You leave Glenn’s shop carrying your gear.

“Just bring what you have and let’s head to my house,” says Trent. “We’ll be in for a bit of adventuring so you’ll need armor and weapons.”

The grizzled adventurer is quite popular in town. Shopkeepers and ordinary citizens will either wave or greet him. You see inquisitive gazes as they look at you — bet nothing hostile.

You arrive at his house after a short walk.

It’s a two-story house, fairly modest, without the big courtyard that Thomas’ house has. You hear the sounds of laughter and conversation inside.

“Wait a while,” he says before entering the house.

You consciously try not to listen to their conversations but overhear snippets of their conversation anyway. Phrases like “new guy” and “isn’t that dangerous?” were simply spoken too loud to ignore.

Trent comes out wearing a metal chest plate over leather armor covering most of his body. He’s lugging a leather cuirass and he hands it to you.

“Wear it,” he says. “You’ll need a bit of protection for where we’re going.”

Putting on armor seems like second nature to you and you quickly strap on the leather cuirass.

“Good, good,” says Trent, seeing how at ease you are with armor. He gives you a helmet that’s quite similar to the one he’s wearing.

“Wear it,” he says. “It was mine when I was younger — but it will still provide a bit of protection.”

“Where are we going?” you ask, curious about all this need for protection.

“We’ll be out hunting,” he answers. “Now change your boots and hand me the clothes you bought. You’ll get them back after we return.”

You do as he orders, switching to your new 20 gold boots and handing him your newly-bought clothes.

He takes your extra gear and enters the house once again. He comes out carrying two shields — round shields with centered grips.

He gives you one and you start moving it around to get a feel of the balance.

“What weapon would you like?” he asks. “I’ve got swords and axes… or maybe you want to wield two swords?”

“Only an idiot will use two swords,” you say with a short laugh. “An axe, a heavy one at that,” you answer.

“Axe it is then,” he says as he enters his house yet again.

He comes back with a sword and a broad axe.

“Here,” he says, handing you the axe.

The axe is three feet in length with a broad crescent-shaped cutting edge. It looks light but it weighs close to 10 lbs. — most of it concentrated on the axe head.

You give it a few spins to get a feel for the grip and the axe’s center of balance.

“We need all these to meet the smith?” you ask.

“No,” he answers with a glint in his eyes. “Your 80 gold won’t be enough for a new weapon and we’ll need a few things to motivate Torm.”

“I see,” you reply, although you were expecting this since the trip to Glenn’s.

The two of you make your way to the southern town gate, grabbing a few rations on the way.

“79.”

Your previous outing gives you an idea that you’re heading to the mountains.

After a few minutes of walking, Trent turns to you. “There is a rumor around town of a rogue wizard hiding in the mountains.”

“Rumors?” you ask. You know this esteemed veteran won’t be making this trip with just information from rumors. The word wizard also piques your interest — a variant form of caster it seems.

“A scout I know confirmed it,” he says. “He seems to be a summoner — with a few hell hounds guarding his base.”

“Summoned creatures?!?” you think silently — a boiling rage seeming to come out from nowhere suddenly sparks inside you.

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“Creatures summoned from an elemental plane of fire,” he explains, confusing your rage for surprise. “They appear as large dogs but they breathe fire.”

“No matter from whence they came,” you say solemnly. “Here is where they’ll perish.”

Trent appears moved by your zeal and continues walking silently.

The two of you continue to walk for a couple of hours before stopping once the sun reached its zenith. You take out your rations — meat wrapped in a bread-like covering — and eat.

“That’s the boar we hunted,” says Trent. “The guild used to send out quests for these boars once supplies get low, but now our group gets first pick.”

“Is this a test?” you ask, thinking what you’re doing was one form of evaluation.

“No,” he replies immediately. “We tested you even before we got back to town and your stories made you more than capable to join our little group.”

“My stories…” you start before getting cut off.

“Eomer and I pieced the story as we processed the pelts,” he answers. “The bear had no visible wounds other than the one on its jaw — and that jaw was torn off.”

“I’m sorry,” you say honestly, “for the deception.”

“No matter,” he says with a laugh. “You seem like a decent person. You got along with Thomas and Bruce — and even the suspicious Dune approved of your company.”

“I am thankful,” you say. “Truly.”

“Hahaha,” he laughs. “A front-liner that can shoot a bow is a great addition to the team — especially if we can get Torm to forge you a weapon.”

