《The not-immortal Blacksmith》 01 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Prologue Re-Dux 01 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Prologue - A human I write this journal to document my travels and my life, to be relinquished to my descendants upon my death; I pray to the god of the grave and all his servants, that my death will come soon. My name is Maxwell. Im a human. I am 24 years old Well thats not entirely correct, I look 24 years old, and will continue to look like that until I die. I was born, the 55th of Kielat, 1657. Now many know of the end of Demon Lord Mackelis IV, so I wont go into all the details, but instead I will tell you of the aftermath. The great hero Tristan of Denvrr" from the "lands united Murika had just killed Mackelis, and I lay bleeding to death on the floor of the throne room. Tristan walked to me, his smallest boomstick in hand, Maxwell, I cant have you die here, not after your service. Drink this! It''s the potion the Goddess gifted me when I first arrived. It will heal you. I gurgled on the floor and he unceremoniously dumped the potion down my throat. It burned going down my throat, fire poured out of my wounds. The pain drove me unconscious. When I awoke several days later, I gasped and opened my eyes. The castle; previously lit brightly with candles and magic; was dark, dreary, empty. I sat up and noticed that the floor nearby was covered by a very large pile of treasure and a note. I hope this letter finds you well. Here are the remains of our treasure, I will not need them back home. Take them and start that shop you keep yammering on about! Tristan. Next to the note were Tristan''s original pair of boomsticks, items of death that he had called Revolvers or 6-shooters. I knew them well. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I will be honest with you, I wept. My one and only friend of the last three years was gone, and I felt empty. Let us move past this to a point 5 years into the future. I was now living in the northern town of Lykenburg. It resides on the edge of the cold, great northern desert known as "The Desert of Demons". I have been able to finally graduate from an apprentice, to journeyman, and on to a full fledged master blacksmith! Along the way I had married the love of my life. My life was busy and truly blessed by the Goddess of Tranquility, with my shop and new bride! Adventurers passed through town occasionally, looking for spoils of war from the Demon Kings forgotten armories. I reminisced with them about what I remember. I occasionally give directions to an old fort. A good time was had by all. Another uneventful five years pass. I have three children. I love my life, my wife, and my children! Time goes by in a blaze, then, one day, I realize that my wife is getting gray hair. I have none. Not a single bit. I havent had a winter sniffle inFOREVER! I start to dye my beard and hair. More time has passed. My children are adults and married. Deborah (my wife) and I left the shop to our youngest, as he was the one who wanted it. Deborah is blind from the pox that hit 12 years ago. Im pretending to be a feeble old man. In my story, it is now the 3rd of Samue, the month of Planting, 1729 years since the new gods came to us. My wife of 43 years is dead. I look 24. I am ashamed to admit that when I awoke that cool spring morning, and found her dead, I took my own life. I shoved one of the revolvers behind my ear, and pulled the trigger. I woke up a short time later. I cleaned the wall where my brains had splattered, and screamed my anger at the heavens, cursing the Goddess and the rest of the gods, and swore my vengeance upon them, should it take the entirety of my existence. Then I cried. I planned the funeral, and did, against my better judgment, include the local priest of Tranquility. After the funeral, I told my children that I was leaving in the morning to go on a pilgrimage to the great theological city of Belergrad, and that I would not be back, the understanding made that I would die on my journey. Many tears were shed at the announcement, and well wishes were made. The youngest of my granddaughters crawled onto my lap and whispered into my ear, Daddy and I know. There will always be a place for you here. Today is the 8th of Samue, the month of Planting, 1729 years since the new gods came to us. I departed from the city I once loved; and my family therein; this morning, with the clothes on my back and revolvers in my belt. A new life of sorts has begun for me, and I will try to embrace it. 02 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Chapter 1 - The Immortal Blacksmith The not-immortal Blacksmith - Chapter 1 - The Immortal Blacksmith I''ve been traveling the continent of my birth for around 40 years or so. It is the Year of the Wyvern, year 28 of the rule of King Ganglia the third. His great grandfather King Ganglia the 2nd was in charge when I was off killing the Demon lord with my friend Tristan. I still miss that man. I hope he did well when he returned to his own land of Murika. I have seen every garden, landmark, temple, museum, art gallery, and villa of note. At some I made donations, at others I stole from the till. I''m not above petty revenge for stupidity. About three weeks ago I met a Dwarf, male or female I can not say, as they all have beards and wear armor. Now the Dwarf in question, one Bjorn Stoneaxe, is a master smith. Not just household items either, he (all Dwarves are HE; until you art told otherwise; NEVER assume; It is a majorly bad idea) also made armor, and weapons. Being a deft hand at the craft myself, I asked about an apprenticeship. "Well, young lad, I don''t know if ye are up to me standards." Said Bjorn. "I tell you what, give me a week, and let me show you what I can do." Said I. Bjorn didn''t take the bait, so I sweetened the pot. "I will even pay the appropriate cost for using your smithy." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. "Oh, well why din''cha start with that, lad?" Bjorn replied. *-*-* I''ve now been with Bjorn for 49 years. I have learned so very much from him, and he from me. He turns 350 tomorrow. We are going out to celebrate after work. King Ganglia the 3rd died last week. Prince Wilhelm Carbuncle will be crowned next week. I plan to keep on ignoring politics. *-*-* Bad news. Very bad news. I''m not even talking about the Goddess of Tranquility appearing to me in the toilet, telling me that I need to seek out the newly summoned "Chosen One from Another World!" I told her to "piss off, I''m leaving a shit here!" and she wouldn''t relent! "The new Demon Lord has appeared in the far east! You must help!" To which I replied, "Been there, done that, got the shirt made out of a T. Find someone else to do your dirty work. I''m out." She disappeared. I may have mooned her too... No, the Very bad news is that Bjorn has been covering for me for 30 years! Shit! Apparently he has been telling people that I am "Just an odd, overly tall Dwarf." I need to leave. I have spent too much time here. I have decided to leave tonight, and will leave a letter for Bjorn. In the words of Tristan, TTFN. 03 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 2 - Tinker The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 2 - Tinker I''ve been living in the small village of Heckles for 10 years. The king hasn''t changed so it is the 10th year of the rule of King Wilhelm Carbuncle. Over the last 10 years all of the available ladies have, at one point or another, paraded themselves past me in an attempt at marriage. And before you say anything, I was informed by the matchmaker that the ladies were doing it. I''m planning to leave soon. *-*-* Good news! A group of tinkers has stopped in town! A group of mostly Gnomes, and some humans. I have been talking to their leader, Garm, about joining them when they leave at the end of the week. I hope I can wear him down. *-*-* This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. I got Garm to say yes! We will be leaving at dawn! *-*-* The travel has been fun, I have missed being on the road. I am learning so much about the mechanics of intricate devices like music boxes and watches work. Occasionally we stop at a larger farm hold in the size of 50-60 people and help with the farming equipment. These are the places where my smithing comes to the forefront. *-*-* Our merry band of tinkers is splitting up. At 327, Garm has decided to retire and return to his home in the hills of the deep south. The rest of the gnomes have decided to follow him, and I have had a good thirty years of travel. I''ve decided to open a smithy in the nearby town of Greens Willow. It has a fairly sizable population in the low 3000s. I think I can fit in for about 20 years before I move again. *-*-* King Wilhelm Carbuncle is celebrating his 65th birthday in a month or so. The ladies in town are all abuzz due to the new fashions coming out of the capital. I''ve been here at "The Naked Eagle Blacksmith Shop" for almost 4 years. Life is good. Except for the fact that the demon front is now closer than I like. Turns out I didn''t look too closely at the map as the tinkers were making their way. We had gone about 140 miles east. Poop. There are groups of adventurers wandering around town on most days now. I hope I don''t have to deal with any of the Goddesses chosen ones. She''s lost 4 of them so far. TTFN 04 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Adventurers 1 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Adventurers 1 Kai, a young man of 15 years, and his companions, Yuri (14, female), and Shiro (15, Male), had just made it to level 8! As they cleaned their weapons and equipment from slaughtering the marauding Orc band near the town of Greens Willow, the Goddess spoke to them in her sweet and melodic voice, "Go to Greens Willow, and search out the odd blacksmith. He will help you on your quest." "Well that''s it then. She hasn''t steered us wrong before. Lets go find this guy and get our first NPC party member!" Shiro said with a smile. "Do you think its that old immortal blacksmith who served with the great hero Tristan?" Yuri asked. "Naw. The rumors said he disappeared years ago, and anyway, those are just rumors. Humans don''t live past 50 around here." Kai replied. They traveled to the village of Greens Willow. *-*-* A day in town saw the adventurers ensconced at one of the inns and looking for the "odd smith". There were three smithies in town, a general blacksmith, a weapons smith, and an armor smith. They spent several hours checking out the weapons and armor, but found nothing of note that would suggest any great skill that would help on their adventurers. "Should we bother with the other guy?" Yuri asked. "May as well. What do we have to loose?" Says Shiro. "Okay. Lets go." Kai replied. *-*-* A short while later the party arrives at the outskirts of the village, and see an old fashioned outdoor smithy with a small dwelling/shop behind it. Above the smithy a sign proclaims "The Naked Eagle Blacksmith Shop". Hanging from the forge itself is another smaller sign, in runes the locals can''t decipher. "You see that little sign hanging on the forge?" Kai asked. "Yeah. I don''t know what it says, it''s in English." Shiro responds. "It says ''Naked Eagle Blacksmith Shop''. Why?" Yuri responds a heartbeat later. The three adventurers look at each other for a moment before, saying in unison, "ENGLISH???" "Kai, check him out using your Sight power." Shiro says. "You got it." Kai replies, then "Power of Sight show me all." His eyes narrow as he stares at the young smith. "Okay. Here goes," and he reads aloud, " ''SLINGER; LEVEL: UNKNOWN. BLACK SMITH; LEVEL: UNKNOWN. WEAPON SMITH; LEVEL: UNKNOWN. ARMOR SMITH; LEVEL: UNKNOWN. TINKER; LEVEL: UNKNOWN. ADVENTURER SUPPORT; LEVEL: UNKNOWN. MAGIC ITEMS: UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN. GENERIC CRAFTSMANS CLOTHING." Kai takes a deep breath. "Alright. so he is at least 10 levels above us, or I would be able to read his levels. I have seen several people around here that have job titles, but no readable levels. But six jobs? I''ve never seen that many. Even the great sage only had 2." "Well, lets go talk to him." Says Shiro. Yuri nods. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The party approaches the smith. "Good afternoon, blacksmith! Could you perhaps help us?" Asks Shiro. "I''m always willing to help out the good people of the village. You, are not from the village." the smith responds, without looking up. "Um, yeah, so anyway, what do you have for sale?" Shiro continues, only slightly put off by the smith''s manner. Still not looking up from where he is pounding out nails on the anvil, the smith points to the display of pots and pans hanging from a rack nearby. "That''s what I currently have on hand. Got some commissions I''m waiting on handles for. Otherwise not much. If I dig around in the shop, I might find a couple of old daggers I could sell you." Kai raises an eyebrow, "I could use a new pair of daggers, mine aren''t doing so well after that Ooze last week." The smith looks up for a moment. "Show me." Kai obliges, as the smith puts down his hammer and iron, taking a step over. "Inferior steel. Bad grip. Should have twisted wire over leather, not heavy cloth." the smith mumbles, mostly to himself, then louder, "You got ripped off. Joshua has a new set that is much better, and at a decent price. You know where his shop is?" Yuri pipes up, "Yes. We were there earlier, but nothing caught our eye." "Alright. I''ll be back in just a tick." The smith says and walks to his abode. Quietly, Kai asks, "A tick? Isn''t that a clock reference? How would he know that word? We haven''t even seen a clock in this world." A few minutes later, and with many curse words, the smith returns with an old, but well built chest. "I haven''t looked in here for a few, but the daggers should be inside." He unlocks it with a key from his belt and opens it. "Ah, here you go lad." He withdraws a matching pair of plain daggers the just seem to ooze malice. "250 for the pair." "Silver or gold?" Kai asks. "Gold. Magic items ain''t cheap. Even if you make them yourself." The smith responds. The three adventurers huddle together for a few moments. "That''s a good chunk of money, but..." Shiro says. "Kai, use your power and check them out?" Yuri asks. "Will do. Power of Sight identify item," Kai says, and narrows his eyes at the daggers. "Okay... DAGGERS OF DEATH; LEVEL 50; MATCHED PAIR; WHEN USED SINGLY THE DAGGERS DO +100% DAMAGE AND INFLICT ''BLEEDING''. WHEN USED AS A PAIR THE DAGGERS DO +300% DAMAGE AND INFLICT ''MASSIVE BLEED OUT''." The party looks at each other for a time before the smith interrupts them, "Doing that without asking permission is kinda rude, you know." "Um, I''m sorry?" Kai says. "Good enough. So, 250 golds. Yes, or no?" The smith asks. Shiro quickly responds, "Yes. We''ll take them." and hands over the money. "A pleasure doing business with you. Now skedaddle. I have work to do." The smith tosses the gold, without counting it, into the chest, then closes and locks it before he heads back to his anvil. "Stupid metal went cold. Oh well." "Um, sir smith? Could we take a bit more of your time?" Yuri asks. Placing the metal bar into the forge and turning the blower handle a few times to heat it up again, the smith turns back, "What now?" "The Goddess told us to search you out. She said you would help us on our quest to slay the Demon King." Says Yuri. "No." The smith says in a flat voice. "Not happening. Your ''goddess'' is an idiot." Thunder booms across the village. Stepping out from the forge, the smith looks up at the sky. "Oh, didn''t like that, you little trollop?" He places his right hand under his shirt, in the small of his back. "You want to come down here and make something of it?" Kai hears a quiet, but audible to his ears Ka-Klick sound from behind the smith''s back. The sound makes him shudder, but he is unsure why. A quieter boom of thunder growls across the sky. "I didn''t think so. Now tell your ''chosen ones'' to get lost. I have work to do, you idiot!" The smith yells at the sky. The party of adventurers look at the smith, then at the sky, then back at the smith. Thunder quietly booms in the distance as a bolt of lightning strikes a tall unassuming tree. Behind his anvil, the blacksmith looks at the party, "Scat, before I become your Huckleberry." The party runs. *-*-* Back at the inn, the party has gathered at one of the tables in the common room. After taking a swig of what passed for ale, Shiro asks, "Does anyone know what that was about?" "I think, that may have been the legendary immortal smith arguing with the goddess." Yuri says. "Did anyone else hear that Ka-Klick sound from behind the smiths back?" Asks Kai, still shaking a bit. The other two look at him. "Was it a metallic ''ka-klick''?" Shiro asks, raising an eyebrow. "Yes. Definitely." Kai answers. "Like the sound of a revolver in the old American ''western'' movies my dad used to always watch?" Shiro prods. "Yes. Exactly like that." Kai nods his head. "What could he possibly have that would make that sound?" Shiro shakes his head, mildly twitching in fear. "In the words of Sherlock Holmes ''When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth''. I think the Goddess almost got shot..." 05 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 3 - Taylor The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 3 - Tailor Stupid ''chosen ones'' showed up at the shop today. Sold them an old pair of knives I made back when I was with Bjorn. Fun days. The idiot goddess tried to make a scene when I said "No" to going along with them. If she had actually showed up in person, I would have shot her in the foot. Again. She decided to behave and ran off to throw a temper tantrum in the woods. I feel sorry for the trees. *-*-* It''s whatever year. King Wilhelm Carbuncle is on his deathbed. I kinda envy him for that. He is 73 years old and has a bunch of legitimate and illegitimate children. Why couldn''t he keep it in his pants? The succession is going to be a pain. Looks like the kids did it. The Demon king is dead. Too bad it took so long. There are a bunch of wannabe demon lords wandering around now. *-*-* I''ve been here approaching 20 years. The village has grown to be a real town. The council has tried to make me move my shop on three different occasions. Not happening. On the other hand, I''ve been looking at leaving and giving the shop to my apprentice. A good lass. Been here for almost ten years. Sandy should be fine. *-*-* If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I''m on the road again. Too many adventurers. Too many ''chosen ones'' roaming around. You could hardly take a piss without hitting one. I''m done. I think I''ll go and look for a job in the capital as a tailor. I''ve been trying my hand at sewing and mending my own clothes for the last few years. So far so good, I''ve gotten no complaints. Hahaha *-*-* The capital of Garthia, that''s our nations name, is Garthax. It is located on the great western ocean. The city is a metropolis! Soaring building, great houses, temples to all of the gods, even a temple to the ''small gods''. I haven''t been here in what, a couple centuries? I forgot how much fun this place is. I have achieved a job working for a large mercantile house, cutting patterns. In a few years I may get into the actual sewing of garments. *-*-* I''ve been in the capital for three years now. I have a set tradesman schedule and hours. I am content. I have been promoted to third assistant tailor! A slight raise in wages, and better hours. *-*-* King Gregory Yuri Bartholas is in his 3rd year as king. Yes, that adventurer married into the royal family after she and her merry band of misfits helped Gregory''s father win the crown. I have seen her in the streets a few times, but have always turned the other way. Royals. Bah. I have gotten a few promotions over the years. I''m now head tailor at the Mercantile. Our best customers are of the nobility, and I give them my best designs. When I have been asked my age, I tell them I am a very young 40. We all laugh at the joke. I have confided in the owner that I was cursed to look young until I die. He believed me. Apparently that has happened to people in the capital before. *-*-* One of my dresses attracted the eye of the queen mother. I''m stuck now. I plan on resigning after she is properly fitted. I don''t want that kind of attention. I should have quit years ago. *-*-* The fitting is done. She did remember me. I got a severe tongue lashing for not going along on their quest. I politely told her the she and her ''idiot goddess'' could piss right off. That went over not so well, but she relented after I yelled out the window at the thunder storm. *-*-* I''m on my way back east. I should be able to make a living in any of the small villages as long as I stay at least 100 miles from the capital. Maybe one of the northern ones that border the old demon kingdom. TTFN 06 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Queen Yuri The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Queen Yuri (F you brother dear! (He made me write this one.)) --Excerpts from Queen Yuri''s diary pertaining to "the Blacksmith"-- My husband has abdicated the throne to our son! Happy retirement! My son is now king! No worries now about the succession. *-*-* I saw the Heathen blacksmith in town today. How is he still alive? I was sure the goddess would have killed him by now. *-*-* I saw him again today. I directed the spymaster to have someone find him. The blasted man disappeared. No one can seem to find him. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. *-*-* At tonight''s midsummer ball I saw the most exquisite gown! Lady Chastity''s husband looked truly gorgeous as well. Apparently the newly promoted head tailor at the Gwenneth Mercantile house is a marvel, perfect to work with and not free with his hands at all! I assumed he just doesn''t like women, but Lord Chastity claimed he was the same way with him. Very interesting. Maybe he is what we used to call an ''Ace'' back on earth? *-*-* It''s him! The heretic blacksmith is a tailor now!! I cannot believe it! My fitting is in 2 days. Who in this world can do a gown in 2 days?!? *-*-* My fitting was today. It was perfect. I truly cannot believe what this man can do. The Goddess really did bless him. Why does he refuse to help her? I spoke to him at length about it today. He did not take it well. He called the Goddess and I "Idiots"! Then when the Goddess showed her displeasure over that, he yelled at her out the window! The nerve of the man! I will send the guard to fetch him in a few days. He can answer to my son for his unkind words. *-*-* He is gone. He apparently resigned the day after my fitting. On the other hand, he did leave several dozen new and easily altered patters for the Gwenneth Mercantile house as a parting gift. They will be making money hand over fist for decades on those patterns alone. He also left a bevy of excellently trained apprentices in his wake. I am somewhat saddened that I will never see that heretic again. 07 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 4 - Soldier The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 4 - Soldier "Naked Eagle Tailors" is doing well. I''ve been here for almost a dozen years. I have three excellent apprentices. We specialize in high quality peasant clothing at a reasonable price, and concealed armor versions of the same. After turning down several attempts at marriage, I have had a few "eccentric" men attempt to court me. I politely have made it clear that I am not interested, and have been left alone. One of the gentlemen, Adam, has found his way into the shop as one of my apprentices. I believe he has good taste, but that is mostly because when he came to interview, he was wearing one of my old designs. He did confide that his aunt found it in a second hand shop in the capital a few years back and sent it to him. *-*-* The god of war came to my shop today. He demanded that I make him a new sword and plate armor. I told him "No. I don''t do that anymore." He ranted on and on and on. Then he accosted several of my customers and my lead journeyman Mary. I ended up stepping out from behind the sales counter and backhanding him across the mouth. That didn''t end well. I have a duel tomorrow. *-*-* I am unhappy to announce that I survived the duel. I showed up at the secluded meadow (that wasn''t there yesterday) promptly at a few ticks before dawn, with Mary as my second, sword and shield in hand. We waited for almost an hour before the god arrived with his second...the goddess. She looked at me, then war, then back to me. "You know War, I don''t fancy your odds." She then disappeared in a crack of thunder. We faced off, then at the sign from Mary, we crossed swords. He was fast. Very very fast. I did my best to block and repose, but to little effect. He got several "paper cuts", I got grievous injuries. He stabbed me in the chest, pushed my corpse off of his blade, and said "that was pathetic." A moment later, from the ground, I replied "Is that the best you can do? Monsters hit harder than that." The look on his face was priceless! He killed me 14 times. Each time I got up again. He even took my head off, and I still got up, my head somehow being reattached. He finally gave a grunt of approval after his lightning repeatedly struck me, burning me to ash. And I got up. Again. "Fine. I now see why The Goddess loves you so much. You don''t even submit to the gods. I will keep my eye on you." And he disappeared in a flash of light. Just what I don''t need. Another god looking at me. *-*-* If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. War is brewing. The demon kingdom has "solidified" behind four separate leaders, and is moving to attack. I plan on moving my operation wholesale a few hundred miles to the south so we can be safe. *-*-* "Recruiters" for the army are moving through the area, bringing all of the "worthwhile" men to the capital for "training". They are nothing more than slavers as far as I''m concerned. They captured Adam yesterday, but let him go. I''m not surprised, he is a bit too flamboyant to fit into military life. *-*-* Moving day was supposed to be yesterday. The Recruiters found me. I signed the papers for them, and sent the shop south. They should do fine. I guess I''m a soldier now. *-*-* The "basic training" is a joke. But I have kept my mouth shut. I think Mary could have taken most of these recruits with one hand behind her back. Then again, I think Mary had some Orc blood in her several generations back. *-*-* Basic training is over. I have been assigned to the 4th Army, 3rd Infantry division, blah blah blah. Military life, now that training is over, is actually fairly simple. We will be heading north in a couple weeks to support the western (not the far western) lines. We will probably be the first into the breach. Something Tristan would have called The Forlorn Hope. *-*-* The fighting has been furious, bloody, and very deadly. Most of my training platoon is dead. There are 14 of us left out of the original 80. I have asked permission to use my own weapons, as opposed to those I was issued. The answer from on high was "sure". I''m a sergeant now, as we are divest of proper officers and non-coms. I have issued weapons from my personal chest to my fellows. Good old Bjorn was right when he told me it would be a good idea to stock up. *-*-* Corporal Wallace only lost his arm today, instead of his life when the demons blade cut through it. The armor I loaned him stopped the blade from cutting him in half. It has been 6 months since I assigned the new armor and weapons, and we are starting to get a reputation for survival. There are some rumors that the officers are going to seize our equipment and give it to the nobles. I won''t stand for that. *-*-* They tried to seize the equipment today. I challenged the noble in charge to a duel over them, winner take all. He accepted. Idiot. *-*-* I am now the Baron of Coxnia. Apparently "winner takes all" includes noble titles, land, houses, etc. Stupid laws. If it wasn''t for my men, I would desert. *-*-* It has been a full year for us on the front lines. We are officially know as "The Forlorn Hope", as before it was just a nickname. There are now 20 of us. I have equipped all of us with the best gear I have. Even the secret "Chosen One". He was easy to pick out. Thrice dammed goddess told him to seek me out. Max (the god of war) showed up at my tent today to wish me good luck in my coming battles. I shot him in the foot. *-*-* I am sure now that the general is trying to kill us off. We are being used as the spearhead of "operation piper down". I plan on wearing both boom-sticks (I find it to be a more apt name than ''Revolver'') that Tristan left me. The demon lord is expected to take the field tomorrow. *-*-* Have I mentioned how much it hurts to get stabbed? It hurts a lot. We almost engaged the head demon today. I will refuse to call that piece of baby filth "The Demon Lord". These people don''t know what a Demon Lord actually is. Idiots. I will give him this though, his guards were almost up to snuff. A good word I got from Tristan. *-*-* The head demon is dead. Our chosen one, Einar from the Land of Ice, faced him one on one, and killed him. He screamed "Die you Commie Pig!" before taking his head off with a heavy sweeping blow from his (my) sword. I don''t know what that breed of pig is. I expect him to disappear from this world soon. I hope I get my things back before he goes. *-*-* It turns out that Einar isn''t going back. He is "Reincarnated", apparently he died back home and came here. It also turns out that he was recruited by Max. Interesting. I have decided to abdicate my Barony to him. We will be heading there in a few weeks to take care of things. TTFN 08 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Einar The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Einar Excerpts from the personal journal of Baron Einar lafsson My name is Einar lafsson, and I am from Reykjavk Iceland, in the year 1953. I died in a traffic accident that involved a "Troll Rock", and the God of War of this new world asked if I wanted to be reincarnated as a hero. Obviously, I said yes. My mentor, and dare I say friend, Maxwell, a local to this world, has suggested that I keep a journal. After seeing his journals, I am convinced that it is a good idea. After killing the "demon lord" as the army is calling him, I/we have been discharged from military service, and we traveled to Maxwell''s new home. I was surprised when we got there that he turned to me and said, "Here you go kid, this place is yours now. I have no use for the nobility." He assisted me with the transfer of lands and title. I begged him to stay for a while and assist me in my new role as Baron. He acquiesced. *-*-* It has been 3 months, and the work has been hard. The last baron was not a just ruler. He robbed the people blind, stole their women, and ruined the local economy. I have been working without a break from sun up to past sundown. The Barony is about 17 square miles, mostly rolling hills. Our major exports include wood (we have an enormous forest) and farm goods. We import mostly textiles and luxury goods. We have a small copper/iron/tin mine, but only enough is produced for local consumption, not export. I am making inroads with the locals, first by firing all of the tax collectors, then by prosecuting them for breaking the kings law. The people were shocked to say the least. I am planning to implement a new tax code in the spring. *-*-* "Winter" here is much more mild than I am used to. I find myself liking it more than my homeland. The population has been coming around more to my way of things after the "Sheriff" incident last month. I didn''t want to, but he "needed killing" as Max said. I will not recite his crimes against humanity, but they would have made the Nazis proud. *-*-* It is now spring, and I unveiled the new iron plows to the farmers today. They had been using the ancient wooden ones that don''t work very well. The shock and awe on the farmers faces was nice to see. When they found out they were a free gift from me to them there wasn''t a dry eye in the crowd. I plan on using this as a stepping stone for my new taxation policy. The old money won''t like it, but they will come around when they see the return on their investment. *-*-* It is midsummer. The old money has eaten their words. The populace is chafing at the bit for more ideas and inventions. The money is coming in nicely. There are 2 more windmills in the works, one for sawing logs, the other for grinding grain. It seems that we will have a bumper crop this year. I''m planning to help fund more storehouses for the villages. *-*-* My second fall approaches, and the people are starting to worry about an heir. They expect me to get married. I have no idea how to go about it here. There is a ball next week for me to meet prospective wives. Maxwell has shown another side of himself and made a most handsome suit for me to wear. It is the rival of anything you could find in the capital. Speaking of the capital, The Queen Mother has taken ill, and has refused treatment. Apparently, much as myself, she also came here from our world when she died, and has decided that it has been long enough. I was able to attend her for a while and told her of my friend Maxwell. She seemed very interested. I wish her well in her afterlife. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. *-*-* As predicted, the better plows made better fields, and in turn made a bountiful crop. I have, almost literally, vegetables of all sorts coming out of my ears. The granaries were barely finished in time to hold the crops. The current sales estimates will keep the Duchy solvent for several years to come, and no one will be going hungry this winter. Speaking of winter, I have made schooling compulsory. Everyone, regardless of station or age, will be learning to read, write and do basic sums. I believe this will take most of the adults no more than a few years. The young will of course take longer. I have set up a fairly simple and straightforward mandatory test that will be held here in the palace for graduation. No one seems to like the idea, but no one has any real objections either. *-*-* School for the people has had a few hiccups. The nobility doesn''t like their children being exposed to the masses. I told them that they could pay for their own tutors for their children. They looked at the extra expense that would incur, as they would still have to pay the "Education Tax" and pass the exam, and they folded. There are also some problems with them expecting preferential treatment from the teachers. I had to nip that problem. My response was along the lines of, "If your children are better because of the station they were born to, they should be able to prove it by not needing the extra help in class." Maybe not the best way to solve things, but I am too busy to deal with shenanigans. *-*-* Spring has come again, and the rains are worse than normal. There has been some excessive flooding, and several roads and a bridge have been washed out. I wish I had paid more attention in class when bridges were discussed. *-*-* Maxwell has informed me that he will be departing next spring. He has been feeling his wanderlust, I fear. I''m set to marry a nice young woman a summer fair. We have been seeing each other for several months, and she seems to be completely smitten with me. We met at the ball last year and have been keeping in touch. It is not quite an arranged marriage, but close enough that I am a bit uncomfortable with it. Maxwell has said he will look into it for me. *-*-* It has been 3 weeks, and Maxwell has returned. The news is both good and bad. Lady Margaret is indeed smitten. But not with me. She is smitten by the money, prestige, and power that will be hers upon the marriage. Apparently there is also worry that she, or more likely her parents, are behind the recent bandit raids that have been happening on our eastern border. The border we happen to share. I am disheartened by this, as I had found myself looking forward to the marriage. *-*-* Due to the bandit raids, I have been forced to take up steel again. My guards and I, with the assistance of Maxwell, have dealt them a blow. On the morrow we will raid their encampment. *-*-* The raid is over. I say with a heavy heart that my bride to be and her family were there, enjoying a delicious meal when we attacked. The surviving bandits and the family that sponsored them are in chains, awaiting the kings judgment. *-*-* The Kings Judge put them to death. Man, women, and children. All of them. Never before have I had it rubbed in my face that this is truly a new and different world. I cried for the children. *-*-* Maxwell is an ass. The children are now in my care, as is their lady maid. I will keep them safe, and in a few years reveal them to the king. By the point in time of the revelation, things should be changed enough that all will be forgiven. As the "victim" of the crime, I have been awarded half of the neighboring duchy. It is not nearly as bad off as mine when I first arrived, but still in need of support. I will bring them into the fold as gently as I can. Maxwell is still an ass. *-*-* I have been set up. Maxwell it thrice an ass. He has played matchmaker, and I have fallen into his trap. There will be a wedding this summer fair, and it will still be mine. Lady Beatrice, the former ladies maid and I have been "running into" each other on numerous occasions not of our choosing. It ended up being some kind of mating dance set up by the children and Maxwell. Stumbling into a room accidentally where one or the other of us is changing, switching signs and hours on the bath, mismatched meals, all sorts of things. Most of them fairly embarrassing. I will maintain to the day I die, that Maxwell, is an ass. *-*-* The wedding is tomorrow. Maxwell has outdone himself this time. Not only do I have the finest suit I have ever seen, but I have been told that Lady Beatrice''s gown would have made the Queen Mother cry. I am so nervous that I can barely sleep. *-*-* Yesterdays wedding was fantastic! The king himself sent a representative. Also in attendance were my old companions in arms, and a few individuals that looked hauntingly familiar. The Priest of the Goddess was the officiate for the occasion, and for some reason, was very flustered for the entire service. The reception was a wonder, Maxwell pulled out all the stops. He didn''t even threaten to shoot anyone. He did seem to be a bit upset with a familiar looking young lady and her male escort. He did introduce me to an old friend of his, a Dwarf named Bjorn. Excellent story teller that one. Several amusing tales about Maxwell in his youth... That has lead me to question how old Maxwell actually is, as it seemed the stories took place many years ago... *-*-* Winter is upon us again, and Maxwell will be leaving in the spring. I am melancholy about this. In the way of good news, my wife is pregnant with our first (of many I hope) child! I hope that I can talk Maxwell into being the godfather. I doubt he will agree, seeing as to his dislike of religion. Otherwise all is well here. *-*-* It is late spring. Maxwell did agree to be the godfather of my daughter. On the condition that she, not "The idiot she''s going to marry" inherit my lands and title. I obviously agreed, who wouldn''t want the Immortal Blacksmith on their side after all? *-*-* Maxwell left during the night. Not even a note. But I am sure he will return one day. Farewell my friend. 09 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Adventurers 2 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Adventurers 2 "Alright Cody, I believe that''s our target." Herald said. "I told you to call me ''Gandalf'' you N00B!" Cody responded. "And I told you to pick a proper name, not steal one from ancient history." Herald said, sighing. They were hidden in a small grove of trees, where the underbrush was very overgrown, and looking at their newest target for the king. The target in question was wearing fairly nondescript brown homespun peasant garb (even though he was the guest of the duke), complete with sturdy boots and a wide brimmed straw hat. He could have been anyone in a crown, so they had to make sure. Herald took a deep breath, "Fine, ''Gandalf'', pull up that guys character sheet, and lets see if it really is him." "Just a second." Gandalf/Cody took a deep breath, then intoned, "Show me your sheet!" After another moment Gandalf/Cody read out loud, "NAME: MAXWELL SMITHSON HUMAN Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. EXPERIENCE POINTS: ERROR CLASS: NPC: SMITH ERROR CLASS: NPC: TINKER ERROR CLASS: NPC: TAYLOR ERROR CLASS: NPC: WARRIOR ERROR CLASS: CLERIC 1 CLASS: NPC: NOBLE 1 CLASS: NPC: ENCHANTER ERROR CLASS: THIEF 3 CLASS: MAGIC USER 3 CLASS: ARTIFICER ERROR CLASS: NPC: ERROR CLASS: NPC: ERROR HP: 33* AC: -7...17*... ERROR THAC0: 1 STRENGTH: 15, +2 DEXTERITY: 13, +1 CONSTITUTION: 12, +1 INTELLIGENCE: ERROR, ERROR WISDOM: ERROR, ERROR CHARISMA: 13, +1 Save vs. Paralyzation, Poison, and Death Magic: 8* Save vs. Rod, Staff, or Wand: 10* Save vs. Petrification or Polymorph: 10* Save vs. Breath Weapon: 10* Save vs. Spell: 10* Will: ERROR Strength: +/- 8* PROFICIENCY BONUS: 3.14159* OTHER PROFICIENCIES AND LANGUAGES: COMMON, DWARVEN, TOOLS (ERROR*); WEAPONS: (ERROR), (ERROR), (ERROR), GREATER WEAPONS MASTER* m;libezsw5renoi;sebroi;j zS,.JK IDIOT" "This is way too weird. I don''t get this at all. WTF is THAC0? How do you get an AC of -7?" Gandalf/Cody shook his head, frowning. "And ''Thief'' or Magic User''? What kind of classes are those?" Herald, shaking his head as if to clear it, said, "What? THAC0? That is way old school. Like older than both of us put together. Something about this is weird. Maybe we should go back?" A gruff voice behind them spoke up, "Go back to where, boys?" 10 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Abbot of Coxnia The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Abbot of Coxnia A correspondence between The Abbot of Coxnia and the Archbishop of the Goddess of Tranquility Dearest Archbishop of our Goddess of Tranquility, I find myself in need of informing you of the recent events here in the Duchy of Coxnia. I, as the local priest in charge of such things, was asked to be the officiate at the wedding of Sir Einar of the Land of Ice, and his fiance Lady Beatrice. The wedding itself was a wonderful affair, but, the Goddess herself was in attendance, and as her escort was Maximilian, God of War! As a side note, as I don''t find it too import, Bjorn was also in attendance. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The most stressful thing of the whole wedding was the Heretic Blacksmith was there! I do not understand why the Goddess would let such a man exist, let alone come to a wedding in which he was involved. I also don''t understand why the Goddess would wink at me like that. My heart has not yet fully recovered. Yours in Tranquility, Abbot Cecil *-*-* Dearest Abbot Cecil of Coxnia, I would never dare to guess our Goddesses intentions. You have been graced by her presence now, and should be grateful of it. The fact of her escort being the god of war is an interesting tidbit, but do not bandy it about, as it may have dire consequences down the road. As for Bjorn, I have no idea as to why he was there. Thank you for reporting on the deeds of the Heretic, it is much appreciated. I will attempt to speak to the king on the subject of the Heretic again, as such a person should not be walking this land. Be well, and keep Tranquility in your heart, Dhocdir, Archbishop of Tranquility 11 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 5 - Spy The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 5 - Spy Einar and I arrived at "my" new lands today. The place is awful. I informed Einar that it was his problem now. He begged me to help. I acquiesced. *-*-* We cleaned out the rest of the bad seed today. The old monies people didn''t like it, but too bad for them. *-*-* Einar is making headway. Good for him. He is supposed to get married soon. There are bandits on the border with one of the neighbors. Wonder why they haven''t taken care of it. *-*-* Went and did some looking the last few weeks. Turns out Einar''s wife to be is a "bad apple" as Tristan would say. When I told Einar about it, he was upset. We will be raiding the bandits camp soon. *-*-* Raid went well. Caught the nobles red handed. The king''s judge will be around to make the decision at some point. *-*-* Well, the judge did as I expected. All of the bandits and all of the nobles were sentenced to death. Including the children. I may have to do something about that. *-*-* Did something about it. The children''s maid is kinda cute, and keeps making moon eyes at Einar. Hmmm... *-*-* Einar is marrying the lady''s maid. Good. Plan worked. The Goddesses head priest is set to do the deed. Idiot. *-*-* Bjorn made it to the wedding! So did some unsavory individuals. I did good, no one was shot. Why did that idiot and her consort (the other idiot) show up with Bjorn? Apparently they met up on the road. All in all, I had a good day. *-*-* I am leaving in a few weeks. It''s almost been 3 years. Einar has a daughter, and I was surprised when I was asked to be the godfather. I accepted. Guess I''m stuck to this family now too. Maybe I should look up my own kin again? It has been a few years since I last saw any of them. *-*-* A couple of "Chosen Ones" were skulking in the bushes today. When I surprised them, they let it slip that the king wanted me to visit, by hook or by crook. I decided not to hurt them too much, they are just doing their jobs. *-*-* I snuck out last night. Surprised the kids in their secret camp. We leave for the king in the morning. *-*-* King Gregory Yuri Bartholas isn''t a complete idiot, as he lacks his mothers complete devotion to the goddess. Apparently my looking into the neighbors did not go unnoticed. Greg wants me to go have a lookey loo at the neighboring kingdom of Deeplefallsia and see what I can find out. I know he isn''t telling me everything. I am willing to bet that the goddess is up to something, again. Also, there are way too many adventurers wandering around the capital these days. Idiots. *-*-* I have taken the "Kings Highway"; a 1800 mile long, heavily traveled road, that runs from our capital of Garthax to the Deeplefallsia capital Flagondburn; and have stopped for a while to test the waters in the city Lostcairn. It is near enough to the border to get a lot of trade and information, without being to close. *-*-* If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. After 6 months of rumors, information, and bad ale, I have learned enough to continue my journey. The accents change a bit from what I am used to, but nothing significant. I''m off in the morning to continue my journey. *-*-* I have stopped on the other side of the border. A nice business town named Curside. If I wasn''t traveling on "Business" I would set up shop here for a while. I plan on staying for about 6 weeks in order to set up a business. "Naked Eagle Traveling Tinker and Smithing" will be my new cover. As I have never been in this country, I should be able to use my old name again. *-*-* It has only taken 2 weeks for the bureaucracy to get back to me, and I now have my travel permits and business license. The demonic incursion of a while ago really hasn''t abated much, and so trade and travel have become somewhat restricted. It is recommended to not venture from the roads without a party of 3 or more. I think I will be fine as long as I stick to the highway. *-*-* The goddess approached me in the street, without all of her "Bells and Whistles", and politely asked me to meet with someone in a nearby cafe. I was in a good mood, so I agreed. The individual in question was Aslikale, the god of Chastity. Apparently I haven''t been whoring enough as he asked if he could become my "Patron Deity". I didn''t shoot either of them. Honestly I was too shocked by their stupidity. "If the idiots ever left me alone, I might actually settle down and get married again." I told them. Well, actually, I have no intention of any such thing, but they don''t need to know that. *-*-* Papers in hand, tinkers wagon loaded, I have left Curside. *-*-* And. Bandits. Too bad, for them, they weren''t fireproof. *-*-* Delivering messages and reports to blind drop points is tedious and boring. *-*-* I have been slowly traveling the highway for over a year now. I stop at each town for between two weeks and a month. The major towns average about 100 miles apart, with smaller villages, walled inns, or holdings every fifteen to twenty miles. The distance between stops really varies by the terrain the highway runs through. The people are mostly pleasant, especially to working travelers such as myself. I have been contracted a few times to carry letters to towns that are on my way. I wonder if a "Mail" system, such as Tristan talked about, would be a good idea... *-*-* Three separate groups of bandits on the road today. One bandit claimed he was a "wanted man in 5 kingdoms". I replied that I didn''t want him. They are all dead. The next travelers can pillage the corpses. *-*-* I have spent the last three years traveling the kings road through Deeplefallsia. I''m going to attempt to travel into the demon controlled territory. I have been told it''s very risky, but I''ve gotten bored of the same road, day in, day out. *-*-* I have arrived at my starting point, the village of Bearnefalls. It is small, and supports a keep as well as walls. My wagon and I will start our journey tomorrow. *-*-* Not more than 3 miles into the no-mans-land of the border, and I have run into a demon patrol. When they approached my wagon, I attempted to sell them some of my wares. When the leader and I locked eyes, he visibly twitched and ordered his men to "Leave this one alone. Warn the other patrols." Their loss. *-*-* I have only seen demon patrols at a distance, and when they notice me notice them, they disappear. Something isn''t right around here. *-*-* I found my first village, well I found my first road anyway. The remains of the village I found were very old and burned. I buried the few bodies that I found. Even the demon ones. Leaving bodies out to rot can cause disease. Don''t people know that? *-*-* I have decided to chase a patrol. I want answers, and haven''t found any settlements that still have inhabitants. *-*-* I have been following the same patrol for three days. They seem frightened. They are slowing down and getting sloppy. I should catch them tomorrow. *-*-* I drove into there camp just after dawn. They scattered. I chased down the best equiped of them. It gave me some information before attacking me. It seemed desperate. I think the quality of demon troops is dropping. Tomorrow I will follow up on what it told me. *-*-* The walled village of Bumush is small, just over 3000 people of all races. The guards are rail thin and iron hard. Finally some answers. *-*-* I have sold a good amount of wares and weapons, collected a small amount of information, and have moved on. The road is the same one I found before, but in slightly better condition. No bandits, the demons don''t like the competition. No demons either. I''m heading north. *-*-* The demon patrols are still avoiding me. I should reach the walled town of Gilip in the morning. *-*-* Gilip is surrounded by demon troops. I have decided to just drive my wagon to the gate and request entry. *-*-* That was interesting. The demon hoard parted for me, making a nice little road. They even stopped assaulting the front gate. The townsfolk were hesitant at first, but did let me in. The demons seem to have stopped the assault for now. *-*-* I have been in Gilip for 2 weeks now. The people are nice enough, and starting to relax a bit. The demons haven''t tried an assault since I arrived. The Knight General in charge of the city has asked me to accompany him to a meeting with the demon who claims to "own" the area. I have accepted. *-*-* The Demon Gexra, "lord of all he surveys", wasn''t happy to see me. He may have looked a bit familiar? Anyway, a peace of sorts has been established. No more demon raids, low tax structure, no more "sacrifices", blah, blah, blah. Looks like I will be traveling again soon. At a prompt from the Knight General, I did say something like "Would be a shame if I had to come back here." to Gexra, before the signing of the accord. *-*-* One more dead drop and I think I''m done being a spy. It''s been 3 years? I think I''m going to tour this country properly, and then head down the coast to the Elven lands. TTFN 12 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Demons The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Demons Select dispatches between The Demon Lord Gexra, of the new lands, to High Commander Eserfin of the 4th army. High Commander Eserfin, We have had a sighting of Maxwell the Heretic. He attempted to sell his malicious wares to members of scout unit 7. The Sgt. in charge almost gave the go-ahead, but then looked into the Heretic''s eyes, and knew him for what he is. He has now been god touched four (4) times! I have had orders sent to avoid interaction while keeping an eye on him. Demon Lord Gexra, of the new lands *-*-* Demon Lord Gexra, of the new lands, Wise choice on your orders. Give the Sgt. an additional kitten ration as my thanks for his quick thinking. Hell only knows what would have happened if any of our troops acquired His weapons. High Commander Eserfin, 4th Army *-*-* High Commander Eserfin, 4th Army, He has struck. He ran down a larger patrol and interrogated the Lieutenant in charge before killing her. I have called back the physical scouts and have assigned a sorcerer to keep watch over him. He is heading towards the town of Bumush. I hope that he will return to the human lands after he has finished his business there. Demon Lord Gexra If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. *-*-* Demon Lord Gexra, Keep watching The Heretic. Orders from on high are to observe, but not detain. I am becoming concerned. The high one has taken an interest. High Commander Eserfin, 4th Army *-*-* High Commander Eserfin, 4th Army, He has arrived at Gilip, where we are laying siege. Before I could order any such action, our troops parted for him. This raises my concerns greatly. I pulled our troops back from the gate, and the townsfolk allowed him entrance. I await your orders before pressing the attack. Lord Gexra *-*-* Lord Gexra, He did what? By all the hells, the cheek of that man. Although it was probably for the best. Your orders are to wait him out. Cease all attacks until he has left the area, we have no idea as to his powers. God touched humans are bad, touched by four of them? I doubt even the High Lord knows. High Commander Eserfin, 4th Army *-*-* High Commander Eserfin, 4th Army He came out with the Knight Protector earlier today, under the white flag, not to surrender, but to parley. We eventually came to an accord, which I fully intended to break after the Heretic departed, But, he said words that made me feel, for the first time in my existence, fear. He said "Would be a shame if I had to come back here." I now know how our great uncle felt before he fell. What our your orders? Gexra *-*-* Gexra, Get it together! Orders from on high say that we MUST abide by the accord until the Heretic dies. Your orders are simple, keep an eye on the Heretic. Obey the Accord. Do NOT attract the attention of The Heretic. Perhaps, in the future, we could recruit him to our cause? Good luck, and hell speed. High Commander Eserfin, 4th Army 13 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 6 - Tourist The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 6 - Tourist It has been 40 years of blissful travel. I have seen the sea ports, the castles, the cathedrals and temples. The architecture is truly amazing. One highlight was a well preserved Fairy Ring! Beautiful place, very serene. It has been inactive for almost a thousand years. There is some thought that at the millennial mark it will open again. I may come for that festival, although it will be another hundred some years. *-*-* I stopped in at the newly finished temple to the Dwarven god of Crafting in the capital. Beautiful place, absolutely marvelous choice of stone and patterns. Why didn''t that ass Bjorn tell me he was a god?!?!? Jackass. I will be leaving once my hangover is over. Next destination is the Elvin wood "the Principality of Heartglenia". *-*-* The Elvin wood is a beautiful nature preserve. I quite like it here. I will soon be at the first Elvin city, Mapmoor. *-*-* Mapmoor is a normal (by Human standards) port town. Not much of the Elvin aesthetic to see. I will spend some time here to learn the language. *-*-* Only two years to learn the language. I will never sound like a native speaker, I apparently lack some of the "vocal structure" of an Elf. