deal the Moot must fully agree upon. For now, the human Clan members have made their own armor if they wish to have it.” He thought for a moment, took a drink, and then added, “You might have better luck getting an armorer to repair or modify it for you once you make something though.”
As we fought our way back through the crowded road, I attempted to get more information about the arms trade deal. I figured that kind of information would go a long way with my new political handlers.
“What’s the deal with the arms trade? I imagine every human faction has been hounding you about that!” I shouted over the noise of the street.
Chane led us around a trio of brawling dwarves that were slapping each other with open hands, pulling on whiskers and long hair, and grappling in the center of a spontaneous group of onlookers. A few vehicle driving dwarves were standing in the seats of their blocked carts and either adding their own shouts to the chaos, or watching the brawl with amusement.
“There is no deal as of yet, only courting and lobbying!”
We made it through the mess on the streets and back into the comparatively peaceful plaza inside House Galidurn walls. Chane switched the conversation away from the arms deal as he continued with his brisk pace. We weaved through the orderly groups of training dwarves and back to the squat barracks-like building while he talked about the various formations they were practicing.
It turns out, they do some really cool stuff with formation fighting, something I’d thought was basically dead in the modern era with artillery, missiles, drones, and combined arms warfare. Their fantastic armor, even compared to other more advanced alien tech, was still quite effective against commonly used small-arms. Plus their focus on underground battles and fighting for tunnels rather than under an open sky only increased the effectiveness of their close-in formation fighting tactics.
After seeing a hazy glowing blueish-purple cloud form above one of the formations, Chane explained that their elite squads used overlapping tech and natural abilities to build up and contain clouds of plasma around their shield walls. I had no idea how it worked even as he gave a basic explanation, but apparently they used the clouds to absorb laser fire and small arms, and the really skilled formations could even deflect or scramble incoming guided munitions.
Chane stopped at the entrance to the building, taking a long drink of his huge bottle of rum. “Do you remember your way from here? I would be doing you a disservice if I guided you in once more. You must earn the respect of your Row. They are young, competitive, and boisterous.”
I halted as well and turned to face him, giving him another of the salute-bows. “Of course, thanks for showing me around, Chane. Any last minute pointers for dealing with them?”
He scratched his beard for a moment, “Be strong, yet flexible. The young ones are curious about human culture. You all must work together for the trials, and they know this. You should find that they are mostly eager.”
His eyes darted around and he waved his hand through the air, causing a new friend request notification to pop up on my HUD. “Call for me if you must leave the House yard, or if you have other questions. Your group's next instruction will be in roughly 5 hours. I will see you then.”
With his parting wisdom given, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing at the threshold of the relatively quiet and reverbious barracks.
This time, when I approached the Rows meeting room, I took a second to really look over the statues outside of the door and realized why they were so familiar. The first statue was of Kazzad, all wrought in gleaming silver as she struck a thoughtful pose. While the other slightly smaller statue was of Chane, his eyes set in a grim consternation as if he was examining a difficult puzzle.
I delayed going back into my Rows room for a moment, and wandered further down the balcony to scope out some of the other statues which all turned out to be unfamiliar dwarves in various plain clothes. I had made it about halfway down the walkway, stopping to inspect each statue carefully, before Max spoke up.
“Come oooon, Nick. Just go in there and get it over with. This isn't highschool. You have some serious catch-up you need to get started on if you want to pass the trials.”
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I sighed and looked back at the door to my assigned barracks. Max was right, I was nervous about trying to mix into this already established team. I’d started to procrastinate and push it off as soon as I was given half a chance. I needed to fight that urge, to get in there and get it done.
Despite my misgivings and nerves, I forced myself back to the door and stopped in front of it. I could hear muffled and unintelligible shouting, or maybe cheering on the other side.
After I finally reached up to open the door and meet my new team, I was immediately set back by a total lack of a handle, or any obvious way to open the dang thing. My eyebrows furrowed in instant frustration. Just as I’d worked up the nerve to start, I’d hit a roadblock. In my impatience, I started pushing on anything that remotely resembled a button in the subtle decorative pattern carved around the door jam.
I was slightly startled when the door suddenly opened after my 25th insistent poke. It smoothly slid into the wall to the side and the shouting from within the room washed into the hall.
There was now a small crowd inside the room, perhaps two dozen young dwarves. Some were paired off and sparring, while two trios were braced together and pushing opposing shield walls against each other. A few were sitting on the floor against the walls and watching or reading tablets.
