The thunder of a hammer. The flash of sparks. The hiss of steel. The cries of embers. Sounds of the forge echoed through cobbled streets. A dozen swords lay in a pile while the dwarf turned metal into tools of death. Irid dropped his hammer and clamps at the sight of Ryder and Durge.
“You’ve been busy, dwarf,” Durge sneered.
The smith let out an exhaustive groan and took a seat in one of his worn chairs. Sweat dripped from his brow and onto his apron. He threw his gloves off and chugged his mug of ale. “I wish not to even gaze upon the state of your gear. If I keep my eyes closed it’ll forever be pristine. As if I left my final touchmark and watched as you left my store.”
It was best for Irid to not have gazed upon the adventurer’s gear: worn, chipped, torn, and tattered. Durge’s mace was dented. Ryder’s quiver was empty. Irid kept his smeared goggles on when they implored to browse his storefront.
“You still possess that helmet, dwarf? I know of a beast who might have need for it,” Durge said.
Irid smirked, “Kincaid? That beast said he wished for you to have it.”
“You know he’s alive!?” Ryder said.
“Aye. Came over this morn’. Thought I was plagued by spirits before I could even brew a breakfast and insult the elf next door. And speaking of that armor.” The smith went to his workshop and pulled the unfinished pieces from the wall. “I fear I have no time to finish the full outfit or decorate it now that the Emperor called for me. But this is what I have completed.” Shining steel plates for the chest, back, bracers, and greaves. “And of course,” Irid placed the beast’s helmet on the counter. Tailored to fit a human’s head; the length of the ears and muzzle were shortened. Black paint adorned the head with hints of crimson red accents along the fangs that grimaced a closed maw.
Durge and Ryder stood starstruck at the craftsmanship. Although the other pieces weren’t painted nor gilded, every rivet and leather strap were placed with the utmost care. “We don’t have the full payment you ask for,” Durge said with downward eyes.
Irid waved him off, “I don’t have the full outfit you asked for. Seeing Kincaid alive and hearing him tell the tale of you both rescuing him is a far greater payment than I could ask for. Now, how may I help you boys?”
Ryder picked out 20 more arrows for his quiver while Durge picked up the war hammer he tested when he first entered Bellows. Three steps tall, braced by iron langets, a hard wood shaft, a spike on top, and a spike on the other side of the steel head of the hammer. Durge left his mace on the counter and kept the war hammer in his grasp, it felt lighter than before, shadows and the air surrounding fell before him with each devastating practice swing.
“Willis had one of those,” Ryder mentioned. “Seemed deadly.”
“Aye. Not as heavy as the mace and more ways to deal damage,” Irid said.
“I’ll take it,” Durge said, passing over 20 gold.
“The shield still holding up?” the dwarf asked.
“Aye,” Durge mocked.
Irid scoffed, “Of course it is! How about a side-blade? That hammer will give you trouble up close.”
“I got my own dagger,” Durge said, glaring at Ryder and gesturing for him to give his uncle’s blade back. The noble rolled his eyes and picked out a new dagger for three gold. The boys said their goodbyes and the dwarf gave them a nod, but as they opened the door, he stopped them.
“I know not what quest you seek now, but know my arms and my crafts shall protect and defeat any you wish! Have faith in the knowledge that your foes shall cower when they gaze upon the touchmark of Bellows!”
With newfound confidence and even newer equipment, Durge tossed a hefty bag of 135 gold near Irid’s workshop after they walked out the front door. A final payment for the armor that he felt Irid deserved.
“Where to now?” Durge asked. Adjusting the straps of his new armor and putting on his helmet.
“We have potions to purchase, oaf.” Ryder knocked on the steel of his companion's helmet, “Is it hollow in there?” he jested.
Durge swiped Ryder’s arm before they opened the door to Rhena’s Remedies. A bell-less chime resonated through the shop, followed by the clinking of glass, and shuffling of parchment in the back.
“Welcome in! I’ll be with you shortly!” Rhena shouted from beyond.
During her time of absence, Durge perused and touched the arcane artifacts she had on display. His hands defiled music boxes, staffs, wands, and crystal orb amplifiers. The crates of herbs and ingredients for alchemy were not safe from the meddling knight either. After sniffing a peculiar star-shaped flower, the oaf sneezed so hard in his metal helm that he bumped into one of the tables. A foggy white crystal orb fell to the hardwood, leaving a noticeable crack. Ryder could swear he heard a faint shriek before Durge shoved it back onto the counter, the damaged side facing away.
Rhena leaned her head around the corner, “You break anything in here?”
The patrons both shook their heads.
“Hmph. What can I do for you, potion-buyer? Woah— who’s the scary fella? He some type of golem you constructed?”