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. *-*-* Criminals are stupid. Off to Nimroli in the morning. *-*-* Nimroli is a beautiful arboreal town. The blending of the architecture into the trees is masterfully done. I wonder where I could learn to do that? *-*-* As an outsider, it looks like I will have to head to the capital to learn the ins and outs of the Elvin tree house. Good thing it''s on my way. *-*-* After more than a month of travel and sightseeing, I have arrived at Littlestar, the Elvin capital. *-*-* I have made inquiries and application to become an arborist. While I wait for the bureaucracy to churn, I have gotten a job at another textiles firm. I look forward to learning about Elvin cloth and clothing styles. *-*-* It has been 28 years. My rise through the ranks as a tailor has been much slower here than back home. I believe it is mostly due to me being a human as opposed to lack of skill. I have been informed that my application for Arborist is now under review. We will see how long this takes. *-*-* 20 more years have passed. The Elves have now accepted me as one of their own and I am making progress through the ranks. Apparently my lack of aging has not gone unnoticed. Much to my surprise, it has actually helped. *-*-* I have been accepted for an Arborist apprenticeship! They had expected me to age out. After I didn''t, they accepted me into the program. It will take around 50 years. *-*-* I am now a journeyman Arborist. I have learned much. The Elvin god Greymore came to visit me yesterday. He said, and I quote, "You will be my disciple, and spread my homes and ways to the world!" I told him to piss off. *-*-* I have been branded a Heathen and a Heretic. Again. Apparently telling Greymore to piss off wasn''t my wisest of choices. I have a week to vacate the country. Too bad, it was a nice place to live. I think I will go look in on the Fairy ring festival on my way home. Maybe I''ll become a butcher? TTFN 14 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Dwarves The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Dwarves First - - - Previous - - - Next Most High, Noble, God touched Archbishop, A human male, known as Maxwell, visited our new temple today, here in Flagondburn. He looked young, perhaps 25 or 30 years of age? You know how hard it is to judge human ages. But to continue, after viewing all (and I do mean all) the architecture, and even investigating the minuscule etching of the stones, often commenting on how well a particular piece of carving was done (he would have made an excellent Dwarf), he finally came into the sanctuary. There he also did his inspection. He proclaimed praise in all the proper places, and even pointed out a couple of places that even I had missed that were exquisitely done. Then... This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. THEN he commented on the statue of our great God Bjorn! Claiming that it looked like a "Fellow he had known some 200 or so years ago"! It was then that I knew him for who he was, The Great Heretic! We chased him from the temple, threatening him with divine retribution should he ever return. But that wasn''t the end of it. No. Later in the evening, The Heretic SNUCK BACK IN! Abbot Gornson found him yelling at the statue of our God! The Abbot immediately called the guards to him, to rid us of the Heretic once and for all. I am saddened to say that a grand brawl ensued. Throughout the entire thing The Heretic was cussing at the statue! When we finally had him pinned, ready for execution, a voice, The Voice, boomed through the sanctuary! And he said, unto the Heretic, "Did you need to know? Would it have mattered?" To which the Heretic answered, "Good point." So shocked were we at this revelation, we had let go of the Heretic. He then walked out, slapping me on the back and saying, "Nice place you got here. Keep up the good work, Bjorn would approve." Most High, Noble, God touched Archbishop, what shall we do? The congregants are starting to argue as to whether or not Maxwell The Heretic is actually a Prophet, or Apostle, or Holy Champion of Bjorn, not even a question as to if he a heretic! Please advise me, Bishop Bjornson, Flagondburn *-*-* No response was received. 15 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 7 - The Fey The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 7 - The Fey Fairies Suck. *-*-* I was two weeks early for the Fairy festival. People from all over the kingdoms were already present, including some demon spawn from the conquered territories (now called "The Free Peoples Republic of Demonia", I apparently missed something while on vacation). I made my way to the venerable "Iron Rat Inn", and secured a room. After a few days, I realized that I had misunderstood the festival, It was not to welcome the Fey, It was to kill them when they appeared! I unpacked my wagon near the festival grounds, and started hawking my wares. Business was good. As the opening drew nearer, I counted no less than a dozen individual, or teams, of chosen ones, and hundreds of adventurers. Strange things are certainly afoot. Some came by to purchase my wares or offer me greetings, while others just stood in the background with mixed looks of shock, awe, or terror on their faces. The circle itself, I should note, is only about forty feet wide, while the square it is in the center of, is about 100 yards wide and deep. A beautiful place of statues and trees. They apparently rotate the statues in and out of the field, as there are hundreds of them on the sides, some are even decorated. *-*-* One day not long after opening up shop, a young chosen one walked up to the counter and asked, "Are the rumors true?" "What rumors?" "That you are the ''Immortal Blacksmith, Heretic to many, savior to some, and friend of Bjorn?" He asked. "Well, I don''t know about the rest of that shite, but I do count Bjorn as a friend." "Okay, good. I am wondering- - -" "I''m not going to join you on some fool of a gods quest. If that is all, I have better things to do." "NO! No that''s not it at all!" The kid said, dropping a palm sized rectangle of metal and glass on my counter. "I need someone to make a power source for this." Intrigued, I picked up the strange device. It had two small "buttons" on the left side, one on the right side, and a small round button near the bottom on the front. I have never seen anything like it. "What is this device? It''s not magic, I can tell that. And yet I can feel it''s need for spark." "Back home we call it a ''cell phone'', and use it to talk to people all across the world." The young lad said. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Ah, so a technological version of the new message stones." "Similar, but I could also send pictures and text, not just the spoken word." He said. "I''m Jon, by the way." "I''m Max. You have brought me an interesting puzzle. Come on over to this side of the counter and tell me exactly what you need" *-*-* The ins and outs of cellphones are truly astounding. Once I got a "charging station" made so that it could eat all the spark it needed, Jon told me of his journey. How he was, in his words "kidnapped" from his home of Rio, while walking down the street, to being told he was special by a god wearing a silver mask; I broke in at this point and told him that that was "Belaroze, god of something or other"; and told to "Make your way in this world, and become someone to be proud of." Then dumping him off on the eastern side of Deeplefallsia. To say Jon was not pleased is an understatement. We parted ways a few days later. *-*-* Three days until the circle opens. I won''t be on the front lines, but I will be observing from the back. *-*-* The circle opened at noon. A blaze of multicolored light shone from the circle, then an ominous yellow portal hung in the air. As the fey came pouring out, I was surprised at the variety. Snakes with multi-hued wings, pixies of every color imaginable, Elves (Not your standard elf, no, these were huge, and beautiful, and frightening), ancient Dwarves from your nightmares, just to name a few. They surged through, fast as lightning, crashing into the front lines! Some of the Fey fled into the air, only to get picked off by the rear guard of archers; others fled by magical means, disappearing in a cloud of dust or smoke. Then the Archfey came. The Archfey stood about 8'' tall, all willowy and sleek. They cast spells without incantations, waived their hands and clusters of fighters turned to stone or trees. They were beautiful. They were terrible. A flock pixies choose that point to dive upon those of us in the rear. I managed to get my old shield up in time to keep them off of me, but my neighbors weren''t so lucky. They were ripped to shreds in mere moments. I had had enough. I waved my left hand and sent a gout of flame into the pixie swarm, killing some, and burning the wings off of most of the rest. With my right hand I grabbed my boom stick from the small of my back. I checked to make sure that all was in order with it, then stepped forward. I aimed at the closest Archfey, took a breath, and slowly exhaled while squeezing the trigger. Just like Tristan had taught me. The gun went ''Boom''. The Archfey''s head went went ''splat'', and fell apart, the Silver and Iron round doing it''s job. Then the rest of the Archfey looked at me. Truth be told, their stares were frightening. I could feel them trying to claw at my mind. But, as I have faced down gods so many times, it wasn''t that bad. I kid. It was worse. As my sight started to swim, I heard music. Loud music. Heavy music. Music filled with words I could barely understand. English words. The beat was fast, the lutes electrifying, the drums...just wow. The words. The words buoyed my spirit, and put Iron in my spine. My eyes cleared, and I looked for the source. Jon. Jon had his "phone" plugged into some sort of device, and the device was making the music come forth! As I watched, gun in hand, and mouth agape, the chosen ones became emboldened. They screamed and charged the Fey. Some forgot their weapons in their hands and bit at the enemy. Some chopped, and others punched. I regained myself and started forward. I emptied my boom stick, killing three more and wounding another two. Tristan would be so proud. After holstering the boom stick, I called my third best sword to my hand and laid into the fey. I did not get the decisive blow, but I would like to think I made my mark. Battle over, it took less than an hour, and I was exhausted. The music was done. And those of us left alive just stared at the slaughter. Some slumped where they stood, others fell to the blood loss from unfelt wounds. I, as well as most, just sat down were we were. There were the occasional giggles from the ones who had been broken during combat, thankfully they were few and far between. When I took an accounting of myself, I realized the reason for the strange looks I was getting. I had no less than 17 arrows in me that had yet to fall out. My armor, such as it was, was barely holding together. And my poor shield was done for. That, and the lack of obvious scars on my body. *-*-* Cleanup took a week. Burying the dead took even longer. Dividing the spoils took longer than that. Petty fights and feuds would occasionally break out, but at last the deeds were done. No one begrudged me my kills. If I am still alive in a thousand years, I will be back. This time with a plan. Fuck the Fey. TTFN 16 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Demons 2 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Demons 2 Selections from the personal journal of Demon Lord Gexra, of the new lands. It has been three years since that cursed heretic has left my lands. My soldiers are restless and becoming complacent. A few have deserted (well transferred) to other armies. My replacement troops can hardly be called stellar. *-*-* Four years since the Heretics deal was struck. Several of my soldiers have decided to retire! They are moving into human towns! Hardly any of them are eating the live rations now. Most have started cooking them. It ruins the flavor. *-*-* Nine years ago the Heretic''s curse was cast upon us. But still we thrive! I was happy to find out today that we demons can still have viable offspring with almost any creature. I''m glad my troops are willing to experiment. *-*-* Nineteen years have passed since the Heretic effectively neutered my army. I have been forced to turn my camp into a fortified town with a keep. My once loyal troops have mostly gone their own way. The half human children of the early deserters are starting to show up at my keep with the intent to serve in the army. Most of them don''t even like stewed kitten. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. *-*-* Twenty years of the curse. A mixed unit of "fresh blood" and "old blood" troops made contact with a large force of bandits today. The remote viewing device my...Nephew...made gave us a splendid view of the battle. Half human or not, the Fresh Blood troops definitely have what it takes. Perhaps I will give up my immortality to properly breed with a human, as opposed to just using one to propagate my species. *-*-* It has been 35 years since the Heretics blessing was laid upon us. I am smitten by a wonderful, yet cruel human lass. She has suggested that we spit in the eye of High Commander Eserfin and declare independence. A most evil, wicked and cruel plan she has lain out before me. She may be the one. In five years time, we shall be free. *-*-* Forty two years. I cannot believe it has been so long. The war was only three years long, but we were victorious. Our half breed children swelled the ranks of the army and we took our lands in our own name. We are now "The Free Peoples Republic of Demonia". What truly amazed me was the team of chosen ones who came to assist us in our battles. At first we were distrustful of their assistance, but they proved themselves time and time again. *-*-* Constitutional Monarchy. What a world. With the founding of the Order of the Kitten, I believe we are complete in our military duties. Tomorrow I give up immortality, and embrace my human bride. *-*-* Ninety years have come and gone in the blink of an eye. My wife of fifty years lies on the funeral pyre. I am heart struck in my grief. I will turn over the reigns to my next of kin, she should be able to grow what Eliza and I started. *-*-* From the private diary of Queen Eliza II My father passed away into the arms of the demon king last night, not even a week after my mother. I am saddened by this, but I will fulfill my duties, otherwise the Heretic will come back. 17 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 8 - Butcher The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 8 - Butcher An interesting point of note, from what I have seen of the world in the last 400 some odd years, is that even with all the Chosen Ones running around with ideas and technology far in excess of our own, we as a people haven''t advanced in technology the way we should have. I wonder why? *-*-* I have made it to Einar''s duchy. I am far too late. Einar is more than 50 years in the grave, and my goddaughter more than 20. Einar''s grandson sits on the throne now. He is a nice lad of some 40 years, with a wife and a passel of kids. I introduced myself to him on market day, and he about wept. *-*-* I have spent the last 2 weeks in my old chambers in the castle. I have given the Duke and his wife all the information on Einar and his wife that I could remember. The duchy is doing well. I have gifted James with a sending stone (the magical version of Jon''s "Phone") and told him to call if there was an emergency, or a death in the family, so that I could come as soon as possible. I leave tomorrow. *-*-* I am now on the road to my home town. It has been 200 hundred years since I was last there. I wonder if they got the smithing school up and running. *-*-* Oh boy, is the school up and running. I have disguised myself as a 14 year old boy (much as I would when being a spy) and have come in looking for a job. I met Matilda, the Forge Master. A stern woman, she looks like my wife did when she was angry. My heart aches at the memories. I have been given a position as bellows pumper. It is a good beginning position as you can see the work being done, without getting in the way. It is also the first job at the forge that I had with my first master. The school is huge. The family bought up all of the surrounding plots of land and turned the place into a temple of crafting. My one disappointment is that at the gate. Not only is there a statue of Bjorn, the Crafter (of which I heartily approve), but there is a statue of ME of all things! Heretics. The lot of them. *-*-* Six weeks of working the bellows and I can see where the teachers are making the occasional mistake. If it wasn''t for my time with Bjorn, I would be making those mistakes as well. Work is stopping tomorrow, there is a guest speaker from the Temple of Bjorn coming to discuss metallurgy. *-*-* As an apprentice, I was supposed to sit on the floor in front of the speaker. I had to sneak out and pretend sickness. I knew this Dwarf. I punched him in a fight a century ago. I hid in the back and listened. Good information. *-*-* I''ve been found out. After getting into an argument with a drunken journeyman about layered steel blades, I had wandered around, angry, letting my feet find their own way. When I looked up, I was in my old forge. And had already started a project. It was already late and everyone was asleep, so I finished it. A fine, water steel short sword. When I looked up, I saw them. All of them. Everyone from the school was standing there in silence. Staring at me. I kind of blushed and said hello. *-*-* I have taught at the family school for 6 months. I''m done. It''s not that I don''t like the work, it''s that everyone walks on eggshells around me, treating me like I''m some kind of deity. I''m leaving at midnight. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. *-*-* They caught me sneaking out. I gave each of the little ones a hug and a kiss, said my goodbyes to the adults, and left. My horse is waiting for me at the stables, and the old farmstead that I keep my wagon and treasures at is not that far away. *-*-* Back on the road! It feels good to be moving again. I have decided to head west, a coastal town sounds good. It''s time to learn a new trade. *-*-* I stopped in a small town today after cracking an axle on the wagon. Stupid potholes. Looked in the window of an apothecary shop and saw, on the top shelf, a very familiar cut glass vial with an even more familiar yellow liquid inside. Shit. Going to have to buy that in the morning. *-*-* Bought the evil little vial. Dumped it out on the side of the road about a mile out of the village. Shouldn''t have any impact on the aspen tree. *-*-* The seaside town of Aviary is a picturesque place. The buildings are bright, the people have smiles, and the food is wonderful. I spent three months learning how to crew a fishing boat. Another three months learning to gut and preserve fish. Now I have gotten myself a job at one of the local butcher shops. Now this isn''t some big city specialty shop, no, this a a full service butcher. It comes in on four (sometimes six) legs, and walks out as a large number of cuts of meat. Until my time with the fish wives, gutting and cutting, I would never have known the amount of detail that goes into such things. Now I am learning the business, from the business end forward. *-*-* Butchering isn''t a "hard" business, but it is a hard business. One wrong cut with the knife and you turn a gold piece cut of meat into a coppers worth. Not to mention that you might loose a finger. Pinkie Joe can tell you all about that. I''ve been here a year now, and have mastered most of the cuts, but I don''t have all the finesse cuts down yet. We had a hunter bring in a Hex Bear yesterday (a large breed of bear that has 6 legs). I''ve heard rumors of the things, but never seen one before. I was allowed to assist in the skinning, but only allowed to watch the butchering. I now understand why. The Hex Bear has poison glands in all six paws, but the meat around the glands is a specialty, and dangerous to extract. Pinkie Joe made a small miss cut and got some of the poison in his hand. He almost died from it. *-*-* I''ve been here for seven years now. I love this village. I love this business. I don''t love that the new smith in town recognizes me from the family school. I''ve had a word with him, but I don''t think he will be able to keep his mouth shut once he starts drinking. At least he can do his job properly. *-*-* The winds and rain of spring have come and gone. And with them, I am as well. I have said a fond farewell to my friends and coworkers, and carry a letter of recommendation from Wendell, the master butcher. I travel to the north to test my skills. *-*-* I have traveled through several small villages on my way north. None have been in need of a new butcher. I have stopped and "talked shop" with many butchers on my way. Some were pleasant, others were hostile, but a few drinks on me, and we were best of friends. It bothers me that I haven''t seen that goddess for a while. I wonder when she''s going to show up again. *-*-* I have found a place! A small coastal fishing village, very near the demon lands. Adventurers have been coming through a lot lately, carrying any number of magical beasts. I can learn a lot, and can help out the locals. *-*-* Damascus, the local butcher, has been wonderfully helpful. I have taken over most of the local butchering for him while he sees to the adventurers. He calls me his "barely competent apprentice", and I call him my "uneducated teacher". We all laugh. *-*-* A decade has passed, and Damascus is suffering from an early onset of the pox. I worry that he will no longer be able to keep his shop. *-*-* The pox has indeed taken away Damascus'' sight, but not his spirit. He works much more slowly now, but even cutting by feel, he is almost faster than I am. I have been keeping up on my disguise, no need for people to figure out who I am. *-*-* Damascus has decided to retire. For the last 5 years I have been mostly running his shop as well as my own. He and his wife have offered me the shop, and I accepted. They have purchased a place in town, and I expect to see them regularly. *-*-* Almost 20 years in town now. The beauty has never left, but today it is gray. The town all turned out for Damascus'' funeral. His wife passed last fall, and he barely made it through the winter. He passed in his sleep, surrounded by friends and family. I gave the eulogy. Perhaps some day, I will have a friend who will speak at my funeral. Someday. *-*-* Forty years have passed in my little corner of heaven. But heaven it is no more. The demons are starting to rally on the border. I expect, at any time, the goddess will show up and ask for my help. Can''t a guy just retire? Speak of the devil, and here she is. With some wet behind the ear kid in tow. Great. How do I say no to that? Easily. *-*-* I''m helping the townsfolk evacuate before the swarm of demons can come over the hills, and the idiot and her kid haven''t left. I don''t have time for this shit. "Look, you idiot, fine. I''ll take the kid, and train him to throw away his life like you want, just get these people safely out of here." "GRANTED" her voice sparkled as it boomed across the town. and with that, the whole town, and the idiot herself, vanished. Damn idiot took my shop. "Okay, kiddo, lets get you started." TTFN 18 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid Excerpts from the journal of "Liam the Kid" My name is William, Liam for short, William Johann Roosevelt for long. I was born in Chicago Illinois, USA. I died from complications of... I overdosed on an 8-ball in 1987, at a work party. There, are you happy? Maxwell is a dick, making me write this f-ing journal. I am pretty sure the dude hates me. I was reborn into this magical world thanks to The Goddess. She wants me to be a hero. I plan to oblige her. She has delivered me to the great "Maxwell the Immortal Heretic". At one time he apparently helped a great hero save the world. Now he is supposed to help me do the same. Unfortunately, he and the Goddess don''t see eye to eye on things, so she had to find a way to make him help. That meant waiting for bad things to happen before introducing me to him. My newborn body is now 11 years old. I was born into a large farming family, so much different to my original one. Plenty of love to go around, I learned all of the farm chores, "learned" to read and speak at an early age, and even tested positive for magic. It''s like that demonic D&D shit the news is always talking about back home. Anyway, short story short, growing up was fine, the Goddess came and took me away to become a hero. My family was happy for me. Now I''m here with this 25 year old fuck who thinks he''s better than me. *-*-* Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Okay. Fine. The asshole is better than me. I challenged him to a fight. I studied Karate at the dojo in the old world. I should have been able to take him. I was on the ground every time. EVERY FUCKING TIME!!! *-*-* If I had gone into the Marines like my dad had wanted instead of college, I would have been trained nicer than this. My body hurts. My mind hurts. Dude just made a house out of an oak tree! And he was pissed that it didn''t turn out right! Cussed out some elvish god. When the God actually showed up he cussed him out to his face! The God called down his holy lightning and burned Maxwell to ash. I figured the rest of my training was done, and it was hero time for me. I''m better prepared after 6 weeks than a Seal is after a year. Nope. Maxwell stood up from the pile of dust, said something along the lines of "That hurt, asshole!" and punched the God. Not even a punch to the face, no, he punched him in the nuts. Strait up nut shot! The Elvin god crumpled like a house of cards, mumbled something and dissipated. Color me impressed. *-*-* Wow, half a year. Bandits. I don''t like bandits. Max "arranged" for us to be ambushed on the road today. He wanted me to put my training to use, so he stayed in the wagon. I was able to kill three of the seven, before they started to overwhelm me. Then the bandits just burned, in seconds they were reduced to ash. Their screams will haunt me for months. *-*-* It has been almost a year of learning under Master Maxwell. I have mastered what he calls the "Basics of Fighting", and said that I will need to find my own style from here on out. Now we have started on the basics of "Magic". Apparently I''m supposed to have some sort of affinity to one kind or another. He''s doing what we used to call the "Spaghetti" method, you know throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks. Most things are sticking. *-*-* I am thirteen today. It has been a wild ride with Master Maxwell, Goddess bless his name. He doesn''t like to talk about his past, or why he hates the goddess so much. Or the rest of the Gods. He has brought me to the army''s recruiting center, as he figures it is the best place for me to get involved in the war effort. I have a very important looking letter for the recruiter to read, by way of introduction. I asked Max why he didn''t come with me, his reply was interesting, and very him, "Kid, I''ve been there, done that, and got the shirt with the T. Besides this is your turn to shine. Go make me proud." Then he turned and left. *-*-* The recruiter opened the letter and immediately freaked out. His commander came over to see what the commotion was, and he freaked out. Eventually some Captain from intelligence was called in. He didn''t freak out, although his face did turn very pale. I guess I''m in the army now. 19 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Military Intelligence The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Military Intelligence Correspondence between various heads of the military and military intelligence, Redacted. Colonel, We have been delivered a Chosen One. But this one is a bit...tricky. He carries a letter of praise, recommendation, and threat. From HIM. How should we proceed? Captain A *-*-* Captain A, Thank you for the information. Yes, the letter is real. I recognize that signet. All of my rank do. It is required after what he has done for this country. His word is to be taken at face value. No if''s, and''s, or but''s about it. He will do it. We heard rumors that he was traveling around again. I wish he would just settle down in one place. Preferably far far away from us. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Do NOT throw this new boys life away on some stupid suicide mission. Not if you value your life, or mine, or your families. Remember, Demonia is all his fault. We still don''t know what all happened there, but his name is on ALL their dispatches and on their money. Colonel XXXXXX *-*-* Colonel, Thank you sir. I will heed your warning. The boy has been placed in charge of a squad of recruits. He is training them up very well. If it weren''t for the war, I would commission him right now and put him in charge of training. Our regulars can''t even keep up. Captain A *-*-* Colonel, Some well meaning fool let it slip that a Chosen One was here, training men for combat. That in itself isn''t a problem. In fact that is a boon to recruiting. No. The IDIOT let slip that the chosen one in question was trained by HIM. We have had to close the recruiting stations and offices. We have more volunteers than we can deal with. We have a full blooded DEMON volunteering. Not to mention Mixed Bloods, and the Beast Men. Please advise. Captain A *-*-* Captain A, Assign them all to the newly promoted Master Sgt. Liam (please find the paperwork enclosed). Tell him he has eight (8) weeks to train his troops, before he will report to the front line. As for the loose lipped one, if you find him, quietly string him up. Colonel XXXXXX *-*-* In a pub, somewhere, Maxwell sneezed. 20 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid II The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid II Excerpts from the journal of "Liam the Kid" Part II I''m in the Army now. I skipped the rank of "Recruit" and went strait to "Private". It has been several days and I''ve been given 11 recruits to train while I await my posting! *-*-* Either these kids are utter crap, or The Goddess gave me more power than I thought she did. It has been a week, and the poor guys are almost dead. I guess I''ll have to slow training down a bit. *-*-* A corporal challenged me to a match today. Said I wasn''t good enough to train recruits. Now I remembered the lessons of Sir Maxwell, and asked him to clarify the challenge, I don''t want to become some lord or something. He said, and I quote, "A little kid like you got no right to be teaching soldering to people. Fight me for the job." So I punched him in the nuts, just like I was taught. He went down. Then I pulled my short sword (A beautiful patterned steel blade that the master gifted me for my birthday), pointed the tip to his throat, and asked, "Do you yield?" He yielded. *-*-* It''s been two weeks, still no assignment. A platoon from the regular army are now in with my training squad. They can barely keep up with my squad. What are they teaching these people? Master would be displeased. I got a new recruit today. She is a "kittenish", a Cat Folk from Demonia. *-*-* Three weeks in, and no assignment yet. The regular army platoon has been recalled to the front. To bad, I was starting to like them. I keep forgetting that I''m only thirteen here, so I can''t actually drink anything but ale yet. The platoon will be replaced tomorrow. *-*-* Week four draws to an end. Training has been going well. My recruits are coming along nicely. I have decided to only fully train them in short sword, shield and spear. I think the full breadth of weapons training that I had would overwhelm them. The platoon of regulars is being replaced again. I assume it will be a recurring thing. I have heard rumors of the local recruiting stations being over-run with volunteers. I wonder what that''s all about. *-*-* Week five has ended, and due to good hard work and accomplishments, I have given my men the weekend off to enjoy the town. They have been advised to go in pairs, tip well, and be nice. I also gave them each some pocket coin to help them in getting their fun. Tomorrow morning, I have a meeting to discuss my future, as I am becoming dissatisfied with all the waiting. I know Master Maxwell will be displeased with me, but I am chafing to put my skills and my men to the test. *-*-* Well fuck me sideways. I have been given bad news after bad news. I have been promoted to Master Sargent. I have also been given 100 recruits of various species and expertise to train up and build into a single cohesive unit. Time to think about all of those leadership seminars I either slept through or was high as a kite during. *-*-* Stolen story; please report. My men have returned. Only a few cuts and bruises for their trouble. I was never called to account, so I assume it was nothing to worry about. I have informed them that shit rolls down hill, and gave them each a pat on the back and their new stripes. Corporals. All of them. *-*-* The first week of training has gone well. As I lack all of the skills of my Master, I have been forced to create the obstacle course the old fashioned way: Manual Labor. But it is complete. I divided up all of the recruits into eight person squads after a few days of learning about them. About a third of the recruits are from Demonia and therefore Mixed Blood of one sort or another, another 12 are Beast Men, the rest are humans. The four that were left, I kept for myself, as they already have some reasonable measure of magical skills, and one of them is a pure blood Demon. We will be doing the obstacle course in the morning as a full unit, and then running it as squads in the afternoon. *-*-* The obstacle course has been a huge success! All those ninja movies from the ''70''s didn''t steer me wrong. The regular troops and even some elite units have been using it as well. "We" still hold the record for best time. I will say that keeping discipline within the ranks hasn''t been fun. The racial insults are still flying fast and furious. I may have to use a cudgel on a few of the men if they keep it up. *-*-* Week three of Boot has come to a close. I had to hang recruit Osterman yesterday. He showed some promise, but he was to fond of trinkets that weren''t his, and of other peoples private parts. He won''t be missed. *-*-* We are at the halfway point in training. I have had to slow down a lot with the number of people involved. Supply crew and "others" have been showing up all along. I have been forcing them to "participate or leave". The military ones protested, until I called the base commander over and presented my point of, "If they''re near the battlefield, they may end up on it, if we are attacked in camp." Command agreed, well actually, he shook his head and said something like, "It''s your unit. If they don''t like it, they can petition to leave". I am not exactly popular with the support staff, but the "others" like me well enough. *-*-* It is halfway through week five of training. I am now in need of magical supplies so that we can continue on our training regiment. The support staff have now fully signed on to my training. Apparently being able to K.O. an enlisted when he steals from the food tent went over pretty well. I have some feelers out looking, but it may all be already gone for the war effort. Probably could have used Osterman for this, but, he really needed gone. *-*-* Score one for the Mixed Bloods! We will be able to do the aptitude assessments after all. I don''t want to know where the supplies came from and I didn''t ask, I just hope no one got killed. *-*-* Everyone passed their martial exam yesterday. The command staff was very surprised. I did overhear one Captain remark that I should just be left in charge of training the recruits, he was quietly dressed down by a First Lieutenant from Intelligence. Strange things are afoot, I think. Tomorrow Magical testing begins. As does archery training. *-*-* Basic testing has taken most of three days, has been grueling, and successful. 87 of our 99 recruits have some magical ability, not strong mind you, but some. Everyone will be attending the lectures on the basic fundamentals of magic, even the support staff...I should probably test them as well... The troops with the best magic stats will be getting specialized training in magic, while the rest will be learning the techniques I was taught on how to best "inconvenience" an enemy spellcaster. *-*-* The Mages Guild is not happy that I am teaching magic to the "Uninitiated". I have been formally charged with breaking guild law. This will be so much fun. *-*-* Command has had a chat with the guild, but they will not stand down. I will have to face their charges. Or find a way around them. *-*-* I have an idea. I don''t like how much time it will take, but it might work. All I have to do is pass their stupid test, and get my teaching credentials. It''s a stupid plan. I expect it to fail. *-*-* Plan failed. I even took the day off to try it. Apparently I am not the only chosen one to have tried that rout. Assholes. Next plan is to challenge them for the right to teach. I will need a second. I bet Grexireg the Demon would love to do it. *-*-* Grexireg had to decline for religious reasons. Fiona, the Kittenish recruit who joined us late, volunteered to be my second. The challenge has been delivered. *-*-* Challenge accepted. *-*-* The challenge was grueling. Hard. Painful. Nothing compared to what Master Maxwell put me through. Fiona was allowed to assist in some of the challenges, as she qualified as a "proper familiar". That title almost got the guild''s dean of students killed, as I was only barely able to hold her back. It was nice to have my troops on hand lending me their moral, and on some embarrassing occasions immoral, support. As things stand, I am now "Honorary Professor, Magical Studies" of the Guild of Magic. Suck it, assholes. I can teach my classes in peace. *-*-* Dearest Goddess, It has been twelve weeks since I enlisted. Our training is complete. Tomorrow we depart for the northern front, where we will confront the enemy head on. We will be the tip of the spear, and the rest of the army will be our haft. If you see Master Maxwell, please tell him that I WILL make him proud. 21 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Trouble The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Trouble "Hank, what do we have?" "I count 112 military, twice and half again that number in camp followers." The two teens looked through the undergrowth and down the hill at the surprisingly organized columns of troops and followers marching down the road. "I don''t get it. These guys are definitely new recruits. Everything is too clean. And yet they move like leveled fighters. Hell, even the followers move like they trained." Hank said. "I don''t know what to tell you. All I know is that the General wanted a report on this specific unit." "I remember the briefing, Winslow." Hank said, still staring down at the troops. "Please, for the love of whatever you call holy, please don''t call me that." Winslow said. "Then pick a name already. It was the first slot in the creation hub. How did you miss it?" Hank shot back, but without too much venom in his voice. "I was overwhelmed with everything else. It was easy." Winslow cocked his head to one side, "How about Bob?" "I''m not renaming myself to Neal, it would hit to close to home, but sure. Bob it is." Hank replied. There was a soft "ping" in the air, then a pleasant female voice said, "Player ''Bob'' has finished character creation. You may now spend your 147 character points." "Thank god!" Bob said. His eyes lost focus for a few minutes. Meanwhile down below the unit marched on. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. *-*-* "Okay Bob, What do we do now? We have tracked them for three days. They have made absolutely NONE of the rookie mistakes of traveling through the farm fields, even when going through town lost them hours of time. They haven''t even gotten drunk at the taverns, and they get up every morning at 0530 and do EXERCISE!" Hank had venom in his voice. "I don''t get it either. Maybe the commander used to be a real world Marine? But then everyone would be running around saying ''Hurahh'' at everything. Army special forces? Definitely not squiddies or flyboys." Bob replied. "Well, what does there leader''s character sheet look like?" Hank asked. "Give me a moment." Bob responded, sounding distant. A few moments passed, then, "Okay. Lets get a look..." He made a picture frame from his thumbs and index fingers. "His name is William "Liam" Johann Roosevelt, Hero level 14. All of his stats run from B to S, all of his weapon skills are level B, except Short Sword and Spear which are level A, almost level S. He has C''s in all of the magic schools... Shit, all of his equipment is SSS rank. What the hell?" "Hmm, I only know of a couple people who could have made that kind of gear, and they died off a couple of centuries ago. They might be relics from that smithing school, but how did he get them to hand them over?" Hank said. "I don''t know, but we had better report this to the General." Bob said, "If you would do the honors?" "Sure." Replied Hank. He made a circular gesture with his left hand, chanted a couple of words, and a portal appeared. "What about the troops?" "Strangely enough, they were all B rank." Bob replied, before stepping through the portal. "That is strange." Hank said, following Bob through the portal. *-*-* General Grapestien of the Demon Hoard was not an unkind demon. He wasn''t a kind demon either. The chosen ones had returned with a huge amount of data on the new troop movements, and on the unit led by the supposed Successor to the Heretic. Thus far the report was fairly mundane. It was interesting to hear about what the Successor had accomplished, especially since his agent there had gone AWOL in a most magnificent fashion. The image of Grexireg calling him a "Slut banging Kitten Lover", before giving him a rude hand and tail gesture was truly a work of art. To bad I will have to kill that traitor. "What, my lord?" Hank asked. "Nothing, nothing. Keep going." Grapestein replied. "That concludes our report, Sir." Hank said, handing over a thick sheaf of papers to the nearby clerk. "Very well. You may go and make yourselves at home. Don''t make to much noise, the Succubi have been complaining that you aren''t interested in them." Bob and Hank bowed before departing the throne room. "What do you think, Marax, should I keep them around, or send them to the front to die?" Grapestein asked the clerk. "I would never presume to know your mind lord, but I would send one of them to the front to die, and have the other one held in reserve. It will be fun to watch, and may make the remaining one become one of us." Marax the clerk responded. "Excellent Idea. Make it so. And go get us each a baby seal from live storage. I feel like breaking my diet today. A cheat day, as it were." "Very good, my lord." 22 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - A Trees Life The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - A Trees Life First - - - Previous - - - Next It yawned and stretched, reaching it''s long limbs into the chilly fall air. It drank deeply from the clean air. Now what had woken it from it''s slumber? It looked down from it''s lofty height, down past its thick girth, and saw the reason. Ah, men of the city were back to cut it down. Again. Did their road needed widening again? Whatever the reason, they were back with their axes and saws. When would they learn? It decided to manifest behind them. "Excuse me?" A soft voice came from behind the foreman. "But why are you trying to cut down the tree?" He turned around to see a small girl, perhaps eight years of age, wearing a summer dress looking up at him. "Well, lass, we need firewood for the winter, and according to the tales, the tree has always freely given it before." "Oh, I thought you were going to widen the road again." The little girl replied, a gap toothed smile showing on her face. "Don''t the Tales also tell of their being a huge snowfall and a prayer before cutting the tree?" If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Well," the man shook his head, "The oldest of them do, but no one remembers the words of the prayer any more. And the tales do seem to contradict each other about the weather as well. Also there are tales about the tree volunteering it''s wood for houses after great storms that destroyed homes." "All of these Tales do seem to have one thing in common, you know. A calamity of huge and dangerous proportions." The little girl said. "That is right smart of you to point out. I didn''t think of that. What do you, little girl, think I should do?" The foreman asked, perhaps getting a little annoyed at the smart child in front of him. "Well, in your place, as important as it is, I would place my hands on the trunk and ask for the wood, telling the tree why you need it. Perhaps explaining your reasons for believing that the winter will be extremely bad this year, after the summer and fall were so nice." The girl said. "Hmm. Perhaps you are wise beyond your years. But perhaps the tree isn''t as powerful as the tales say it is. It is just a tree after all." Said the foreman. "You would risk That Tale coming true again?" The girl shuddered, "You are braver than I would have thought." "The tale of the tree eating a work crew? Bah. Never happened. They were scared off by wolves or monsters." The foreman replied. "Now off with you little girl, and get some warmer clothes on." The foreman turned away, missing the little girl shaking her head and vanishing in the morning light. I guess I''ll have to remind them of the lessons of the past, it thought. Then it slowly stooped, and swung its limbs, catching up workers and turning them into fertilizer for itself and its nearby, but as yet unawakened, children. 