All the shouting came from a group of 8 or so in the near corner of the room where two dwarves kneeled over a circle of chalk drawn on the floor, while the others crowded around and leaned over to get a look at what they were doing.
“Hah! That’s 7 pings, should have changed the field!”
“No! I told you, you have to plan your blocks!”
“Shut yer’ vent, I have a plan!”
I eyed the group of arguing dwarves and skirted around them, and was spotted by a pair who had been sparring when I entered.
“Lo! Nick, newest House member!” Boomed the large dwarv Chane had called Bomilik. “Here to join yer’ Row in training?”
I froze as everything stopped and all the eyes in the room turned to face me. “I, uh. Yeah. I got the… belch of approval from the council.”
I didn’t get any laughs, but apparently that was an acceptable reply because the activity within the room resumed around us as most of the young dwarves went back to what they were doing. Bomilik and the other dwarv he had been sparring with, also with black hair, both walked over to me.
They both offered handshakes at the same time, while showing their shiny teeth in big beardless grins. I shook Bomiliks hand first as he beamed at me.
“I am Bomilik, Son of Zurikar!”
I took the other dwarves hand, who seemed rather amused to be shaking hands with a human. “I am Jozoic, son of Thanmaul. I have not met a human before, am I doing this correctly?” He asked as he continued to vigorously shake my hand up and down.
The bulk of the tension from meeting a new group evaporated at his words, and I laughed and glanced at his hand. “Well, one or two shakes is the general norm.” I noticed the thick muscles in his forearm relaxed as he dropped my hand, his bushy eyebrows raising in embarrassment. Equal parts amused at his reaction, and grateful for my new crush proof gauntlets, I returned their greeting.
“Thank you, I am Nick Spenser, or… Kaninak Galidurn. Son of, erm, Wallace.”
“Well met, Kaninak!” Boomed Bomilik again. “Where do you plan to start? Which virtue will you first pursue?”
I blinked in reply. “Virtue?”
The other dwarv, Jozoic, answered this time. His voice held a curious tone. “The three trials are based on our three great virtues. Craft, Cohesion, and Courage. He asks which area you think needs the most work.”
Bomilik nodded, his steely grin unwavering, and they both looked at me expectantly.
“Well… whatever crafting stuff I need to learn will probably be the hardest. I’ve been through a few fights at least. The only craft I know is stone cutting.”
The two dwarves shared a look, and then burst out with laughter.
Jozoic recovered first and responded through his mirth. “Yes, that is a good place to start. We use much different methods than I’ve heard you humans use. Is it true, you use hammer and chisel to scrape and chip?”
There was something charged by the way he asked the question. Which made me hesitant to answer.
“Oh quit it, you big baby. Haven't you pieced it together yet? I thought it would be fun watching your primitive attempts to learn and bond with these carapace covered monstrosities, but it’s like pulling teeth.”
I gritted my teeth, and pushed through Max’s harassment to answer the question. “Yeah, it is true. We’ve done it that way for thousands of years. What's so funny about it?”
Bomilik lost his grin at my harsher than intended answer and glanced at Jozoic, who replied. “Because it is taboo within our culture. To shatter the mountain's bones in such a messy and crude manner is said to bring bad luck.”
He looked over at the still shouting group crowded around whatever game they were playing in the corner and made a strange circular gesture with one of his hands. “In our new home here, some take it more seriously than others.”
Bomilik chimed in, “Yeah, around here, that's Kazek. He’d shed his scant whiskers at the sight of a dusty chip.”
Jozoic nodded, and looked me in the eye. “We need no tools for stone cutting, it’s built into our own blood and bones. Looking at your equipment sheet, it seems the House has given you an approximation. I am curious to see how you make them work.”
I brought my hands up and looked over my gauntlets in a whole new light. “So these aren’t just for protecting me from your crushing handshakes and spraying people with acid?”
Bomilik gave me a pity laugh, and Jozoic took my question seriously. “No, they are much more than that. We melt and reshape the bones with chemicals and reactions. When it comes to creation you’ll find that knowledge, a steady hand, and a skilled eye are more useful than brute force and power.”
Bomilik pulled a huge block of reddish stone from his inventory, the size of a microwave, and dropped it on the floor with a grunt. “Here, let me show ya!”
