Timothy transitioned his way through the swirl of lights and colors. He was much more comfortable with the experience now that this was his third time going through it. The thrill of the ride still existed, but he now knew what to expect, so the element of surprise was gone. He settled in like an old pro at an amusement park and let himself enjoy the sensations.
As the lights and serpentine motions subsided, he began to merge with a dwarf named Zach Morgan. Zach stands about four feet six inches tall and weighs upwards of 200 lbs of pure muscle. Timothy could feel the strength that the dwarf possessed, it felt like Zach could bench press a truck. Zach had the physique of a bodybuilder with bright orange-red hair cropped short on the sides. His beard was well kept, neat and trimmed, and came down to his chest in a wide arch that started at his temples. He was wearing a light gray shirt under a sleeveless black leather apron and black leather pants. The whole ensemble screamed blacksmith, which was fitting, because he was one.
Timothy felt a natural symbiosis between him and Zach as their consciousnesses merged. Did his experience from the previous two doors allow him to make a stronger connection? Was there something else that enabled a connection this strong? It was easy to gain knowledge from Zach, almost like they were kindred spirits. Zach is a forger, wielder, caster. Since he is level six, and gem caster is his tertiary path, he was only able to have two gems for casting spells. Timothy only spent a few seconds thinking about which two gems he should pick for his time as Zach.
Timothy picked a green and a black gem. The green gem because it was always nice to have some healing, you never know when that will come in handy. The black gem because Zach is a blacksmith and a gem forger, metal seemed to be fitting of his vocation.
Wait a second! Why didn’t I get to pick the gems for Howard? Timothy thought about his previous experience.
Every minute with Howard was such a struggle. Could that have something to do with it? I will need to talk to Rift about it, he decided in the end.
Timothy found himself as Zach, walking down a wide cobblestone road busy with people. He was carrying a large toolbox in his left hand and waving to people as he walked down the street. It appeared to him that most people knew Zach and once Timothy thought about it, he knew them too. On occasion he would stop to make some small talk with them, talking about work or their families. There were so many people that knew Zach and seemed to enjoy talking with him about their plans for the day. Zach's charisma must be one of his highest stats, if not the highest, to have this type of effect on people. As soon as Timothy thought about the stat block for Zach he saw it in his mind's eye, and yes, charisma was his highest stat.
What? That’s possible? Timothy thought, I’m an idiot. I should have thought about trying this in the past but there is no sense in worrying over the past.
Timothy continued to walk down the busy street as he made his way to the forge and looked up to the sky. It was a bright cloudless day in the early spring and the temperature was perfect. These types of days always made his work more enjoyable, no matter what type of work he was doing. The slight breeze, with its hint of winter in the air, made his mind up for him as he decided to work in the yard today. Years ago he had made himself a secondary forge in the backyard for beautiful days such as this.
He was minutes away from his forge when he came across old man Cellars on the side of the road. The poor old man was having some trouble with his fruit and vegetable cart. It looked like it had hit a hole in the cobblestones and broken the left rear wheel. The cart was sitting at an angle toward the broken wheel, the wares spilled all over the street. The old man was looking over the cart and the broken wheel with his hands on his head, unsure what to do. Timothy changed his direction and made his way over toward him to offer some assistance.
“Hey Mr. Cellers. Having some trouble I see,” Timothy said.
Old man Cellers took his hands from his head and looked back to see who had called his name.
“Zach!” Relief washed over his face, “Dang cart found the pothole over there,” he pointed a few feet away at the cobblestone street. His words whistled as he spoke through the missing teeth in his mouth.
Timothy looked where the old man was pointing to and started to walk over toward it. He took a knee and inspected the hole, it was deep, probably five or six inches and about a foot in diameter. He turned his head to look at Mr. Cellers.
“That is quite a pothole Mr. Cellers,” He straightened up and started walking toward the cart, “Looks like it did a number on that wheel. Do you need a hand?”
“Don’t you need to get your forge opened?” Old man Cellers asked.
“Bah! I am early, and people will forgive me if I am a few minutes late. Besides, it is always nice to help a friend,” Timothy said.
Old man Cellers smiled and replied, “I can’t tell ya how much I appreciate this. I’ll pay ya.”
“It’s no bother. I am off the clock, just pay me for any materials I use,” Timothy remarked.