23 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid III The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid III Marching through the rain and sleet these last two weeks hasn''t been fun. The mud gets everywhere, you are always cold and wet, everything starts to chafe. In order to keep most of it off the troops, during PT every morning I''ve had the squad mages cast warming spells on their unsuspecting comrades and holding them for as long as they can. This has been helping the troops, and has helped the mages increase their mana control. Having to write this from memory isn''t fun, as I''m sure that I will forget things. We passed through several towns and villages. Once the civilians realized we weren''t going to tromp through the fields they treated us well, but still, some were better than others. There were no bandits on the road for us to remove. Game was fairly plentiful. The civilians were more than willing to trade since we weren''t threatening to just take things. They may not have gotten what things were worth, but they made a profit. Early on, one of our wagon horses went lame; nothing incurable by stall rest, but completely useless to us; so we traded a farmer for a pair of old oxen that we were planning to butcher once we had replacement horses at the front. I will note the "were planning". Three days in, after the replacement, the oxen were out preforming the horses in endurance (no surprise to anyone from a farm) but also in SPEED! I have questions that I am sure will never be answered. We won''t be butchering the oxen. Once or twice this week I have felt like I was being watched. I am however, unsure by what or perhaps whom. Our current camp is about a day, in good weather, from the rear lines. It will take two days to reach at our current speed of travel due to the inclement conditions. The roads are also getting worse. Signs of past struggles are everywhere. *-*-* One more day to the rear lines. Thank the goddess. I''m very glad Master Maxwell gave me pointers in traveling with an army. Mostly sleet today. Tonight is clear and windy. I expect things to freeze tonight. *-*-* Sneak attack! A segment of the demon army snuck past the lines to harass the countryside and came upon us an hour or two past midnight. Thankfully the way we set our camp, with the followers inside the pickets, kept support casualties to a minimum. Still we lost a third of 4th squad, and half of 2nd squad. Support casualties were 6, mostly due too drinking to much to be able to dodge. I may have to ration out the booze to two drafts a day. It will hurt, but it will keep this from happening again. As predicted, the morning is cold. Too cold for normal at this point in the fall season. Something is afoot. We will be leaving Second, Fourth and Eighth squads to escort the support unit, while the rest of us will make double time to reach the rear of the lines. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. *-*-* I was right to be worried. It is disgusting, what happened here. We have killed two score of undead, and mopped up a dozen or so minor demons. Headquarters is destroyed. General Graham is missing. What remains of the headquarters unit is scattered and suffering from shock. I will not describe the carnage of the hospital tent. I wish to forget that scene. We set it ablaze, a funeral pyre for the gods to see. Master warned me that war was bad. I should have paid him more heed. *-*-* Support has arrived. They made good time considering the weather is ten points below freezing. We should only be having our third killing frost right now. The wind is barely starting to let up. We have taken over the remains of the headquarters buildings, and are making repairs. In the morning I will be sending out First and Tenth squads to do close recon patrols. *-*-* I have finally had a warm night. Early this morning, following their stomachs, several soldiers have wandered into camp. They are suffering from "the chilling disease" (what I call hypothermia) and severe frostbite. First and Tenth are out on recon duty as well as "Search and Rescue". Everyone else is scavenging for firewood and coal/charcoal. I have concerns. *-*-* First and Tenth have returned with half dead soldiers and support. I am intentionally NOT asking if anyone deserted. Master told me stories of Knights turning tail, while squires held their ground with broken spears. War is terrible, and I will not judge. *-*-* It has been two days of close in scouting. Our numbers have spiked to almost 400. We will run out of supplies in two weeks if we do not get relief. We have retrieved some random supplies from old abandoned camps. The extreme cold has continued. It is "Our Tauntauns will freeze before we reach the first marker" cold. Fire magic is making things livable. Tomorrow I will send out half our combat worthy units to search out the enemy. In news of the odd, a "very fluffy" mountain goat has taken up residence with the animals in the corral. *-*-* The troops have been sent out. A pair of lady adventurers have come into camp, and have offered their help. I am grateful. More news on the goat: one of the cooks was injured trying to catch the goat for tonight''s dinner. The cook is resting quietly with a broken leg and a few bruises. The goat was unharmed. *-*-* News has just reached me via courier, turns out we are the front line. We need a better means of communications. I would sell my left kidney for a pair of radios or a telephone. The scouts have returned. The enemy camp is about 3 miles northeast of us. The ground is frozen and full of sharp fields of ice. I will spend most of the remainder of today trying to come up with a plan of attack. I have sent the courier back with a status report and a request for supplies. *-*-* What is wrong with that fucking Goat?!? This morning it was found herding a pair of cows and a small flock of chickens into the corral. I can''t believe I''m doing this, but I have issued orders that the Goat is not to be molested. I have called a meeting of the corporals, and other command staff that hasn''t headed to the rear for treatment. I am surprised that the couple of nobles and lieutenants that have stayed haven''t tried to take command from me. As far as they know, I''m only 13 after all. The Goat is on the roof of the command center. What the hell? *-*-* The meeting is over. Everyone knows their place in the battle order. No one objected to the plan, not even the adventurers who snuck in. Tomorrow we are the spear, and the tip. 24 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Birds Eye View The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Bird''s Eye View Authors Note: Gentle readers (or not so gentle, i.e. my brother), at this time I must switch the point of view from journal entries to a first person view. I apologize in advance. *-*-* The dove soared in the crisp, dry air, as the sun crested the horizon, and the wind was barely a breeze. In it''s opinion, the humans down below were being humans, crawling on the earth, moving in three distinct groups towards a central location. The location itself was a low rocky plateau. A plateau containing old wood and stone building and a strange obelisk glowing with a cold blue and white light. It was also occupied by frost demons and their undead slaves. The dove didn''t care about that, only caring about finding food. Food that was currently in short supply due to the cold and ice. It landed on a lone, leafless tree, and watched the humans approach the demon camp. It cocked it''s head sideways and quietly cooed when it saw a fluffy goat following the humans. Maybe the goat had food in it''s fur? Flying down to the goat, it didn''t see any food in the fur, but the droppings behind it were full of undigested seeds! It laid into the feast, eating all it could before returning to the tree to observe the humans. The center group of humans, being lead by a somewhat shiny human (good thing friend raven wasn''t here to caw about that) was charging up the shallow slope, making extra noise, and calling out to the ice fiends. The other two groups were slowly making their way up the sides, as quietly as possible. I wonder if human is good to eat? The dove asked itself, friend raven likes it. Predictably, the demons sent their undead out to stall the humans, while they formed up to start their ranged attack. The undead started dropping; arms and legs being easily shattered by the humans in the extreme cold. As the humans advance up the slope slowed, the demons began throwing balls of frost. Most of the frost balls impacted shields, and shattered harmlessly. Others would catch the occasional protruding weapon arm or undefended leg, causing shrieks of pain, and sometimes a fall. The ones who fell were targeted by more frost balls and killed. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. When the initial charge slowed to a halt, the demons charged in. Being half again the height of a man, they towered over the soldiers. They tore through the front lines, talon tipped fingers slicing through armor and flesh, knocking soldiers down, and trampling the fallen. The dove noted that only one of the humans, the one with the somewhat shiny armor, remained unmoved in the melee. He (all humans are ''he'' to birds) laid about him with quick strokes and stabs, catching strikes on his shield and countering with thrusts. Once he was surrounded though, it seemed like it was over for him. There was a blast of fire. Not towards the demons, but towards the sky! Some kind of signal, the dove decided, as just after the blast, the humans that had been climbing the steeper sides poured out. Half of them charged the demons from behind, the others let loose a withering barrage of arrows and spells. Caught in the pincers of the maneuver, the demons'' cohesiveness crumbled, and the fight turned once again to the humans favor. A roar billowed forth from the demon camp, the thus far victorious humans stopped, some with heads swiveling back and forth, trying to find the source of the noise, and others dropping to their knees, screaming and holding their heads. Out of the largest building in the camp strode a demon, twice the size of a man, ice blue and snow white of complexion, with ornately decorated horns and painted nails. Nails that were currently sunk into the flesh of someones partially eaten leg. An Ice Demon. "WHO DEFILES MY MEAL TIME?" Shiny pulled his sword from a dead frost demon and yelled, "I do. You stupid, face bagging, Gwar concert reject! You best step off, pansy boy, before yo mama gets called." The demon cocked it''s head to the side, then bellowed out a roar and charged. A long spear of ice forming in one hand as the leg dropped from the other. Halfway to the human it threw it''s spear too fast for the dove''s eyes to follow. Raising his shield almost in time, what would have been a fatal blow skitters off the edge of the shield and impales the human through the right shoulder. The human drops to the cold hard ground and lays still. The towering demon stopped at the feet of the man, grinning, "You thought you could best me?" An arrow bounced off of it''s back. "Your feeble troops can do nothing!" As it grins in victory, a shadow falls over it from the right. "You have wounded my lord, and friend. I will not let that stand." A cold voice states. The Ice Demon, slowly turned, and looked up. "L-Lord Grexireg, W-what are you doing here?" "Killing you." The exceedingly tall and and strong looking demon, apparently named ''Grexireg'' said, before backhanding the ice demon. A backhand that sent it flying backward several dozen feet. A voice from the ground spoke, "I can get it from here, Grex. Just break this icicle thing off for me, okay?" "Yes, my lord." Shiny man stood up, shook out his arms, then spoke, "Okay, demon scum. That was the best hit I''ve taken since my master nut punched me during training. Let me return the favor." He dropped his shield and charged. The dove''s eyes caught a strange after image of a man moving. Then a flash of light. The dove dropped out of it''s tree as a demon''s head passed through the place it had been just a moment before. That''s enough of that, it thought, and flew away. 25 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Trouble II The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Trouble II Hank and Bob stared as the battle unfolded. After the demise of the Ice Demon, they looked at each other for a few moments before Bob broke the silence. "Well, that happened." "Yup." Hank said. "You sure your stat appraisal was accurate?" "Yes." Bob shook his head. "I just don''t get it. You think his gear gave him that much of an extra boost? I couldn''t get a good read at that distance." "More than likely." Hank shrugged. "What do we do now?" "We keep watching." Bob answered. Head swiveling back to the plateau. As they watched, a group of mages and the leader of the army began breaking down the obelisk in the center of the demons camp. As it started to crumble the air started to warm, and the ice fields began to melt. "There goes our early Christmas." Said Bob. "Yup." Hank replied. "Uh, that reminds me, are we heading to your folks this year, or mine?" "I think we had Easter at yours this year. So...Mine?" Bob responded. "Okay. Please remind your sister to stop hitting on me? You and I got married to stop that kind of shit." Said Hank. "I told you not to let her be your maid of honor, but Noooo." Said Bob. "Look you, how was I supposed to know she would get a bit stalkerish on me afterwords?" Hank said. "Because I told you that would happen?" Bob shot back, smiling. A boom echoed across the plain. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. "Whatever." Hank shook his head, returning the smile. "Oh, looks like they have completed the destruction of the obelisk." "Alright, now we wait for them to clear out, and then go investigate the scene." Bob said. *-*-* An hour and a bit later, Bob and Hank walked up to the top of the plateau. A short look around confirmed what they already knew, the place was a wreck, and anything of use was gone. Anything that was of no use, and the demons dead had been piled on top of one of the wooden buildings and put to the torch. "They are nothing, if not efficient. This is the best game we have ever played!" Bob said. "Yes. Yes it is. But, you know, I''m starting to have questions about this place. Every time we log out, it seems to take longer and longer to wake up." Said Hank. "Yeah, I noticed that too." Bob said. "Remind me when we get back to start a support ticket on that. Also, demon king boy always gets angry if we don''t show up on time. It''s beginning to annoy me." "Such is the way with these new immersive games." Hank looked around. "Alright. Nothing left to see here. Let''s get back, the cold is going to give my avatar the sniffles." The two men walked down the slope to level ground. One waved his hand, summoning a portal, and they stepped through. *-*-* The demon general''s grand hall was hot, several fireplaces around the edge doing the job nicely. New tapestries adorned the walls, likely stolen from small holdings and towns along the border. Two servants were busy applying body art and decorations to the General. "Gentlemen." General Grapestien said, raising an ornately decorated clawed hand, "What do you have to report?" Hank and Bob looked at each other and shrugged. "It was as you predicted, General. The Ice Demon was soundly beaten, and beheaded. Your former Lieutenant has indeed pledged loyalty to the Hero. The Hero''s army took lighter than expected casualties, about one in ten of his committed troops. A decimation if you will. All useful items were taken as well as most of the lumber. Anything left behind was put to the torch." Hank reported. "An interesting thing, General, they piled all of the demon corpses that didn''t dissolve onto a makeshift pyre and gave them a funeral. Might you enlighten us as to why they would do that?" Bob asked. "Oh. Those bastards." General Grapestien said. "If the hero gave them last rights, then he has sent the demons back into the karmic circle. I will need to report this act of blasphemy to my lord when I see him tonight at the ball." "General? Sir?" Bob asked. "A blessed purification is the only way to truly get rid of a demon. Burning the corpses with normal fire gets rid of the bodies, and prevents any taint from the bodies sinking into the soil." General Grapestien lectured. "But with the invocation of Purity, the bodies are truly destroyed and the shred of spirit from which it was made is cast into the circle of reincarnation, where the spirit fragment may grow into an actual soul. It is the most heinous of desecration for one of us." Bob and Hank both nodded, the light of understanding in their eyes. "Thank you for the enlightenment, Lord General." Bob said, sincerity in his voice. "Will you require anything else from us today, or may we retire and log out for the day?" "I believe that is all." General Grapestien waived his hand in dismissal, "Off you go." Bob and Hank bowed deeply, and departed from the hall. One of the servants looked at the General, "Are you sure we cannot eat them, my lord?" "Not yet, but soon though, my precious ones, soon." 26 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 9 - Baker The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 9 - Baker A/N: This should have actually come out after "The Kid II", but...meh. I think from this point forward, the Maxwell chapters are going to be a bit more detailed, and cover less lengthy periods of time. *-*-* It''s been a few weeks since I dropped the kid off with the army. He''s not my problem any more, thank the ... never mind. I have traveled hard to escape the area and have arrived in Rorewell, a town of 3000 people, located west/southwest of Demonia. Some of the town''s residents are beastmen and half bloods. While in a tavern one night, during a discussion about the current war, I mentioned that the Heretic had trained the newest hero on the eastern front. *-*-* Bjorn stopped by my current lodging! We stepped out for food and drinks. He told me about the gods being annoying, etc etc. As the night progressed, he asked what I was going to do with my life now. I gave it a good amount of thought, before saying that I had always wondered how bread was made. To which he responded, "Well clean yourself up and go down the street to the bakery and ask!" We parted company some time later, what with him having god things to do, and I''m off to bed. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. *-*-* I cleaned myself up and went to the bakery this morning. I walked in, and said that I would like to learn how to cook. The young girl behind the counter turned around and yelled into the back, "Mom, don''t worry about that help wanted sign, we got a fresh one!" After a quick chat with the proprietress, I start tomorrow. *-*-* I have been learning to bake for three weeks. It is almost as intricate as making watered steel, and in some cases, more intricate. Most of my time is spent doing the prep work, watching the baked goods being made, and selling them. Next month I will be allowed to make the basic peasant bread. The matron, Martha, is a young looking 30 something, widowed, and has almost no time to deal with anybody''s shit. She is rather devout to the gods, though. Generally I like her. Her daughter on the other hand, a rambunctious 12 year old, is obviously trying to get us together. I will have to nip the bud off of this. *-*-* I made Jenni cry today, when I explained that I lost my wife and didn''t want to remarry. I hope she stops with the attempts at matchmaking. *-*-* After several more weeks of work and practice, I put my first set of loaves up for sale today. A few sold, but not many. This is harder than it looks. *-*-* Breakthrough! Mistress Martha says I am now able to make a "decent" loaf! Strong praise indeed. It has been three months since I started here. I now know the basics of baking, but it will take several years to learn all of the recipes, and their variants. Bjorn stopped in today and bought a loaf. He said it was good, but not as good as Mistress Martha''s. I''m glad for his honesty. He has heard no news about the eastern front, so I assume the kid hasn''t been sent out yet. TTFN The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid IV The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid IV I woke up on the plateau, with something licking my face. The goat. Why am I not surprised? The Ice Demon is dead. The "obelisk of Winter" as the troops are calling it, is destroyed. I gave orders for all of the demon, and the bodies of the undead to be tossed on top of a short house so we could give them a proper funeral and send off. It just seemed like the right thing to do. We took every scrap of everything we could carry, as well as our own dead, and headed back to our base. *-*-* The weather is breaking up well. We had a warm wind this morning for PT. The goat brought in a pair of cows today, lowing to be milked. At least I''m not the only one who knows how to milk one. No news yet from the rear guard. I will be cycling through our available units to provide scouts. Once that schedule is made I will be putting together ad-hoc units from the previous survivors. More people are stumbling into camp. Some military, others just civilians. The female adventurers are making their presence known by taking over empty positions like secretary. I miss my old secretary...She had nice...Anyway. *-*-* Three days out from the fight, and we finally have reinforcements coming in. The courier just arrived. Reinforcements and equipment will be here in two days. Our defeat of the demons and destruction of the "Obelisk of Winter" has freed up the roads, and thus our supplies. *-*-* I overheard my "Secretaries" this morning commenting on how "cute" I am. Whatever. I have sent a letter by way of the courier, to Master Maxwell, asking for his opinion on a few things out here. And to ask if he and Tristan ever had a goat problem. I hope I will hear from him soon. Probably nor for a month or more, knowing him. *-*-* Reinforcement day! They showed up about an hour after PT and breakfast was over. They are an unruly mob. Looks like I will have to stand in the back and play instructor again. Bad news rolls down hill. Again. I have received a citation for battle, and a promotion to Lieutenant. Officer country. Blah. At least I didn''t get knighted. None of my original trainees have been promoted. I will be dispatching a strongly worded letter about that with the next messenger. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The other bad news is that in two weeks we will be advancing to a point 20 miles north, to take a ridge. From there we are to link up with several other units and assault the Demon General''s palace. I think that this plan is a bit foolhardy, as the supply lines will be thin, and we will be easily cut off; unless they decide to send us a lot more food stuffs. Training of the new arrivals will start in the morning. *-*-* Someone tried to shoot the goat last night. I will have to re-state the ban on harassing the goat. In other news, Lieutenant, Lord Oswald had a self inflicted arrow wound treated last night. He was not very good in PT this morning. The newbies don''t like the PT, or the training that has started, but I''m sure they will come around. *-*-* Three days into training and Oswald isn''t getting it. Even the other nobles are doing the training and PT, but the asshole aristocrat just whines about it. It''s almost like his father got sick of him being around and sent him off to die in the war. *-*-* I talked to some of the nobles. Oswald''s father did indeed send him off to die. Called him a "useless piece of worthless trash" very loudly when he did it too. I think I will try and help Oswald. This will be difficult. I will call him into my office and talk to him about it tomorrow. *-*-* Oswald is a pig-headed fool. He will probably become the first noble to have ever been placed in the stocks. I give him a week to either wash out, or hang. The gall of the man. *-*-* Oswald is in the stocks. He fell asleep on watch last night. The only reason he isn''t hanging is that I give people a second chance. But only one. In other news, the goat brought in a minstrel this morning. A young lad from the "School of Rio". He plays fairly well, but his tunes sound a lot like thrash metal that has been mixed with classical. I''m homesick now. I miss the old club scene. I would almost kill for an 8ball. *-*-* We have a week before we move out. The land has mostly thawed. The ''new'' recruits are still grumbling about the training etc. Oswald has finally seen the light, and is putting forth some effort. I am starting to think about my future. Well I was, then the adventurers came into my office arguing about who should be the first. I stupidly opened my mouth and asked "First what?" They just stared daggers at me and left in a huff. Crazy women. It''s almost like a harem series, where the protagonist can''t tell that the girls like...well fuck... *-*-* Oswald came to my office this morning, and lodged a complaint. Apparently the goat was on his tent''s roof this morning, and was making; I can''t believe I''m writing this; "Rooster Noises". I asked what the hell I was supposed to do about it. His response? "You gave the order that the goat was to be left alone, so I didn''t attack it. You figure it out." Then he turned on his heel and left. He does have a point, but what am I supposed to do? Yell at the goat? My ''secretaries'' and I have had a long conversation. They claim that they will, as it were, "keep it in their pants" until I come of age in 3 years. I don''t know exactly how I feel about it, but progress has been made. *-*-* We leave in three days. The goat has disappeared, I hope for good. He (someone caught him trying to mount a cow) was almost more trouble than he was worth. *-*-* A cleric for one of the small gods came this morning. He was looking for his goat, Ghondish. I told him about the strange goat, and the trouble it caused. He said that sounded like his goat. He was sad when I told him it was gone. He left. Strange people, the followers of the small gods. *-*-* The goat is in my fucking office. He left me a ''present'' when I threw him out. I am beginning to hate goats. The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 9.25 - Baker II The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 9.25 - Baker II Jenni has been looking at me for a few minutes now after receiving a gold coin from a half blood who just bought out half of the bakery for the Demonia celebration of independence. "Jenni, why are you staring at me like that?" I asked. "Um, sorry Max, it''s just that the picture on this coin is the spitting image of you." Jenni said, walking over to me. "It''s called a ''Golden Heretic'', the biggest coin in Demonia. It''s worth 3 standard gold coins." I took the coin and looked at it. "Okay, that is really weird, it does look just like...me." I wince. Shit. I may have to abandon the shop before I''ve finished learning everything. I search through my coin purse. "Would you mind if I buy it off the store? I kinda want to keep this." "That''s fine. 3 gold and a copper for the money changing fee." Jenni replies. "You really know how to make extra money, don''t you." I say, handing over the coins. "Thanks Max!" Jenni says, placing my coins in the register. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. I look more closely at the Golden Heretic. The front of the large coin has a good picture of my face in profile, the back has the words "The Heretic, May He Never Return". I''m going to have to go to Demonia once I''m done here and get to the bottom of this. It''s more than a little embarrassing. *-*-* Today was disturbing. The finding of the coin today was surprising. I am unsure how to handle this. I will look into it on my day off. *-*-* More customers from Demonia today. I had to pay Jenni the money changers markup for all of them. The little thief. At least she doesn''t pocket the extra coin, just puts them in the register where they belong. Tomorrow is the Demonia Independence celebration. I will be glad when it''s over. *-*-* The Demonia peoples carried a statue of ME through the city! What the ever loving hell? I had nothing to do with it! I was just there to make sure the humans didn''t get killed. I had to wear my cloak all day with the hood up. I''m beginning to dislike Demonia. *-*-* A well dressed military courier from home stopped in to the shop today. He had a letter from the kid that is only about 2 weeks old. The courier will be awaiting my reply tomorrow morning at my lodgings. I have never had any ''Goat'' problems, but I suspect god-fuckery. I''m glad the kid is surviving. *-*-* My letter is sent, as well as a strongly worded letter to the army''s commander. I hope this sort of thing doesn''t become routine. I compensated the courier quite well in order to get the kid his reply as quickly as possible. I also sent a calling stone along so I won''t be bothered like this again. *-*-* Einar''s next in line called me today in the middle of the morning rush, in order to introduce himself. I didn''t chew him out for the interruption, and promised to visit sometime in the next decade or two. TTFN 28.5 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Flashback - The Gun - The Gun - The revolver sat alone, almost forgotten under properly folded shirts, in the back of a dresser drawer. It was a relatively simple thing, made from cold hard steel and brass. It''s cylinder''s chambers packed with black powder and topped a .44 caliber ball made from an amalgam of silver, lead, and cold iron. The primer caps were on all six of the cylinder''s nipples, and the hammer rested gently on one. Stamped on the barrel were the words "Colt Army Model 1860", and on the bottom of the grip, in a stilted hand was scrawled "For Max, T". The words were all partially worn away from use, but still legible in the proper light. It''s brother was tucked into the waistband of a blacksmith. It''s previous owner, a veteran of the American Civil War, was long gone from this world; having returned home after his job here was done; and he had left it and it''s brother behind to give it''s new owner a "leg up" on his competition. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. It sat, and sat, and sat. If it was actually able to think, it would have thought things like "I''m lonely", or "I''m bored", or any of dozen things like that. But it couldn''t think. Well not really. What it could do was "feel", and feel it did. It felt the loss of it''s first owner whom it had been issued to almost immediately after production, an owner who had used and cared for it like an extension of his body. An owner that it had never failed. Not once. It could feel it''s brother when it was nearby, could feel the smith in it''s brothers proximity. It felt them both this day as they came into the room they all shared. It felt the drawer slide open. It felt the smith''s hand seek out it''s warn and polished grip. It almost felt joy when it was pulled out into the open air. And it felt relief when it heard the smith''s voice, "I think you''ve been in there too long. Time for a cleaning, and then into my holster you go. There have been some bad sorts around lately, better safe than sorry." The Tenets of Ghondish the goat god of eating stuff The Tenets of Ghondish the goat god of eating stuff Oh, of these five tenets, all my followers shall hold true; Always have food and drink available; you never know when one will need sustenance. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. All prey is holy; do not make them suffer. Provide for the crops and animals; so they may provide for you. Offer food to strangers; and receive my blessings in return. Eat, drink and make merry; for tomorrow we may be hunted. Translated by Grug the Shepherd, first cleric of Ghondish (that f-ing talking goat, why won''t he let me sleep?) A tale of Ghondish A tale of Ghondish The Goddess of Purity stood at the head of the hastily assembled Council of Twelve, plus several other gods who were loitering around the main building of the City of Black and White. "Alright, to quote that asinine Heretic," Purity said mildly, before shouting, "WHICH ONE OF YOU IDIOTS LET THE GOAT OUT?" The assembled gods and goddesses looked around at each other in bemusement before Chastity stood up and asked, "Dearest sister, what Goat?" Purity looked at the assembly, eyes wide in amazement at their collective forgetfulness, "The GOAT! The one in the Holy Pen, the one who wreaks havoc on our world by getting in the way of the mortals? The famine breaker? The Speaker of Prey? Ring any bells?" "Oh, Ghondish? Wasn''t he just here a couple of days ago, munching away on the corn?" The gray skinned god(dess) of trickery asked, tone light and slightly mocking. "Not funny Trixie! When did you let him out?" Purity asked, voice full of demand. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. "I didn''t. Not after last time. Never after last time...I can''t believe he ruined it...all of it..." Trixie began to sob. "Okay, fair enough. Sorry Trixie." Purity looked around the table again, looking for any who could have an excuse for this prank. "Is anyone going to confess?" "I have no dealings outside of my Elvin brethren. I had nothing to do with your goat problem. I didn''t even know there was a goat pen up here." The god Greymore declared, standing. "Penning up senseless beasts. Bah! Silly girl." Bjorn, usually quiet at these meetings, slowly stood and spoke, "Brother Greymore, You do not know of what you speak. While Ghondish is a small god NOW, he didn''t used to be." "Bjorn! HUSH!" Esmeralda, the Gnome goddess of knowledge, almost shouted. "Do not speak of such things. Do not make brother Kocha''s job harder!" Bjorn rebuked her, saying, "No, my dearest sister, I can not. This needs to be said, for all of us to remember, and for the new ones to know." He took a deep breath and continued. "We all know of Ghondish as the funny small god of eating things. He is fun, carefree, and plays amusing tricks. But what some have forgotten," He looks at Trixie, "and others never knew, is that he used to be known as ''Gehona, Eldest god of nature, and high commander of the army of elementals'' worshiped by all of the creatures and plants of creation. His power was stolen by the treachery and deceit of Kocha; our brother of chaos, whom Trixie replaced; and entombed with his army, never to be awakened. THAT is what worries sister Purity; this is what has been unleashed upon the realm of mortality. He could unmake ALL that we have done, and make the war with the Demon hoards look like a schoolyard fight." The hall of gods shook with worry, as the young gods began to fear. *-*-* *-*-* "ACHOO" Kocha wiped his nose, "Okay, Big G, how does this game work?" "Well, Kocha, It''s called Humans and High-rises. For each of your six stats, you roll 4D6, and add together the highest three and place each number next to a stat... You know, this book is so hard to maneuver with hooves...Rockjaw, get your elemental butt over here and help a god out!" Said a certain fluffy goat. 29 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 9.5 - Baker III 7th of Anael, the first month of Snow, 2109 years since the new gods came. I went to the library in town today. I was looking for some kind of old baking cookbook to find a new (old) recipe to surprise Martha with. I was met by an older middle aged Gnome woman, and when I inquired about ancient baking recipes she said she had just the thing in the stacks. When she came back with it, I could see just how old it was. The ancient leather binding was obviously not it''s first, as it barely covered the pages, no title was visible. Public cutbacks, go figure. As she signed me into the log book, as well as the title I was borrowing, she told me the recipe was best found in the index, under the name "communion loaf". She also said to not worry about the rest of the book as it was all just "Old religion mumbo-jumbo". I thanked her and left. *-*-* The recipe was simple to find. It is even fairly simple to make. The ingredients, on the other hand are very rare, unless you used to be an adventurer, who knew those wivern wings would come in handy in the kitchen as well as the forge? The recipe does mention that additional information about it is in chapter 3, on page 289. I will read it tomorrow after work. *-*-*

8th of Anael

This fucking book. I''m taking it back to the library tomorrow, recipe be damned. *-*-*

9th of Anael

I''m stuck with the book. When I tried returning it, the nice elf at the returns desk said that it was never in the catalog, and that they didn''t have any "stacks" in the rear of the library, just the shelves of old books that are restricted for research, and not many of those. When I politely asked her to look again, she did, and came back a few minutes later with the library''s Matron. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. "No, Mr. Maxwell, we have never had a book like that in our collection, nor have we ever had a Gnome working here." She said. Frustrated, I left. Then I noticed the statue of Esmeralda, the Gnome goddess of knowledge at the entrance. The librarian had looked just like..."Well Fuck", I said out loud, and the damn statue winked at me. I''m now stuck with a 2900 page book about the elder/old gods. At least the recipes don''t look to bad. I will have to try and decipher some of the religious BS, so that I don''t attract them in addition to the new ones that already plague me. *-*-*

11th of Anael

Today I try the new recipe. I have tried to remove all of the religious mumbo-jumbo that the book claims are needed to make the dough rise properly. I removed all the silly gestures, the meaningless "words of power", the "circles of sanctity", and everything else. More notes later, after the test is done. *-*-* Fuck this book. The kitchen is a mess. I had to pull out ALL of the old cleaning charms that I haven''t used since Tristan was around. I wonder how he is (was?) doing? I guess I''m going to have to research the recipe more. *-*-*

12th of Anael

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This is all stupid. *-*-* 20th of Anael It has taken a week of studying this damnable book, but I think I have it down now. Some of the mumbo-jumbo was, and some of it wasn''t. I haven''t had to remember this much magic lore since I trained the kid...That wasn''t actually that long ago was it? *-*-* 23rd of Anael I have manufactured an outdoor kitchen for my experiment. If things work properly, then I won''t have anything to worry about. If things blow up again, then it will have been well worth the effort. Either way, Martha is appreciative. More later. *-*-* Well, it worked. Mostly. The bread is good, but not divine. Upon eating the first slice, I felt buoyed inside, and slightly better. But the effect faded after a few minutes. It would appear that this is some kind of "divine" healing bread. I will add the original, and my version there of, to my slowly growing bread book. Now what to do with the other 6 dozen loafs? TTFN 30 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Military Intelligence II 8th of Aneal, First month of Snow, 2109 years since the new gods came. "Sir, we may have a problem." "What is it Lieutenant?" "I was going through the personal mail before dispersal to the troops, as required - - -" "Get to the point." "- - - Sorry sir. The Heretic sent us a letter. Sir." "Well crap. Read it to me." To whomever it may concern, Get on with it. Send the kid the proper support to win your little war. I don''t want to have to come and sort it out for you. Maxwell Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. PS. What is with that Goat? "What goat is he talking about, Lieutenant?" "Some vaguely annoying creature that has been helping Liam. I don''t get it either." "Very well. I suppose I need to go have a talk with the Council of Generals. We don''t need a repeat of the ''Tristan Incident'' that the Heretic is alluding to." "...Um...Do I want to know what happened?" "The short story is that the Council of Generals of the time disbanded after half of them died in ''mysterious incidents''. I will have to give the Council the full version." "Tristan the Hero? The Heretic''s teacher and mentor? That Tristan? He was a Hero! Perfect in every way!" "Far from it. He was a drinker to the extreme, smoked some noxious herb called ''tobakie'' that made him cough something fierce, whored like you wouldn''t believe, and was all sorts of disrespectful." "But, the history books say none of that..." "Of course not. Would you like our greatest hero to have flaws? He was just a man, like you and me. Just, coarse and violent to the extreme. One general, who''s name is lost to history, demanded he be shown Tristan''s ''hand cannon''. Tristan obliged, by shoving the thing into his face and firing it. The general was dead before he hit the floor. Not surprising since he was missing the top of his head." "No wonder the Heretic is so bad, with him as a role-model." "No, the Heretic has a heart. Tristan really didn''t. He was a man killer, in every form of the word. The Heretic was his only friend, according to the records, anyway." "Okay. One day I will be allowed to read some of those reports, yes?" "If you live long enough. Send Liam his letter. I have people to talk to." *-*-* December 13th, 1893, Denver Colorado, USA "ACHOO!!!" Tristan sneezed, his black stetson falling off with the force of it. "Sorry honey, don''t know what got into me. Lets get back to our shenanigans before your husband gets home." Flashback 3 - The Bard of Rio **Transcript of the Bard, Jon Silva, telling the story of his arrival in our land.** So my students, you wish to hear a story? This is the story of when I first came to this world, from my own, from a place called Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; and how I came to meet the Great Blacksmith. I was walking down the fair street of my hometown, not a street like here, no, this street was vast, almost thrice the size. And instead of the sand and gravel we have here it was a great ribbon of black, dark as a cloudy midnight sky! My Av, or ''grandmother'' in the common tongue, had kicked me out of the house for the day so that she could clean and watch her TV shows in peace. No Harka, I will not explain what a ''TV show'' is. I had packed my trusty pack, the one you see over there on the stand, with my ''Magic Music Box'', and ''Make Louder Box'', and other accouterments of our trade, and was on my way to my amigo''s home, just a few blocks down the street. Yes Harka, amigo means friend. Just as I stepped past the halfway point, a pleasant spot with a large tree budding in the fresh spring air, I was surrounded by a circle of bright light! A voice; one that I thought belonged to my own god; spoke to me, saying: "Of all the peoples in this world, I have chosen you for this task, Jon Silva, and you shall go forth and spread your talents to my world, and become someone to be proud of!" At this point I saw the god, his billowing black cloak and silver mask, and knew he was not "My God", and I was terrified! I ran from him, and soon found myself in a deep dark wood. Yes Harka, that is where I entered your world. May I continue? Yes? Good. And yes Harka, I now know that was Belaroze, god of poets, music and dance. The god of entertainment, if you will. I stood there, panting, sweating, and afraid. These were not woods I was familiar with. Not a place I was comfortable in. Not in my new sneakers and new jeans! No. I ran through the woods, through briers and brambles where even rabbits and squirrels wouldn''t go. I ran so fast my breath couldn''t even catch me, and I collapsed in a heap on the side of a road, exhausted. I awoke to dew on my face and the clopping of hooves coming down the road. I tried to crawl away from the road, but I was stiff and sore from my run the previous day, and had barely managed to rise when a horse drawn wagon--- No Harka, in my world, horses no longer draw wagons. Please hush now, so that everyone may hear the story. ---when a horse drawn wagon came to a stop next to me. The short bearded man, whom I came to know as a dwarf, asked in a deep voice; almost as gravelly as the road; if I would like a ride to town? I just nodded, so was my confusion of the day. I climbed up onto the seat next to the funny little ''man'' and we rode in silence for a bit, before he broke into a jaunty little tune about a milkmaid and her love. No Kerlak, I will not sing it here, there are children present. I asked the man to repeat the song once he had finished it, and recorded it on my ''Phone''. Yes Harka, that IS the proper name for my magic box. Are you done interrupting now? Good. I then went about the business of listening to it several times, and writing down the tune. When I glanced up from my work, the little man''s eyes were alight! He asked me if I was a Skald, a Bard of some sort. I had to answer honestly, Abuela would pull my ears if I did not. "No sir", I said, "Not really. I am just learning about music. Back home; wherever that is now; I was just starting my first band with a couple of amigo''s." He looked at me for a long time then. Finally he said "There aren''t many people about, who can just write down music like that, lad. Almost none at all. I bet even the thrice blessed Heretic can''t pull that trick off." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Really. We learn basic musical theory in school. Back home anyway." It was not a complete lie. I went to a private academy that taught the most wonderful of subjects. The little man was most impressed with that, and went on to explain that only the rich or talented ever got that kind of training, even at the Bard college of Flagondburn. Most were just taught to read the music and play or sing. We traveled for several days and I learned early on his name was Hanse, that he thought Elves were pathetic, and that farming was the best way to make a living. We talked about many things, mostly farming. I asked questions about the world, and he gave me answers as best he could. He also sung several tavern songs for me to copy and transcribe. We parted ways in Binarg, Town of the Fairy Ring. I spent several days looking around the town, searching for work, and singing for my supper. When my phone ran out of power, I went looking for someone who could help. That was when I was pointed in the direction of the blacksmith, Maxwell Smithson. I came upon his wagon in the morning, and asked if he truly was ''The'' smith I was looking for, and got a stern lecture about not going on any more fool adventures. When I placed my phone on his bench, he suddenly became much more interested in the things that I had to say. We spent the next three days in close conversation about how the magic of ''Spark'' worked, and I learned much from him on the topic. After those three days of study and work, I found myself in possession of a Spark supply that would power all of my electronics! I was truly amazed at the workmanship of one who had never before seen complex wiring and circuits before. The morning after we finished I was making my preparations to leave when the Fairy Circle opened, and the denizens there from, escaped. The town was in an uproar, people who hadn''t believed, or just not paid attention running for their lives. I was about to join them when I saw Maxwell standing with the other adventurers, preparing to lay down his life for the town. Intrigued at the sight, I stayed and watched. It was a wild and wondrous sight to behold! The masters of the combat craft in full regalia and action. Arrows to blot out the sky! Spells so varied, you would need to see them to believe! Swords and spears so fast, they were a blur! Then, the Archfey came. They were beautiful! They were monstrous. They were wild power taken form. The words and spells they spoke made trees and statues of adventurers and townsfolk alike. Even Maxwell was held at bay by fear. It was then that I realized it. The spells they used were musically based. And what better way to counter it? Music. Specifically MY music. I dug my phone and amplifier from my pack, and set about plugging in the cords. Time was not on my side. I could see flakes of stone crawling up the legs of those near by. And finally I was done. I selected a well loved song from my home, turned the volume up to eleven, and pressed play. The results were marvelous to behold! The Smith broke out of his trance, and fired upon the Fey again. The adventurers rallied to the attack. But most noticeable were the heroes that came from my own world! They stood straighter, as tho they had iron in their spines; they squared off with the lords of Fey, and struck, some even foregoing the weapons that they carried hand! They punched, and bit and tore at their enemy! So much of the Fey Lords green blood was spilled that the ring is still colored with it. That was the day I found my calling in this world of yours; and that is the story of my encounter with the great Blacksmith, Maxwell the thrice blessed Heretic. No Harka, I will not tell another tale. And no, you may not touch the instruments. They are tools for pleasure and for war. That is why you are here, not just to learn to play; that can be learned anywhere; no, you are here to LEARN what to play, and when. Now off to bed, the lot of you! 31 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid V 31 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid V 49th of Kusha, the month of Harvest, 2109 years since the new gods came. Three days, has been pushed back a week. We squat in place. When this is over, villagers will probably flock here as we have assembled a "nice" little settlement. *-*-* 50th of Kusha Things are progressing nicely, the general staff will be moving in soon. I will finally be relieved from this duty, and returned to fighting. It can''t come too soon. I wonder what they will think of the goat? *-*-* 1st of Anael, First month of Snow. Departure has been pushed back another week or more, but the needed supplies we will need for our journey haven''t reached us. I wonder who is screwing up now? New soldiers are showing up by the Platoon now, and are being introduced to what is called "Max''s Way" or, more often, "Heretic''s Style". I blame the Demonia ex-pats for the second name. *-*-* 2nd of Anael Aside from payroll being short, things are going well. I am worried that the "Normal" winter will freeze us in at this point. The waiting is starting to kill the moral of the troops. Luckily the "Bard" is still around, and helping. Our normal contingent of camp followers has increased greatly, being joined by some more openly obvious "Ladies of the Night". I''m not so certain that I approve. *-*-* 5th of Aneal The "Night Ladies" have approached me, asking for a building from which to run their brothel. After consulting with my superiors, they have been allowed to select a site and begin construction. *-*-* 9th of Anael Those women can build! It has been three days, and they have a fully built and staffed Bar/Inn/Brothel. Goddess help us all. The general staff has been witnessed visiting the place already. Whatever. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. *-*-* 11th of Anael I have received word from the grape vine that several members of the Council of Generals have resigned. I have also finally received a reply from Master Maxwell. I am glad he is well and learning a new trade. I also now have a messaging stone thingy, should I need to ask him anything. It''s like a phone, but magic! *-*-* 14th of Anael We have been properly resupplied! We leave in three days. We will be making supply drops every three miles. It will be slow going with the snow starting to fall in earnest. Finally we get to give some payback. *-*-* 15th of Anael More poo has rolled downhill. My cadre of Corporals have been promoted to Sergeants. I hope they like it. I now command 400 men, consisting of humans, half-bloods, beastmen, and others. The number of ''support staff" is more than double that. When we leave, most of the followers will be left behind. *-*-* 17th of Anael We leave in the morning. Praise the goddess, THE GOAT IS GONE!!!!! *-*-* 18th of Anael The wind is cold as we march into the Demon''s Desert, a place of chill and frost. A place that was cursed many, many, millennia ago, when the old gods still roamed the land and offered succor to their followers and children. Something about a war with beings "Beyond the Veil" caused all this, I don''t know, I''m not a scholar or priest. Every 3 miles we stop, place a marker, and leave supplies. *-*-* It has been one day. The cold chills to the bone. If not for the practice from our last march, my troop would be just as frozen as the rest of the army. The cold disease (hypothermia, again) is coming on strong, and frostbite is running rampant. I have offered the Captain our assistance with warming, my mages can manage it. *-*-* The Captain accepted my offer. We will heat the army now. *-*-* 19th of Anael The Mages are being tested. We don''t have enough of them to run shifts. At the end of each day they almost fall down from exhaustion, but no one is getting sick. They are getting the best of the food, better than the officers even, and the warmest tents. *-*-* 21st of Anael Three days. Three days, and we are almost there. We have stopped early to rest. Tomorrow we battle the General of the west. *-*-* *-*-* 20th of Anael "Marax? I think we should invite Hank for dinner. His ''Partner'' is out on an overnight scouting assignment." General Grapestein smiled a toothy smile. "Very good my lord." Marax shared his lords grin, all seven eyes open and shining, "Shall I inform the kitchen? Or will we be dining in the old way?" *-*-* Hank was dressed in his finest clothing. Bright read hose and emerald green tunic, brightly polished belt of steel links around his waist. His foppish hat even had peacock feathers tucked into the band. He stepped into the throne room and gawked at the decorations; bright cheery ribbons hung from the ceiling, bunting was hung from the walls, the table from the grand banquet hall was set in the middle of the room covered in meat dishes of so many different types that he couldn''t name them. On the center of the table was an ornately decorated silver tray, almost the length of a man, lined with some sort of lettuce like leaves. As he stared in amazement, he heard Marax say, "Ah, the centerpiece has arrived!" Something crashed into the back of his head, and he fell still. *-*-* 21st of Anael "General! The enemy has camped for the evening. They will likely assault us in the morning." Bob said, striding into General Grapestein''s throne room, being met by silence. He looked around. The room was empty, no Grapestein, no Marax, no hangers on. Just the oversized table from the banquet hall, covered in the remains of a feast, and many, many puddles of the brownish wine the demons loved. He stepped forward, and into a puddle of wine. Wine that had congealed. Congealed around a finger. A finger that was wearing Hanks wedding band. Bob shook his head in disgust. "What the hell are they thinking?" he said, before logging out. 32 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The Kid VI 22nd of Anael, First month of Snow. 2109 years since the new gods came. ~4:30 AM I was awoken around an hour ago by a soft popping noise and the sound of someone falling a foot or so to the floor. A cast of ''Flash'' stunned my assailant until I had my sword out and at his throat. He looked to be around 19 years or so, wearing mages robes, and a tear stained face. To the best of my memory, our conversation went like this: Me: What are you doing in my tent? Him: I want to kill the bastard demon who killed my husband. Me: Wait, What? Him: Did I stutter or mumble? Or aren''t you the ''Hero''? Me: Yes...No... Wait! Your husband was killed by a demon? Then join the army. Him, taking a deep, grief riddled breath: No. You don''t seem to understand. Last night, I came back to the demon generals throne room, and found the remains of my husband. No big deal, it''s ''just a game''. I jacked out, to talk to him, AND HE WAS DEAD! Me, looking this man strait in the eyes: A game? You think this is a game? I was reborn here after I died in Chicago in 1987! And YOU THINK THIS IS SOME STUPID GAME?!?!?! Him: Wait, Huh? What? Me: Did I mumble or stutter? Him: But, I''m from 2089...This isn''t a Deepdive MMORPG? ME: Whatever that is, no. This is a real world, with real people, doing REAL THINGS! Now I understand why Master Maxwell hates ''Heros'' so much. You''re all IDIOTS! Him, looking like he is about to vomit as tears start falling: NO. No, no, no, no, no... FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! I am going to kill that fucking programmer when I get back home! Tell me we are the only pre-alpha testers for a new game? Cool. Not tell us that it is actually a doorway to an alternate world, not a cool DDVR? No. Suing you for wrongful death isn''t enough. Not after what you had me do here..... Me: ... Um...What now? Him: Call me Bob. The programmer said that my husband and I should join in on the demon''s side, work with them to see how the combat controls work. Even gave us ''new spells'' to work on perfecting. But now I know...Now I know that I wasn''t just killing pixels in 400K clarity, I was killing PEOPLE! That bastard is dead. I''m going to rip his intestines out through his asshole and hang him with them! Me, slightly taken aback, hand clutching my sword hilt more tightly: Okay. Um. How about I take you to the commander''s tent, and you can tell him all about things. Once that is done with, you can join me on the front lines? Bob, after taking a few more calming breaths: Okay. I...I...I think I can do that. Then we kill this ass-clown demon. General Grapestein. *-*-* *-*-* General Grapestein awoke from a bloated slumber with a sneezing fit. *-*-* *-*-* I showed Bob the way to the command tent, and led him inside. I left him there to explain himself. I''m so glad I don''t have to deal with this kind of shit any more. *-*-* Just got the word from command, Bob will be joining my mages today. And boy is he pissed. *-*-* 22nd of Anael, 1/2 hour before sunrise We wait behind the crest of a hill, preparing to storm the castle. The demon hoard is unprepared, as Bob was unable to deliver the news of our imminent attack. I would say that this will be easy, but Master Maxwell taught me better. The word is being passed, charge at the second horn call. I hope I live to see the end of the day. *-*-* *-*-* 23rd of Anael, Evening In a large pavilion, in a large camp, located just outside of the range of demon fire from General Grapestein''s castle, a conversation is taking place. "No sir. I didn''t see him after our charge was rebuffed." Corporal Anderson said, tears running from his eyes. He didn''t even try to wipe them away. "The last thing I saw before the Ice Giants charged us was him, the cat, the demon, and that new guy, Bob? Chasing some multi eyed demon down a side passage." "Very good, Corporal. You followed your orders properly, and retreated when you were able. I wish we had more men like you. Did you retrieve his Journal?" "Yes, mi-lord. Here it is." Anderson held out a thick, and rough looking book, with unknown runes on the cover. "He once told me the runes were words of power, and not to touch them." "We will deal with it, Corporal." The unnamed M.I. officer sighed, "And for what it is worth, Corporal? I am sorry for the loss of your commander and friend. At least we all gave him the best chance we could." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. "Yes sir. Thank you sir." Anderson responded. "I want in on the Forlorn Hope. Sir. I want to lead it." "We aren''t there quite yet Corp- - -" An explosion from the castle shook the camp, followed by several lesser explosions. "What in the 8 Hells?" The M.I. Officer yelled, looking for his sword that had fallen off of the interview table. "Corporal, return to your post!" *-*-* *-*-* -A moment before the boom- "One of grandpa''s anime gave---" Bob started. "You watch that Japanese cartoon bullshit?" Liam asked. "Shut up and listen. I have a spell that should open this door. Just give me a minute." Bob said. "Okay. Fine. Where did you get it from?" Liam asked, shaking his head. "The Anime ''Slayers''." Bob replied, before chanting something in Japanese, and pointing his hand at the sealed great door to the throne room. A beam of reddish energy shot from his hand, hitting the door and exploding on contact. An explosion that caused the castle to shake, and a mushroom cloud to form above it. Covered in dust and debris, the party of heroes charged into the throne room. The ceiling was riven, open to the sky, and what was left of the decor was in tatters. Falling rubble had miraculously crushed most of the demons in the room, but not all. General Grapestein was in the middle of standing up from his throne, while his assistant Marax stood to one side, mouth agape. "Ah, the hero''s party has---" General Grapestein began, only to be cut off mid sentence. "Shut it you lard ass, loudmouth!" Liam yelled, as he summoned and threw a lightning spear into the generals guts. "Bob, this one is yours, I''ll get the other one. Everyone else, guard the doors!" Bob, a wicked smile on his face, strode towards the demon, "I bet it was your idea to eat Hank. To kill him and gobble him up. Wasn''t it?" Bob drew a long, barbed whip, one that General Grapestein had given him in fact, and sent magical energy coursing through it. "I bet you made him suffer." "No pain and suffering." General Grapestein said, "It ruins the flavor of the meat. Just a club to the head, and bleeding out the veins. No pain at all." He looked into the rage on Bob''s face, and smiled a cruel smile. "NO PAIN? NO SUFFERING?" Bob yelled, "You expect me to believe you?" The whip lashed out, catching Grapestein across the left leg, tearing the flesh and searing the bone. *-*-* Liam drew his sword and charged Marax. "Goddess, you look like a Gwar understudy," He said under his breath, and swung his sword. Marax ducked under the blade, and freed his barbed whip from his belt. "You are much to young for this fight, boy." "I''m older than I look, asshole." Liam replied, stabbing at the demon. "Be that as it may, mortal, I''m much older and more experienced than you will ever be." Marax said, jumping back and cracking his whip in Liam''s face. "Indiana did that better." Liam said, armored left hand snaking out and grasping the end of the whip, ignoring the pain from it''s magical barbs, "You''ll never be as good as he is." He pulled as hard as he could, hoping to disarm the demon. But such was the power of his pull, that Marax himself was jerked forward along with the whip. "What the---" Marax yelled as he was yanked forward. He never finished his question as Liam shoved his sword through the demons mouth, and out the back of it''s skull. *-*-* Enough is enough, General Grapestein thought, finally pulling his wickedly barbed sword from his belt. "Your usefulness is at an end, human. I will take your life now." Bob stepped back, readying another strike, "You think so? Good luck trying, asshat!" "Your whip hurts, yes, but I heal much faster. And to me, pain is a minor inconvenience that I quite enjoy." The general said, smiling even wider than before. A half step, and a thrust and his sword point pierced Bob''s left knee. Grapestein twisted the blade to free it. Bob screamed in pain, and fell to the floor. "You see, Bob, pain clears and focuses the mind." Grapestein sniffs the air, and shakes his head, "Well once you learn to see through it, that is." He took another half step forward, and stabbed Bob in the right thigh. Lying on the floor, bleeding and in pain, Bob cried out in his mind, Anything! I will do anything! Please, someone, anyone! I will do anything! JUST HELP ME! From somewhere in the deep void, a ''Voice'' responded, VERY WELL. *-*-* As Liam pulled his sword from Marax''s already dissolving corpse, he yelled, "Hey Bob, you done over there buddy?" *-*-* A flow of power seeped into Bob''s body, he felt it burn out from his core, to the tips of his fingers and toes. His legs screamed in pain as the wounds healed. The pain seemed to take an eternity to subside, but it was, in reality, only a fraction of a second. He slowly regained his feet, body glowing from the power it now contained. General Grapestein stepped back in horror from the glowing, power infused human standing before him. "What, what in the unholy hells?" Bob smiled at the demon, "Apparently, I know how to ask for help. Someday the gods of this world may forgive you for what you''ve done, but I never will." Strange words, words of power, words not heard on this world since it''s creation, appeared in Bob''s mind, and he chanted them aloud, "Tha draoidheachd na cruinne-c seo a mallachadh deamhan. Bsachadh!" *-*-* Liam slowly turned towards the sound of chanting, and stood staring, mouth agape at Bob''s glowing form, hand outstretched, and palm forward. A large beam of multi-chromatic energy pulsed forth from Bob''s hand, striking General Grapestein full in the chest. The demons scream of agony shook the castle to it''s foundation, and Grapestein slowly, painfully melted; much akin to a candle placed in a hot oven. "That was...Amazing!" Liam said, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Where did you...?" "In my time of need," Bob wheezed, "I called for help." He wheezed again, "And something...the magic...I think?...Answered me?" He coughed. "I''m...Not feeling well...I need to jack out... Goodbye Liam." He coughed again. Bob made a gesture next to his head with his right hand, and slowly faded from sight. Liam stared at the empty space where Bob had stood. "Um...Holy shit..." He shook his head a couple times, then yelled "Folks! We are leaving!" His comrades in arms formed up around him and they ran from the castle. *-*-* *-*-* Kocha looked through the large and well bound book. "So there''s no magic in this world? A Wizard is right out then. How about a Ranger?" "Hmmm... I think the best bet would be the ''Great White Hunter'' class." Big G said. "With the "Faithful Hound" perk, you can even have an animal companion!" "Sounds good to me. So, ranged weapons use Agility, correct? Then I need to put this 18 in that so I can hit." Kocha said. "That would be for the best, I think." Big G replied. "Whoa, did you see that?" Kocha suddenly asked, sitting up straight. "See what?" Big G asked, looking up from the full color rule book. "Viewing stone, go back 30 seconds" Kocha commanded. "Watch this!" The pair of gods watched the ''fight'' between Bob and Grapestein. "What was that?" Kocha asked. "The Wellspring of Magic." Big G said, shrugging, "It does that sometimes, when it gets angry at someone. In this case I bet it was because the demons siphoned off some of it''s power to send one of their own to the other world to instigate their plan for summoning their own Hero with VR equipment. Seems the Wellspring didn''t like losing some of itself in the process." "Can it do that?" Kocha asked in a horrified voice. "Oh yes. It can be petty like that. There was one time Gob decided to try and pee in it, he thought it would be funny. He was out of action for half of a millennia." Big G replied, then frowning said, "I miss him." "Okay. So tell me about this ''Darkest Africa'' place my character was supposedly exploring." Kocha said, moving the conversation back to something less depressing. 33 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 10 - Demonia Gilip, Capital city of Demonia; 29th of Anael, First month of Snow; 2109 years since the new gods came. ~1AM "Uncle Garbelx? Why are you leaving?" "Oh, I''m going on a trip to visit your great Auntie Vesknana." "But why now? It''s after midnight." "Because the roads aren''t as busy, so I can travel faster!" "Okay! Night night Uncle Garbelx!" As Garblex stepped into the cold night air, he was unsurprised to see the rest of his ilk making for the city gates. Someone screwed up. Now HE is coming back! *-*-* 7AM "Anything else to report, Sergeant Powell?" Commander Schwartz asked. "Yes sir, although it''s a bit confusing. All of the full bloods left the city early this morning." Sgt. Powell responded. "What?!?" *-*-* 22nd of Anael, First month of Snow. 2109 years since the new gods came. I''ve decided to take some time off from the bread business to go and have a look at this whole Demonia problem. Liam is well, and didn''t have to use the vial of holy water I talked him through making from goats pee a while back. I guess this stupid book is worth something after all. 24th of Anael I said my goodbyes to Martha and Jenni, promising I wouldn''t be gone more than a couple of weeks. Travel at this time of year is slow due to the cold and snow. It''s 60 miles by road to Yayasilip; the last town before the Demonia border; and should take me 3 days. From there it is about 100 miles to Gilip; Demonia''s capital; and the answers I seek. One way, my journey should take 8 days, one week. 26th of Anael If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. It is late in the evening, but I have arrived in Yayasilip. Tigra''s Inn is a nice place, small, cozy, and specializes in merchant travelers so I fit right in. It is good to be on the road. 28th of Anael I should make the border today, and be well into Demonia by tomorrow. A fair amount of traffic on the road, but no bandits to be seen. Its very different from the last time I was through here. 29th of Anael I have crossed over the border into Demonia. I should have seen any number of full blooded demons by now, as the local populace is supposed to be teeming with them. I should be feeling them by now, much as I can feel the "Hero''s" from the other world. How long have I been able to do that...? Sometime, when I have more time to look for answers, I will have to explore this development. 30th of Anael I have stopped in several of the small villages and settlements along the road and asked about the demons. Apparently, for some reason, they have all left for some place to the north. I wonder if they are having some sort of conclave? In exchange for fixing a couple of pots and pans, I am sleeping in a hay loft tonight. Much more comfortable than the ground. 31st of Anael Rain and slush have slowed travel today. The roads are a mix of ice, slush, and mud. Everyone on the road has had to slow down. I assisted a farmer who was taking a load of turnips to the next village when his axle failed due to a deep rut. I believe I will write a stern letter to the Teamsters Guild, suggesting they recommend to the crown an improvement to the roads around here. Even if they don''t cobble the road, large gravels would be an improvement. 32nd of Anael Late evening marks my arrival in Gilip. The local branch of "The Green Dragon Inn" is my chosen abode for the night. 32nd of Anael, update I have moved to an inn in the slums. I have paid a half-blood and his friends a reasonable sum for "protection" for my wagon and team. Mostly I don''t want them to get hurt trying to steal the thing. Or my horses. The local Green Dragon branch had a Large PAINTING of me attending that stupid accord signing! I refuse to ever step foot in that place again. Idiots. *-*-* "Sir?" Sargent Powell called, gently shaking his commanding officer. "SIR?!?" He shook him again, not so gently this time. A dagger poked him gently in the chest. "This had better be good, Powell." Commander Schwartz said, sitting up. "You wanted to know immediately if anything else weird happened, Sir..." Sargent Powell said, a trickle of sweat rolling down his cheek. As he started to rise from the bed, Commander Schwartz scowled at his subdominant, and ordered, "Out with it Sargent!" Stepping back, Sargent Powell swallowed a couple times before saying, "He''s here, Sir-" "Who''s here, Powell?" "The Heretic!" Powell almost yelled, "I saw him with my own eyes. He has returned!" Commander Schwartz stared at Sargent Powell, and felt himself go weak in the knees. "Oh. Oh shit. Oh gods above and below! I need to see the king... CRAP!" *-*-* 33rd of Anael Morning Today''s plan is simple enough. I am going to head to the local magistrates office and start asking questions. If that doesn''t get me anywhere, I will head to the "Councilors" building and ask some pointed questions there. If that fails, I will have to resort to diplomacy, and go see the king. I am not looking forward to this. 34 The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - The End of Bob Bob woke up alone. The cot that had been dragged out of storage to replace the bed he and Hank had shared was cold and barren by comparison. He sat up and smelled the air. Ozone. He removed the DDVR headset and looked at it. The plastic, originally pristine a few weeks ago, was blackened by char, and cracked. The network jack on his left wrist was also scorched, and would probably never function again. He realized, staring at the jack, that with the damage it had obviously taken he shouldn''t be able to feel his arm, let alone move it. As he stared, the wiring that attached the jack to his nerves, and even running to his brain, slowly started to ooze from his body. He watched in horror as the whole assembly dropped onto the cot, and lay still. He stood, naked, and waked to the bathroom. He calmly started the shower and cleaned himself from head to toe. The funeral was, he glanced at his watch implant on the back of his left wrist, only to find that it as well was gone. He shook his head. Staring into the mirror, he could see...something behind his eyes. Something...malevolent and angry. It glowed dimly there, lying in wait. He blinked to clear his vision and it was gone. "Bob," he said aloud, "When is the funeral?" "Master Frank, the funeral is in three hours. Shall I call a cab?" Bob, the apartments AI responded. "Yes, please do. Also, do a search for that programmer, Allen Kilson, use hubby''s credentials, I want to know every move he makes." Frank said. "Yes Master Frank." Bob replied. Then in a quiet voice, "I miss him too, Frank." I know Bob, I know." *-*-* The wake, funeral and interment had taken almost six hours, and Frank was tired, very tired. He stumbled a little when he exited the cab at the downtown apartment complex where he and his husband had lived. As the cab took off to catch it''s next fare, Frank looked up at the building, all 70 stories of it, and sighed. The whole ordeal was done. His husband of 3 years was in the ground, their friends and family had cried. Goodbyes had been said. It was over. Time for the hunt to begin. In the morning. He rode the lift to the 48th floor, walked the overly bright, crystal lined hallway to the apartment, opened the door and fell inside. He lay on the cold floor for a long while, weeping. Eventually he stood, walked to the couch, fell into it, and slept. *-*-* The bright morning sunlight fell across Frank''s face, waking him almost instantly. He squinted into the light, and stood up. He wandered to the bath, shedding clothes along the way. A long, scalding hot shower later, he slowly wandered to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, before returning to the bedroom to dress for the day. 10 minutes, and a black business casual outfit later he made his way back to the kitchen for coffee. Coffee now in hand, he sat at the antique wooden dining room table. "Bob, bring up what you found." He says aloud. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. "Here you are, Master Frank." Bob replied. A holograph appeared in the air in front of Frank, he waived a hand in the air, and a keyboard appeared as well. Okay, so he has withdrawn all his money from the account and is fleeing towards Chicago. Task a tracking drone on him, I want this thing myself." "Of course, sir." Bob said, then, "I do worry that the military will remove Joseph''s credentials soon. If that should happen, what are my instructions?" "I know you can cut your way through the security. Keep him covered." Frank replied. "Very good, sir." Bob said. "Should I call a cab, or would you like a car from storage?" Frank sat in thought for a few moments, "Bob, please get my bike from storage." "Oh, good choice sir. I will have it available in a few minutes. I will send a full link to the bike''s AI." Bob replied. "Good. By the way Bob, I don''t have an interface jack anymore. Please have the AI update my profile based on that." Frank informed Bob. "I worried that may be the case. Shall I make an appointment to have a new one installed?" Bob asked. Frank paused for a moment before responding, "No. I think that won''t be needed. I have a feeling that I won''t be coming back from this ride." "Very good, sir. It has been a pleasure to serve you." Replied Bob. Without another word, Frank departs his apartment for what he assumed would be the last time. *-*-* The bike; an old model 2048 Ducati Superleggera V6, that had been updated with an AI assisted control module, and lovingly painted bright cherry red; brought forth a flood of happy memories to Frank. Riding with his husband, camping, the little town of Boquillas Mexico on the Rio Grand... He wiped tears from his eyes, put on the full face helmet, and headed out onto the open road. The large red motorcycle rumbling between his legs, the wind whipping past his body, Frank felt good for what felt like the first time in years. The chase was on, and Chi town waited. *-*-* Allen Kilson sat on his bed in a small hotel room, just outside of the Chi-town metroplex. It had been a dark past few days. The magic from his counterpoint in the other world had stopped, and he had almost burned through his supply keeping up his human form. He dropped his human disguise, and spread his 7 foot frame over the bed. He had spotted the drone following him yesterday, had tried to shake it by taking the train, but it picked him up at the next station when he had departed. This was different from his normal experience, where he was the hunter. This world was too strange, too different from his own. I just need to get to the gate, and I can get home. Screw this place! He heard a noise at the door, just before it was kicked in. He jumped to his feet, clawed fingers splayed out, ready to rake across the unfortunate intruder. The intruder slowly stepped into the room, arms spread like it was going to hug him. Then it started to glow. *-*-* Frank stopped and parked the bike outside of a small hotel just outside of Chicago. He gingerly placed his helmet on the seat and headed inside, following his senses as much as the AI talking into his earbud. He rode the elevator to the second level, turned left down the dingy corridor, and stopped halfway to the end. Raising a foot, he kicked the door next to the knob. The door frame splintered as the door slammed open. Frank spread his arms wide, letting the malevolent power inside him free, and he started to glow. *-*-* A local Diner, some time later. The diner was loud, it being just after bar close and the old school flat screen TV in the corner was blaring an episode of 3''s Company when it was interrupted by a news report. ***We interrupt this program with a special report*** Police were called earlier tonight when a man kicked his way into a motel room, and set it on fire, killing the rooms occupant. Police have no leads in this case, and are looking for information.. Frank; sitting alone in a booth about halfway between the door and the far corner; tuned out the news broadcast, drank his cup of coffee, and tried to plan out the rest of his life. End. 35 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 11 – Demonia II 35 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 11 C Demonia II Gilip, Capital city of Demonia; 33rd of Anael, First month of Snow; 2109 years since the new gods came. 9am, Magistrates Office Maxwell sat in a well appointed waiting room, waiting for the Magistrates assistant to come out from the inner office. The candelabras were unlit, and the morning sun was doing a fine job of illuminating the room. The plush carpet was indeed a work of beauty, showing a stylized sunrise in red, blue, and gold. While he waited, he went over in his mind the questions he would ask. 1) When did Demonia add his face to their coins? 2) Why did Demonia add his face to the coins? 3) Would they remove his face from the coins? He waited for what seemed like an eternity in the comfortable chair, until he heard the muted sound of shattering glass from the inner room. As he stood up to head towards the sound, the assistant came out, looking more than a little distraught. I''m sorry, sir, but the Magistrate is unable to take your meeting due to him having just jumped out his window, and running down the street. Okay? Was all Maxwell could come up with as a response. If you could kindly leave a calling card, I can have him get back to you when he returns? Certainly. Maxwell removed an old calling card from his jacket, wrote his current contact location on the back and handed it to her. Here you go. I do hope he will be okay. I''m sure he will be fine in a few days. The assistant said, smiling nervously. Maxwell walked out of the Magistrate building, whistling an old tune, and turned up the broad street towards the Council Building. *-*-* Approximately 10 am, Council Building Oh goddess and all the hells, he is here! He was just in my office! An extremely panicked Magistrate Ilgrid was yelling, having just charged in on the councils meeting. Magistrate Ilgrid, if you don''t want to loose your position, I suggest you restrain yourself immediately, and depart this chamber! Councilman Wright said, voice only raised a small amount. Councilors, I don''t think you understand! Ilgrid said, voice still overly loud, as sweat seeped from his face, The HERETIC WAS IN MY OFFICE! The entire room went silent. A secretary who had been filling an ink pot dropped it, it hit the pristine floor and shattered, loudly. Everyone jumped at the sound. Councilman Wright slowly stood, looked across the worried faces of his fellow councilors, and quietly said, I hereby call a vote to close down the council until such a time as the Heretic has departed the city. All in favor say ''Aye'' --- The overwhelming number of ''Aye'' responses drowned out the rest of his words as the members of the council stood and fled the chamber. *-*-* Approximately 10:15 am, Council Building Maxwell approached the Council Building at a measured pace. He observed the fine carvings of gargoyles, the stained glass windows, and the speedy procession of individuals leaving. Hmm, must be some kind of problem going on, I guess I''ll give it a bit before I go in. he quietly muttered. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. He window shopped for what he thought was around a half hour, enjoying the new fashions that the high end stores near the capital buildings displayed, before heading back to the council building. As he approached, he saw the sign on the door had been flipped to Closed, with an additional sign having been posted The Council has recessed for the month, and will return there after. Strange. Most of the bureaucrats I''ve met hate closing down the shop. Cuts into their profits too much. Maxwell said. A bystander, apparently one with business in the building looked over at him, You said it. These idiots always try to stay open, even on festival days. This is strange indeed. Guess I don''t have to worry about renewing my permits. I guess I will get myself an early lunch before I head to the castle, and ask to see the King, Maxwell thought, heading towards a small cafe he had seen earlier. *-*-* Approximately 1:15 pm, The Castle. Highness, the Heretic has been reported to be heading this way. What are your orders? Sir Gavin Helmsman, Knight of the Order of Kittens, and head of the King''s Guard asked. We will need to receive him in the grand hall. Prepare your knights for a grand reception. King Gexra II, High Lord of Demonia, said. This needs to be handled as a state visit. Very good, milord. Sir Helmsman replied. Is there anything else? Have the castle staff ready to flee, just in case there is trouble. And remind your men not to instigate anything. King Gexra responded. Now I need to get ready, you are dismissed. *-*-* Approximately 1:45 pm, The Castle. Maxwell entered the castle and looked around. Much had changed here since his last visit. A public garden had been added, as had a few small shops. He decided that it was much improved. As he headed towards the Keep itself, he noted a large contingent of armored knights approaching the gate he had just come through, and made his way to the side to let them pass. Instead of passing, they walked up to him, the knight in the lead bowed at the waist, and said Lord Blacksmith, the King sends his regards and asks that you meet with him in the grand hall. Maxwell was dumbstruck for a moment before collecting himself and said, Um, certainly? Please lead on. It has been a long while since I was here, and I don''t remember the way. The knights formed up around him, and Maxwell allowed himself to be shepherded to the great hall, which was exactly where he remembered it to be. Glad to know they didn''t change things that much, he thought. The great hall had undergone much in the way of renovations. The lighting was much improved, using candles instead of torches, the tapestries which had been old and tattered were now restored and clean, the new tapestries that had been added were nice and colorful. Then Max noticed the details of the new tapestries, they seemed to detail his last journey into Demonia. The last of the new tapestries depicted him; light streaming from behind his form; pointing an oversized sword at a grotesque demon, with a caption below saying Do not force me to return. Max shook his head in discomfort. Why? Why do they make such a big thing out of it? It was just a theatrical threat. He thought. Standing on a raised dais at the far end of the hall was an average looking man of indeterminate age, who had a look that seemed to combine fear and joy on his face. Between the dais and Maxwell were a number of knights, standing at attention along both sides of a carpet that led from the door to the base of the dais. As Maxwell approached, the man spoke, My Lord Blacksmith, it is a great honor to meet you. The man bowed deeply towards Maxwell, I am King Gexra the Second. The king stood back up. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit? Slightly taken aback, Maxwell looked around again, then said, Well, your highness, I have come to have a chat about your money. What about it? The king asked, looking perplexed. Is there something wrong with it? Has someone been illegally striking coins? If that was the case, you could have just sent a message, and it would have been handled. Maxwell quirked and eyebrow, thinking, What is this nonsense? Since when would a commoner like me have any say in that? No, your highness, it is the use of my face on the coins, and the line on the back about me never returning. Oh... OH! Of course. No one would have even thought to bother you with that! The king replied, releasing a heavy breath, It was designed that way by my great grandfather, King Gexra, to remind us what you looked like and to be warned that your return could spell the end for all of us. Maxwell openly gawked at the man in front of him. Say what now? I would never... Well probable not... Um... Okay then... Thank you for clearing that up for me... I will be taking my leave... Carry on. Maxwell turned, and departed with as much haste as he could muster, without breaking into a jog. This place is fucking INSANE! Goddess take them all! It was just theatrics! I mean, I kinda meant it at the time, but that was years ago! He shook his head again, Time to get out of here before they try something stupid, like parading the real me through the streets. *-*-* Approximately 2:08 pm, The Castle. King Gexra let out a shaky breath, Did you see the look in his eyes? He could have killed us all without a second thought! Sir Helmsman sat on a couch next to the kings chair, The aura of danger and destruction coming off of that man! It''s no wonder that the Full bloods left in such numbers. I am not ashamed to admit that a little pee came out when I met him in the courtyard. He shook himself at the thought of the experience. How did you manage to not falter under the full effect of his regard? The king held up a small talisman on an intricate chain from under his shirt, This is a ''bullet'' from his boom stick, more exactly it is THE bullet that the Hero Tristan used to kill King Gexra''s great uncle, the Demon Lord Garthrix the Third. Gexra spared no expense in it''s recovery from his castle. The king took a halting breath, It still retains some of Tristan''s magic, and has saved me several times from psychic assaults. It was less effective versus the Heretic, but it helped. Sir Helmsman wiped his face on his sleeve. I will sound the all clear in a few minutes. I hope to never meet that man again. Ever. Me either, old friend. Me either. The king replied. Get me another drink before you go? Flashback 4 – Bjorn and the Goddess It was a decidedly nice day on the plain of the gods, and Bjorn was sitting on a comfortable lawn chair beneath a beach umbrella, reading the Gods Times paper and sipping cold beer from an ornate stein. He felt Narissa before she stepped into view, and sat, uninvited, at his table. So Bjorn, whats this I hear about you taking a Mortal as an apprentice? Narissa, Goddess of Purity asked. Not that its any of your business, but yes, I have taken an apprentice. He is a good lad, around a hundred twenty years of age or so. Bjorn said, eyes not straying from the paper. Isn''t that a bit old for a human? Narissa asked, feigning interest. Yes. Bjorn replied. Don''t you have some poor impure soul to harass? Or do you just feel like annoying your betters? You, are not one of my betters, Bjorn. You are just a jumped up Dwarven god. Narissa said, rolling her eyes, I voted against your ascension to the upper ranks. I know. Thankfully the rest of the gods thought better of it. Bjorn said, finally looking up. You were the only one who voted against me. Even your paramour, Max, voted for me. Bjorn chuckled as the goddess''s face turned red, Strange coincidence though, Max has the same name as my apprentice. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Max...Max... Narissa sat up strait in her chair, Oh! Maxwell Smithson? Tristan''s assistant? How is he still alive? She asked, finally interested. If I was a betting god, and I''m not, I would say he drank one of those stupid potions you made. You know, the yellow ones for the hero''s? Bjorn answered. But I told the hero''s they were for them only! The effects on a normal mortal would be unpredictable at best! Narissa said. Well, Maxwell seems to be immortal. And very quick healing. He picked up a white hot blade the other day and dropped it back into the fire without even thinking about it. No burns on his hand at all. Bjorn said. Well, well, well. I could use a man like him. Narissa smiled, Keep him in good shape. I think he will make an invaluable guide for the hero''s that come in the future. I don''t know about that. He has a large amount of anger pent up inside. And I have occasionally found him crying over a locket he keeps out of sight under his shirt. Said Bjorn. I''m thinking it is a picture of his deceased wife. He was married? Narissa gasped, Did he have children? This could be bad. Very bad. A whole passel of kids and grand kids. But don''t worry, aside from being immune to disease and a slightly extended life span, they''re harmless. Bjorn replied. Oh, thank the elders. Narissa slumped back in her chair. Now, if you don''t mind, I have a paper to read? Bjorn said. Yes, yes. Get back to your important duties. Narissa scoffed. Check out page ten. It has a most flattering picture of you at your forge the other day. You know, when you were drunk dancing? Narissa hopped up from her chair and disappeared with a soft pop. Damnable woman. I don''t know how she became the head of the gods. Bjorn mumbled, turning to the page in question. Well, at least they caught my good side. 36 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 12 – A Return to Baking Gilip, Capital city of Demonia; 34th of Anael, First month of Snow; 2109 years since the new gods came. I spent the night at the inn. No one has tried to steal my wagon or horses. Looks like the best guards are thieves after all. I will gather some supplies and leave soon. *-*-* Mr? Are you the Heretic? A voice from waist height asked Maxwell as he paid for his breakfast bread for the road. He looks down to see a young girl standing between him and the girls mother, maybe 7 or 8 years old, looking up at him, eyes wide. Some call me that, little one. Max says with a smile. Wow! You look just like you do on the coins! The girl states in the matter of fact voice that only the young and correct can muster. I know. They did a good job, didn''t they? Max responds. Yup! Here, Max held out a small coin, This is for recognizing me. The girl took the coin, then turned to her mother, Look mommy! The Heretic game me a coin! The mother looked down as Max turned away, That''s nice dea... she trailed off when she caught sight of Max''s profile as he turned to go. *-*-* *Addendum, as I was leaving town I was noticed by a little girl. She recognized me from the coins. I''m glad adults aren''t that observant. 34th of Anael, The roads today were better than when I came to town. I''m making good time. I will be making use of the walled Wagon Rests on the way back as they are free, as opposed to renting a room at an inn. This time of year they are more empty than the inns. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. 35th of Anael, Good miles behind me today. Ran into an old customer on the road. Had a pleasant lunch. He was surprised I have taken up baking. 36th of Anael, It rained all day. With sleet thrown in. Only 4 miles. I find myself tempted to move north of the Demons Desert to avoid the cold and snow. 37th of Anael, Almost 20 miles today. Got some fresh Elvin Coffee Beans from a trader. I look forward to roasting them when I return to the bakery. 39th of Anael, Rumors were abounding at the inn last night. Apparently The Heretic drove the demons from Demonia a few days ago. The speed of rumors always surprise me. I should arrive late tomorrow night. 41st of Anael, I''m back and settled in to my room at the bakery. Thank the assholes that I made it safely. Tomorrow I''ll be pestered for gossip about my trip to Demonia. Hopefully Mrs. Bernstan will stop by so I can share the coffee beans with her. The old biddy really likes her coffee. 42nd of Anael, Mrs. Bernstan died while I was away. I visited her grave and poured out a cup for her. She will be missed. 43rd of Anael, The young Reverend Paul of the church of Earlnil, god of healing, has stopped by again today to demand I stop supplying healing bread to the poor house for free. Apparently I''m cutting into the churches profits. I have told him that if he wants me to stop he will have to buy all of the day old bread from the bakery. That will teach him. Midwinter celebrations are almost upon us, a mere week and a half away! This is the strongest selling season for sweet breads, cakes and pies. 44th of Anael, The bastard did it. Rev. Paul actually bought out all of the day old bread. Looks like I''m going to have to eat my words. I expect to have this backfire on me. Young Johnny Bernstan, a half-blood, and Mrs. Bernstan''s youngest great grandson, has invited me to their family celebration. For gifts I think I will bring a set of kitchen knives. I had best get started on them. 47th of Anael, A representative from the poor house has come by to beg for the healing bread. I had to explain the situation to him, and apologize. He said he will go talk to the Reverend. I hate religions. Especially when they take a dump on the poor. 50th of Anael, Reverend Paul has kept up his side of the bargain. A full week of bread buying. Yesterday he stopped in twice. Tonight Mistress Martha is all dressed up and meeting a gentleman caller. 51st of Anael, Turns out the Reverend and Martha have been walking out together for a while now. Good for her! Although she could do better in my opinion. The knives are almost done. 54th of Anael, Big hubbub at the church last night, don''t know what it was about. In other news, the Reverend has asked that I supply him with the healing bread, and he will see to its proper distribution to the poor house and other places of need across the region. I have decided to acquiesce to his request. Glad to see that a church is doing it''s job. Two more days until Midwinter Fest. For the first time in ages I am actually looking forward to it. 56th of Anael, Wow. It has been forever since I have felt this drained. But it''s the good kind of drained. Hard work has paid off. The Bakery sold out by mid-morning, and I am off until tomorrow evening, when we commence the cleaning. One more month of snow before the planting and beginning of the new year! This evening I have a party to attend! I hope they like the knives. 