He then froze in place, flashing between multiple poses faster than I could register and bugging out like a glitched video game avatar stuck in a wall or between animations. For one fraction of a second, he leaned down to peer closely at the rock, then superimposed over that he was standing and raising a mallet to strike a chisel, and the next moment he was puffing up his chest as he took in a big breath.
It only went on for a couple of seconds at best, but it instantly gave me a headache and made one of my eyes start to twitch in its socket.
“Oh, woah!” I exclaimed. “Is there… something… wrong?”
My surprise drained away until all that was left was confusion. He had stopped bugging out, the overlapped images of him resolving into one form. He was leaning in close and slowly breathed in a concentrated and steady jet against a drop of smoking viscous liquid he had spat onto the stone. He changed the way he was blowing and guided the little ball of gel to roll down at an angle, where it left a perfectly clean and straight indented line in the stone. He shifted his stance, all while blowing on the little blob of goo, and guided it back up at a new angle.
I watched in amazement as he slowly carved the letter K into the stone, all by blowing around a little blob of what looked like snot. When the letter was finished, he made a deep sort of choking noise in his chest, and hacked up a new blob of spit over the smoking acid.
When he then slurped the mixture up off the face of the rock, I recoiled in disgust. Surprise, shock, and revulsion competing for the top billing within my reaction. “That… sure is something alright. You just… spit on it? And then… eat it again?”
Bomilik stood back up to his full height of 4 foot 6, and beamed at me. “Exactly! You’ll have to do the same. You’ll fail our whole Row if you try hacking away at any stone carving that needs done.”
I looked at Jozoic, hoping he might have some other way. Sadly, he only nodded, his mouth a grim line. “He is correct, although you will be using your gloves. Why don’t you give it a try?”
Max started giggling in the back of my mind, making it difficult to focus. I managed to answer despite his derisive joy. “Okay, well, I guess let’s see what these gloves can do.”
I raised my finger and pointed at the stone block, and willed it to do something. A huge and complex looking menu popped up, filled with options and various panels. One even showed a little diagram of a “Targeted” silicon dioxide molecule. I scrolled down one of the lists along the side, glancing over long and complex names that were almost all grayed out.
Max’s laughter intensified, and my eyes widened as I scrolled through the confusing options. I knew next to nothing about chemistry, and my hopes that my previous knowledge would ease my training drained away.
“Go on, try something!” Bomilik added, unhelpfully.
“It’s all grayed out? I must be doing something wrong.” I answered.
The following few minutes passed by with lots of unhelpful speculation. From “Maybe your grip is wrong”, to “perhaps you're dehydrated?”, or “try getting closer, you’re too far!”. We beat our collective head against the proverbial brick wall for a bit, all while Max continued to periodically break into derisive laughter in the back of my mind.
“Man, don’t tempt me to work on your memory. Your squishy meat brain really is inefficient. Have you already forgotten what the armorer said when he gave you the gauntlets?”
I smacked my forehead with my palm at my forgetfulness, “Ah! Thats right. Relic gave me this as well.”
I pulled the metal basket out from my inventory, it was listed as a container and hid the items within while in my inventory. After I fished the satchel out and looped it over my shoulder, I took the time to pull each individual tool out from the basket and back into my inventory.
The next time I pointed my finger at the block of stone, almost all of the options were available. It even gave me a handy little “available mass” counter next to each item in the list, most of them were counted in grams or milliliters. The long complex names were essentially gibberish to me, so I picked one at random. I highlighted a compound called “tert-Butyllithium”, and was prompted by a second menu asking if I wanted to compound it further with anything, which I waved away.
Leaving the mix at 100%, I was then given a pair of sliders along the side of the whole window. One was labeled “pressure” while the other was “dilation”. After a moment of nothing happening, I moved the pressure slider up a little. Nothing continued to happen, and the small crowd of dwarves who had gradually gathered around us murmured amongst themselves.
I slid the pressure slider up a little higher, and then bumped the dilation slider up as well, and all hell broke loose.
Fire began to pour from my fingertip, bursting into an arm-length angry orange flame that blasted over the waiting stone. I waved my hand vigorously to put the fire out, and all of the dwarves gasped and backed away as I waved the flame around.
It took a few seconds of frantic waving before my instinct of ‘fire bad’ was overridden by the problem solving portion of my brain. I moved the pressure slider back down to the bottom, and then the dilation one as well.
I looked around at the scandalized group of dwarves, and about half of us burst into laughter.
That was my first foray into pyrophoric experimentation, and the first step on my month long crash course into the techniques of the Zk’Aek.