“Of course!” Old man Cellers said in a gracious tone.
“First thing is we need to get these fruits and vegies off the street and out of my way,” Timothy commented more to himself than Mr. Cellers.
Timothy set the large toolbox on the cobblestone street next to the cart and opened it up. This was another type of dimensional bag, but this one was gargantuan on the inside. He reached inside the toolbox, his hand searching for something, and pulled out a large drop cloth. He opened it up with a few flicks of the wrist, and like a parachute, it spread out and drifted down to the street. There was a clear gem affixed to the corner of the drop cloth on Timothy's left-hand side. Timothy stepped over to the gem and put a finger on it, the drop cloth vanished without a sound. In an instant it appeared under the spilled produce. He bent down and reached into the toolbox again, this time removing a small square with a purple and black gem on it. He placed the square on the edge of the drop cloth under the produce and touched the two gems. The drop cloth went rigid and started to rise, lifting everything on it with ease.
“Now that those are out of the way let’s take a look at that wheel,” Timothy said.
“What can I help with?” Asked old man Cellers.
“First let me assess the damage, then we can figure out the repair. I will probably need your help by handing me tools and whatnot when I am ready,” Timothy explained. The truth was he didn’t need the help, but the old man seemed so anxious to assist he had to come up with something.
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Timothy looked the wheel over, there were a few broken wooden spokes, and the outer wheel was destroyed. He went over to his toolbox and pulled out a few long pieces of wood and something to lift the one end of the cart up with. It almost looked like a pump jack that mechanics use to change tires, except this one was much longer. He brought the jack over and started raising the cart until it was leaning slightly the opposite way.
“That will work,” Timothy said as he stood up and dusted himself off, “Now, let’s get this wheel fixed, shall we?”
Timothy started tapping into Zach’s knowledge of woodworking to create a repair plan. He removed items from his toolbox and set them on a workbench that he also pulled from the toolbox. He spent about thirty minutes shaping the spokes and wheel before he had all the parts ready.
He removed the old wheel and brought it to the workbench and started making the repairs. Timothy couldn't help his amazement at the versatility of a gem forger. There were various tools that he was using that had magic running through them, but no gems attached. It seems like gem forgers can make personal utility items with magic imbued into them. These items would not count toward the maximum number of gems a forger could use. There is a catch to this though, the only one that could use the items was the forger who created them. The flow of magic in the item was linked to the forger that made them, almost like a soul bond, but this one was magical. It made Timothy think that with enough preparation, forgers could be difficult adversaries.
It took another fifteen minutes to assemble all the parts and affix the repaired wheel to the cart. Timothy lowered the jack, easing the wheel down to take the load of the cart until the jack was free. He took it back to his toolbox and started putting everything away, old man Cellers helping him clean up.
Once everything was back in his toolbox, Timothy walked to the small box on the drop cloth and placed a finger on it. The cloth tapered itself and started pouring the produce back into the cart. When all the produce was returned to the cart, he touched the gems again and removed the small box. The cloth went limp and drifted slowly to the cobblestone street. Timothy and Mr. Cellers folded the drop cloth and placed it, along with the small box, back in the toolbox.
The two settled the bill, the total charge for the materials was two copper and three iron coins. Old man Cellers gave Zach the money and allowed him to take a basket of any fruits and vegetables he wanted.
“That is not necessary,” Timothy said to Mr. Cellers.
“Of course it is! You saved my harvest. I would have lost at least a day’s worth of sales if not for you. You must take some!” Old man Cellers insisted.
“Well, since I must,” Timothy shrugged with a smile and picked out a basket of fruit. “Your produce is the best in town. I am going to offer some to anyone that was waiting at the forge. That should help smooth things over,” he smiled at Cellers.
Old man Cellers gave him a grin so wide that one could see the myriad of missing teeth in his mouth, “Thank you Zach. You really are a life saver,” he said as he patted him on the shoulder.
“It was no problem at all. You have a nice day now,” Timothy said as he picked up his toolbox and the basket of fruit before walking away.
He started down the street at a brisk pace, making his way toward the forge again. Now that his hands were full most of the people walking by waved or nodded to him instead of stopping to chat. Timothy was grateful for this, he knew Zach was strong, but how long could he carry all these items before tiring? He thought about the stat block again, never mind, his dwarven stamina bonus would keep him going for a while.