37 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Kid – End Garthax, Capital city of Garthia; 54th of Anael, First month of Snow; 2109 years since the new gods came. Dearest Master Maxwell, I hope this letter finds you well, and that the season warms your heart. With the death of the Demon General, life is returning to normal. I have been recalled to the capital. My field promotions have been made official, as have those of my soldiers. We have been assigned temporary lodgings in a mostly permanent camp just outside the city proper, while the troops are being mustered out of the service. A fair number are being actively recruited by the magic school in order to finish their training, and others are being poached by different branches of the military. I have been offered a promotion and transfer to the training regiment, to train up what back home would be called Special Forces''''. I have decided to accept. The pay is good, and the bonus is excellent. In two years I will be wedded to my secretaries; there is apparently some loophole in a couple of the churches that allows it; it will be an interesting experience. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. You were right, combat really does change a man. Some for the better, some for the worse. My experiences are in some ways hard to recount, the bad ones at least; whereas the good ones make for excellent drinking stories that are good for a pint or two at the pub. The Goat God has finally left us, and forgive me for saying this, thank the Goddess. He was a pain. A fun pain, but a pain. Did I ever tell you that he once left a steaming pile of poo on my floor? Good riddance. I plan on trying to capitalize on my current influence to create a properly regulated mail system, something along the lines of the postal system back home. The lack of correspondence with the soldiers'' families caused a large drop in morale on the front lines. I hope this idea will help. Young Lord Oswald has patched things up with his father. Their reunion was actually a heart warming affair. It looks like he has started on the long road of recovery. I hate to say it, after he was such a pain in the ass, but I''m actually proud of him. If he keeps it up, he should be a good ruler one day. A tragedy will be befalling me soon. After the Midwinter festivities I will be being presented to the king, and knighted. I don''t know how to feel about this. Back home the nobility and royalty were a thing to be mocked and laughed at. And here I am now, being thrust into it. I suppose I will just have to do my best to carry on your legacy in my duties to come. Your disciple, Lt. William Johann Roosevelt Ps, I found a twenty sided die in my bed this morning, and can''t figure out where it came from. Strange. 38 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 13 – Baker IV Rorewell, Deepfalsian Dominion; 14th of Arah, Second month of Snow; 2109 years since the new gods came. Received a letter from Liam. Glad to know he is alright. I will probably have to attend his wedding in a few years. I hope the Idiot doesn''t show up. Martha has accepted the Reverends marriage proposal. They will be married just after the first planting of 2110. I have offered to make her gown as my present. I have just the pattern. Finding the cloth for it out here may be a problem. I will have to ...Stone?...Call?...Message?... Coxnia to get it delivered. 30th of Arah, The fabric has arrived. Both Jenni and Martha cooed over it. When she discovered it was for her gown, Martha fainted. I will be taking her measurements in the next few days. The gown will be finished in a few weeks. 34th of Arah, I am running out of Wyvern wings. Who would have thought? I will post an adventurer notice tomorrow. 41st or Arah, The wedding gown is almost complete. The veil will be next. I at least have the fabric for that. Fine pale yellow lace that will match her complection, but still yellow enough to show that she is a widow being remarried. Customs are customs. 50th of Arah, The new year is almost upon us! The snow has all but melted. No one has picked up my quest. Rorewell, Deepfalsian Dominion; 3rd of Samue, the month of planting; 2110 years since the new gods came. The wedding is tomorrow. Everything is ready. I hope nothing goes wrong. 4th of Samue, The day was warm, the sun was high, and the sky was clear. The bride was beautiful. I heard many positive comments about the gown. The Reverend for the day was someone I had never seen around, and seemed to surprise the Rev a good bit. No one did anything stupid. Everything went off without a problem. I am very happy for the newlyweds. There was a buffet that would put the royals to shame, as the whole town had come together for this event. The Reverend that did the ceremony was a nice guy, aside from being a cleric. After listening to him preach, I can almost like the church of healing. I even shook his hand after the whole thing was over. Never caught his name. I am stuffed. I have the rest of the week off. I think I will see if I can hunt up a wyvern. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. 9th of Samune, There is a decided lack of Wyverns in the area. This hunt has been a bust. I had forgotten how much fun adventuring can be. Maybe I will take it back up again in a few years. After I finish my apprenticeship, that is. *-*-* Garthax, Capital of Garthia; 24th of Anael, First month of snow; 2112 years since the new gods came. Liam''s wedding was nice. I met the priest of the Goat. Nice guy, strange religion. Amusingly enough, there was a nice mixed herd of animals with bows around their necks waiting when we left the church. I could hear Liam cursing under his breath before he and his brides took the herd somewhere. Glad I was able to avoid all the pomp and circumstance of the wedding itself, just attending. *-*-* Rorewell, Deepfalsian Dominion; 2nd of Amsiel, Second month of Planting; 2117 years since the new gods came. Jenni has gotten engaged! Rev Paul and Martha aren''t particularly thrilled with the gentleman in question, a young man named George Paulson. I have had a word with the young man''s father, Mr. Paulson. I believe it will be a good match. I have been asked to make the gown, and have accepted. Martha''s other daughters have been a pleasure. The 6 year old, Elisa, has taken to baking like a fish to water. Sarah, at three, has only been playing, but minds her mother well. Adalade, the youngest at 6 months, is very loud. I have been informed that I will be graduating from apprenticeship after the wedding. This of course means that I will have to move out, and will be expected to start my own shop. I think I will head back west. 53rd of Amsiel, The wedding was today. Martha cried. The service was beautiful. 56th of Amsiel, I graduated to Journeyman today. The wagon is packed, my recipe book is overflowing with my recipes. I am ready to start out on my journey. 1st of Kusha, the month of Harvest, I left this morning to much hugs and tears. I will miss these fine folks. I must admit that I shed a tear or two. The weather was fine today. I made it halfway to Whinere, the next major town to the south. 26 miles done, of the 590 miles to my destination of Lostcairn, in the Snows province of Garthia. It is a large town on the Kings Road. There should be plenty of business opportunities there for a baker. 16th of Kusha, 328 miles into my journey. I am still averaging around 20 miles a day. This afternoon my wagon broke down just outside of the port town of Dradowarf. A few locals helped me get it off the road and to a local farm. I will fix it in the morning. 17th of Kusha, There was more wrong with the wagon than I had originally thought. It took most of the day to repair. I am spending the night in town, and will depart in the morning. 22nd of Kusha, 5 days, and 123 miles out from Dradowarf, I have reached the city of Snateborn. There is a trade caravan heading in the direction in the morning, so I will be joining up. 29th of Kusha, 7 days of travel (138 miles) has brought us to Curside. I have been enjoying the comradery of the other traders. It reminds me of my days as a traveling tinker. One of the traders had a pair of Wyvern wings he was willing to get rid of. They were a good price at only 142 gold. Less than half of what I was offering the adventurers. 73 miles, so almost 4 days left to Lostcairn. 32nd of Kusha, The border crossing was slow today. Wagons were backed up for almost a mile. Most wagons were barely searched. I wonder if they were just trying to prove that they were useful? 34th of Kusha, Lostcairn hasn''t changed much since last I was here. Still a nice place with friendly people. I have lodged myself at a small inn. In the morning I will see about finding a shop. 36th of Kusha, It has taken two days to find an appropriate spot. There were no vacant buildings in the city proper, so I have had to buy a chunk of land just outside Ivy Gate. There are plenty of people in the area, even if it is a bit rundown. 37th of Kusha, Apparently no one ever bothers filing for building permits et cetera for outside of the walls. I am first in memory. Well at least this means they can''t complain. It will take almost three weeks to build the place, but I want to use local labor, not hire from inside the city. These people out here? They are more my type. *-*-* Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 6th of Anael, First month of snow; 2117 years since the new gods came. I open in the morning. Everything is set. I hope all things go well. TTFN 39 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 14 – Baker V Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 7th of Anael, First month of snow; 2117 years since the new gods came. The Naked Eagle Bakery is up and running!! Opening day was wonderful. Lots of people, lots of sales. Most of the customers were ordinary rough and tumble types of trades workers, their wives, and children. I spotted a few of the less than savory types in the crowd, but thefts were low. I think I will have a good business here. 8th of Anael, Day two was good. Not as good as yesterday, but everything sold out before evening. I even had a few upper class types come in. I hope they don''t ruin the atmosphere. 14th of Anael, Had a ruffian come in at close today. He threatened with the old Would be a shame if something happened to this place. line. Took everything I had to not laugh at him. I politely told him that insurance wouldn''t be needed, and that he should have a roll on the house. He took his roll and left. Sales are still exceeding expectations. Apparently good bread is hard to find. I think I will start selling Healing Bread in a few days. 16th of Anael, They tried to burn down the Bakery tonight. Too bad I hate having my shops burn, a big concern with blacksmithing, so the place is covered with a fireproofing spell. I laughed at them as quietly as I could in my bedroom on the second floor. Idiots. 19th of Anael, After close, a different band of hooligans showed up. There are apparently two gangs in the area. I invited them in, of course, and offered them bread. Not what they were expecting. They left peacefully. 21st of Anael, 1pm, The idiots tried to rob me today. Three of them in masks. They will live, but I need to nip this in the bud. After I close for the night, I will go a-courting. *-*-* The back door of the Boars Tusk Tavern was locked. Maxwell took it in stride, and picked the simple lock. He was dressed in his less obvious gear from his time with Tristan, with the addition of a hooded cloak. He opened the door, crouched, and nut punched the guard, as hard as he could. The guard let out a soundless (unless you were a dog) scream, and the local dogs started to bark. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The door had opened to a landing that to the left led to the tavern proper, but the right led to the basement, where one of the local gangs held court. Max headed down the stairs. At the bottom, he was met by another door, and the muffled sound of people having a good time. He opened the door. The room beyond was large, with an eight or nine foot ceiling, and contained a dozen chairs set at several tables, and nearly 20 occupants. Max strolled in. The noise ceased. One young thug stood up and strode over to Max, What are you doing here baker man? Come to pay your insurance? The crowd laughed. Max smiled, saying, No. I have come to politely ask that you and yours name my business ''Neutral Ground'' where all are welcome, and no fighting or jobs be pulled. The thug turned to face the far end of the room, where an older man sat in a comfortable looking high backed chair. What do you think, boss? The man shook his head, Kill him. The strike was lightning fast, and from behind. Max didn''t even register the stab until the knife was pulled from his heart. That should end the problem. a thug said from behind Max''s fallen body. Max stretched out face down on the floor, kicked behind him, smashing the backstabber in the knee with his boot heel. The thug screamed and fell. Max stood up, pushed the hood back from his head, and grinned. Now you''ve done it. I''m starting to get a bit peeved. The room went deathly silent as Max took a step forward, only to see a young Half-Blood fall to his knees in what looked like prayer. He threw a coin at the kid, it bounced off his head, Shut it kid. Prayer won''t help you today. The kid stopped, eyes wide, as the blood drained from his face. He continued to walk forward, the thugs and street urchins doing their best to get out of his way. He stopped before the leader of the gang, and looked down at the slightly shaking man, Let me make this perfectly clear. I will not have what is mine taken or despoiled by you, or any other party. It''s bad enough that I have to pay taxes, I will not donate to your coffers. Max waved his arm over the crowded room, Now you can take or leave my offer, just know that it is a one time thing, and you have been warned. He turned on his heel, and left the room of cowering thugs to their own devices. He did overhear one little bit as he went up the stairs, the kid who had been praying, piping up with, That was The Heretic! The immortal smith! We''ve been... the voice dwindled to nothing in Maxwell''s wake. *-*-* 21st of Anael, midnight, Well, I had words with one of the local crime lords. Some kid was praying, so I told him to stop. It never helps; didn''t help my wife. Stupid gods. Tomorrow evening I will head out looking for the other group of thugs. 22nd of Anael, Today was free of outside influences. Business was up slightly today. I am selling the healing bread by the slice to the wealthy, and by the loaf to the poor, all at the same price. I guess I don''t need to visit the other crime lords tonight, 7 of them showed up at closing time. Looks like I got my Neutral Ground title after all. 26th of Anael, I expect business will keep up, or possibly even improve. Gaining neutral territory status has increased my customer base to the point that I''m going to have to hire help for the front end, and possibly another baker. I don''t qualify as a Master yet, so I will have to go into town sometime soon and inquire at the guild hall. 31st of Anael, I have hired a counter assistant, his name is Wendell. He so far so good. He likes to handle the money, but has no interest in the actual baking. The guild hall told me that while I am not allowed to have an apprentice for another two years, and need to pass the practical and written test after that time, I can hire assistants, I just can''t call them apprentices''. 47th of Anael, 2 assistants were hired today. A young lass of 12 named Samantha (she prefers Sam), and a middle aged man of 29 named Paul. Both know their way around the kitchen. TTFN 40 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 15 – Baker VI Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 9th of Kielat, First month of Summer; 2120 years since the new gods came. My tests are tomorrow. I am surprisingly worried. Business is a little slow right now. 10th of Kielat, The written test was long and grueling. The practical was very easy. There were two others testing today as well. Their bakeries are in the city proper, and they weren''t particularly pleasant people. 13th of Kielat, I passed. Good. Took everyone out to eat in the Upper Ward. Food was good, the service was pleasant, the other patrons were not. Glad I don''t have to deal with people like that anymore. Entitled asses. 14th of Kielat, My local Lords have requested the use of the basement tomorrow night. There is apparently some underworld shit going on, and they wanted the security of Neutral Ground. 15th of Kielat, It has been a bad night. I will be closed tomorrow to clean the basement. *-*-* Welcome ladies and gentlemen! I know all of you, you all know me. You know the rules. There are snacks and drinks in the basement. Max greeted the local crime lords. They all nodded or smiled as they filed past and down into the basement. --- A few hours had passed when Max heard the sounds of someone trying to break in through the back door. He opened the door on a small group of very startled, burly men. You could have just knocked. Max said. They group looked up in shock. After a few moments, one of them said, We''re here for the bunch in your basement. Get out of the way baker, or we will kill you. Max shook his head and sighed, You do know that this place is recognized as ''Neutral Ground'', right? No fighting, no killing, no problems. Don''t care what your little thugs call it. Move or die. the vocal man replied. Max took a slow deep breath, You asked for it. He wiggled his fingers in the air, then snapped them. Nothing happened. Aww did your magic not work? Silly baker. The man said, then exploded. Gentlemen, why don''t you run back to whomever your boss is, and explain that this is a place for peaceful meetings? Max said to the remaining members of the group, as they stared in horror. They ran. *-*-* 18th of Kielat, Several representatives from the criminal families inside the walls have come to certify my shop as Neutral Territory. I wonder if I should open a bar? You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. *-*-* 35th of Kusha, the month of Harvest, My bar opened today. I have laid in a large amount of beer and ale, but nothing hard. Hard Liquor tends to cause fights. I even included a couple of well insulated meeting rooms in the back. The bar has been christened Neutral Ground. Not my choice. Paul has happily taken it over, giving up his apprenticeship. We serve bread (obviously) and meat stew. 41st of Kusha, Bjorn stopped in at the bar! Had an excellent time catching up. Apparently this Ghondish fellow has been missing from the celestial pen for several years, and the rest of the gods have been worrying themselves sick over it. I assured him that I would keep an eye out for a strange goat. The name vaguely rings a bell, but meh. *-*-* Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 11th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer; 2120 years since the new gods came. Morning. I have been asked to mediate an argument between two criminal parties. I have closed the bar today to prepare. - - - 11th of Amsiel, 10(ish) pm, The bar had been cleaned, and fresh straw scattered on the floor. Three places had been set at a mid-sized table in the common area, with lamb stew, bread, and a proper ale. The observers, of which there were many, sat on benches set against the outer walls, close enough to observe, but far enough that it would take effort to hear. The two parties involved in the dispute, Jay the Bird from an inner family, and Greta Knife Hand from outside, stood at the table. Lady, Gentleman, weapons to your seconds, please? Max politely asked the criminals. They obliged with a minimal fuss. Alright, please sit, and let''s get this talked out. As the supper progressed, bits and pieces of the problem came out. What it boiled down to, Max found out, was a lack of respect for each other''s territories, up to and including each other''s headquarters. Max sat back as the dishes were carried away, So, I can see three ways to do this, and neither of you is going to like any of them. First, you have a total and bloody war, calling down the watch on your heads. I think everyone would like for that to NOT happen. Second, the two of you put together an intermediate third family and cede them the territory on the border between yours. That would ensure a stricter, less permeable boundary. Third, Max looked at the two family heads, is to trade pieces of territory to each other in a fair and equal manner with proper recompense and restitution. The two crime lords looked at each other, then at Max. Thank you Baker. We will think about this and meet with you again in three days. Jay the Bird intoned. Okay. And please, no open war until after that? It is bad for everyone''s business. Max replied. As the two stood and started towards their guards, Max looked up suddenly, There is a fourth idea, but I expect you to hate it. Greta and Jay turned towards Max. Eyebrows raised. Marry into each other''s family, and bring the entire area under one united family front. Max said, face completely blank. The two adversaries looked at each other, Jay quirking an eyebrow at Greta, It would be like boarding school all over again. Greta laughed, I''m already married, and you just knocked up your secretary again. So just like school then. Jay smirked. I think I have a few cousins that are unwed. Is Adam still single? Greta asked. I believe so. Jay answered. The pair turned to Max, nodding. I believe we can both agree to joining the families. Jay said. Yes. Especially since it means this snake won''t keep trying to invade. Said Greta. Well then, good luck to you both. I would love to hear about how things work out down the road. Max said, smiling. - - - 12th of Amsiel, Things went well last night. There will be some arranged marriages coming in the future, but better that than blood in the streets. I think I will start hosting twice monthly meetings of the bosses, and maybe some of the upper crust? It may forestall added bloodshed in the future. TTFN *-*-* Three almost naked men awoke, coughing and shivering on a floor. Not the cracked tile floor they had died on when the grenade thrown by the Medelln cartel enforcer exploded in their midst, but a flat expanse of marble, polished to a highly reflective sheen. They glanced around, muscles twitching as they attempted to understand what was happening. As they stood, the expanse of marble shifted, and they were in front of what could only be described as a throne made from the skull of an enormous beast. There was ...someone... sitting on the throne, but their eyes couldn''t clearly focus on the individual. All they caught were impressions of shining metal armor, in the classic European style, spattered with deep red, and there was, perhaps, a sword or spear in one of the individuals hands, also splashed with the same crimson red. A voice echoed, not throughout the room, but somewhere behind their eyes, reverberating to the very depths of the soul. I am Maximilian, the God of War. I have summoned you, warriors of another world, to deal with problems my sister has left festering for far to long. Problems that break the laws of our world. Problems of a sort that you are accustomed to dealing with. The already shaken men fell to their knees, trembling at the pressure placed upon their souls. The figure on the throne spoke again, I give you each a new life, and power. Power you have only dreamed of. And in exchange, all I ask of you is to fix a few things in the new world I lay before you. On their knees, the three men nodded in agreement, anything to remove the pressure. Excellent. Off with you now, experience this world, and gain your bearings. You will be contacted when I wish for things to start. 41 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 16 – Baker VII Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 35th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer; 2120 years since the new gods came. I held the first boss meeting this evening. Things went well after they loosened up with a bit of drink. I actually broke out a small bottle of what Bjorn called The Good Stuff that he had gifted me a few years back. It acted very well as social lubrication. 42nd of Amsiel, Rumors abound that a trio of heroes are fighting the demon army on the far western front. I wish them luck. 56th of Amsiel, The second boss meeting went much better than the last one. The Lady Ermistan and her paramour showed up to find out why A lowly baker like you had the audacity to invite me to a party in the slums. She enjoyed herself perhaps a bit too much. Then we all found out that she''s a card shark. I haven''t lost that much coin since Bjorn and I had a match with throwing axes. I still think he cheated. *-*-* Date unknown (assumed to be on or around the 1st of Kusha, 2120), Location Redacted, Well James, nice job on that last one. This village was just like ''Nam, you don''t lead the women and children as much as the men! Michael half said, half laughed. Yeah, you were there weren''t you. I was stuck in Istanbul at the time. I hated it there. James replied. I was in Leningrad. The women were nice, but the weather was horrible. Robert said, not to be left out. With our various backgrounds, how did we all get stuck in Columbia? James cocked his head to the side, I would blame it on the Russians and Colombians working together, and the products coming in from Laos. As for me? I think Mr. Smith had it in for me. That or The Company just kinda screwed up. Robert slapped James on the back, Whatever happened, we make a great team. Did you see that kid''s head explode? That shotgun of your does wonders! Back to the mission at hand, how many targets do we have left? Michael asked. Two more generals and their armies. Arguably the better two at that. Plus a half dozen villages that are harboring sympathizers. After that we are supposed to visit a non-cooperative blacksmith. James replied. I understand the the villages and generals, but what is it about this blacksmith? Ours is not to reason why, Michael said. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Ours is just to do or die! Robert replied. Okay. Enough of that. Portal up! James said, raising his left hand. A shimmering portal sprang to life in front of the three and the men disappeared through it. *-*-* 20th of Kusha, the month of Harvest, The trio of adventuring heroes has indeed killed the far eastern demon general. Good on them. What is more concerning is that they supposedly destroyed a nearby village of half-bloods, there were no survivors. 34th of Arah, Second month of snow, Another demon general has fallen. Good. Business is booming. A small brass tube, with one end sealed with a brass cap in the middle has made it''s way to me. Stamped on the sealed end is .45 Auto and 78 in Tristan''s tongue. Aside from how short it is, it reminds me of the ammunition for Tristan''s Long Gun. Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 21st of Samue, the month of Planting, 2121 years since the new gods came. Things progress. I am opening a second location on the other side of the city, just outside the East Town gate. I know a guy who got me an introduction to the previous owner of the building. I know I overpaid, but the gentleman needed the money. 25th of Kielat, First month of Summer, Rumor has been spreading of late about a pack of Overly smart wolves prowling the outskirts of the slums. Lord Chapman, head of the city council asked me to Please use your resources to look into it? I will, of course, take care of it. I don''t want anything unpleasant to happen to my people. *-*-* 26th of Kielat, 11:30pm Maxwell walked past the end of the slums. They didnt look so much like slums anymore, they were looking more permanent, and better maintained. The night air felt good after so much time in front of the oven. He approached the open scrub land and waited, a slice of day old bread in one hand, and a water skin in the other. After a while he felt the creatures before he saw them, then they were there, downwind, standing in plain view. Wolves. Great. They really are wolves. I hope they understand the common tongue, he thought. Greetings, Max said aloud, I am here to ask that you refrain from killing during the day, and from killing in the city at any time. A wolf walked up to him, sniffing the air, tail down, and hackles raised, then in a deep rumbling voice it spoke, My alpha has no time for two-leggers such as you. Why should we listen to what you ask? Max sighed, its going to be one of those days, Because if you dont, we''ll have to ask the adventurers who plague the land to rid the town of the threat you pose. The people with whom I work believe that you would make better allies than enemies, and as such would like to avoid a war. If you do as they ask, they will derail any attempt by the locals to have you hunted. The wolf gave Max the side eye, I dont believe you, human. Well, I''ve told you the truth, and given you the best terms that the group can come up with. If you decide to ignore it, then so be it. Max replied, before turning on his heal and striding back home. An ancient wolf, by wolf standards, stepped from the shadows, That one is different. Different and dangerous. I would suggest, young prince, that for the time being at least, follow his request. Perhaps send some scouts who have undergone the change to assess the situation? The wolf who had spoken with Maxwell looked over to the ancient wolf, I believe you are correct, father. *-*-* 28th of Kielat, The wolf attacks on the boundary and within the city have ended, not petered out, ended. I''m glad that I could be of some use. 45th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer, The criminal underworld was shocked today by news that the Birdknife family was taking their business legitimate in order to protect the next generation from legal entanglements. While this will leave a small power vacuum, I believe the lords that are left can make an easy transition of power. 48th of Amsiel, I have been invited to Lady Ermistan''s estate for an eclipse viewing part on the 50th of the month. I usually pay no attention to such things, but according to Sam it is an opportunity not to be missed, so I will go. TTFN Of gods and their people; A fantasy creation fable, As compiled and edited by Vast Listen Of gods and their people A fantasy creation fable, As compiled and edited by Vast Listen How the world came to be and The coming of the gods In a fit of boredom, the universe cried out to itself, I am so tired of being alone. I have seen none of my kind for eternity!* I think I will make a world and see what happens. and so the universe created the world that we see floating before us in the void. I think the world is lonely too? Mused the universe, I think I will make it a couple of siblings. And two beautiful moons appeared in its sky; one a blue, as bright and dynamic as the oceans; the other a mixed, swirled green like the grasslands and forests. Hmmm... This is truly fun! I think I will create a star and more planets to play with. So the universe did. After 12 planets and a star, the universe began to get bored and concentrated its attention elsewhere, creating hundreds of hundreds of other stars and planets to play with. After a time, gods started to appear. They came and looked at this new world and said to themselves Hmm, I like the look of this place that the universe has created. I should stake a claim here before someone else does; and they did. Each choosing a place, or environment, or even just an idea, and calling it their own. Makell Decided that the sun and the light were his by right of being the first to arrive at this new world. Grandar, a stout and distinguished god, with large muscles and a beard nearly as large as he was, decided that mining and the forge were both to be his, and undertook both in the celestial realm above the world. Serric, a quiet and lithe goddess took darkness and the underground as her places to inhabit. Gehna chose the plants and animals that were slated to be foods for others. Hatyx took the trees as their own. Grandar chose to inhabit the mountains. Gobb placed his mark on the swamps. And so it went until almost all of the prime locations were collected. Then the gods closed off the world, with a total of around two score**, and kept it for their own. Gobb''s Idea There came a time that even the gods got bored, so Gobb made a suggestion Brothers and sisters, how about we make ourselves some offspring? Many of the gods in attendance laughed, saying what do you think we have been doing, you dolt? Gobb shook his head, sighed, and then said Not like that you silly small minded fools, MORTAL children, who will love us and strengthen us with worship and prayer. In fact, I think we should have a competition: when everyone is ready, and has perfected their children, we shall pick, among ourselves, who has the best children. After a few moments of thought, Grandar slapped Gobb on the back saying, An incredible idea! I''m game! I shall name my children Dwarves. They shall be crafted in my image, and I will teach them the ways of the Mine and Forge! Slowly the other gods in attendance nodded their heads in agreement, and the game was on. The Dwarves Grandar, sitting on the side of a mountain, thought long and hard on the subject of his peoples. What would they look like? How long would they live? Would they all have beards, or just the women? He pondered for several ages. One fine morning Grandar jumped to his feet, tearing chunks from the ground where he had been sitting; thus creating the twin lakes of Carnass and Barnass; and shouted, I have made up my mind! And he started to make his children. Stone from the deep earth for the head and body, Gems from the crust for eyes, Magma for blood, Iron and steel for bones. He made a dozen, half male and half female, and when he was done, he pulled from his beard a hair for each, and placed it upon their faces. Finally he spoke the words of life that only the gods know, and his children sprung to life, ready to learn all that could be taught in their 300 winters before death. A tale of two trolls On a mountain; far removed from where Grandar sat and thought; Dhosin, god of stones, was working on his own people. They would be tall, strong, and big. He worked as tirelessly as the mountains he ruled, and finally his creation was complete. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. I name thee Troll! You will work and eat and drink all things rock and mountain. You will take root in your old age, and become as mountains yourselves, until the day comes when you must do otherwise. He then spoke the words of power, and the Trolls of rock came to be. Large and lumbering, slow and thoughtful, generous and caring, until upset. But, sadly, there was another god who had similar ideas. Qhonotl; best of friends and boon companion of Dhosin; who claimed all the saltwater Cypress swamps known as The Bayou''s; as opposed to the freshwater swamps and bogs of Gobb; had decided to make his peoples the guardians of his swamps. He took ancient wood, moss, the giant lizards of the area, and made them one. They were huge and powerful, and only truly harmed by fire. They were named Troll. When the friends Qhonotl and Dhosin came together, several centuries after the making of their peoples, the talked at great length of the creations, describing in turn the various items and concepts including the design, the agreed to say the name they had given the peoples, and on the count of three, they spoke in unison, Troll. They looked at each other in surprise, and one demanded of the other, You must change your name! People will become confused! To which the other replied, No brother, it is you who must change your peoples name, for I was done first. And thus the two friends became mortal enemies. Of Humans and Halflings Vuharin stood in the flatland; what we now call the Plains of Contemplation; and thought on the children. He wanted them strong, smart, fast, resilient, wise, and beautiful. He took his time, and slowly made progress on each part. Air, earth, bone, and fire were his ingredients. He made many trial attempts, casting them all off at one point or another. He finally set into motion his last attempts together. The tall humans, and the shorter halflings. He rejoiced in their perfection as he watched them dance and frolic on the plain, until he realized one thing. They were good, but not the perfection he wanted. They were adequate in all things, but did not excel at anything. They just were. He sighed in disappointment, and turned away from his creations. The Elves and their pointed ears Imvian, decisive in all things, immediately took the trees and twigs and crafted her children. They were tall, thin, and supple. Their grace made her happy, and the songs they sang were a delight to her ears. She thought that the best touch she had given them was the way their ears were pointed, looking like the leaves of the trees from which she had brought them forth. She dwelt with them for many long centuries and taught them both music and magic, Eventually she left them to their own devices, and retired to the heavens. The children of Gobb Gobb sat himself on the bank of his favorite swamp. He changed his skin to that of the surrounding colors, the riots of green, and yellows. He dangled his feet in the water, lost in thought. After a time, a small fish nibbled his big toe. He started at the feeling, and laughed. This place is just too lovely. I try to think, and the beauty distracts me, he thought. He stood, and walked for a time. He saw birds, and smiled. He saw small animals playing, and laughed. He saw snakes, and played at being one for a while. Eventually he found himself heading to his least favorite swamp, and sighed, I suppose this will become my thinking swamp. He thought about what he wanted from his children. I want them to be good stewards of my swamps. I want them to survive here on this planet. I want them to be able to enjoy themselves. He used clay from the shoreline, snakeskin and fish scales, branches and leaves from the willows, and fronds from the cattails. He wove himself a pair of small beings, and stood back to view his creations. Then he spoke aloud the words of creation, and brought his people to life. Soon enough he was laughing and dancing with his children. They played and shrieked, enjoying themselves immensely. When the female became with child, he helped the male with all things during the day, instructing him in the ways of living and survival. During the evenings and night, he taught the woman of the running of the household, and how to keep her mate accountable in all things, so that he wouldn''t fall into any of the pitfalls Gobb had seen his fellow gods fall into when it came to family. When the children were born, he left the family to fend for themselves for a while. Upon his return, he found the woman, with belly swollen with a child, and her man deceased. He asked, and she told the tale of a bear from the woods, coming in the spring, and with hunger attacking and eating her children. Her man had killed it, but had died soon after. Gobb was saddened. He sat again on the bank, feet in the water, and thought. As he watched the swamp, he saw a small turtle being harried by a crane, and another much larger turtle sneak up on the crane and bite its leg. He begot an idea. Returning to the woman, he was shown to the grave of the man, bear, and children. He took the bones of each, and mixed them with magic. Then he spoke the words of creation again, this time more vehemently. Up sprang a new pair of people, a male and female of large size and heavy stature like a bear, but with the features of his small ones. He tasked the large couple with the keeping and protecting of the small ones, then departed for the celestial world, his time on this world being spent. The God of the dark and the cast out children Many many generations had passed, and Vuharin looked in on his children. They were the same as always, much potential, but no...Excellence. He watched, and looked, and searched for excellence, but to no avail. Then found it, but not as he had wanted. In a city that shared a population with both Gobb''s ugly spawn, and Imvian''s too delicate children, he found an excellent human. But the human wasn''t. Not entirely. It''s grandparents had violated sacred law and married children of the other gods! Vuharin was angered by this blasphemy, and let his anger be known. He opened the world and threw the city down into the crack, never to be seen again. The blight on the surface destroyed, he departed, shaking the dirt from his feet as he left. Now Serric; the quiet goddess of the underground and darkness; who had no want of, or love for, children; was exploring her realm and found the dashed city, and it''s few survivors. She sat for a short moment of indecision, before saying, I will love you not, but you may come and follow me. I will show you how to survive, and perhaps thrive here, in the bowels of the world. When Serric next visited the Celestial plain, she sought out answers as to how the children had come to her, as she knew it was not an action of the world itself. She wandered from shadow to shadow and listened to the gods, and small gods, as they chattered and gossiped. She made her way after one interesting rumor that Vuharin had upset both Gobb and Imvian by killing hundreds of their children. She found neither Imvian or Gobb in her shadow walk, but did come across Vuharin barging to Grandar about casting out a group of unsuitable Children''''. Her mind went blind, her breath quickened, she stepped out of the shadows and slapped Vuharin across the mouth, saying, Blasphemy? Bah! That was your disappointment at yourself taking form. Grandar raised an eyebrow, as he stepped back and watched the spectacle before him. Vuharin staggered back from the vicious blow, hand straying to his lips, and said, What are you doing woman? You have no say in this. Stay out of my business! I have every right. You DUMPED children upon me! In my sacred spaces! And you dare say to me that it is none of my business? Serric responded, her form growing with her anger. I tell you now, for this trespass upon my realm, all on the world shall fear the dark places, the underground, the shadows. And if you should ever step there, you will fear them too. She turned away from Vuharin, winked one eye at Grandar, and disappeared through a shadow to return home. * It was lying of course, it had just seen its neighbor the other week. Of course, at their scale, a week is an eternity. ** This does not count the small gods, for they did not count as real gods. 42 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 17 – Baker VIII Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 50th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer; 2121 years since the new gods came. The eclipse of Kochbez party is tonight. I will, of course, be bringing bread. *-*-* 8ish pm, on the 50th of Amsiel, Of our two moons, Manur the smaller, and Kochbez the Larger, the old astrologist from the local school was speaking in a rough and scratchy voice, Manur is the fastest, passing through its phases every 17 nights. Kochbez is a much more sedate and reliable sight, taking 38 days to complete all of its phases. The party, as far as Max could tell, consisted of the Lady Ermistan, her paramour Louis, and 42 of her closest friends. They were gathered on the front lawn of the Ermistan country estate, located several miles north of Lostcairn, so as to not have the eclipse ruined by the lights of the city. Tables had been scattered around laden with snacks and drinks, and household staff were busy attending to the guests. As the old astrologist droned on about the lunar eclipse, Lady Ermistan approached Maxwell. I see you have dredged up another of those old fashioned outfits from the royal court! They are just so gorgeous! It is too bad that the designer decided to commit suicide after waiting upon the queen mother. Max hid a smile behind his barely touched wine glass, Yes. My grandfather was lucky enough to obtain several of his later design patterns at auction and have them reproduced. They are so well recognized at this point that even third hand copies of the patterns are worth a fairly substantial sum. Well, if you find yourself low on funds for our next card game, I would gladly buy one off of you, or buy it from the pot. Lady Ermistan winked. But you never seem to have any of the good stuff in your collection on hand, just ''in storage''. Wherever that is. She raised an eyebrow. Well, just to prove the validity of my claim, I may have brought an item worthy of your Ladyship. Max retorted with a cockeyed grin and a waggling of his eyebrows. He set down his drink on a nearby table and opened the valise he had been carrying, one he had pulled out of his storage chest earlier in the day. The valise had the words Patterns, Women stenciled on the front. *-*-* 51st of Amsiel, 2121 years. Dearest Master Smithson, I am truly astounded, nay amazed, at the gift of wonder that you have bestowed upon me! I dare not even to attempt to explain in words my wonder and awe at this pattern. I will treasure it more than my own life. Sincerely, Lady Marabell Ermistan What a wonderful letter to receive. It was just a pattern I came up with at the old shop. I never had the occasion, or chance, to see it to fruition. I''m glad she liked it. Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 39th of Arah, Second month of snow; 2121 years since the new gods came. The wolves have been a blessing in disguise. The outer lands have never been as bandit free as they are at present. Several times now I have found a deer carcass or dead bandit on my rear doorstep. The wounds definitely match those that would be inflicted by wolves. Strangely, the only footprints I have found around the bodies have been human. Unfortunately, there are now rumors of Ratlings in the ancient catacombs under the city. The inner families have asked if I could intercede. At least Ratlings are smarter than wolves, even wolves that can speak. *-*-* 41th of Arah, Late evening. After closing the bakery and bar, Max headed into the city wearing only his normal clothing, a warm cloak, and his revolvers. His destination was an abandoned temple that still had access to the catacombs. The old and crumbling temple was dark, cold, and covered with graffiti. Shaking his head, Max followed a mostly hidden corridor to an unlocked gate that secured the catacombs stairway entrance. His footfalls echoed on the stone steps as he descended into the darkness. A quick and quiet spell later, a small ball of light hovered over Max''s head, illuminating the stairs. As he followed them down, he began to notice faint intricate carvings on the walls, most decorative, but some full pictures. Pictures he recognized from that thrice cursed book he had obtained from the goddess of knowledge. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Stupid old gods. Stupid temples. Stupid idiots all around. he quietly said. Something skittered in front of him at his words, and he jumped. And stupid rats, trying to startle me. As he descended further and further into the darkness, the cold air became moist, leaving droplets of condensation on his clothes and hands. And now I''m going to need a bath. Something skittered on the floor in front of him again. Ha. Not going to startle me twice, rodent. After what felt like hours, but he knew to only be 15 minutes, he arrived in what could be described as an entrance hall or large living room. The room was around 45'' square, with open doorways on the three walls not occupied by the stairwell.. Illuminated by the sputtering glow of witchlights where sconces should have been on the walls, and by his own light spell, were several little groupings of rotted chairs and couches surrounding what would have once been a beautiful rug. Checking the floor for tracks, of which there were many, he decided to head through the door to the right of the stairs. As he stepped past the threshold, he was met by several sets of glowing eyes. The Ratlings finally appear, he thought. As he approached, he saw that the group was some kind of guards. The Ratlings stood some three feet tall and wore helmets and chain shirts, as well as carried spears that fit their size. The one in front, probably the leader, spoke, Who are you that desecrates our burrow, this temple to the dead gods of old? Max stopped, several feet back from the guards, My name is Maxwell, and I am here to parley with the leader of your burrow. And why should we listen to you? Because I am here to head off...problems. Max said. What kind of problems could you pose to us? A hollow voice from behind the guards asked. Ah, someone more useful than guards. Max said, pushing back his cloak hood and gave a slight bow, I am Maxwell Smithson, head baker of the Naked Eagle Bakery, and owner of the Neutral Ground. We have heard of you, Maxwell the Heretic. The voice said. A frail looking Ratling stepped into view, wearing what appeared to be some kind of clerical vestment. But what brings you here? We have no dealings with the city folk. We keep to ourselves, and to these catacombs. Well, your priestlyness, therein lies the problem. Your...parishioners have been seen stealing items from street vendors, and shops after the hours of closing. This needs to stop. Really? And are these claims reliable? The cleric asked, voice betraying no emotion. Sadly, yes. One of the ''organizations'' in question had decided to invest in bound spirits to guard their wares, and one of yours was caught in the middle of pilfering some expensive items. A jeweled necklace to be exact. Well gracious me. Children can be so bothersome. What would you offer in exchange for the return of the pilfered goods? The old Ratling cocked a fuzzy eyebrow at Max. A promise of no reprisals. And an opportunity to join the organizations I represent. Max said. There are apparently some jobs that the city council and the ''Families'' think your kind would be an excellent fit for. Oh really? And what would that be? Rat catching? Petty theft? The cleric said with a derisive snort. We refuse that sort of thing out of paw. Well, I know that petty theft was on the table, originally, but no. Max replied, There is a need to guard the granaries from pests, both two legged and four. But also there is a refuse problem. A large one. It was thought that refuse collection might be something you would be interested in. Perfectly legal, and pays a small amount of coin. Hmmm...Refuse you say...Hmmm...and some coins...and legal... The ancient Ratling cocked his head to the side. I will speak to my brothers and sisters on this matter. An answer will be sent to you in a week. The Ratling nodded. A week. Thank you cleric. Have a good night. Replied Max, then he turned around and headed back up to the city. I hope the council will go through with this. If not this could start an unpleasant war. *-*-* 47th of Arah, The Ratlings have left me a note. They are willing to speak with the city council on the terms of the accord. I sent a message to the mayor''s office on the subject. It is out of my hands now. The note also contained a recipe for something called Ginger Bread. It looks like it is edible, I will try it one of these days. 53rd of Arah, Ginger Bread is surprisingly good. I will be adding it to the menu. Ginger is, unsurprisingly, hard to find. I will have to send for some from the spice caravans that visit Eastern Deepfallsia. Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 3rd of Samue, the month of Planting; 2122 years since the new gods came. New years is always a busy time. The new shop is open, but until I can graduate my apprentice, we are supplying the bread from this one. The Ratlings have finished negotiations with the city council over refuse disposal and other things, and are no longer thieving. Well mostly not thieving. Some things will never change. I''m glad that I had no part in the discussions. I dislike politics. TTFN Recipe stolen from: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/65398/65398-h/65398-h.htm The Calumet Book of Oven Triumphs! Copyright 1934 GENERAL FOODS CORPORATION Form 516 PRINTED IN U.S.A. Gingerbread (1 egg) 2 cups sifted Swans Down Cake Flour 2 teaspoons Calumet Baking Powder ? teaspoon soda 2 teaspoons ginger 1 teaspoon cinnamon ? teaspoon salt ? cup butter or other shortening ? cup sugar 1 egg, well beaten ? cup molasses ? cup sour milk or buttermilk Sift flour once, measure, add baking powder, soda, spices, and salt, and sift together three times. Cream butter thoroughly, add sugar gradually, and cream together until light and fluffy. Add egg and molasses; then flour, alternately with milk, a small amount at a time. Beat after each addition until smooth. Bake in greased pan, 8 8 2 inches, in moderate oven (350F.) 50 minutes, or until done. 43 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 18 – Baker IX Redacted; Assumed to be the 5th of Samue, the month of Planting; 2122 years since the new gods came. In the throne room of the far western demon generals castle stood three men, surrounded by the dead. Blood spatter, in several different colors; ranging from bright crimson, much to bright to be human, to emerald green, to dark blue; decorated the room. One of the men was wrapping a bandage around the arm of the second of their number, while blood still oozed from the wound. I can''t believe that little shit was actually able to cut me! Right? Imps aren''t usually that strong. The third man stood a bit apart from the other two, and tapped his ear, Yes my lord, the last general is dead as you wished. The villages have been ''emptied'' and burned to the ground. There are no more demons or half-bloods in existence outside of Demonia. He nodded several times, as if he listened as someone else spoke, Yes sir, we understand. We are not to interfere with the remaining half-bloods or demons inside of Demonia or the rest of the civilized lands. A few more moments passed as he listened, head cocked to one side. Let me repeat it, to make sure that we have it correct: Obtain the Heretic Blacksmith, at any cost, and bring him to the nearest temple. A few more moments passed, as he listened intently and nodded, Very good sir, we will do as you require. He taped his ear again and looked around. James! Michael! Police the bodies, then lets go. We aren''t done yet. There was a flurry of activity as the three men stripped the demon bodies of anything of value. Then Robert made a gesture in the air with his left hand, summoning a portal, and the three of them stepped through. *-*-* Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 9th of Samue, the month of Planting; 2122 years since the new gods came. Rumors are spreading through the half-blood community that several unaligned half-blood villages in the demon lands have been destroyed. My heart lays heavy at their loss. 10th of Samue, It is nice to have refuse collection. I''ve not had it since I was in the capital. The Ratlings are a surprisingly pleasant people. The bowing and scraping is a bit unsettling though. 16th of Samue, More of the brass tubes have been circulating. I have figured out a non-magical way of refilling them, as unlike Tristan''s, these didn''t disappear 10 minutes after firing. They are a quite ingenious upgrade for a boomstick. It required a trip to the local tinker and blacksmith, as I haven''t unpacked any of that for quite a while. I will need to check and see if any of that has rusted. I doubt it. I also ordered some parts manufactured a while back, and they are done. I will pick them up on the 19th. 19th of Samue, Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I have received the parts I ordered. A two foot tube, a crossbow stock, and a small hooked hammer like the one on my revolvers. I will assemble tomorrow. *-*-* Excuse me, Master Smithson? There is a priest here to see you. Reggie, the bar man said through the door. Tell him that I will be down in a moment. Max replied. Placing his new boomstick on his desk. He stood and slowly walked down the stairs, into the waiting fury of a cleric from the temple of knowledge. Master Smithson, I presume you know why I am here? the cleric asked. I assume it''s my new tool? Max responded, shaking his head. Stupid gods. They need to mind their own business. Yes. If you will hand it over, I will be on my way. the cleric stated in a flat voice. Max stared at the man, and cocked an eyebrow, Over my dead body. If that little gnome wants it, she can come get it herself. I refuse to relinquish it to some jumped up flunky. Eyes wide, and mouth agape, much like a fish out of water, the cleric gasped, I never... how could... I DEMAND IT! At the rise in the clerics volume, sever people stood up from the corners, attention fully on the cleric. The hairs on the back of the clerics neck prickled, and he looked around, starting to feel watched. His eyes easily picked out the standing thugs, and he twitched. It''s alright lads, this one was just leaving. Weren''t you, cleric? Max said, forestalling any ''accidents''. Yes, yes, I''ll be off. But believe me when I say that this isn''t over. the cleric said, departing. *-*-* 20th of Samue, Assembly was completed today. A priest of Knowledge showed up in the bar a few minutes after I was done and asked to speak with me. Bah, religion. 34th of Samue, Evening. Reggie was working the bar counter when three men came in. They were wearing long black coats of the variety favored by the cattlemen. Unusual, were the loose fitting multi-pocket black pants, tight black shirts, and thick black vests they all wore. The men looked over the bar, one holding some sort of clear glass tablet in front of his face, reading off names and numbers that Reggie could barely hear, let alone understand. The men approached the counter, and the one in the middle said, We are here for the blacksmith. Where is he? Reggie looked over the common room of the bar, Well master Wallace isn''t here tonight. Would you like directions to his smithy? Do we look like we need directions? Well you are looking for the master smith... Reggie replied. James, What does the tablet say? That he''s nearby, but it can''t get a closer read, something is interfering with it. James said. We''ll have to go person by person. Alright, ladies and gentlemen, said the one who had done all the speaking thus far, as he looked around the common room, We are going to be coming around and scanning each of you. Please don''t cause any problems. Once we find out target, we will be out of your hair. The trio walked over to the nearest table, and the one with the tablet; James, Reggie remembered; placed it in the air, where it hovered for a moment, before dim beams of light spread from it running slowly over each individual. Not one of these three. James said, before moving to the next table. Don''t you point that shit at me! Mr. Willard; a usually congenial regular at the bar; said. I don''t trust that thing, or any of you! He stood up. The men took a step back, and summoned some kind of...weapons? The one called James had a pair of hand crossbows, sans the bow portion, made of polished silver; The one who had been doing the talking held a full-sized crossbow stock, but with a pair of pipes, one on top of the other; and the third held a kids crossbow stock, with small pipe fitted to the end of a larger pipe, that had a long metal box sticking out of the bottom of the larger pipe. The men pointed the weapons at Mr. Willard. You will comply, or we will shoot you. The man with the largest ''not crossbow'' said. Mr. Willard nodded, and sat back down. To the left of the bar, from where Reggie was watching, the door to the Naked Eagle Bakery opened, and Reggie herd Maxwell say, in a loud voice, What''s going on over here? The man with the ''Not crossbow'' turned, and a fluid motion mounted the weapon to his shoulder, and it went BOOM. For Reggie, the world slowed down. He saw the end of the pipe belch fire and smoke. He watched chunks of metal slowly fly from the pipe and smash into, and through his boss. He saw blood from his bosses body slowly splatter the walls, as it staggered back and collapsed to the floor. I think you just shot our target. Said James. Reggie''s blood ran cold, as the patrons started to panic. 44 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 19 – Baker X The sky was a deep blue in the celestial realm. All the trees were various shades of green. The coliseum of the old gods was, as always, a foreboding bone white. The large and and ancient building; even by celestial standards; was to be, as tradition dictated, the site of a trial. The twelve gods and the celestial Goat were in attendance as, the defendant walked himself to the defendants cage. When he finished closing himself inside goddess Tranquility floated herself to the center of the coliseum, and began. Maximilian, god of war, you are hereby charged with summoning forth not one, not two, but THREE dead members of the military from another world! This is in clear violation of the rules. How do you plead? The goddess of Tranquility stood in the center, left hand outstretched towards the defendants cage. Maximilian shook his head, steeped out of the cage and over to the defense council''s chair and said, My client is not guilty. He summoned Spies, not members of the military. Ladies, gentlemen, and goat of the jury, if you will look at the documents in front of you--- I HAVE JUST HAD A NEAR HERETIC EXPERIENCE. a black cloaked figure, with glowing cobalt blue eyes and skeletal features, stated, having just appeared in the middle of the proceedings. WHILE THIS DOES NOT BOTHER ME, IT DOES PUT MY SCHEDULE BEHIND. MR. WAR GOD, PLEASE INFORM YOUR MINIONS NOT TO ATTEMPT TO KILL THE HERETIC. The figure disappeared. What the? Maximilian said. Court is adjourned. Have fun with that, ''Mr. War God''. Said Tranquility, before she and the rest of the gods disappeared. Looking up at the beautiful sky, Maximilian yelled, Well fuck! *-*-* Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 34th of Samue, the month of Planting; 2122 years since the new gods came. Evening. Max was finishing up the post closing cleaning of the bakery, and as was usual, he listed things off out loud, Dishes? Done. Oven prep? Done. Counters? Done. The background chatter from the bar suddenly stopped, and the lack of background noise disturbed his train of thought. What the hell is going on over there? he asked the room. He stretched, tossed his apron on the counter, and stepped through the adjoining door to the bar, and said in a loud voice, What''s going on over here? A man; one of three with what he recognized as boomsticks; with a fluid and well practiced motion, mounted the weapon to his shoulder, and pulled the trigger. The boom deafened his ears, the pain in his chest as the (he knew from Tristan) .32 caliber lead balls tore through it, overcame him. He dropped to the floor. 3. 2. 1. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes. Nope. I''m done. He thought, then uttered a single powerful word. The room around him exploded with screams of terror as the wooden planks of the floor and walls sprouted grasping brambles and vines. Maxwell said another word, then a third. He stood, the skin of his bare chest bloody but unmarred. What have you brought to my home? He asked, as he slowly stepped towards the three black coated men. Men who were trying, much like the rest of the bar, to free themselves from brambles and vines. You shot me. That hurt. He looked at the tables, and waived an arm, Release all but these three. All but the brambles holding the three men dissolved. I don''t care why you are here. I don''t care how you came here. Max stared into the mans eyes, You will not leave here. Alive. He reached out his left hand and wrapped his fingers around the mans neck. He squeezed, gently at first, then with more and more strength, and in the deathly quiet of the bar, everyone heard the cracking snap of the vertebrae when it broke. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Max pointed to a corner of regulars, thugs all, and said Take these other two to the wolves, with my complements. Someone gasped. Good point. Take them out the back and strip them first, then take one to the wolves, and the other to the Ratlings. With my compliments. He dismissed his spells, and the three men fell to the floor. Drinks are on the house. I''m going to bed. Max said. Oh, Reggie? Please put up the ''Closed till further notice'' sign up in the bakery window. *-*-* 34th of Samue, I got shot tonight. I don''t care who they worked for. I''m pissed. This was supposed to be a good violence free place. Fuck. At least none of my patrons were injured. I will have to close for a while in order to clean. I have no idea why the three of them were here, but I was told they were Looking for The Blacksmith. I sense foul things afoot. In the meantime, I have new things to work on during my free time. Hahaha, free time. 42nd of Samue, The bakery and bar are clean. I am unsure if I should even bother reopening. We will see what tomorrow brings. 43rd of Samue, Business went well. Several people asked why we were closed, and I informed them that deep cleaning had been called for after serious stains had been caused. After closing, the various underworld groups came and said hello. The bar is having a wild re-opening party. I am unsure why, but there are now three highly polished human skulls on the wall behind the counter. No sign yet as to why the three were after me. *-*-* Why did you shoot the Heretic? The voice of Maximilian, god of war, bounced around the marble floored plane. I told you to capture him, and bring him to a temple. The three former CIA operatives just cowered on the floor. I was in trial to be censured for summoning you, and was about to get off free, when HE showed up to inform the council that YOU had killed the Heretic! His voice echoed in their souls. Michael looked up, I, I''m sorry, lord. We were startled, and things just happened. Just happened? Just happened?!? Stepping on an ant just happens! Slipping on the soap in the shower, and falling into your buddy''s naked wife ''just happens''! No, what happened here was simple incompetence. Maximilian wound down. And incompetence doesn''t pay. The three men looked at each other, concern all but running from their faces. Michel looked up again, My lord! We can do better! Our track record is otherwise pristine! Yes it is. Otherwise I would throw your souls to the void. Maximilian took a deep breath. Your payment, for an otherwise clean record, is to be reincarnated. Randomly. Gentlemen, enjoy your new lives. He waved his hand over them, and they disappeared, never to be seen again. *-*-* 50th of Samue, Looks like things are back to normal. Profits are steady. Sam has passed the exams and graduated to master. I will discuss it with her in a few days, but I think I will sell her the place and move on in a decade or so. 53rd of Samue, She said yes. Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 4th of Kusha, the month of Harvest 2125 years since the new gods came. Sam and Reggie are getting married! I have volunteered to make the clothing for the entire wedding party. And of course we will be hosting the entire thing. 23rd of Kusha, The wedding is starting to snowball. EVERYONE wants in. The nobles are jumping over each other. The ''Families'' are beside themselves. This will end up being a circus. The date isn''t even set yet! 29th of Kusha, The date has been set for Midwinter, 56th of Anael. The bride''s family will be in attendance, as will Reggie''s. I only have 8 outfits to prepare in a month and a half. That and my wedding present to the happy couple. 52nd of Kusha, Sam''s mother is a harpy and a half. Good taste in cloth, though. 55th of Kusha, Mrs. Hardinkle was allowed to see the patterns for the gowns and suits today. She fainted. I gathered from Sam that she follows the royal fashions quite a lot. Apparently my old pattern, or variations there of, are back in style this year. 55th of Kusha, The Harpy is persistent. I gave in and showed her the array of patterns at my disposal. She fainted again. 56th of Kusha, Mrs. the harpy'' Hardinkle is a deft hand with the needle. We will be done even earlier than expected. Wedding gifts are already showing up. Liam and his brood of children are coming. As is the current Duke of Coxnia and his brood. Martha and the reverend are putting in an appearance as well. The reverend has offered to officiate. 14th of Anael, first month of Snow, When did this turn into a State Wedding? The second cousin of the king will be in attendance, as will a representative from Demonia. At least the clothing is done. I will be turning the bakery over to Martha to do the wedding cake, as she is still better at it than I am. 39th of Anael, Guests are arriving. It is getting hectic. At least the visiting nobility are being put up by the local lords. The inns will be full this year. 45th of Anael I received a sealed letter from the local temple of the Healer. There were 3 seals on it, actually. I recognized Bjorn''s right off, as I have seen it many times before. The other two I didn''t immediately recognize. They were from War and Tranquility. The three will be attending the ceremony, but only as a nicety as they want to talk to me about something. I suppose at this point, the more the merrier. TTFN 45 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 20 – Baker XI Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 55th of Anael, the first month of Snow; 2125 years since the new gods came. All of the guests have arrived. The Brides dinner is over. The wedding is tomorrow at noon. *-*-* 56th of Anael, Midwinter day, Noon, A clear sky, and a cold breeze make the people standing outside the courthouse shiver as they wait to be seated. The courthouse was the only building in town big enough to hold the wedding of a poor baker and her equally destitute bar man husband to be. Why? Because their adopted Godfather made the mistake of asking some of his old friends if they wanted to come to a wedding. An act that he literally kicked himself for after the fact. The bride is resplendent as she waits at the altar for the groom to make his way down the aisle. He is handsome in his suit coat and tails, his tie and cummerbund setting off his pale blue eyes nicely. They are truly a sight to behold. Reverend Paul Baker (he had taken Martha''s name) waited for the audience to quiet down before preforming the rite of marriage as the book of healing required. Water, wine, bread, and other things were poured, eaten or burned, then words were said, and the marriage was done. The three gods in attendance sat in the farthest back seating they could find in such a crowded space, and bided their time, waiting for Maxwell the Heretic to be done. They quietly talked among themselves about how the goat had disappeared; again. And how different plans were going. Maxwell eventually excused himself from a knot of Guests; who everyone recognized as being Of the Family; where he was the only one who didn''t realize he ruled; and stepped up to them. Okay. You haven''t brought ruin to the occasion, so there is that, Maxwell said to Tranquility, then looked over to the dwarf and the man, Bjorn, always a pleasure. War. He looked back to the ''idiot'', So why did you need to interfere on this happy occasion? Well, first off, we knew you wouldn''t run away. Second, we wanted to enjoy your cooking. Third, we want to know what your plans are, going forward. Tranquility said, standing as tall as she could. Oh, well you are welcome to the food and drink. I never run away, He looked at Maximilian, as you well know. As for my plans? Candlesticks. I think some time in a little shop on the Island of Clifrontle, and away from you lot, will do me good. He looked at Bjorn, No offense, old friend. None taken. The older you get, the more you want to be alone with your thoughts. Bjorn replied, looking at Tranquility. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. I get it. I get it. Tranquility replied. Now, Maximilian has something to say to you. Don''t you, my dear? Um...yes.--- Maximilian started, but was interrupted by the bride gliding up. Oh, Max! There you are! We are waiting on you to cut Martha''s cake! She stopped and looked at the three people Max was standing with. Who are your friends? I recognize Bjorn, always a pleasure, but the rest? Max sighed, May I introduce my acquaintances, Maximilian and Narissa? I met them years back in my youth. Oh, so before you became a baker? How wonderful! She curtsied to the two gods. So you were named after the Gods? How wonderful! Please, enjoy yourselves. Any friend of Max''s is a friend of mine! And with that, Sam glided away. No fighting at weddings or funerals, no fighting at weddings or funerals, Max repeated to himself for a moment. I guess you are invited. Follow me. Max walked through the crowd, greeting many by first name, and the rest by family. When the cake was cut, Narissa and Maximilian both raised their glasses, and recited in clear and quiet voices, May this wedding, and all in attendance be blessed. Maxwell seemed to be the only one who noticed, as he openly sighed at the pair. Really? Did you have too? It was bad enough that we had to have a preacher man do the thing. He shook his head, Now what did you want to say to me, Max? The name said with a bit of scorn. I...wanted to apologize to you for getting you killed. Those men were supposed to take you to a temple so I could yell at you for a bit, before I sent you home. Maximilian said. It was not supposed to go that way. The men responsible have been suitably punished for there transgression. Maxwell cocked his head to the side, Max, would you walk with me for a moment? So we can discuss this like men? Of course! Maximilian said, and followed Max down a quiet hallway, and out a side door into an alley. What do you want? He asked as they stepped outside into the darkness. This. Maxwell pulled his pair of revolvers, and shot the god of war. He unloaded the pair, first a shot into each foot, then each kneecap, then each shoulder, then each elbow. How do you like being shot? Hurts, doesn''t it? Ruins the clothing too. Maxwell said, mostly to himself as he watched the god start to heal. Then he put a pair of slugs in Maximilian''s chest, followed by his last pair, into the gods eyes. I accept your apology. Maxwell said. He turned on his heel, and left the dissolving body of the god of war behind him. That will keep him from bothering anyone down here for a hundred years. When asked where his friend was, he replied, He had a pressing engagement. and left it at that. *-*-* 1st of Arah, Second month of Snow. The wedding went off without a hitch! I shot the god of war several times. He wont be back for a century or more. Good riddance. I need to pack it up now. Going to head to Clifrontle in the morning. Learn to make candles. Everyone knows that I will be dropping by occasionally to make sure things are going well. Sam and Reggie should have a good life here. *-*-* Sam looked at Reggie, I can''t believe he just gave it to us and left! And the rest of the presents? What are we going to do with a country house in Demonia? Reggie looked up from a sheaf of papers he was reading through. I don''t know what he did, but Damn that man has connections, your Ladyship. WHAT!!! *-*-* 2nd of Arah, Lostcairn to Clifrontle is only a 660ish mile trip, but more than half is by water. I expect the water portions to take less time or distance, as most ships only vaguely follow the shipping lanes at this time of year.123 miles to Dragon, where I will book passage on a ship to Swifthtown, 217 nautical miles. Then from there to Cavernfore, another 149 nautical miles. And finally the last leg of Cavernfore to Clifrontle, 173 Nautical miles. TTFN 46 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 3rd of Arah, Second month of Snow; 2125 years since the new gods came. I have completed my second day on the road to Dragon. 40 miles left to Whitlemeay, and another 40 from there to Dragon. The road has been pleasantly bandit free. Good wolves. Hilda, my horse, seems to be in good condition. She''s only...28 years old? She should be fine. *-*-* Alright young man, the scar faced and weary older man said from the back of his horse, I will give you to the count of three to get down from the wagon, otherwise old Willie over there is going to shoot you with his crossbow. Maxwell let out a deep sigh, How about I give you a gold piece or two, and you let me go? They never take it. Idiots. Can''t do that. The boss has us on a quota, now that we can''t get near Lostcairn. The bandit replied. I wish I could, but that boss of mine is a real stickler. We need to score a wagon load a week. Well, that is indeed to bad, Max exhaled, a frown playing across his lips. I guess this is the end. Sorry about that. I can give you--- the bandit was interrupted by exploding. The remaining members of the band started to flee. Unfortunately for them, one by one, they also started to explode. I really hate having to do that. Max heaved a sigh, Maybe the next batch will take the gold and run. *-*-* 4th of Arah, Bandits. I hate bandits. If they just robbed people a little bit, it wouldn''t be so bad, but no, they always want more than is reasonable. 20 more miles to Whitlemeay. 5th of Arah, I arrived in Whitlemeay this evening. It is now a walled city of 4500 people with a large trade center. It has grown a bit since the last time I was here, a couple hundred years ago? I''m spending the night at the Hook and Anchor a pirate themed inn. Off to the port city of Dragon in the morning, 43 miles, no more than two and a half days, if the weather holds. 6th of Arah, Rain and snow today. Barely made it 10 miles. Going to sleep in the wagon. 7th of Arah, The bad weather has held. Going was slow today. 8 miles traveled. 8th of Arah, I woke up this morning to Hilda lying on the ground. She was frozen. Fuck. I should have put her out to pasture years ago. I keep forgetting that horses have a shorter lifespan than the rest of the people. Damn it all. I cast a few spells on myself, and was able to pull the wagon three miles down the road to a farmstead that was willing to sell me an Ox. Spent the night in the stable. 9th of Arah, Oxen are slow. Oxen don''t stop. The blasted beast. 12 miles today. 10 miles left, and I can sell this damnable beast. And my wagon. 10th of Arah, I have arrived. The beast and wagon have been sold. My trunk and I are waiting for the next ship (not boat, ship). I will have to find my own amusement for the next few days. *-*-* 11th of Arah, the docks, Looking around the docks, Max saw a D''Kin sailor who happened to be lounging on a haphazard pile of crates on the shore, near one of the three smaller piers. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. So what passes for amusement around here? Max asked using the norther Draconian trade pidgin he had picked up during his time with the tinkers. Oi. Not much. Drinking and whoring, for the most part. Sometimes a bit of gambling. The sailor replied in standard Draconian, his green scaly tail swinging gently off to one side. So, about the same as every other sea port I''ve been to. Max said. Pretty much. The D''Kin finally looked over at Max, and raised his eye ridges, Oi! You aren''t D''Kin! What the hells? True. Max said, a toothy grin on his face. Well, I''ll be a cracked egg. Where did you learn the father tongue? The D''Kin asked. Up north, while I was traveling with a tinker band. It came in very handy. Max said. That explains the bad accent. That and the wrong sort of mouth. The D''Kin replied. I''m Goran, by the way. Now what brings you to Dragon? I''m Maxwell, but you can call me Max. Max said, I''m actually looking for passage to Clifrontle. Your ''Fatherland'', as it were. Why would you want to go to that volcanic hell hole? Goran asked. Nothing there but D''Kin, and crafters. And the Smoking Cone... Actually it is kinda nice this time of year... Goran''s eyes unfocused for a moment, then continued, The ship I''m on, the Mercy of the Waves, will be leaving in 4 days. I don''t know if there are any passenger berths available, but if you know how to sail, there are a couple of crew spots open I will indeed check it out. Where is it berthed? Max said. Second pier from the left, all the way to the end, and on the right. Look for the D''Kin yelling horrible things, that will be the ship. Goran replied. Good luck to ya! And don''t tell him that I sent you! Max nodded his thanks, and walked off to find the ship. - - The heavy stones of the pier had been assembled in such a way that there was hardly a crack to be seen that would prove it was constructed as opposed to grown. As Max walked along it, he marveled at the ages old construction, to the point that he reached the end of it without realizing it. He stopped at the end, and turned to the right to inspect the ship. It was a large, long cargo hauler. Deep of draft, and fitted with three masts, all set up for square rigging. Much larger that the fore and aft rigged fishing vessels he had crewed before becoming a Butcher. He walked to the boarding ramp, and called up to the bored looking guard at the top, Permission to come aboard? Yeah, come on up. The guard replied. At the top of the ramp, he was met with the sounds of sailing business being attended to, ropes being coiled, provisions and cargo being moved, sailors of all races and sexes running between jobs. In other words, organized chaos. In the middle of it all was a haggard looking D''Kin, yelling orders and cussing at the top of his voice. Max looked over at the guard, That the Captain? He pointed at the D''Kin. No. That''s First Mate Tildee. The Captain in on shore dealing with customs and the other idiots. The guard replied, eyes now sweeping the pier for anything unusual. Do you think he would mind an interruption? Max asked. He will mind, but the crew would love you for it. replied the guard. Nodding his head, Max wandered through the chaos of the deck, and approached the first mate, then affecting a sailors accent said, Excuse me, Sir? He stood at the military at-ease position. What do you want, sailor? Tildee didn''t turn, but did lower his volume a bit. I''m looking for a bunk. Either crew, or civilian. Max said. Tildee stopped yelling and turned to look at him, You what? I am looking for passage to Clifrontle. I would like a passenger cabin, or failing that, a crew bunk. Max replied, then continued, I have some experience working fishing rigs on the north west coast, and made it to third mate, in charge of nets. I have no doubt that a full sail ship is different, but my skills should match with those of an able seamen. Are you serious? Tildee asked. Yes. Yes I am. He stepped over a loop of rope that was approaching him, I am fairly confident that I can do the job. It will be four or five weeks until we make port in Clifrontle, and we are booked up for the whole trip. Tildee said. That''s fine. Replied Max. I''m no stranger to discomfort. I would take a hammock on the storage deck over the privy pot, as long as it gets me where I''m going. If you can handle it, I suppose we can throw up a hammock in the hold near the crew. Tildee said, hand scratching his chin. That would be fine. Max replied, a half smile on his face. When do we leave port? Four days, at midnight, Tildee started to say, and Max joined in, When the tide turns. Tildee cocked an eye ridge at Max, You may actually know something after all. Then said, The chandler will collect your payment when you show up to board. Be here at eight bells, or you will be left behind. You don''t run the six clock? Max asked, raising his eyebrows. Good catch. You might be a sailor after all. Tildee said, But no, we run twelve bells so the landers can actually tell what time it is. Makes sense, in a way. We always thought it was funny to see them flail at the time difference. Max gave an actual smile. We used to, but the captain got too much grief for it, and we had to change. Tildee said, returning the smile. First Mate Tildee, by the way. He offered his hand. Maxwell Smithson. Max said shaking the proffered hand. See you at four bell, Chief. Then he mock saluted, and walked back to the pier. As he walked past, the guard said, Nice job with the Chief. Max nodded, Thanks. See you in four, at four. *-*-* 11th of Arah, Passage to Clifrontle has been obtained. Nice ship, named the Mercy of the Waves. We leave the 15th at midnight. Need to be there by four bells. TTFN A Tale of Ghondish II Well played Kocha! You have beaten the Karen at her own game! Now the homeowners association will have a variation of between 2 ? and 3 of grass height. Ghondish said, black eyes gleaming. She walks over to you after the assembly is over and says ''You may have won this round, but I will destroy you next time!'' Do you have a response? I look over to her and say ''Well, then I guess I''ll have to rescind your invitation to the barbecue next week. And to think, the Johnson''s even RSVP''d; and John said he would even reduce himself to ''Grill Master'' for the occasion.'' Let''s see how she deals with that! Said Kocha, god of chaos. Dice roll. The Karen storms off in a huff at the social snub, and several people who heard the exchange are smiling. Ghondish said. And that will conclude tonight''s session of Humans and Highrises. You know, Big G, we need more players. I can''t shuffle around all these plans by myself. I''m surprised Paul didn''t call the police when Joanne ''accidentally'' held a bonfire. There are just too many plots for me to keep track of. Kocha sighed, And that is me talking as the god of Chaos. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Ghondish shook his head, But who would actually play? Bjorn has too many things on his plate as it is. Could you imagine him trying to set aside a night for the game? We would be lucky to get once a year! True. With me relegated down here on ''Guard Duty'' for your friends, I have nothing but time. Kocha shook his head, exhaling, An our attempts to get the elementals to play...the less said the better. Tell you what, I will ask around and see if any of the small gods have time. Most only have a couple of ''real'' followers, so they have time. Ghondish said. That would be nice. We may have to find a different location though. Can''t let them see your armory. Kocha pointed out. My barn has plenty of space. It might be a bit hard for you to sneak in...? Said Ghondish. God of chaos and trickery, remember.Kocha smiled, If I can''t make it past the rest of the 12, then I need to give up my title. Alright. I will see who wants to play. Ghondish said, with a twinkle in his eye. But not that Grogo guy. He''s a dick. Kocha stated. Just because he pretended to be you for the last costume ball--- Ghondish started to say. NO. Kocha shot out, perhaps a bit to forcefully. If I see him again, I''m going to punch him off the plane. Fine. Not him. Ghondish sighed. Anyone else I should avoid? Not that I can think of. Kocha said. Alright. See you next week for ''The Barbecue''! Ghondish smiled, then disappeared back to his barn. NO! I have so many things that I have to follow up on before then! Shit. Kocha said into the empty air. Damn goat. 46.2 A Tale of Ghondish III "H&H 2: I still hate my Muse." 46.2 A Tale of Ghondish III "H&H 2. I still hate my Muse." Okay, goat. I''ve heard a few rumors that you are up to something. Maximilian said. Ghondish just gave him the side eye from inside of his pen. I want in. Maximilian said. Ghondish raised an eyebrow; an interesting feat for a goat. You sure? I''m stuck up here for a century, thanks to the Heretic. Maximilian replied. I''m up for almost anything. Then let me tell you the story of Humans and Highrises. Ghondish said with a smile. *-*-* There were four of them gathered around a table; two gods and two small gods. A table that was covered in snacks and a couple of bottles of green bubbly liquid. A map of a Luxury Town home Complex laid out before them. So, I use my new ''Garden Tractor 3000'', with the optional glass-packs, to mow the lawn. I start it up at exactly 7:30 in the morning, and race around the yard. Maximilian said. I will show that Soccer mom what it''s like to be woken up too early in the morning! Alright, Ghondish rolls dice, A few minutes after you start mowing, Sarah comes out on her back deck in her housecoat and yells harsh words at you. Of course, you haven''t a clue what she is yelling because of the noise. Good! Maximilian replied, chuckling. I finish the lawn, then I head in for a breakfast beer. Ghondish turned his head, looking at the next player, Okay. Kocha, What are you doing? I''m so glad that I''m on the other side of the complex. I''ll get up around 8, have breakfast, and read the morning paper. Kocha said. Alright. The only real news is that the Wombats won the hockey game last night in a penalty shootout. Ghondish replied. Hells bells! I lost next months rent on that game!!! Kocha almost yells. Okay, I call my bookie and ask for a repayment schedule. It''s been a few months since the last one, I''m pretty sure he will do it. Roll your ''Persuasion''. And you better roll high. You know he isn''t fond of morning calls. Ghondish said with an evil grin. Shit! Can I take that back? Kocha said, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. RAW says that you cannot. I''m sorry dude. Ghondish responded. What''s ''RAW'' again? Pendleton, the other small god at the table asked. Rules As Written. Kocha replied, head shaking. If we ever want to get into tournament play, we have to follow them. Of course we would also need another player. Preferably female. Maximilian said, miming drinking a beer, but actually taking a swig of the green liquid. The more diverse the party, the better. Doesn''t being a Gnome count? Pendleton asked. Not really. Kocha said. Gnomes, like gods, are a dime a dozen at these events. We have to have a better mix of players. 100XP to Kocha for using in game slang in the real world. Ghondish announced. SWEET! Kocha yelled. Almost makes up for my screw up. He proceeds to roll the dice. I got a 12. Adding my modifier from ''Persuasion'', that''s an 19! Okay. Good. Ghondish said. You call, the phone rings once, and Brash answers ''What you want?'' How are you going to play this? I tell him ''Hey, how you doin''? I need a little favor. I''ve got a rent payment due next week, is there any chance that I can make some kinda arrangement for paying what I owe you?'' I hope this works. Very on point. You hear the sound of breathing for a moment, then he responds, ''I suppose, but it''s going to cost you.'' said Ghondish. I respond, ''Anything I can do, buddy!'' I hope it isn''t another case of that Hammies Beer. That stuff is nasty. Kocha said. Oh no, it''s worse. ''I want you to set me up on a date with that soccer mom. The one over on row 6? Next to that redneck dude.'' Is his request. He wants a date with Sarah the Ice Queen?!? Kocha asks, eyes wide. He''s asking the impossible! Well it''s either that, or get what Johnny one nut got. Maximilian replied. What did Johnny get? Pendleton asks, voice a whisper. His lawn got forked, just before the ground froze. Kocha said, unable to keep his voice from shaking. The fines he accrued. It almost bankrupted him! Dear other lords in heaven! Pendleton said, jumping out of his seat. That''s worse that getting your trees TP''d! You better take him up on it! Okay, you got this Kocha. You got this.Kocha said. Dice don''t fail me now. I want to use my ''Barter'' class ability from being an acquisitions agent to talk down the price. Maybe offer him an introduction to Sarah instead? Roll it at disadvantage. Ghondish replied. Okay. Two dice, take the lowest... Kocha rolls the dice. A 15, and... The second die spins on the table for a few more seconds, A 17! Sweet! What''s your bonus on ''Barter''? Ghondish asked. Double proficiency, plus Charisma bonus... total bonus is +10, for a whopping total of 25! Kocha, and the other player, let out a relieved breath. Okay. You just made the DC by 1. Ghondish replies. Bash tells you ''Okay, I get it. But make it for tonight. I got business the rest of the week.'' What do you tell him? I say ''Of course Brash! The least I could do for a good buddy like you!'' I hope he buys it. Kocha said. I''m so dead. I''m going to have to spend all of my ''Social Cred'' to get this to work. *-*-* Alright guys, that''s a wrap for tonight! Ghondish said with a huge grin. Pendleton, where did you learn to do that? Maximilian asked, That speech you gave at the meeting was a masterpiece! Oh, that was from a stint I did a while back at that bard''s college. Pendleton said. It was a blast. I even got the starring roll in Romeo and Orgasha the Orc Maiden! Oh, wow! That was an awesome opera! Ghondish said. What I can''t believe is that Sarah didn''t slap Brash on their date! Pendleton said. That man must be a monster! And then Tiffany at the impromptu association meeting? I almost slapped her myself! I''m starting to think Sarah might be worth not messing with anymore. You weren''t there for the open house. Sarah is a complete bitch. If it weren''t for my ''Blue Collar Code of Conduct'', I would have punched her, right there, in front of the police! Consequences be damned! Maximilian said. So, see you all next week? Ghondish asked, and was answered with an enthusiastic YES! from everyone. Okay, 7pm sharp! And with that, the players departed. I miss Gob. He would have loved this group. Ghondish sighed. At least he gave me his books before... He trailed off into silence. Okay, next week is the Garden Party, and the road work. This should be fun! 47 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker II Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 15th of Arah, Second month of Snow; 2125 years since the new gods came. The loading of my trunk and sea bag was simple, as I arrived earlier than the rest of the passengers. My hammock was indeed hung near the crew''s. Passage cost me less than I had expected. About 1/3 of the crew is D''Kin, and the rest are a mixture of other races. Unsurprisingly, there are no dwarves on the crew, and only one as a passenger. He is a merchant specializing in glassware, and very eager to get the voyage over with. I think more dwarves would sail, if they didn''t sink like rocks, even without their standard chain shirts. The rest of the passengers are a mix of humans, halfbloods, gnomes, and halflings. Only one Elf. I will probable avoid him so he doesn''t get into trouble with his god. Idiots. Always getting in the way of people living their lives. *-*-* 16th of Arah, evening, The captains table was well set with silver utensils, fine china, and seating for nine. The cabin itself was beautifully appointed with lush carpets and cream colored draperies, to the point that you could almost forget that you were on a ship. The cabin boy ushered the guests in, as the captain stood and welcomed them to his cabin. Welcome to my humble abode! As you all know, I am Captain Wilson, and I have invited you to a taste of the sea! Tonight we dine on wild caught baked Crob with a citrus butter sauce, seasoned tubers from Demonia, preserved greens from northern Garthia, and a rich pudding for desert. Captain Wilson beamed. Now please, come and sit! Max, and the rest of the guests, all dressed in their dinner finery, sat down, and were soon served the salad course. Polite conversation abounded until the main course; which was a truly wonderful baked fish as far as Max was concerned; and pirates entered topic of discussion. Captain, the lone elf, Mr. Oakgreen, said, What are the chances of encountering pirates on this voyage? Mr. Oakgreen, I generally discourage talk of pirates on this ship, but, as I am sure they are on everyone''s mind, we are well defended against the bandits of the sea. Captain Wilson said, We have only been attacked once in our long history of service, and that was past the far eastern coast of Deepfalsia. We sank three of their ships before the rest turned tail and fled. That doesn''t actually answer the question. A gnome, Mr Turnscrew, said. Very well, replied Captain Wilson, The chances are very small. This section of ocean is well patrolled by the three nations, and pirate attacks rarely happen. We are more likely to be hit by a raising whale that attacked by pirates. All present looked relieved at the pronouncement. More questions followed, most concerning the arrival day, and whether there would be any wildlife to observe. Conversation was gently steered to more proper topics by the captain, and the meal eventually came to a close. Master Smithson, a word? Captain Wilson asked. Max stopped at the door and turned, But of course, Captain. As a fellow seaman, I assume you can keep this under your hat, there were some reports of pirates plying the waters near Cavenfore. It is however, my opinion that they will have been driven off by the navies well before we arrive, as the reports were a few weeks old. Captain Wilson said. I do have a slight favor to ask? Max nodded. As the only passenger with actual shipboard experience, could you take charge of the passengers, if pirates should happen across us? Captain Wilson asked. They would be sitting ducks on the top deck. That is something I can do; and don''t worry sir, I can keep things under my cap. Max responded, before turning to leave. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I appreciate it, Master Smithson. Captain Wilson said as Max departed. *-*-* 16th of Arah, Dinner at the captains table was a wonderful affair. I will need to ask after the recipe from the cook when I run into him again. Pirates were brought up. I have never had to deal with them when I was in the fishing fleet. We were to small to be worth the time and effort. Out here may be a different matter. The Captain has asked me to keep an eye on the passengers should pirates be spotted. It is something I can do to help, so I will. 17th of Arah, We have kept within sight of the coast thus far. Both for navigational purposes and to reassure the passengers. At noon we rounded Rustfose Point, a large outcropping of rock that just out from a cliff face and makes the town of Rustfose a good lookout, but not a good point for a port. There is a small light tower on the outermost island to mark the edge of the shipping lane. 75 miles in a day is a fine speed. With better wind we would be faster. I have not been invited back to the Captains table, but that doesn''t bother me as I prefer the lower decks and the crew as company. The crew seems to like me, both because I actually know my way around a ship, and because I intentionally loose at most card games. A good way to make friends. 18th of Arah, We passed within hailing distance of The Spirit of Garthia, the flagship of the navy. No new news of pirates. We will be at Swifthtown by midnight. 