“What’s so special about Torm’s weapons?” you ask.

“Here,” he says, handing you his sheathed sword.

The moment you unsheathe the sword you feel an otherworldly presence inside the weapon. It feels more like a living thing than an ordinary sword.

“This sword,” you start, “is alive.”

“Indeed it is,” Trent answers. “Torm is a magesmith — but some of his methods are unorthodox, to say the least.”

“He binds souls into his work,” you deduce.

“Demon souls,” Trent interrupts. “He’s not teaching anyone the art and the demons he summons are slowly destroyed inside the weapons that he makes,” he explains, noting the hint of anger in your voice.

“If you say so,” you reply. “It seems he earned your trust.”

“He did,” says Trent, “but I will still end him if he turns.”

You nod knowingly.

After your short break, you continue to go up the mountain. After an hour of walking, you begin to smell faint traces of brimstone in the air.

“We’re close,” you say.

Trent nods as he readies his sword and shield.

You ready your bow and quivers.

“You’ll be wasting arrows on these mutts?” he asks.

“On one or two maybe,” you answer with a knowing smile. “Just to get a feel of them.”

“Half and half then — no matter the count,” he proposes. “After my 10 percent of the cut for the information and gear.”

“Seems reasonable,” you agree.

The two of you rush into the forest, not even taking steps to hide your presence.

The sooner the hell hounds converge, the sooner you can get rid of them.

You notice two hounds far to your left.

You stop to fire two arrows and continue running.

Katchak! Kraack!

The sounds of two arrows reaching their targets hit your ears. One through the skull and one through the throat. You don’t even bother to confirm your kills.

You see Trent rushing forward with his sword — the blade now glowing slightly red.

A hound rushes at him and he meets it with a shield strike. Finishing with a sword strike to the neck before the hound could even get a firm footing.

“That’s how you kill these bastards boy,” he says, “up close and personal.”

He smashes the dead hound’s head with the hilt of his sword and pulls out a red orb, still glowing with a faint pulse.

“Rich in magic these beasts,” he says. “Note where you kill them — these beasts can earn us a pretty penny.

You nod to show you understood.

The next group you encountered numbered six — two and four of the hounds flanking each side.

Trent immediately charges at the four hounds without even thinking.

You stand facing the two charging hounds gauging their distance instantly.

“I got time,” you think to yourself.

You turn and fire two arrows towards the hounds Trent is charging.

One goes down but the other hound is unfazed even with an arrow jutting out of the side of its throat.

You drop your bow and arrows and ready your shield — just in time to meet a charging hound.

The second one stops a few feet from you and breathes a gout of scorching fire.

You roll to avoid the flame — hoping to draw the fiery breath away from your expensive bow. The ground has an acrid stench and vegetation has all but rotted away.

You stop your roll and stand, all the while drawing and readying your axe.

“Are you alive boy!” you hear Trent’s shout amidst the din of battle.

“No problem,” you say as you cleave the neck of a hound that lunged too close.

You take a quick glance at Trent and see scorch marks on his shield — otherwise, he seems fine.

You turn back to the remaining hell hound — the fire-breathing one.

It fleetly moves to change position and once again prepares to breathe.

“A pause?” you think at that exact split second. “Too inefficient.”

You close in before the flames could come out of its mouth and cleave its head in two with a diagonal slash.

The hound falls dead in front of you, exposing parts of its brain and a faint reddish glow.

Your guess was correct. These orbs, whatever they were, grew in the temporal lobe of these magical beasts.

You see Trent still struggling with two hounds — one of them preparing to breathe fire.

“Need help old man,” you offer.

“Save your strength!” he fires back.

He then throws his glowing sword straight into the fire-breathing throat of one hound while catching the other hound as it lunges with his shield. He pommels it to the ground, scattering grey matter everywhere.

“Took you long enough,” you jest.

“I was facing three not two,” he answers smugly.

“I took down one of yours,” you start.

“With a bow,” he interrupts. “Not really the same as facing these bastards while they’re breathing fire.”

“And it took you quite a while to deal with just two hounds,” he finishes.

“Fair enough,” you answer. “It seems there’s still some iron left in those old bones.”

“Iron?” he starts, “These bones are filled with steel,” he boasts while laughing.

The air suddenly becomes heavier as you feel the familiar presence of a gate being opened.

“That’s no gate for hell hounds,” Trent says with a hint of fear in his voice. “That wizard is summoning a demon.”

“A demon?” you think.

“Finally.”