Ryder laughed while Durge struggled to take off his helm. “I’m real!” the golem exclaimed.
“We’re looking for potions,” Ryder said. Rhena stepped to the side and allowed him to gaze at the colorful wall of concoctions behind her. He chose three health vials and one larger health flask.
“Will that be all?” she asked with a sly grin, knowing he was entranced by the options.
“You have invisibility?” the boy inquired.
“Oh do I!? Made from pure ghostgill shrooms. A real pain in the rear to harvest. You have to tie frogs to a leash, wait for them to pick up the scent, it’s a whole ordeal. Anyway… just one vial?”
“Yes, please.”
Rhena gingerly passed the potions to Durge while Ryder counted 105 gold out to the alchemist. “It’ll surround you in an aura as if you weren’t ever a part of the realm. But do keep in mind that it only lasts a few heartbeats,” Rhena said.
Durge held the clear vial in his palm with a furrowed brow, “Are you jesting with us? There’s nothing here!”
“Shake it, you fool,” she said. When the oaf shook the vial he could hear the splash of liquid but saw no liquid in the glass. “Should’ve conjured more intelligence for this creature,” Rhena chuckled. Ryder laughed along until Durge dragged him out of the shop.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Where to next,” Durge said, irritated.
“One more trip. This one involves Cauliflower.”
“The horse? We going to a livery?”
Ryder nodded, “We need a cart.”
The adventurers wandered the sunny streets of Maria, passing by townsfolk and merchants as they made their way toward the outskirts and the stables. Durge could hardly read the signs hung above the entranceways, especially when the letters were designed with swirls and curves. Fortunately, he only needed to see the two young sons, and a familiar sea elven woman brushing a horse for him to know which livery was the correct one.
She gazed at the dappled horse led by Ryder and gave a smile. “How may I help you today?”
“We’re looking for a cart or a simple wagon that Cauliflower here may be able to haul. Galia gazed at the horse’s mass and hooves while the two boys were distracted by the customers to continue cleaning. It wasn’t until Rodin came through one of the side doors carrying buckets of water. He knew the faces of Ryder and Durge but unsure where he last saw them.
“From the gates!” he exclaimed. “We met when Maria shut their gates!”
“Your name is Rodin, right?” Durge asked.
“Yup! This is Galia, and that’s Anch and Bhan. Glad you could stop by Lareth’s Livery!”
“Who’s Lareth?”
“My brother!” Rodin said. “But unfortunately… he passed away some weeks ago after we arrived. But we’re here to carry on his legacy!”
Galia gave him a look to focus on the sale, “Dear, they’re asking about a simple wagon for their horse.”
“A wagon? Sure we have one to attach to your pretty lady. We recently had a carpenter come in with a pile of hickory, don’t see that too often in Maria.”
“Whatever has wheels,” Durge said. Rodin smiled and led them to the back of the livery. Carts, wagons, and an ornate carriage covered by cloth were in the barn. Wheels, axels, scraps of wood, and all tools necessary, lined the walls. He presented the hickory wagon, its wood still shining a light tan.
For 200 gold the four-wheeled cart was property of the adventurers. With enough space to haul four people or chests full of jewels, they could cross the continent without worry of blisters on their feet. As a bonus, Rodin threw in a rustic toolbox full of pegs, leather straps, nails, and a hammer. They tethered Cauliflower to the wagon and off Ryder and Durge went down the cobbled streets without a foot touching the ground.
“I get to control the reins when we leave,” Ryder said, hopping out of the wagon.
“Yeah, yeah.” Durge pulled in front of the Guild Hall and made sure not to leave any valuables worth taking in the back of the cart.
As the day set and the evening rose, the warm light of lanterns and candles shone through the tall stained glass windows. Tired adventurers began their tales while the scale-beast barkeep filled empty tankards. Ryder searched for Catwood and his guild while Durge kept to the bar and the front counter near an exhausted guild-clerk.
The noble waved at Catwood to come down from the exclusive balcony. He waited at the Glorious staircase roped off from all unworthy adventurers. The one-armed elf and a few from his guild stepped down, ready to hear the Copper-ranked words.
“You wish to destroy the head of a Vulture?” Ryder asked. After he gained the guild leader’s attention, the noble pointed out the location and history of the leader who funded and organized the bands of scavengers in the area.
“How do you know this is valid?” Catwood asked.
“After slaying Fike we rescued a prisoner from Rofaun who revealed it to me.”
The elf contemplated as he looked upon the marked map. “We were ready to venture to Rofaun in the morning but this may be a better use of our time. Salzar, how soon can we strike?”
The scarred scale-beast appeared over his shoulder, “I can gather the rest and walk out the gates before a torch’s ash touches the ground.”