19th of Arah, Morning, We will be in port at Swifthtown for two days. It has been ages since I was here. I wonder if the cathedral I borrowed from is still in operation? *-*-* The wind was cold as Max strode through town, looking at the changes since his last visit some 400 years before. The cafe he had loved was gone, and replaced with a fishmonger. He followed the cobbled streets until he reached the Cathedral''s Gate, thus named for the Cathedral to the goddess he had stolen the holy chalice from. As he approached, he was startled to see, or not see in this case, the milky towers of the Cathedral. As he passed through the gate, he saw why: the cathedral was in ruins. The towers down, the stained glass shattered, and artwork gone. In place of the cathedral was a small, humble chapel. It was unadorned, with nothing but an outside bell tower and sign to note what it actually was. The whole place, including the large and ancient graveyard was overgrown, and surrounded by a high wrought iron fence. More disturbing was that the graveyard showed signs of recent interments having been disturbed. Max sighed, I probably should have returned this thing 400 years ago. I should never drink angry, pr bitter for that fact. As he approached the chapel, an old man dressed in the robes of tranquility, stepped out the door and made his way to great him. I would be cautious around here, lad. There are ghouls afoot. Really? The local lord or the church hasn''t done anything? Max asked, confusion crossing his face. No. They have decided it is a lost cause, and every so often they put up signs to warn the tourists. The man answered. Well, then this should help some. Max reached into his bag and withdrew the goddesses chalice of tranquility, I, found this on my travels a while back. He held out the chalice. The old man fell to his knees as the chalice suddenly burst into cold white light that spread like wildfire across the grounds. The Chalice! It has been returned to us! and he began to openly weep. Um, well yeah. Max said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. I''ll just put it down on this rock over here, and you take care of it. Okay? He set the chalice down, hurriedly turned, and ran. *-*-* That rat-faced, cuckold bastard! Narissa screamed, startling Maximilian awake. He looked up at the viewing crystal just in time to see Maxwell running away from an old broken down church. What''s wrong, love? He asked. What''s wrong? What''s WRONG?!? Narissa took a deep breath, before exploding, That me forsaken bastard is the one who stole my chalice! It took me ages to make that thing and imbue it with power! I will kill him! Hmm, you mean that trinket you gave to the annoying priest who wanted to build a cathedral in...where was it? Maximilian asked. That took you maybe five minutes at most. Whatever. Do you know how many adventurers and Heroes I have sent after that thing? Dozens! Narissa yelled. So that is why it took a man to kill off the demon generals and all their supporters? Maximilian asked. You shouldn''t worry your pretty little head about things like that. Narissa responded. Sea god Aaroness still owes me a favor. I will ask him to sink that bastards ship. She plucked a large conch shell from her dainty sleeve and spoke into it. Aaroness, I am calling in my favor. A few moments later, with a gust of extra salty sea air, a man in a sailors uniform appeared. What do you want to waste your favor on this time? I never waste anything. Narissa retorted. I want a man, and his entire ship drowned. What ship? Aaroness asked, removing a scroll of ship names and locations from thin air. Maxwell Smithson, aboard the Mercy of the Waves. Narissa said. You going after the Heretic again? Well, drowning may do the trick. At least until he gets washed up on shore. Aaroness looked at his scroll. Sorry, no can do Narissa. The Mercy is fully paid up in the tithes. Actually, after a run in with a pirate fleet a couple dozen years ago, he has given almost double the normal amount for someone in his income bracket. I can''t risk that much for a petty insult. Aaroness disappeared in another breeze of salty air. Worthless sea god. Fine. I''m going to hire a pirate crew to sink that ship. A very spiteful Narissa announced. Maximilian, sitting next to her on the love seat, just shook his head. *-*-* 19th or Arah, Evening, Went and returned the chalice I borrowed. The cleric looked like he was going to have a heart attack. With the way the place looked, and with the ghoul problem it''s absence caused, I almost feel bad that I took it. TTFN 48 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker III In a forgotten cavern somewhere deep under mountains just north of the Demon Lands, a dark shadow rolled over in her millennia old slumber. *-*-* Swifthtown, Swanbelia Province, Kingdom of Garthia; 20th of Arah, Second month of Snow; 2125 years since the new gods came. I don''t care who your god is, don''t try to shove it down my throat. I''m not one of your two-bit whore parishioners. Max said, facing the street preacher who had been following him for more than a block. Now get lost. I have things to do. He turned to leave and in doing so missed seeing the cudgel that slammed into the back of his head. He went down. Hard. How dare you say such things about the followers of Hesseren, God of Atonement! The preacher yelled, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth, cudgel half forgotten in his hand. You must be made to atone for your sins! As people started to gather around the free entertainment, Max rolled over and looked up at the now frothing man. Idiot, he thought, Why is it always an idiot? Look friend, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Max said, The easy way is you go away. The hard way is I beat the ever loving tar out of you, and then shove you down a sewer hole. The preacher took a half step back and raised the cudgel over his head. You are a heathen and a heretic! I will see you banished from this world! Good luck with that, Max thought. He climbed to his feet, I guess we are doing this the hard way. Not far away, a whistle pierced the air. The preacher swung the cudgel at Max''s head, missing by several inches. Max stepped forward, and brought his knee up into the mans crotch. All of the men in the crowd sucked in a collective breath. As the man''s head came down, Max hit him with an uppercut to the forehead. The preacher tipped over backwards, and fell to the cobbles. Max shook out his fist, and said, Damn, that hurt. I must be getting soft in my old age. A commotion started behind him, then a pair of portly city guards came through the assembled onlookers. Oi! You! We don''t take kindly to sailor beating up people on our streets! The larger around of the said, getting right up in Max''s face. It was self defense, officer. He attacked me with a cudgel. Max said. Yeah? Well you are going to have to come down to the station, and give a statement. The ''thinner'' guard said. Now come along quietly. Max shook his head, and allowed himself to be lead away but the guard. Behind him he could hear the other officer start asking questions of the crowd. *-*-* 20th of Arah, I was detained by the guard today, after getting in a scuffle with an idiot of a street preacher. People like that should be kept in the asylum. *-*-* A black ship, flying no flags, floats on the calm waters between Oldwell (the Isle of Dragon Kin) and the Deepfalsian Dominion. A light spills from a door onboard ship as it quickly opens and closes in the night. So, this messenger paid in gold, for us to plunder and sink this vessel? A D''Kin asked. Yes Captain, 2,000 gold marks. I don''t know where she got them, but they are worth 5 times that amount in common currency! A human answered. I am well aware. Did she give a place and time? The captain asked. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. I wrote it down, sir. The human answered and slid a scrap of paper across the table. Good. Good. We can easily make that. Set a course, and make it so. The captain said, a played about his draconian lips. *-*-* 21th of Arah, Back on the ship. I never heard back from the guards, so I assume I am free to go. We leave in less than an hour. All of the guests are back on board. The winds are good right now, we should be in Cavenfore by this time tomorrow. For whatever reason, I keep forgetting that ships can make 50-100 miles, or more, in a full day. 22nd of Arah, We have arrived. We will anchor in the port until the morning, then unload. We will be losing half of our passengers. I get to have a bed. 23rd of Arah, I spent the day aboard ship, not wanting to deal with the guard in town. I have a vague feeling that there may still be an arrest warrant out for me here. It was just a misunderstanding, and it''s not like I killed the Duke''s son, I just roughed him up a bit. 24th of Arah, The wind was against us today, even if the tide was not. We have only made 30 odd miles as a write this. We will make it to the halfway point by morning. *-*-* The Ocean between Garthia and Oldwell. 25th of Arah, Early Morning. The alarm bell rang loudly, piercing the night with quick shrill rings. Maxwell rolled out of his bed, and grabbed his revolvers from under the pillow. Now what? he uttered, making his way to the cabin door. The scene on deck was chaos. Passengers running around, getting underfoot of the sailors, yelling and screaming. He looked over the rail, and saw what had caused the alarm. Pirates. Oh hells. He grabbed the closest passenger and said We are leaving the ship. Go and get only what you can carry. The frightened passenger nodded and ran down to the lower decks. Max grabbed the next passenger, and repeated the process until all of the passengers were accounted for. He then waited, and watched the pirate ship approach. It took long minutes, but the passengers arrived at the top of the steps. Most just had bags, but two had large chests of trade goods, and one young man carried a large antique looking chair. The trade goods and chair stay here. Max said, shaking his head. Idiots. Or you can stay here. No arguments. He stared the three in eyes. I''m staying with my goods. If I don''t have them, I have nothing. The other one nodded in agreement. The young man dropped the chair, Mom can piss of. I''m not dying for this old thing. Good. Max started for the stern of the ship, We are taking the captains boat, and heading back the way we came. He picked up his pace. Mast crammed with all the sails they could hold, and flying the skull and crossed swords of pirates, the pirate ship surged forward. The crew on it''s decks started to fire crossbows into the sailors of the Mercy, many of whom went down. Moments later, the pirate ship struck with a resounding crash. Max almost lost his footing when the ship was rammed, but grabbed the railing to keep from falling. The other passengers didn''t fair so well. Max shook his head, Something is wrong here. They should have come up broadside, throw grapples, and board us. Ramming is wrong. He started to run for the stern. Pirates jumped from the bow of their ship, and others swung in on ropes. The foredeck and midship were under assault, and what crew remained was falling fast. Max could see the captain trying to rally the troops, but there was too much chaos. Shit. Shit. Shit. He passed a young cabin boy, grabbed him by the arm, and yelled, Get the passengers onto the captains boat and head to shore! I will buy you some time. The boy nodded and ran. Shit. Maxwell stretched his hands out, and started marking targets. Captain Wilson had his hands full. He was yelling orders while trying to defend against a pair of pirates with jagged edged cutlasses, when one exploded. Both he and the remaining pirate jumped back. What in the-, was all Wilson got out before the other pirate exploded. The deck went quiet. Wilson looked around, half of the pirates were nothing but chunky stains on the deck. The remaining half and all of his remaining crew stared in shock and horror at the carnage on the deck. Then they all heard the voice. I''m traveling here. I just want to be left alone. Maxwell walked down the stairs from the poop deck, And you lot, he pointed at the pirates, Have interrupted it. He shook his head, then continued, If you get back on your ship and run, I will let you live. Stay here and you die. Max looked around. Some of the pirates were slowly moving back towards their ship. Then he sprouted a bolt from the right side of his chest. He looked over to the black ship, and saw a human reloading a crossbow, a man who was wearing a captains hat. He drew his left revolver, cocked the hammer with his thumb, aimed and fired. The pirate captains head exploded. He holstered the weapon, pulled the bolt from his chest, and continued. I will count to three. Any pirate left onboard by then will be burned to a crisp. ONE! The pirates looked at one another in confusion. TWO! The pirates broke. Some ran for their ship, clamoring up bow and trying to flee. Others took the more expedient method of throwing themselves off the ship. THREE! There were none but the crew left onboard. Max cracked his knuckles and watched for a few minutes as the panicked pirates turned their ship and fled. That looks far enough, he said, then waived his hands towards the fleeing ship, Loisg an soitheach chun loidhne-uisge agus gu h-osal! a spark of fire flew from his hands, gaining in speed and size as it left him; face of sorts appearing in the middle of the flame; then it his the black ship, and exploded. Heaving a deep tired sigh, Max looked down at the captain, I think we need to pick up the passengers, and then head to our destination. In the near distance the pirate ship, and all aboard, burned. *-*-* 25th of Arah. Got attacked by pirates. They killed about a third of the crew and injured another third. We got rid of them, and burned their ship. I''m a sailor now. With the reduced crew it will take another day to reach port, but I think we will be fine. *-*-* Far behind the Mercy a pirate ship and it''s crew gurgled, and sank below the waves. 49 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker IV In a forgotten cavern somewhere deep under mountains just north of the Demon Lands, a dark shadow rolled over in her millennia old slumber. *-*-* The Ocean between Garthia and Oldwell. 25th of Arah, Second month of Snow; 2125 years since the new gods came. Late morning. Master Smithson, I have a question? Captain Wilson said, still a little shaky from the pirates. What can I do for you, Cap? Max answered, coiling one of the larger ropes. How did you make them explode? Hmmm...Why not tell the truth? Max thought, then he answered, Oh. Long story short, I accidentally left a sealed pot of water on the fire one time and it exploded; almost killed me actually; anyway, after many days of study and experimenting, I realized that I could use ''forge magic'' to Superheat the blood in a body, and cause the body to explode. I''ve been practicing it on demons and bandits ever since. Captain Wilson shuddered. Thank you...for the information. He turned and retreated from Max. There is more to him than I ever expected. I may even want to refund his passage fare... *-*-* 26th of Arah, We dock later tonight. I''m off duty. One day of sailing is not nearly enough, but it was fun while it lasted. The crew...everyone has been giving me a lot of space since the fight. I wonder why that is. *-*-* 27th of Arah, Morning, Master Smithson, It has been a pleasure. Captain Wilson held out his hand, and Max shook it. Perhaps I will travel with you again, someday. Max replied, smiling. Perhaps. Gods speed to you, and fare thee well on your journey! Wilson said, then turned to the next passenger in line to continue the ritual. The Mercy of the Waves would be in port for at least a week before it could properly sail again; damage needed to be properly repaired, and crew hired. Max walked down the gangplank towards his new home, and hopefully his new profession. *-*-* 27th of Arah, I have arrived! Tomorrow I will start looking for an apprenticeship. The inn I have selected is on the far side of the city from the docks, and should serve me well for now. 28th of Arah, No one wants an untrained apprentice. There is apparently a school farther inland for apprentices to get proper training. The D''Kin are a strange people. I will search for more information about the school in the morning. *-*-* 29th of Arah, Morning, So, I need to apply at the school, pay a minimum ''donation'', and then I need to wait to see if I have been accepted? Max asked the Candle Maker, one eyebrow raised. Yes. the shopkeeper replied. He''ll never make the donation fee. Not without a patron. And don''t forget the letter of recommendation. Okay. That isn''t that bad. Learning from the elves was much worse. Max replied. The shop keepers mouth dropped, You...You learned from the elves?!? This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Yes. A short course on trees. It was very interesting. I never had time to practice... Max trailed off, then smiled about his last interaction with the elven god. He didn''t seem to be lying. Maybe this man might have what it takes after all? I wish you good luck, Mr. Smithson. The shopkeeper said, then headed towards a young couple who had just come in. Thank you. Max said with a smile. This will be interesting. *-*-* 29th of Arah, So, I need to get things in order. Letter of recommendation? May be a problem. Donation? Easy. Application? Shouldn''t be too hard. I will be heading out to the school in the morning. *-*-* 30th of Arah, Morning, The walk from town to the school took only an hour, and Max enjoyed the scenery on the well used road. He crested a small rise and stared. Below him was a valley filled with a town; a beautiful town built from stone and glass; with the largest building in the center. The city was almost completely round, with streets in a series of concentric circles shrinking as they approached the middle. The buildings on the outskirts seemed to be workshops, bunk houses, and farms; whereas the closer in to the center were restaurants, inns, parks, and...Schools. There were a few churches and temples mixed in, but they didn''t interest Max in the slightest. As he wandered down the widening lane towards the beautiful town, a young Dwarf dressed in the robes of an acolyte of the god of crafting, stood up from a log on the side of the lane. Master Smithson, I presume? He asked. You presume correctly. What can I do your you, Priest? I have been directed by my Abbot to give you these. The acolyte held out a pair of letters, both sealed with wax, and bearing the Crafter''s seal. The one with blue wax is to be read first, sir. Max took the letters and broke the seal, and read the letter. Dear Master Maxwell Smithson, Heretic to the Gods, Patron of Demonia, and God friend of Bjorn the Crafter, Max growled and almost crushed the letters in his hand. May this letter find you hale and hearty. I bid thee welcome to the city school of Aeglazan. The accompanying letter is both a letter of introduction to the Archdean of Aeglazan, but also serves as a letter of recommendation to the same. I hope to meet you while you are here. Abbot Cozentine. Thank you priest. Max said in a tight voice. Please tell your Abbot that I appreciate the letter. Very good sir. The acolyte bowed. May I lead you to the Archdean''s office? Thank you. I would appreciate that. Max replied. So, how is Bjorn doing? I havent talked to him for a while. One can always talk to Bjorn. He listens quite well. The acolyte responded. Last time I spoke to him was at my apprentices wedding. He seemed fine then. The company he kept at the time? Not so much. Max said, completely deadpan. The acolyte stopped, eyes wide, and mouth agape. You...You mean it''s true? You have met my Lord face to face? Well yes? Max cocked his head to the side. Several times over the years. He is an excellent drinking buddy, and he only cheats when you are having an axe throwing competition. The acolytes eyes widened even farther. B...Bu...But... He sputtered. But how? Easy. He bent the air currents after throwing it, but before it hit the target. He only beat me by one point. Max said. I suppose I could have done the same, but it''s still cheating. I lost...50 pieces of gold? The acolyte fainted. *-*-* Aeglazan really is a nice place. Max thought, as he carried the acolyte over his shoulder through the city. He looked around and called to a passerby, Where it the temple of the Crafter? The woman looked up from dumping a wash basin into the street, Two blocks down, and take a right. You can''t miss it. Thank you. Max replied, and continued on his way. The walk was short, and pleasant. The stone and glass building were well made, well decorated with carvings, and finely decorated. He whistled as he walked to his destination The Temple of the Crafter was huge complex of buildings. As Max approached with his package, several people gave him sidelong glances, but no one stopped him. Not until he reached the main building. He was greeted there by a pair of smartly uniformed guards and a priest. Excuse me, my good man, but what happened to acolyte Pierce? The priest asked, as Max set down the acolyte. Well, we met on the road, and during the course of our conversation he fainted. Max said. We were discussing a bet I made with a drinking buddy of mine. The priest raised a eyebrow, Must have been and interesting conversation? I suppose. But then again, Bjorn is just a person. The priest almost skipped a beat,...I take it you are The Blacksmith that Abbot Cozentine spoke of earlier today? The guards picked up the acolyte, and started carrying him inside. Probably? Maxwell Smithson. Max held out his hand to the priest. Reverend Crage. The priest shook the proffered hand. Welcome to the temple of Bjorn, The God of Crafting. I...don''t really do temples, or churches any more, but thank you. Max replied, But if you see Bjorn walking around here, tell him I want a rematch? He turned around and departed. Crage looked at Max''s back as he departed, Well, he''s an interesting individual. I wonder what it would take to get him to come to worship? A quiet voice from behind him answered, More than you are willing to pay. Crage''s eyes bulged as he turned around to see the ghostly phantom of a dwarf dissipate before him. *-*-* 30th of Arah, Aeglazan is a beautiful city made of stone and glass. Met an acolyte on the way in and received a letter of recommendation from Bjorn''s local temple. Even visited the temple to drop off the acolyte. Tonight I stay at one of the visitors only inns. I will set off to find the Archdean in the morning. TTFN 50 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker V Aeglazan, Dutchy of Oldwell. 31st of Arah, Second month of Snow; 2125 years since the new gods came. I met with the Archdean today, and signed up for classes. A strange way of doing apprenticeships. New student orientation. Another strange thing. Oh well. Moving into my room on the third floor of Murphy''s Hall was a bit of a pain, and the driver who took me here was untalkative. I liked him. All of my things have been moved in and are stored in the proper places. I have added a lock to the door, as it did not come with one. I have noticed that all of the walls have been inscribed with runes of protection, that are geared to ward off explosions. Strange. *-*-* Earlier that day... Ah, Mr. Smithson! A pleasure to meet you! The Archdean, a Mr. Dorset, said. Thank you sir. Max said, But please, call me Max. Very well Max. Your letter of recommendation was...very interesting, and from very far up the in the church. Would you care to elaborate? Mr. Dorset asked. Well, I have always gotten along well with the church back home in Garthia, Max lied, And my family runs a well established blacksmithing school there, with the full support of the church. Ah, so you are from that Smithson family. Mr. Dorset beamed. Hmm. Perhaps you could do a lecture or two on your family''s business for our students? I don''t know how well I would do on that subject, but I could try? Max responded, realizing the trap too late. Of course, of course. Mr. Dorset continued to smile, So, what brings you to our little slice of heaven? Hmm? I have decided to explore the world of candlestick making. Max said. Oh! How interesting. I''m sure you have made them before in your family''s school, so I must ask, why study here? Mr. Dorset asked. Glass blowing. I have seen the results, but have never tried it. As I''m sure you can imagine, my family doesn''t preform that kind of art. Max responded. Ah. An excellent point. Mr. Dorset said. Well, I have absolutely no objections to that. Broadening your horizons and all that. Cary on good sir. I will be following your progress here with much interest. He stood, as did Max. They shook hands and Max departed. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Once Dorset was sure Max was out of hearing range, he summoned his secretary, I want him working as a teacher as soon as we can possibly arrange it. The church says he will be hard to catch, but what he knows...It could change everything. See to it. *-*-* Max headed downstairs to the administration center of the building. He took the stairs two at a time, in an attempt to beat the elevating platform he had barely missed, to the bottom. He lost. Upon reaching the ground floor, ten stories down, he stood in line to register for classes. While he waited for the line to move, he read through the ''Information Packet he had been issued upon the acceptance of his application earlier today. Ten years to finish all of the required course work, and finish the apprenticeship. Not bad. ? of each year are spent learning and practicing, and the last quarter you are allowed to go home, or take more classes. I could get used to this kind of thing. At last he reached the board looking counter attendant. Good afternoon, madam, He said, looking the middle aged woman over, I need to register for the first quarter of the glassblowing program. My proposed ''Major'' is Candlestick Making. She looked down her nose at him, Majors aren''t declaired until after the basic courses are completed. She slid a sheet of paper across the counter to him, Sign here, here, and here. Max did as instructed. Good, good. Oh, Mister Smithson? Oh! You are listed as already tested out of the required courses! My apologies! The woman took another look at Max. Let me tear those up. She did so. Again, my apologies. If you go down two doors on your left, there, you will see the counter for returning students. Inform them of your name, and they will direct you. She beamed at Max as he stepped away from the counter. *-*-* Several hours passed in the blink of an eye, as Max was passed from person to person, handed books, tools, implements, packets of information, and other such items. What amazed him the most was that he hadn''t had to spend a single coin on anything. When the whirlwind of activity had finally died down, he found himself sitting on bench next to a large pile of items. Only a few of which did he actually know how to use. He smiled. A few minutes later a self propelled wagon rolled up, and a few students stepped off, and he packed his things into the back. I am supposed to take all of this to my dorm He told the driver. Which dorm? The driver replied, looking for all the world like he didn''t actually care. Oh, um, Murphy''s Hall. Max replied after a moment of searching through his paperwork. Ah! A fine old establishment! The driver replied with what looked like a smirk on hes face. We will be there in just a few minutes. He shook a pair of reins that were attached to nothing, and the wagon started off. An uncomfortable ten minute ride later and Max was standing in front of his new home for the foreseeable future. Murphy''s Hall. Murphy''s Hall was a large three story edifice of dark stone, with frosted glass windows interspersed across the front and sides. The driver had left almost as soon as Max had unloaded his things from the back. Now I just have to figure out how to carry this load of stuff up to my room. *-*-* 32nd of Arah, Orientation was boring. Very boring. If any of my masters had lectured on like that, I think I would have slapped them. Thankfully it is over. Classes start in two weeks, I have my list of locations, teachers names, and items to bring. I will spend the next few days learning the city, and meeting my neighbors. 35th of Arah, The city is bustling with activity. There are many sights to see. Tomorrow I will be taking a temple tour with several of my Hall Mates. The dorms are mixed sexes. Most of my fellow students here in the hall are poor. Apparently better accommodation can be had closer to class if you have the money, but I will not look a gift horse in the mouth as Tristan would say. 36th of Arah, The tour was splendid. The temples were some of the best I have seen. I did skip out on the temples belonging to Bjorn and the Idiot. No need to call attention to myself. Heard a snippet of gossip, apparently Murphy''s Hall is haunted. Meh. 37th of Arah, The 51st can''t come fast enough. My hall mates are starting to get on my nerves. There is a D''Kin mage down the hall who thinks that calling rodents into the hall is a funny trick; young Gnoll woman keeps sniffing everyone she walks by; and the elf boy across the hall runs away every time he sees me. 40th of Arah, The idiots priest was here today to bless the hall. I stayed away from him for the most part, but he did eventually seek me out. I was polite, but refused to visit their chapel. Idiots. I''m not stupid enough to enter into one of her places of power. Anymore. 44th of Arah, I was invited to play a game today: Humans and Highrises. I sat in on the game, but declined to play. Turns out not to be my cup of tea. They did have some nice math rocks though. 50th of Arah, Classes start in the morning. I don''t know how busy I will be. Perhaps to busy to keep this journal up to date, but I will try. TTFN 51 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker VI Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell. 51st of Arah, Second month of Snow; 2125 years since the new gods came. Class was... a class. These are all second year students. There is some nomenclature I need to learn, but otherwise I seem to be up to date. Glad I read the Text Books I was issued, as opposed to partying like the other members of my hall. An odd note, when I mentioned I was at Murphy''s Hall, everyone took a step back from me, and a couple of people gave me apologies. Strange. My class schedule. I was told it was a good idea to write it down somewhere, so here it is. 8-11:30am: Class begins at the Glassblowers Union. Some call it the Onion. The building is in itself a work of art. Apparently the first master crafted it with glass and magic. It is a multi hued bubble of glass and steel, approximately 40 yards across, and same in height. There are three entrances, that form a perfect equilateral triangle. Two of the entrances lead to class rooms and auditoriums that can hold as many as 500 students. I am amazed. Noon: Lunch break. There are several places nearby to eat, and all take coin and student ID cards. The cards contain magic of a sort that allows for a free meal per day. 1:30-4:30pm: Labs. In short, we students are sequestered in a glassblowers shop in groups of 10, where we practice what we learned in class. All in all, I reserve judgment as to whether or not this is a better system for teaching a profession than simple apprenticeship. 55th of Arah, First week is done. We have the next three days off for New Years. I plan on continuing my tour of the city. So much to see. Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell. 2nd of Samue, the month of Planting, 2126 years since the new gods came. School resumes tomorrow. An announcement was made that the city wide Freshmen Mixer is being held Mikha, the 6th of Samue. I am planning to attend as it won''t interfere with my studies. 7th of Samue, morning, The mixer was...fun? I changed my wardrobe choice for the day after hearing some of the richer classmates talking about what they were going to wear in order to snub the Peasants, people like me and my dorm mates. As Liam would say, I dressed to the 9''s for the occasion. I enjoyed myself quite a bit. Now I have addresses from several individuals I don''t remember meeting. I need food and to get to class. I may have drunk too much last night... *-*-* 6th of Samue, early afternoon, Hey Max! What are you wearing to tonight''s affair? The note of condescension was hard to miss in the boy''s voice. The boy''s name was Tony. Something simple, and boring, nothing ''high class'' like you and your mates. Max responded, still working on twirling the glass just right. Something that befits my station in life. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Tony and his gaggle of cronies (most of the shop students) laughed. So you''re wearing peasant garb. How quaint. Yes...peasant garb. From where I came from. Max replied. I was just going to wear something nice. Guess I will have to dig out the old stuff. Definitely something that fits my station in life. Well, it will be...interesting to see you there. Tony said before walking his cronies to the other side of the shop. Assholes. Minor nobles. Willa said, stepping over to Max, putting he pipe and block down on the nearby workbench. Why do they keep bullying you? And why do you let them? They are young and stupid. I am fine just ignoring them. Max said, looking up for the first time. They are a ''dime a dozen'' as an old friend once said. What is a dime? ... Max thought for a moment, a very small coin. Not worth much. Foreign currency. Oh. Are you going tonight? Max asked. Oh no. Never. It isn''t my place. Also, I hate being around people like that. Willa replied, shaking her head. Alright. Time to clean the shop and get going. Max said. The two spent several minutes cleaning, said their goodbyes, and departed. *-*-* Max walked to a salon. Not the best salon in the city, but the one he had overheard the women from his dorm said did wonders. He got a haircut, and his scraggly beard shaved to a proper goatee. Then he went home, and dug through his trunk. He searched for the better part of an hour, looking for the proper outfit for the occasion. He went and had a long soaking bath in the dorms basement bathhouse. Then he changed into the outfit. He smiled. When he left the hall, even his elf neighbor stopped running away, and stared. *-*-* A deep blue doublet of silk accented with small rubies at the throat and wrists, black breeches with silver slashes, and gray hose tucked into tall black leather riding boot. The outfit flattered his frame, and the gemstones set off his eyes nicely. He walked at a sedate pace from the wagon stop to the central town garden where the event was to be held, not wanting to show up early, and arrived fashionably late. Heads turned, women gawked, men stood speechless. He walked up behind the already drinking Tony and his cronies, Well, Tony, I have arrived wearing something befitting of my station in life. Why haven''t you? He asked loudly. Tony turned at the voice from behind, a cutting remark on his lips, and stared. Before him wasn''t the country bumpkin of a blacksmith he enjoyed belittling, but a lord. A lord of fine breading, and manner, wearing the latest fashion from the capital of Garthia. He swallowed, Uh... Max gave him a thin smile, and punched him in the face. You should really know better than annoy your betters, Tony. He turned on his heal and left Tony to be cared for by the rest of his groupies, ambling off towards other people he had met while on his many walks around town. Master Mather, how are you this fine evening? he said to the baker he purchased bread from as he passed his cart; then off towards a street urchin he would pay to take him around the less savory parts of town, Ah, young mister Raymond, how is your mum doing?; and on and on, chatting with masters and peasants, and night-soil men. Eventually he ended up near a table of refreshments near the clergy. Abbot Cozentine! How goes the temple today? Max gave the abbot a slight bow. It fares well, Maxwell. Although it would fare better if you attended service. Abbot Cozentine replied. Maybe if Bjorn got me drunk first, I would...But probably not even then. Max replied with a smile. The rest of the clergy stared agog at the comment. But seriously, No. You are well aware that I don''t DO religion. A priest of Tranquility stood up from his padded chair, You should not speak such things to your betters! Abbot Cozentine winced. Brienhart, you don''t want--- Abbot Cozentine started to say. I refuse to have this kind of blasphemy said in front of me! How can you stand this, this, Heretic! Brienhart fumed. This man should be stoned for such heresy! Abbot Cozentine raised his hand to cut off Brienhart. I believe you lack understanding here. This man, he pointed at Max, IS the Heretic. You know, Maxwell the Heretic? All of the listening clergy stepped back. The priest of war took many steps back. Brienhart stopped, his face pale, eyes bulging, and the veins in his throat pulsed. Oh...OH! Oh dear... He turned and ran. Max laughed. Dear abbot, did you have to spoil the fun? I was about to get him all spun up! I don''t want a theological fight here. It would be unseemly for the clergy to partake in a common brawl. Abbot Cozentine replied, eyes twinkling. But almost worth it for him... The rest of the evening passed in a blur as Max drank, and danced, and talked with people he barely knew, and many he didn''t. And at long last he went home, happy. 52 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker VII Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell. 7th of Samue, the month of Planting; 2126 years since the new gods came. A young Half Blood woman sits at a desk in her assigned room at Rutgers Hall. She stares at a coin she holds in one hand while the other scratches one of the short horns on her head. Sighing she puts down the coin, and begins to write. Dearest Uncle Garbelx, You will not believe who I met at the Freshman mixer last night. Well, met isn''t the right word, perhaps observed would be better? I was actually to embarrassed to approach. The HERETIC! He was there! Not only that, but he is as wonderful as I remember him being! He was nice to everyone! The night-soil collectors, street vendors, low born workers, and fellow students! And he still looks just like he does on the coins! Anyway, I love you Uncle! Samarah Blex. The young woman read the letter over, sighed, placed it into a previously addressed envelope, and took it down to be delivered. *-*-* 7th of Samue, Why am I not poison proof? There have been a few time that I thought I was, because I would fall asleep for a moment or three, then awake fully refreshed and restored...Maybe I actually drank myself to death? Meh, never happen. Class was difficult, but on the up side, idiot boy wasn''t there, and his cronies were...better behaved. 8th of Samue, I look forward to this weekend. I have reading to do and more exploration. 12th of Samue, Tony has quit school. I am overjoyed by this announcement. 15th of Samue, I and dozen others from school are taking advantage of a Class Trip to visit Ryretatraryre for the weekend to see the shipyards and learn to sail. The trip is about 5 hours long, mostly by back road. I expect to enjoy myself. We leave at noon tomorrow. *-*-* Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. A young boy sat up in bed, the magic holding him in place having lapsed for a moment. I am not Peter Wolfe, my name is...Michael. Michael Sorenson! The thought resounded throughout his body. He kneeled on the bed, and bit his left index finger till it bled, then he wrote the name, His name, on the wall, next to the other half dozen times this had happened. The magic caught him once again, and bleeding on the bed, in the Bedlam*, he wept himself to sleep. *-*-* 16th of Samue, The trip went faster than expected on the wagons. I believe they use a form of speed magic. The company was pleasant. Willa came along and spent most of her time talking to a half blood named Samarah. They stared at me quite a bit. Samarah looks vaguely familiar from somewhere. Oh well. *-*-* So, you are telling me that Max isn''t some kind of noble in hiding, but a folk hero from your homeland? Willa asked Samarah. Yes. He hasn''t changed a bit. Not since I met him years ago in my hometown of Gilip. Samarah replied. Here, look at this coin. She held out a gold coin to Willa. Well, the engraving does look like him... Willa said, nodding, But it could be a coincidence. I don''t think it is. I can kinda feel it, I think. Samarah said. And the clerics and priests at the mixer seemed certain. Odd. Willa said. Very odd. *-*-* 17th of Samue, The shipyard was a grand place for a tour. I had not really considered how much work goes into building a ship, let alone the design of it. I am impressed. Sailing, it seems, is one of my passions. I loved every minute out on the water. Maybe if I could fly, I would enjoy that more, but I did feel like I was flying across the water. I am sad that we will be heading back in the morning. 18th of Samue, We arrived late tonight. All said and done I am glad I went on the trip. The looks I was getting from some of the other students near the end was a bit uncomfortable, but alas, I find myself not caring. 21st of Samue, I have received the request to do a lecture on smithing in the Smithson Family tradition. It has now been set up for Mikha, the 30th of Samue. I suppose I will have to make some notes so I don''t screw things up too badly, and make the family look like fools. 29th of Samue, The presentation is tomorrow. I believe I have enough notes to fill the hour I have been allotted in the lecture hall. Although I am unsure why they booked the 1000 seat hall. 30th of Samue, The lecture went well, even though I overshot my time by 3 hours. The Master in charge of the lecture started taking notes for himself after the first ? hour. Strange, it''s not like metallurgy is that hard of a concept to understand. I really liked the projection magic they used so that everyone could see my rough drawings of what I was talking about, as well as the formulas. I am also proud of myself that I didn''t let any of the family''s secrets out of the bag, just the stuff we teach late apprentices and early journeymen. I hope I don''t have to do another lecture like that, it takes so very much out of me. *-*-* ...Now ladies and gentlemen, if you will look at the display behind me, you will see that the mixing formula for the somewhat higher quality steel we use for the axes cutting blade itself is made up of 3 parts bright chrome, 5 parts molybdos; from copper, not lead; and raw copper can be used instead, in a pinch; 31 parts charcoal, 5 parts brimstone, and 56 parts iron. Obviously you want to heat it slowly in your crucible, until liquefied, and then pour it into your casts. It works well for a blade on it''s own, but is incredibly expensive and time consuming to make, so we use it mainly for the sharpenable parts on axes and such. It welds in nicely on lesser steel and iron... - From the notes of Dr. Benegast, Master Smith, Aeglazan, from the lecture given by Maxwell Smithson, of the Smithson school of blacksmithing. *-*-* 31st of Samue, Bjorn stopped by this afternoon. We are doing a throwing Axe competition together on Ambriel, 33rd of Samue. I agreed, but only after extracting a promise not to cheat from him. TTFN *bedlam; Archaic; An institution for the care of mentally ill people. 53 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A piece of lore Let us turn for a moment from our ''Hero'', a simple man who just wants to live his life until he can die and be reunited with his one true love. A man with more titles than he knows, or cares about. A man with titles like Master Smith, Master Tinker, Lieutenant at arms (and the noble title of Baronet C Unlanded), Godfather (in several meanings of the word), Grandfather, Family Head, Savior, Friend (and enemy) of gods, and The Heretic, to name just a few. A man who will shortly be heading to a competition of arms with his best friend, who just happens to be a god. But as I said earlier, let us turn from him and look at the wider world. To the north of the five kingdoms thus far mentioned, and just above the demon lands (or Demon Wastes, or Desert of Demons), is the Kingdom under the Mountains, a Dwarven kingdom rarely seen by outsiders. Beholden to the God Bjorn, and ruled by King Swifthammer, it is prosperous. Recently, the kingdom has been troubled by small tremors, as though a sleeping giant is stirring in it''s slumber. Below the Dwarven kingdom is another kingdom, long forgotten by all but a few. The kingdom of the dark. A place for people who were cast out of the upper world by an angry god, and taken in by one with no love for them, but with compassion for their plight. Strange people with large eyes that would put goblins to shame, pale almost translucent skin, and a slightly hunched form. To the east of the kingdoms are the unsettled lands. Lands that contain the proud Orc people of the foothills, tall and strong, they are the protectors of the ''Green Skin'' peoples, as they were directed by there long dead god, Gobb. They farm, and hunt, and build small villages in which to house there clans. Once they were violent, raiding the ''non-green'', but now are peaceful folk who are starting to enjoy the fine things in life. In the far northeast are the Gnolls. A proud canid like race of hunters and trackers, who live the wandering lifestyle while herding sheep and goats. They have few cities, and interact rarely with the other races. In between these settled lands, both to the east and the west, are small towns and farm holds, places of trading where all the races meet, interact, and live. It is not uncommon to find ex-bandits living beside failed nobles. Orcs and Goblins living with humans and Elves. Gnolls escorting flocks to market, to be resold to more ''civilized'' markets. But outside of these small places, here there be monsters. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. These unsettled regions breed monsters of all types, and monsters of the ''more civilized kind''. The Wyvern and drake of the far flung mountains. The Kobald and Lizardfolk of the great wood, locked in their millennia old battle for supremacy. The Lamia and Naga of the planes and desert. Worgs roam all of the lands, eating anything they feel inclined to consume. Most of all, are the Dragons. Creatures of magic and intelligence, they dwell on the highest peaks, or the lowest of swamps. Lairs hidden and protected by magic and traps. They live mostly secluded lives, raising a clutch of hatchlings every handful of hundred years to entertain themselves, before throwing them out of the nest to make their own way in the lands. The most common of the dragons are the red and the green, both of whom breath fire. There are others, but little is known of them. Across the world many things are happening. A babe cries for it''s mother, dead in a bandit raid. A boy stares at a wall covered in bloody writing. A dark shape rolls over in it''s slumber. A single tree has released it''s seed to the winds, and it''s children slowly grow in a grove around it. Somewhere, in the bottom of a long lost and forgotten dungeon that was once a town, inside a rotten chest, sits a cut glass vial full of yellow liquid. An old demon sits and laughs in delight at a letter received from his niece. A pack of wolves howl, as one of there own has ascended to her next form. A young ratkin apprentice has learned his first spell. A small god of elegant speech argues loudly with a full god on the meaning behind THAC0. And somewhere in a distant land, lovers meet under an apple tree. The miracles of life and death are observed the world over. And then there are gods. These are not the Gods of old, of creation. Nay, these are young gods, barely six millennia old. This batch of gods is petty, and short sighted. Out for personal gain and one-upmanship. Squandering their power on things trivial, as opposed to things that ''matter''. Things that matter, like the recurring demon invasions from the void gate buried deep in the world. Or the probing of the beings from beyond time and space, who fight the old gods to a standstill, and still wait for an opening, any opening, to again re-enter this world. Given time, they may mature. Or they may not. There are the 12 of the council; who rule and reside in the celestial realm. The ''Big 12'' as they are known, stand for concept of peoples beliefs. Dysher, God of Healing; Narissa Goddess of Tranquility and Peace; Maximilian, God of War; Ilaldin, Goddess of the Afterlife; Trixie, Goddess of Deception; Bjorn, the Dwarf God of Crafting; Aaroness, God of the Sea; Esmeralda, the Gnome Goddess of Knowledge; Kocha, God of Chaos; Xames, God of Love; Thaeyr, God of Order ; and Eeyr, God of Hope. There is no longer a god of nature, for that path is forbidden. Several dozen ''lesser'' gods, who work under or around the 12, also reside in the celestial realm. Gods like Greymore god of elves and trees. Honor, Vengeance, Chastity, Luck, Pleasure, and others. Least of the gods, are the ''small gods''. Gods of small concepts, or small peoples. Or fallen gods such as Ghondish, the goat god of eating stuff, friend of Gobb the Silly. Outside of all this, on ''his'' own plane, death sits on a pale horse, slowly waiting for this world too also die. 54 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker VIII Meadows of Competition, Dwarven Kingdom. 33rd of Samue, the month of Planting; 2126 years since the new gods came. Today was the first day of competition. I need to learn to aim better. Knocked out in the second round. Bjorn is going after the title again. I kinda hope he loses. The tents are comfortable enough, better than the ones in the army at least. Tomorrow is the championship for the axe throwing. There will be a lot of betting going on. Saw an interesting axe. I will see what tomorrow holds. *-*-* 33rd of Samue, Morning. The world swam around Max, then spat him out. As he blinked to clear his eyes, he could see tents and pavilions in the distance, and around him tall mountain peaks. He looked over to Bjorn, Where in the hells are we? The meadows of competition. But those are in the Dwarven kingdom! Yup. Eyes finally clear, Max looked again at his surroundings, and took a breath. The air was warm, and the sun was maybe an hour over the peaks in the east. They were in a shallow, mostly level valley, filled with tents, pavilions, and semi permanent buildings. Smells of cooking food mixed with the nearby latrines, as people bustled about their business. As he and Bjorn approached the encampment, the shapes of people turned into individuals. Gnolls, Orcs, Humans, Dwarves, all eating and laughing together, some trading insults, and others gearing up for some sort of competition. What''s going on here, old friend? Max asked Bjorn. We are entered into the axe throwing competition. I have to defend my championship title. Bjorn replied. You compete with mortals? Where is that honor you keep talking about? Max asked, the incredulity written across his face. Oh yes. I have actually lost more times than I have won. Bjorn said. As a matter of fact, last year I barely placed. Really? Did you throw the competition for a nice piece of tail? Max guffawed. Alas, no. I was terribly hung over, and the winds were bad. And some asshole gnoll was banging a drum. Bjorn frowned. A gnome stepped out of a tent ahead of them on the ''road'' that wound through the tent city, Ah! Master Bjorn! Back to try and regain your honor? This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. I don''t know about that, but I may smack your sorry behind into the ground, if you try to convince me to drink that foul brew of yours again! Bjorn laughed. I accept your offer! Now who is your friend? You have never brought a companion with you in the past. The gnome asked, a twinkle in his green eyes. Well, you green eyed little bastard, this is my old friend, Maxwell. Bjorn said, a matching twinkle in his eyes. Ah! The gnome turned to Max, A pleasure! You must be from Demonia. Maxwell is a popular name there at the moment. Especially after the Heretic apparently turned up in person and gave his blessing to the council of lords. ... The gnome continued, Ah, but where are my manners?