As he approached his forge, he was only able to see one customer waiting for him on the stoop to the front door. It was one of the local police, Constable Ellen Grady, she was one of the sanctified race. Sanctified can be born of any of the eight common races on Draconous, they are created when a god touches a soul in the womb. This blesses the child and they are born as a physical representation of that god. Ellen was blessed by Leopold, the god of light, and a devout follower of the holy order of the sun moon. She was gorgeous with shoulder length golden hair, tan skin that always had a slight glow to it and golden eyes. She had been transferred to this town six months ago and her and Zach had become acquaintances over that timeframe. She turned to look at Zach.
“Your late!” she said to Zach as he approached the steps.
“Sorry about that El. Old man Cellers hit a pothole and broke one of his wheels. I stopped to help him out,” Timothy said.
Ellen’s skin glowed a bit brighter, “You do have a good heart, always helping people when you can. I see why the people around here like you so much,” Ellen said.
“It always feels good to help someone in need. The friendship is just a bonus,” Timothy replied before continuing as he held out the basket of produce, “El, would you mind holding this so I can get my keys?”
Ellen reached for the basket of fruit and took it from Timothy, freeing up his left arm.
“Thanks. Let me get this door unlocked and we can go inside. I don’t like lurking on stoops, even my own,” Timothy said as he retrieved his keys from his pocket and opened the door. He held the door open for Ellen and followed her inside.
“You can set those on the counter,” Timothy instructed Ellen as he set his toolbox on the floor next to a desk in the corner of the room.
The room is a smaller waiting room for customers with a stone counter over by the far wall. There is a heavy iron door behind the counter that leads to the forge in the back of the building. He has a small desk in the far corner of the waiting room that he uses to keep the business’s books. Timothy gestured for Ellen to take a seat in one of the guest chairs, she waved him off and remained standing.
“I am on duty, so I don’t have all that much time,” she said.
“No worries. What can I help you with?” Timothy asked.
“We just got our annual budget and they allotted some coin for us to freshen up our weapons and armor. I was hoping to place an order with you,” Ellen commented.
“Ya, no problem. I would be glad to take the order,” Timothy said with a touch of excitement.
Over the next hour Ellen and Timothy ironed out all the details of the order. Once the contract was signed, Timothy wished her well as she exited the establishment and went back to work. He closed and locked the door behind her, placing a sign in the window informing customers to go to the side yard. He took a piece of fruit from the basket before he passed through the main forge and grabbed a few tools on his way to the backyard. He placed everything on a rack, ate the fruit and then gathered his materials and got to work.
Zach’s body was covered in sweat from crafting one sword blade after another for the past few hours. Timothy was astonished at the resilience of the dwarven race. No matter how many times he swung the hammer every strike was like the first, full of energy and power. He was getting hungry though and even though he knew he could put his hunger off, if necessary, he decided not to. Since he was not crafting anything magical there was no need to push his endurance to its limits. He finished the blade he was working on before taking a break and grabbing a late lunch.
He set the last blade into the basket with the other completed blades and tidied up the forge. When he was done cleaning up he made his way inside and took a few pieces of fruit from the basket on the counter. These fruits looked like a cross between a mango and an apple, softer to the touch than an apple and not as sweet as a mango. The name of the fruit came to Timothy with ease, they are called ayures. He sat down at his desk and started looking over his open workorders as he bit into the first ayure. Some of the juices dripped down his beard and landed on his paperwork, smudging the ink.
Timothy quickly pushed the chair back and held the ayure away from the desk, “Damnit!” he blurted out to the empty room.
“You really should be more careful,” a dark voice mocked.
Timothy heard a man’s voice from the direction of the doorway to the forge behind the counter. The doors were all locked, no one other than him should be in this building, let alone the office. He stood up quickly, grabbing the desk chair with one hand and threw it in the direction of the voice. The chair tumbled through the air, but no one was there, and it smashed into the iron door to the forge. Various pieces scattered around the room.
“Is that really how you treat your customers?” the voice questioned from behind Timothy.
The voice sounded familiar. A few seconds ticked by as Timothy searched his memory. Wait a second! He thought and turned around.
“Howard?”