“Good. Do it,” Catwood ordered. Salzar and three other adventurers rushed down the steps and out of the Guild Hall doors. “Good work, Potion-Giver. We’ll be going down the north gates in an hour. We’ll see you on the road.”
Ryder nodded and smiled joyously when the guild leader turned his back.
Rose uttered a monstrous yawn, her eyes bloodshot and drooping. “What trouble are you two stirring now?” she asked the armored oaf.
Durge took a final sip from the tankard and set it on her desk, “I’m sure the Potion-Giver could tell us,” he said, peering at the grinning boy.
“The Verdure guild has accepted the quest,” Ryder said.
“What quest?” Rose asked. “We didn’t give them one,” she yawned.
“It’s more of a personal mission we must accomplish first, but we’ll return soon enough.”
“Well, may these dog tags bring you luck,” she grumbled, sliding the copper tags to them. Ryder pocketed the fragile talc identifier while Durge attached it to the chain that adorned the clay and talc one.
“Thanks for all your hard work, Rose. Happy Quest Day!” Ryder exclaimed.
Rose nodded in and out of sleep as the adventurers left, “Happy… and fare…”
“A final meal before the road?” Ryder asked with a sly smile.
“Please!” Durge exclaimed.
Ryder guided Cauliflower to the front of the Delicate Drink tavern. Warm light and song washed away the darkness and dread of the outside night. It was more lively than usual; the familiar vocals of a dwarven bard that echoed off the decorated walls. Valok nodded and smiled at the duo entering while he still sang his songs.
They sat at their usual spot by the large window and awaited for the ever-calm orc to ask for their order. “In honor of Quest Day, we’ll be offering honey-glazed venison, bacon, cheese, and bread,” Baird said.
“As long as it’s not hardtack, I’ll take anything!” Durge said.
The innkeeper smiled and soon returned with steaming plates for the duo. The meals were paired with mugs of a viscous ale that Ryder gave to his feasting companion. Durge drowned himself when he wasn’t stacking the cheese and meat into the bread.
“You’re a foul monster,” Ryder laughed. He stood from the table and asked Baird for more food that he could purchase for the journey ahead. The orc gave them bundles of whole vegetables, scraps of smoked meat, and hinged wooden bowls full of rice. They also offered hay, oats, and produce for the horse. Ryder gave the kind orc 10 gold before returning to his drunken companion.
Durge tipped a gold to Valok and shouted to the entire tavern that he knew of him and how the dwarf drove him around Thrahnar and Kraglor during the Mid-Year.
“Aye, Burge!” the bard laughed. “A wonderful journey that all would be blessed to have! Now for my final tune of the night! A song of adventures fit for this glorious day! I call it Our Love of Adventure!” Valok stomped his foot along the hardwood floor, progressively getting faster and faster until he started to strum his lute.
Shining steel! Shimmering coins!
Sliced from goblins! Seared from dragons!
We arrive with might, to all we’ll fight!
…
Until we fall,
We’ll be at our Guild Hall!
Gnashing! Bashing! Clashing!
With brothers and sisters we’ll unite!
‘Til twilight, ‘til moonlight, we’ll be together,
For our love of… adventure!
…
Let the goblins tear our threads!
Let the dragons scour the dread!
Slashing! Smashing! Thrashing!
And leave you to rend!
For we’ll be together, until the end!
The crowds cheered and clanked their final tankards together while Ryder hauled Durge out of the tavern. He let him sit in the back of the cart as he drove to Dreadful Dreams. The drunken oaf dangled his unbalanced legs off the edge while Ryder went inside Dreadful Dreams.
The orc could see the young man in the reflection of his mirror. “Sorry boy, my rooms are filled. Thought you’d be rotting in some green fields… again,” Skel said, continuing to shave down his tusks.
“Always an optimist,” Ryder scoffed. “Just here to make use of that chest of yours. I finally have more loot than I need when traveling.”
Skel groaned and gestured to the key and chest in his room. Ryder stored his and Durge’s coin purses in the trunk. He had 70 pearls while Durge had 34, an abhorrent amount for a single person to have on them. Since Ryder figured he’d come back after his travels, he stored away all of the gold. He stacked five shimmering coins on the innkeeper’s nightstand as a gift for allowing him to stash his loot.
“See ya, Skel.”
“Whatever, kid.”
The adventurers rode through the cobbled streets of the torchlight city of Maria and out the northern gates. A band of wagons led by lanterns were ahead; Durge peered at the convoy while behind Ryder’s shoulder as he drove.
“Must be Catwood and the rest of the guild.”
“I knew that!” Durge hiccupped.
Quest Day fell and the full moon of Brightday rose, staying high during the summer night. It guided their way along the red road as Ryder and Durge rode north to the fortress of Elimor.