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Tales of Balor
Harlow's Forge

Harlow's Forge

(Harlow)

The frost blue shoulders of glaciers fall away on either side of the path where I stood. A shallow ditch weaved up the mountain face before me. It disappeared in a wisp of cloud where the land met the sky, but I couldn’t see beyond it.

The wind howled in a steady gust, sending snow particles sparkling in the air. The light half-blinded me in the radiant blue glow all around, and the fog obscures nearly everything. I dug in my pack for my fire mantle. It’s still there; thank fuck.

The Item bag can carry anything, but I often forget to take an inventory of my items. I don the thick mantle covered in flaming phoenix feathers. I was instantly engulfed by warmth, all the cold debuffs fading from my HUD.

 A glance behind me confirms the portal was gone. Just a cragged snow-capped glacier for as far I can see. I start up the path. This was the problem with using Fairy gates. The portals they generated could take you anywhere, but they’d drop you in random locations. If I ever meet the developer who came up with the system, I’d give him a solid kick in the balls.

The path becomes slick, snow-crusted stone steps. I heft myself up one after another. When I reach the top, low and behold, an ominous cave mouth. The devs loved cliches but occasionally it would be nice to be surprised.

The cave was grey granite covered in ice. I took out a lantern and hooked it to my belt. The light illuminated the surrounding area in a ten-foot radius. The further into the cave I went, the more the ice receded, leaving just the granite walls.

When I finally reached the end of the tunnel, I stepped foot into an enormous cavern filled to the brim with crystals. Dagonite. A powerful crystal used in the forging of weapons, tools, and armor. The only problem was they were always guarded by Drakes or full-fledged dragons.

A glint in the darkness caught my eye. I moved my hand in time to catch an arrow that had flown at my face. A tall, scaled humanoid creature came out of the shadows, followed by others. Drakonian’s. According to the flavor text, they were the offspring of humans and Drakes. Fighting them was preferable to fighting a Drake or Dragon.

I drew my spear back and sent it flying. It struck home, impaling the Drakonian archer. With a whistle, the spear warped and was back in my hand. I took a moment to admire my spear.

Type: Obsidian Spear

Name: Gae Bolg

Damage type: Piercing, slashing,

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Weapon skills

Item Warp: When thrown or set down item will return to the owner’s hand with either verbal or mental command.

I forged the spear myself, and it was one of my favorite weapons. I had a few that I alternated with. Gae Bolg was the weapon I preferred when it wasn’t clear how many opponents I’d be facing. I aimed and launched Gae Bolg three more times before the Drakonians were on me. They wielded long, curved scimitars. I deflected their attacks and ran them through.  

As foes went, they were average at around level 30, easily defeated with my level 90. The cave was in the intermediate areas, but it was a hidden location. When I killed the last Drakonian, I took out my pickaxe and collected 30 shards. I could have taken more but I wasn’t greedy. I just took what I needed.

Turning, I walked back the way I’d come and retraced my steps down the mountain path. When I was back on the frozen plains, I removed a scroll of Return from my inventory. I broke the seal on the scroll and was instantly teleported home. I stood in a field of lilies facing a quaint two-story building with a shop attached. I smiled and walked through my front door. I took my shoes off in the cozy little foyer before walking to the back of a long hallway and into my workshop connected to the back of my home. My workshop was a wide area with a forge, smelter, crafting table, and grindstone.

A series of cabinets held the various materials I used when forging. Taking the Dagonite out of my inventory, I placed them in the chest, keeping a few pieces out to use. I’d be making two items. One would be a sword made entirely out of Dagonite and the other would be mithril infused with Dagonite.

I placed two shards into the smelter and hit the timer. When the timer went off the two shards would become one. I’d then take it out of the smelter and place it into the forge for a minute before hammering it into a blade.

I grabbed my tool belt and strapped it around my waist. The smelter dinged. I took out my tongs and grabbed the long shard of Dagonite. Placing it into the forge’s flames. I worked the bellows, stoking the fires. When the Dagonite started steaming and was transparent, I took it out with my tongs and placed it on the Anvil.

Whistling a tune, I brought my hammer down. White sparks flew with every strike of my hammer. When the Dagonite cooled, I placed it back into the fire and stoked the flames again. When the crystal was transparent again, I brought it out and struck it with my hammer. I repeated this process several times until I achieved the length and shape I wanted. Lifting the Dagonite blade, I plunged it into the water trough beside the forge.

While it cooled, I walked over to a drawer and perused the many hilts I had. I picked up an Adamantine hilt adorned with Lapis Lazuli gems. The gunmetal hilt encrusted with blue gems was perfect. I inserted the blade into the hilt.

I walked over to the grindstone and sharpened both sides of the blade before I polished it to a shine. The Green blade shone in the light. I sheathed the blade in a black hard leather sheath.

Next, I forged a mithril spearhead imbued with Dagonite turning the edge of the spearhead Green. I chose a Rowen wood shaft for the spearhead. Taking both new weapons, I walked into my shop. Along the east and west wall were suits of armor. Rows of glace cases and wooden racks full of weapons took up most of the space.

If it wasn’t obvious, I’m a shop owner and Weaponsmith. I usually buy most of the materials I use, but now and again I collect my own to stretch my legs and feed my desire for adventure. Walked to the front door I unlocked it and flipped the sign from closed to open. The sign above my shop read Harlow’s Forge. I sold weapons to adventures, repaired their armor, and if they had the money, forged custom gear for them.  

The doorbell rang, alerting me of my first customer of the day. “Welcome sir, how may I assist you?”

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