--- Stuck up your arse? Bjorn interrupted. Shush you. The gnome continued, I am Adan, Gnome lord of Rockton, and head of the competition here in. He gave a bow. Welcome to the Meadows of Competition! *-*-* More talking later, Max had a tasty breakfast, and was investigation the axe throwing grounds. The first set of targets were set up at a ten foot distance from the throwing line, and set so that only a strong hit to the center would knock them over. Directly behind the first target was a second, third, and fourth target, all at 10'' increments. The competition was easy: knock each target over by sticking an axe in the center. You started with 5 axes. If you still had an axe left at the end of the course, you went on to the semi finals. The semifinals required an axe to enter. At 30'' you had to sink 3 bullseyes. Then repeat the performance at 50''. Finally, the winners of that round went on to the final test. 5 target stations separated by 10-25'', that had to be run between, with one throw at each target. If you missed the target you were eliminated. Best time for completion was the winner. In case of a tie, axes were thrown at a 30'' distant target until one missed. Highest number oh hits winning the purse. In the near distance a goat bleated, and Max saw Bjorn jump. What''s wrong? Goat got your tongue? Bjorn stared at the goat and then sighed in relief. Thank me, it''s not Him. Not who? Max looked at the goat, who was chewing on the wire fence that contained it. Wait...The goat god? You? You are afraid of the goat god?!? He started to laugh. Seriously? Looking seriously at Max, Bjorn shook his head, then lowering his voice he said, You know nothing of what you speak, Young Maxwell. Nothing. Max sobered up, Seriously? The Goat God is to be Feared, Maxwell. Not ridiculed, not mocked, Feared. Bjorn answered. How do you know of that creature? Oh, Liam had a problem with him a while back. Something about cattle, chickens, and taking a dump on his office floor. Max replied. Met his priest too, at Liam''s wedding. Pretty nice guy, for a priest. He looked resigned to his fate of chasing the creature around. Bjorn sighed, Good. Let us never talk of him again. He is bad news. Very bad news. Why? Max asked. Bjorn replied after a moment of thought, Because...because he used to be one of the old gods, the dead gods. Of all of them, he is the only one who remains. Max shook his head, amusement no longer present on his face or in his bearing, ...ooh shit... *-*-* The throwing competition had gone well well for the day, as both Max and Bjorn easily passed the first round. The second round saw most of the competition knocked out, leaving only thirty people for the championship on the morrow. Well, I''m out. Max said to Bjorn after his last axe missed the center of the target by a scant half inch. I should have spaced the first two farther apart. That was my problem the first time I competed, as well. Bjorn nodded his head. We all live and learn. I wonder if I will make the run in good time this year. It looks like there won''t be any rain this time. And I don''t plan on drinking heavily tonight. I am interested in the Orc''s axe. The one with the double crescent blades. Max said. If I had known I could bring my own, I would have. You would have been disqualified. There is a strict ''No Magic'' policy in the games. Bjorn said. Found that out the hard way, did you? Max asked, half joking. No. Bjorn said, I saw several people kicked out the first year, complete with lifetime bans. I wisely sent my good axes home before the competition. A lifetime ban? So elves... Wow. Max looked into the distance. Yes. Bjorn responded, There were several complaints the first time an elf came back and was refused entry to the grounds. The lists are kept in the deep vault of the king, on enchanted paper. The first list is still available for view, as the elven king''s name is still on it. 55 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker IX Meadows of Competition, Dwarven Kingdom. 34th of Samue, the month of Planting; 2126 years since the new gods came. The second day of competition has ended, and Bjorn...got drunk. Again. I am home now. Looks like I didn''t miss much while I was away, just another handful of calling cards. Turns out the competition is held for two weeks, three times a year. I want to go back. *-*-* 34th of Samue, morning. How you holding up, Bjorn? Max said loudly to his companion. Grumble, grumble, loud, grumble. Was Bjorn''s reply, as he shook his head slowly. If you don''t hurry up, you are going to miss the competition! Max said, lowering his voice, as he opened the tent flap in the post dawn light. Light that just accidentally pierced Bjorn''s eyes. I hate you, Heretic. You know that, right? Max laughed, Just some payback for the last time. Bjorn grumbled to himself as he crawled off his cot, and fell to the ground. Who''s daft idea was it to give these ''mortal'' bodies the ability to get hangovers?* No clue. But it does add to the ''mortal'' experience. Max laughed. A half hour later found them eating a filling porridge with dried fruit and honey. So, when does the match resume today? Max asked as he scraped out the last of the porridge. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Just after noon is the traditional time. I don''t think it has moved this year. Bjorn replied, just as the head gnome walked over. Time change for the Axe Throwing Championship! It stares in an hour! Said Adan, Gnome lord of Rockton and head of the judges of the Meadows of Competition. Bjorn! Nice to see you are alive this fine morning! I hope you didn''t drink too much? Stupid short stack. You know I drank to much last night. You almost poisoned me again! Bjorn replied, looking sick. I did nothing of the sort! You said you could match me shot for shot! Adan shot back. Not my fault you''re a light weight. Piss off. I''m going to the privy to puke. Bjorn wandered off towards the latrines. Such a sore loser. Adan shook his head, So, Max, can I call you Max? How have you been enjoying the Meadow? I suppose you can call me Max, as any tormentor of Bjorn is a friend of mine. Max replied with a grin, As for the Meadows, I''ve been enjoying them immensely. I especially enjoyed the pre tournament jousting last evening. The pleasant small talk of the two lasted for several more minutes before Adan had to depart. *-*-* Bjorn threw his last axe at the target, hitting it squarely in the center. The crowd gave a halfhearted cheer, and he stumbled towards the end of the course, panting. He knew his performance was bad, but not how bad until he saw the clock: 5 minutes, 37 seconds. Well shit. At least I finished better than last year. I really need to stop drinking so much. He fell over, and went back to sleep, mere feet past the finish line. Maxwell turned away from his friends very poor performance and smiled, he had won back his bet plus interest, having bet that Bjorn would complete the competition, but take more than 5 minutes, and fail to even place. He let his feet take him around the meadow, and watched several fencing matches, saw a mage in horrible makeup juggle balls of fire, and generally enjoyed himself. Until Bjorn finally caught up to him. I can''t believe you left me like that! They were using me as the finish line! ''Kick the Dwarf'' to finish your time! Bjorn complained, rubbing his side. I''m going to have bruises for weeks! Max looked at him, eyebrow cocked. Really? Well, okay, a few minutes...seconds. Bjorn corrected himself. But still, the, the indignity of the thing! Bjorn continued to grumble as they walked the Meadow. *-*-* 35th of Samue, This week is going to be a bit tough. We need to turn in our first real project by the end of the week, a bowl. 38th of Samue, Turned in my bowl today. 8 at the mouth, 4 deep, nice rim and balanced bottom. I''m glad it didn''t crack like the last one during the cooling process. Next week is a Vase. I will spend the rest of this week practicing. * It was actually Bjorn''s idea. 56 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker X In a small town in northern Garthia. A young woman stands next to a tree that has planted itself in the middle of her family''s school compound. They share a laugh that no one else can hear, and continue their conversation. *-*-* Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell. 40th of Samue, the month of Planting; 2126 years since the new gods came. Today I was told that I had to respond to a particular calling card. The only reason I listened to this piece of information is that it (the information) was delivered by my neighbor the elf. I have made a pair of calling cards of my own for the occasion. I dropped off one to the ''young'' lady in question, an invitation to dinner at a local low-class pub that I quite enjoy. Meh. Nice place she lived in though, beautiful tree. *-*-* It was raining as Max walked to drop off the calling card to Miss Evangeline Silverloch. The name should have given away her heritage immediately, as only elves had such pretentious naming habits. Sadly, he hadn''t been paying attention to such things when he threw them in the burn pit behind the hall on a weekly basis. Now, at the insistence of his hall mate, the cowardly elf, he was trudging through the rain, in a rather miserable mood. Stupid customs. Stupid people. Why am I doing this again? Oh, yeah, the elf asked me. Max thought. He actually walked up to me and asked! Must have pissed his god off immensely. A show of courage like that in the face of the gods must be respected. So I go. I just don''t have to like it. He trudged on, thoughts looping around his head, until he reached the residence hall. He was in what he thought of as the overly posh section of resident halls, and wasn''t particularly impressed. Until he saw the tree. It was grown in the true classic style of the elves, graceful decorative curves (that could easily hide archers), up sweeping branches that looked like towers that intertwined with the rest near the top, perfect natural breaks in the bark that had been fitted with colorful glass windows, and the fresh silvery leaves still somehow sparkling in the rain. He walked up the steps to the actual door, not the ''front door'' used by normal visitors, and knocked. A young maid, in the proper elven attire for the position, answered the door in less than a heartbeat. She gave Max a quick examination with her eyes, smile barely faltering at his poor state of dress, then in a cold and dismissive voice, she said, May I help you? I have an invitation from a Master Smithson for Lady Silverloch. Max held out the calling card. I believe she is expecting it? In that moment, the maid''s smile became real, Ah, excellent! I will inform Lad...Miss Silverloch at once. Will you come in a moment? I''m sorry miss, but I am needed at home. My apologies. Max responded, lying through his teeth. Alas. Very well good man. The maid held out a hand, Please take this. As max held out his hand, the maid dropped a gold coin into it. A token from the Miss of her thanks. He turned and departed. Well that was different. He looked at the coin, identifying it as an elven gold crown, a small fortune for a poor family. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. *-*-* 43rd of Samue, The quarter ends on the 55th. Apparently the last week is full of Finals, some sort of hellish tests. Should be fun. My Date with Silverloch is on Mikha, the 46th. I have a decent set of clothing for the occasion. We will see how the lady fares. 45th of Samune, I have received the list of testing dates, times, and practice questions from my instructors. I was right, this will be fun. 46th of Samue, Willa has asked me for help with the practice questions. Her real problem isn''t the practical bits, she is better than I, her problem is a lack of confidence in her written answers. I will keep helping her along. Tonight was the Date. It went better than anticipated. *-*-* Maxwell was sitting in The Drowned Duck awaiting the Lady Silverloch. She would be late soon. A commotion started at the door, and he looked around, disturbed from his thoughts. A group of well dressed elves had just entered, and at their center was and overdressed elven lady, Silverloch. He stood and waived her over. Lady Silverloch, I presume? Max said, tone mostly flat. Please, have a seat. Why thank you Master Smithson. Lady Silverloch said. She waived at her escort, and they scattered around the room, and the bar. As she sat, Max gently pushed in her seat, before retaking his own. To what do I owe the pleasure of your regard, Lady Silverloch? Max asked, actually curious. Please, just call me Anna, otherwise I may have to start using All of your titles, Bjorn Friend. Anna replied, a slight smile gracing her lips. Very well, Anna. So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Max asked again, dropping the formalities. I was very interested to hear that one such as yourself had decided to enroll at this institution of learning. What with your varied history and all. Anna said, waiving at a serving boy to bring drinks in the local fashion. I wanted to meet you and, perhaps, get to know you better. Max cocked an eyebrow at the young woman. Really? I would have thought your god would have words about that. My god? Ha. That old coot can piss off. I don''t follow him, and he has no control over me. Anna replied, face slightly red. I will not be dictated to about whom I may and may not acquaint myself with. Max raised his other eyebrow. Now this may be a woman worth getting to know. Really? Pray tell, how did that come about? That is a story best left for another time. Perhaps when we have gotten to know each other better. Anna replied, a smile again playing about her lips. Tell me, please, why did you give up being a baker? That''s an easy one, I gave my shop to my best apprentice when she got married. She had managed to achieve master status, and I was starting to get bored. Max said. YOU GAVE IT TO HER!?! Anna shouted. All of the patrons of the inn stared over at the table, and she blushed. Apologies. I just find it hard to believe. Too many people had figured out who I was, and I felt it was the best way to exit the situation. She should do well, she has most of my basic recipes, and sever that she developed on her own that were big hits. Replied Max. She also has the backing of several families in high places, so I am sure she will be fine. You, you don''t miss the power you had acquired there? The prestige? Anna asked, yellow eyes wide. What power? What prestige? Max asked, an eyebrow raised again. I had no such things. I was just a baker. Albeit, one who helped some warring groups make peace. Nothing special. My old master? She was special. Her cakes were...are the best I have ever tasted. I envy her husband for that. You... You really don''t understand, do you. Anna said, You were, arguably still are, the head of the underground there, nay, the entire city. Anything you said was law! The roads need fixing? One word from you and they were fixed. Bandit problem? Gone. Mrs Gregory needed medicine for her small boy? Suddenly there it was, appearing in the middle of the night. Max stared. ...well shit... The conversation between the two continued for several hours. When the night ended, both went home, with many things to think about. For his part, Max was just happy to find someone, other than Bjorn, to talk openly with. Anna, on the other hand, had different plans. 57 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker XI Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell. 47th of Samue, the month of Planting; 2126 years since the new gods came. Lady Evangeline Anna Silverloch, third granddaughter of the elven throne, sat in her apartments in the holy tree, and stared into a mirror, smiling. Yes mother, it was wonderful! The elder Silverloch nodded. That is good. Is he as handsome as I have heard? No, mother, he is above average, but no beauty. On the other hand, he has a large presence, and has a charisma about him that almost set my heart aflutter. How long to you think it will take for him to fall for your feminine wiles? Her mother asked. MOTHER!!! We have barely started to become acquainted! You can''t expect things to happen so soon! Anna shouted, a red flush showing in her pale face. Well your father did. Most men do, if you show the right amount of skin. Her mother gave a suggestive wink. The conversation continued for a quarter hour, advice being given and rejected, before the women went their separate ways. *-*-* 47th of Samue, the month of Planting, Willa was upset with me today, when I told her about my dinner with Anna. She did have one thing correct, Anna may have some sort of design on me. I only wish for friendship, nothing more. This could get ugly. Meh. *-*-* You went on a date with that Ice Queen? Willa almost shouted in the lab. We went out for dinner at The Drowned Duck, She was overdressed for the occasion, and her entourage was horribly out of place. The food was good, and the conversation was quite interesting. Max said. I would keep an eye out, if I were you. Willa said, a frown gracing her chin. She only talks to men whom she thinks are going to be good husbands, and the like. She is some kind of princess in the elven kingdom. Good to know. Max replied. Now back to work. The ratio of the curve on the glass, if you want it to be natural is... If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The lesson continued. *-*-* 50th of Samue, Finals start tomorrow. I am excited. The weekend was filled with study groups and drinking. Mostly study for me. 55th of Samue, We are off school until the 12th of Kielat. I have no real plans. Perhaps I will play with my forge for a while. 1st of Kielat, First month of Summer, I have rented a small work area on the south side of town. Setup has started. 3rd of Kielat, I am up and running. I have decided to forge a rifled barrel for my new Rifle. I will be using the recipe I gave out at my talk last month for the metal, as it will be strong enough to withstand the pressures involved. I wish I had the tools to measure such things. Maybe I will build one. 4th of Kielat, I am going to have to start locking the door to the shop if people are going to keep walking in on me while I am working. In 2 days, I have had almost 30 visitors, mostly staff from the college. Very annoying. 5th of Kielat, I have imposed a fee for people who just come in and stare at me while I work. Idiots. Bjorn''s people are at least respectful. *-*-* Look, the price is a gold a day to stay and watch me work. You will probably learn something, and I might even talk about what I''m doing. But, if you don''t shut up and let me work, I WILL throw you bodily from my shop. Max said, looking at the growing crowd of onlookers. Most of the people left at the demand for gold, but several paid the price, and stood quietly as Max started working again. Alright, now that the idiots have left, you can all see that I am slowly heating the elemental mixture to the melting point, and stirring it with my adamantum paddle. We will keep it at just above the melting point for 3 hours, with occasional stirring, so that all of the bits can combine completely... The lesson and manufacturing lasted for almost 8 hours, before Max closed up shop for the day. *-*-* 11th of Kielat, Old gods, it''s like having an apprentice that does nothing, times 12. At least I''ve had my evenings off, and don''t have to feed them. Anna has been a pleasant diversion the couple of times she has stopped in to chat. I am somewhat disappointed in the revealing clothing she has worn, very inappropriate for a smithy. Classes start again in the morning. I am looking forward to it. My barrel is done, and I will need to set up the heat treating for it tomorrow afternoon. It has been tricky, and I have had to remake it twice. I''ve never made a barrel for a rifle before, just pistols. 15th of Kielat, Anna has informed me that her parents are visiting this weekend, and she would like me to meet them. I have had to refuse, as the heat treatment is set for the weekend, as I have been busy with class all week. She was very disappointed, but understanding. *-*-* I don''t understand him at all, Mother! Anna nearly shouted into the mirror. He paid me almost no attention at all! I heard you the first time, my dear. Her mother replied, Perhaps a different track would be a good idea? Such as? Anna asked. Your father and I can stay for an extra day, her mother said, and we can invite him out to dinner the afternoon of Aniel the 19th of Kielat. Plenty of time for him to complete his work, and get ready for an evening out. That might work. I will send him an invitation in the morning. Anna beamed at her mother, Thank you, mother. I really appreciate this. *-*-* 16th of Kielat, I have receive an invitation to dinner with Anna and her family for Aniel. I should be done with things by then, so I have accepted. Willa will be so upset. I don''t get it. It''s just dinner. 58 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - Candlestick Maker XII Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell. Aniel the 19th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2126 years since the new gods came. Barrel heat treatment went perfect! I''m so happy it worked out. Anna and I won''t be seeing each other again. I will miss the conversation. There is some annoying thumping in the basement. I hope the baths are working properly. *-*-* 19th of Kielat, Evening, The Golden Goose, Anna and her parents, the Lord and Lady Silverloch, were sitting in a well appointed private room at The Golden Goose, the most exclusive of inns in Aeglazan. Off white walls, with exquisite murals of ocean scenes set off the linen clothed table that was set with fine silver and cut crystal goblets of wine. Conversation was quiet between the family until Maxwell was shown in by the head waiter. Maxwell was dressed in the same outfit he had worn at the student mixer, with the addition if his master smith pin on his left lapel, and a socially acceptable knife tucked into his belt on his right. Ah, Master Smithson! The well dressed Lord Silverloch stood up from the table and waved Max over. When he was within reach, the elf extended a hand. Please, call me Max. You are Lord Silverloch, I presume? Max asked, shaking the extended hand. You are correct, but please call me Seth. Seth said, smiling. He then waived Max to a seat next to Anna. I have already taken the initiative, and placed all of our orders. Max almost frowned, You shouldn''t have, Seth. No, no Seth smiled, Don''t worry about it, it was the least I could do. That was the moment the wait staff chose to enter with the meal. A meal that started with a bitter soup (to cleanse the palate); then a simple peasant salad (with more meat than a peasant could afford); a second light and salty soup; then the main dish, a deep-fried swan, fresh grease dripping down it''s back, with thin wires holding it in a striking pose, accompanied by tubers, squash, and a thick gravy; last was a platter of mixed sweats, and a sweet cordial. The meal took well over an hour to consume. At last, full to the point of bursting, Max sighed. Maybe I judged too quickly. Seth does know how to pick food. He thought. Thank you for the food and conversation, Lord, Lady, Anna. Think nothing of it, my good man! Seth replied. While the ladies go off and powder their noses, I do have a couple of questions for you, man to man. Anna and her mother took their cue, and departed. As you are well aware, my daughter has become quite smitten by you, and has asked us to look into things to see if you would be a suitable husband. Seth said. We have done so over the last while, and even the church has given it''s blessing. So we have come to meet with you, and to ask when you will be asking for her hand in marriage. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Max sighed and slumped in his chair for a moment, before sitting up, I was concerned that this may happen. I regret to inform you that I have no intention, or interest, in marrying your daughter. I would much prefer to have her as a friend than as a wife or a lover. Seth shot to his feet, knocking over his chair, HOW DARE YOU! He shouted. We invite you out to an expensive dinner, and offer you the hand of our lovely daughter in marriage, and you Dare snub us like this?!? Draw steel you cad! Lord Silverloch, you have no sword to draw, and so I will not fight you. Max said, rolling his eyes and standing. Even if you did have one, I still would not fight you. I like Anna, As a Friend, and it would hurt her to see her father dead. Seth''s eyes bulged, his breath grew ragged. He grunted and threw the table into the wall. You cowardly whelp! I will kill you for this insult! He charged at Max. Max ducked out of the way of the charging elf, stepped to the right, and fled from the establishment. I will NOT kill Anna''s father over something so stupid as this. Idiots. *-*-* 21st of Kielat, Anna hasn''t been around. Not surprised. Willa was laughing at my story of what transpired upon meeting Anna''s parents. I have realized that Willa is probably also nursing feelings for me, I will need to nip this off. Sigh. 22nd of Kielat, I took Willa out for a drink this evening, and told her about my wife, attempted suicides, my actual (as far as I remember) age, and my vow against relationships and marriage. I think she gets it now. She did give me a hug. 47th of Kielat, I have been quite remiss in my journaling of late... A quick review. Anna is no longer around, I miss our talks, I wish her well. Willa is talking to me less. Finals start next week. My single shot rifle is almost done. I have decided to close the barrel with an Interrupted Thread screw, with a floating firing pin in the center. Removing the spent shell will involve using a dowel, but it is still a prototype. 3rd of Amsiel, Finals were harder. I enjoyed them. My grades aren''t worth mentioning, except that I passed. Upon talking to my classmates, I probably should have been graded higher. Meh. The archdean has requested another lecture. I have politely declined, using my grades as proof that I need more practice if I am going to graduate. 5th of Amsiel, Last month there was some annoying thumping in the basement. Now it is in the walls on the ground floor. The gnoll claims it is a ghost haunting us. Meh. 6th of Amsiel, The sound is becoming more persistent. My final project from last quarter has gone missing from my room, a red and black glass herb pipe. I am annoyed, as my lock wasn''t touched. Perhaps I will need to ward my room. 10th of Amsiel, A localized earthquake woke me this morning. By localized, I mean that it was just Murphy''s Hall, nothing else. I hope it isn''t because of anything I have done. 11th of Amsiel, The thumping is louder than ever. It seems to be in my ceiling. I will investigate tomorrow afternoon. For tonight I will stay in an inn. 12th of Amsiel, It wasn''t a ghost. It was a damn pixie. It lives in a cage on my desk now. I have returned it''s treasure trove of goods to their rightful owners. Well the newest items, anyway. It has been collecting things for 200 years. The rest of the haul is in my trunk. *-*-* Maxwell waited for the noise to come again. When it did, he jumped and put his fists through the ceiling of his room. His left hand brushed something soft, and he grabbed for it, once, twice, on the third grab he caught it. It wriggled in his hand, then bit him. He let go of the ceiling joist with his right hand, and dropped to the floor. He gasped when he saw the contents of his left hand. A half strangled pixie. *-*-* The pixie was beautiful, if a bit feral, stomping it''s purple skinned foot on the bottom of the cage. An Iron and Steel cage Max had bought at an estate sale several years back for a project, although he couldn''t remember what project at the moment. He had covered the floor of the cage with a sheet of wood, so the pixie wouldn''t get hurt from the iron. It was currently keening at him in a high pitched voice. Look, little lady, you aren''t a dragon, so you don''t get to sleep on a bed of gold. Max said, looking at the small, now red glowing, figure in the cage. Maybe copper? He waited for another burst of noise. Fine, silver is acceptable. Now you mentioned you have more stuff squirreled away? Yes, I will keep to our agreement. I give you food so you don''t have to ransack the dorm, and lodging, and you give me your treasure, such as it is. He said, after another burst of noise. And no, I can''t believe they thought you were a ghost either! Bunch of idiots. 59 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Other Happenings While Maxwell is in school, many others are doing their on things, such as the Darkness deep down under the mountain... The Underdeep. 12th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2126 years since the new gods came. She rolled over in her cavern, deep under the mountain where even the dwarves dared not tread. She hurt, the pain running from one feeler up through her body and ending at her neck. If not for that stupid Gobb, I would be dead... Gobb... You fool you! Why did you have to save me? She flexed herself, and again shuddered at the burning pain. She took a deep breath, held it for a heartbeat, then exhaled. She drifted back to sleep. *-*-* 16th of Amsiel, Terrance Einar lafsson; 11th descendant of The Einar lafsson; sat on his chair in the castle''s library. In front of him was a pile of books, unbound manuscripts, and a few scrolls. All of which had been left behind by his many times removed grandfather. He sighed. The church of Knowledge had yet again sent a representative to attempt to collect this gathering of knowledge from Einar''s home world. He sighed again for effect. The family has been dodging those emissaries for years. How have they not gotten a clue yet? Idiots. Idiots! Why can''t they get it through their skulls that we will never give up these old books? They are His legacy! They are what has made this family, And the land He loved, better! Terrance almost yelled. From the door, his distant cousin and best friend Gregory looked up from the ''story'' he was reading, Still worried about the priests? They do seem more persistent this year. Yes, and I am getting angrier by the minute. He looked around, Where is that tele-stone godfather Maxwell gave us? Perhaps he has some advice... Greg pushed his chair back and away from the door, Now, now cousin, I''m sure there is no need for that... Although, if you hinted to the church that you were getting ready to call for his aid...? Terrance smiled, all of his teeth showing. Oh. Oh yes. This, this will be fun. *-*-* Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell. ''Mr. Smith'', an assassin followed Maxwell down an alley leading home from The Drowned Duck. This was the third time in a row that he had poisoned the man, and he kept coming back! He was going to make sure that this time he died. He watched Max stumble, then fall. This time there was enough poison! He fell, he should be finally dead! He thought. I used enough this time to kill a pair of bulls. He stared as Maxwell stood back up a few minutes later, and walked home. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. A few hours later Mr. Smith spoke to his employer... No sir. That is what I saw. Mr. Smith said into the small looking glass. Three minutes after falling down, he stood back up, and walked home. Whistling. No. I will take the hit to my reputation. I won''t try again. Mr. Smith replied, No, I refuse. I learned yesterday that this has been tried before, by better than me. I was told to inform you that The Guild will not be taking any more contracts on his life. The assassin sighed as he put the device away. Now I understand why he calls people Idiots. *-*-* Anna punched the looking glass. It barely shook. How dare he! She screamed it the poor thing. It was bad enough that he pressed him on the whole marriage idea. But this? The absolute IDIOT! She walked over to her overstuffed, and very comfortable bed, curled up into a ball on it, and screamed into her pillow for a long time. If anyone had been able to hear her through the charms on the room, they would have heard her repeat a single word: Idiot. *-*-* The Underdeep, Time had passed, but the pain had not. She awoke from her slumber again. Something had awakened her. She opened a single bloodshot eye, and looked around the chamber. There, in the doorway she saw a small figure, barely more than a child. It looked at her in shock, then bowed. The child was small, as most children were, it''s skin pale to the point of translucent, even if slightly tinged with green, a sign of the ever distant heritage. It''s hair was white, eyes violet, and large. A creature she thought was beautiful. Quietly, ever so quietly, she spoke to the child, Child. Come, sit, talk. The child obeyed. I...I need help. I need prayers. Prayers for healing. Please? She said. The child''s eyes widened, then it nodded. Yes, mistress of the night. I will tell. We will come. Thank you. Thank you. She slurred the last word, and sleep overwhelmed her once more. Time, fleeting and constant, passed. She awoke again, the pain was almost gone! She opened her eyes, and stared around her. People. People sat, on stood, or kneeled around her. Quiet voices barely broke the silence. She felt like she was in a tomb...Or a holy place. She slowly sat up on her bed. Her bed? Somehow she was in a bed! Blankets over her! And a PILLOW! She yawned, and stretched. They had done it. They had saved her. People. Her people. Her People. They were staring at her now, so she stood, and spoke. People. You are My People. I should have claimed you millenia ago, but in my arrogance and stupidity, I did not. I rectify that sin now. You. All of you, here with me this eternal night, and all who dwell here, in my caverns, holes, crevices, and chambers. I say to you all, I Claim You. All Of You. You are mine to protect. To keep safe. To help. I will NEVER abandon you again. Never again, my people. In the world above, in the deep caves of the dwarves, the trees of the elves, on the plaines where the gnolls herded their sheep and cattle, even the mountain tops where the dragons laid their eggs, something changed. Perhaps the world gained a bit of light? Perhaps the sun was warmer? Perhaps a wizard''s spell was slightly easier to cast? For those who watched for such things, while they couldn''t place their digit on it, they knew Something had changed. *-*-* Meanwhile, in the Island nation of Oldwell, a Blacksmith was completing his second year of training at an academy. His best friends, Willa and Anna, were meeting him for drinks at The Drowning Duck, to celebrate the end of another year of school. In a small town located in northern Garthia, an overly large tree that sat in the courtyard of a smithing school, was allowing itself to be cut down in preparation for what was looking to be a bad winter storm. Last, but not least, a Goat felt something on the currents of time and space. He smiled. His little Sister...had come home. 60 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Pixie Dust Late fall, 2126 years since the new gods came. Brandywine, the Pixie Ghost of Murphy''s Hall, sat up in her bed. It was quite a nice bed; not that she would ever tell HIM that; made of thistledown, pink silk sheets, and a pile of silver coins as a base. She stretched, and looked around her room. Okay, not a room exactly, a gilded cage of silver and Iron. The floor was covered in a nice piece of well polished and oiled mahogany, and a lush wool covered most of that. Her door had been changed out for one made of silver and gold, with an intricate lock. All said and done, she liked it very much. She heard the voices from outside, and realized they were what had wakened her from her nap. Hey! Bigjobs! Tell those floozies to shut it! She yelled at the mortal. Well, perhaps ''Mortal'' wasn''t the proper term for him. Immortal, gods touched human? She thought. Naw too long. Mortal it is! I can''t finish my nap with their noise! Brandy, you''ve been taking your nap for almost 2 weeks now. Come out here and have some food! He responded, They brought cookies! Her stomach rumbled at the mere idea of food. Do they have those awful dried grapes in them, or those sweet black chips? Chocolate chips! He replied. She threw open her door and flew out of it, racing for the cookie tray. Landing lightly on the edge of the tray, she selected the sweet treat nearest to her, a cookie nearly as big as she was, and hefted it in one hand. She eyed the thing like it may contain something disgusting, then bit into it with her razor sharp teeth, demolishing it in a matter of seconds. The two female mortals in the room stared at her while she ate. What? You never seen a pixie eat before? She asked around a bite, Stupid mortals! Brandy, that was a very rude thing to say to our guests. He said. Fine. I apologize. It''s just, they''re so annoying! She replied, eyeing another cookie. He sighed, If you eat too much, you won''t be able to enjoy the picnic lunch we''re having later. A Picnic? Hmm... She thought, still eyeing the cookies. Fine. Tell the mortals I say thank you for the tribute of cookies. He sighed. Very well. Willa? Anna? Brandy says ''thank you'' for the cookies. The two female mortals looked at Brandy, and, almost in unison, said You''re welcome. Brandy left the cookie platter, and walked over to her ''Throne'', really just a high backed chair, on the table, looked at the women, and started thinking back... *-*-* So, mortal, who isn''t mortal, you just happened to catch me and stick me in this cage? Brandy said. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Well, you were making a lot of noise, and I was trying to sleep. Well, fine. I understand wanting to have a good long nap. That is after all, how I got stuck in this stupid building in the first place! Brandy said, starting to pace around her cage. I mean, really! Who puts Alchemical Iron in their paint and glass?!? She stomped hard on the pine planking of the cage''s floor, making it crack. I asked around. Apparently, at the time of building, there was a flock of wild pixies destroying the local buildings and stealing all the crops. Master Murphy didn''t want to be bothered by them, so when he built the place he covered it alchemical iron, and glazed the windows with the same wash. Yes. And I got stuck inside because I took a nice nap! Brandy said, sharp face pouting. If he was still around, I would stab him so hard! He''s been dead for 600 years, Brandy. So you told me. How long must I live like a prisoner in this place? It''s so small and cramped! Brandy asked, bouncing back to a better mood. Well, the new floor will be done by the end of the week. And your bedding will be ready tomorrow. And what do you mean by small? I took the door off already! Brandy sighed, It''s about time, Mortal. My name is Maxwell. How many times do I have to tell you that? Max snapped. This ''Mortal'' thing is getting old. Fast. Well, excuse me! How am I supposed to remember that you are 500 some odd years old, and can''t die? I have soo many other things on my mind! Brandy retorted. Like breakfast, Brunch(!), lunch, dinner, Bedtime Snack(!), and Midnight Snack(!). She thought. I suppose my sisters really were wrong, mortals do have some good ideas. As Liam used to say, Meh. Maxwell rolled his eyes, Silly fairy. Brandy stomped her foot hard enough to crack the board again. I AM NOT A FAIRY! YOU IGNORANT--- Maxwell cut her off with laughter. Sever minutes later when he had finished he said, Sorry, sorry, I''m sorry. It''s just, the look on your face when I say that... He started giggling. After a while, brandy started to giggle as well. *-*-* So, you three are back together again? Even with what your father did, elf girl? Brandy asked from her throne. Yes, Lady Brandywine. Even after my father, the Idiot, did what he did. Anna sighed and rolled her eyes, thinking about her father, then straightened in her chair. You were here when I came to apologize to Lord Maxwell after the...incident. Yes, yes I was. And such a pretty apology it was too. Brandy giggled, thinking of the weeping girl knocking at the door, and crying as she apologized to Max. I was almost in tears. Oh shush, you. You agreed to keep that to yourself. Anna blushed. So, a picnic today? That sounds like a lovely idea. Brandy said, wings fluttering on an imaginary breeze, I will accompany you. But only to keep Maxwell safe from you both. You are most kind and generous. Willa said from behind Brandy. Brandy jumped. After regaining her breath, Brandy said Girl, would you not do that? Maxwell, tell her to stop sneaking up on me like that! Maxwell just laughed at his three friends. Then he sighed, remembering that, to him, the two mortals would be dead in the blink of an eye. *-*-* Brandy laid back on the grass in the park the girls had chosen for today''s picnic. The sun was warm, the sky a proper blue, and the trees had just started to turn the lovely shades of fall. It was good to be outdoors at last. Something flew over head. Sorry! Excuse me! Coming through! A random voice yelled as it came closer. Then a foot came down towards Brandys face. She rolled out of the way, and bit the bare foot. Take that you asshole! She yelled. The running man stopped, looked at his foot, and then at the blood covered pixie, and screamed. Ahhhh PIXIE! PIXIE! Run for your lives! He bravely ran away. Maxwell looked over, You could have just ignored him. And what lesson would that have taught him? This is a place of learning. Should not I also teach lessons? Well...I don''t think it actually works that way, but whatever floats your boat. I''m not bailing you out of jail this time. Maxwell replied. You wouldn''t dare!?! Brandy said, mouth agape. Try me. Max said, and smiled. 61 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XIII Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell. 7th of Anael, the first month of snow. 2128 years since the new gods came. Brandywine found a new candy shop this morning. Sugar will be the death of her. *-*-* Maxwell rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn. He looked around his room while he yawned. He hadn''t heard Brandywine, his Pixie roommate, come in through the door he had added in the window. He stretched, yawned again, threw on some clothes, and headed out back of the hall to start his morning. He stretched, exercised, and generally made himself sweat in the dawn''s early light. Once he was completely awake, he picked up a tree branch he had whittled into a practice sword and began his weapon practice. His entire morning routine took him about an hour. Next was a trip to the indoor bath in the basement, and then breakfast. He greeted a few of the other residents of Murphy''s Hall on his way out. Just past the door, the pixie ran into him at speed. Max! You have to come see this! she yelled in his ear. I''m on my way to class. What''s so important? Max lightheartedly grumbled at Brandy. A Candy Shop! Brandy replied, trying to pull his ear off. And such was his morning. *-*-* 10th of Anael, My 2 years of apprenticeship here have come and gone. I have learned all the basics of the craft, as glassblowing pertains to it. My history with being a smith and timker have let me test out of a lot of classes. At mid-month I will graduate to journeyman, and be leaving this wonderful city. I will miss Anna and Willa. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The new postal service has arrived. Liam''s idea has been well received here. I have sent letters to all of my living friends, or their descendants. Much cheaper than making more tele-stones. Although, I am still going to make them. I think I will visit the family after graduation. Then I will head west. West, where no one knows who I am. I wonder if Brandywine will accompany me. 27th of Anael, Graduation was today. I didn''t fall down. I didn''t drink much either. Brandy has agreed to accompany me out west. I wonder what I will find. Whatever it is, I am going to start up the Naked Eagle shop again. Millrock, Coxnia, Kingdom of Garthia, 52nd of Anael, 2128 years since the new gods came, 25 days of tedious travel, and I have made it to Millrock to visit the my Godchildren. The church of Knowledge is harassing them about the old books lafsson left behind. I will have words with them on Terrance''s behalf. 53rd of Anael, Had words with the church. Didn''t have to shoot anyone. Yelled a lot. *-*-* So you are telling me, with a straight face, that you only want to put the books into your collection? Max''s raised voice could be heard all the way across the library that was the church of knowledge. I call Bullshit. The local head of the church, a miss Tawyn Luckydrop, looked at the living legend before her and gulped, Um, yes? You''re serious? Max asked, voice carrying tones of surprise. Your church has been hounding them for centuries about that collection. What gives? Well, aside from the occasional zealots that come here to try and strong arm the lafsson family, Tawyn twitched, We don''t really need them. The books, I mean. Lord Einar actually lent us the books while he was writing them, and already shared the knowledge with us. Several of his treatise on farming are in public circulation! Not a day goes by that someone isn''t arguing about the methods of crop rotation that he explained, only as to which crop can be substituted for what. Max just looking at the cleric, eyes wide. Then a blush crept up his face. Well, shit. *-*-* 16th of Arah, second month of snow, two and a half weeks of godchildren is more than I can take. It has been fun. The church has made a public ruleing about the books remaining in the lafsson family in perpetuity. I''m leaving well before sunrise. Brandywine is getting fat. The children love her. 19th of Arah, I have purchased a new cart and horse for the trip north and west. I keep pushing on into the cold. As the bird flies, it is about 500 miles to my old home inWildreach. I wonder if they have gotten rid of that stupid statue yet? Shouldn''t take more than 30 or so days. 32nd of Arah, A group of bandits took the piece of gold, and ran away! Well, there is a first time for everything. ...Well, truth be told, it was a toll bridge... 53rd of Arah, I will arrive tomorrow. I have mixed feelings. Brandywine has told me to just suck it up. Fat lot she knows. She has lost weight since we left lafsson''s castle. 61.1 A Tale of Ghondish - H&H 3 I have found a new player! Ghondish almost yelled to his players as they arrived. Maxamilian looked up from his character sheet, After your debacle with the goddess of the afterlife, I''m surprised you even continued looking. Hey, how was I to know that she had banned the game? Ghondish asked, mouth forming into a slight smile, It''s not my fault it''s so popular down there. So, who is the new player? Pendleton asked, sitting down at the large table. My little sister, Sarah. Ghondish smiled. You have a sister?!? Kocha exclaimed. Is she cute? I think my little sister is cute. But that''s me. Ghondish rolled his eyes, But your mileage may vary. She is the goddess of small shadows. Pendleton cocked his head to one side, I''ve never heard of her. How new is she? Sick of hearing the boys talk, Serric; goddess of darkness and shadow; stepped out of the kitchen of the barn she was sharing with her brother, only until I have my own place, she reminded herself. I am very new to godhood She lied. The boys stared at her. Then Kocha coughed, Um, nice to meet you, goddess Sarah. Welcome to Humans and Highrises. *-*-* Well, if she is going to act like that, I reach across the bar table and slap her. Sarah said. Maxamilian, eyes wide, stammered, Y-yo-you are going to slap the LEVEL 8 Karen?!? You have more balls than I! I bow to your biggest brass balls! He nodded across the table. I have better than Balls, as I have ''Ovaries''. She rolled the die, then looked over to her brother, I have a 19 total. Does that hit? Yes. In fact you hit her hard enough that she falls off her chair. Ghondish replied, wincing. Good. I stand up, and using my ''oration'' skill, I loudly denounce her for being a total douche-canoe, and a blight upon the entire Townhouse complex. Roll it. Was all Ghondish could say. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Sarah rolled the die, Roll high, roll high... The die rolled and bounced across the table. Everyone present held their breath. The die came to a halt... 18. The table exhaled. My name, that was dramatic! Maximilian exclaimed. I was actually worried. Me too, was exclaimed around the table. Alright, I''m only a level 2, but my Charisma bonus is +3, and Proficiency bonus is +2...Oh, my Feat ''Words of Truth'' give double proficiency! So total bonus is +7. Sarah said, excitement leaking from every pore; as behind her shadows danced across the walls. Total of 25! Eat that bitch! Ok, she rolls to resist... Ghondish rolled a die, And...bugger. What? Pendleton asked. Come around here, P, and look at the roll? Ghondish asked. Pendleton obliged, and started to laugh. A one? You rolled a Nat 1? He continued laughing, as he sat back down. RAW stares that a Nat 1, or Nat 20 for that matter, have no bearing on skill rolls. Maximilian stated. Kocha nodded, Still, that is funny as hell. Maximilian grinned. Yup. Your attention please? Ghondish asked. Her Wisdom ''Saving Throw'' total, as a level 8 Karen, gives her a total of 12. He grinned at the table, She failed. Cheers erupted from around the table. *-*-* Much later that evening, Serric was in her proper form again, and discussing the game with her big brother. Well, I like the new edition. Much less clunky that the one Gobb taught us to play. Serric said. Yes. The rules back then were horrendous. Converting rolls to a chart, to get under a base? What a waste. Ghondish replied. So, what do you think of the boys? I like them. They are all a bit young for my taste, But Kocha is nice, and Pendleton is so sweet! Maximilian reminds me of Korekk the Slayer, but without the blood spattered armor. Remember when Korekk decided to play an arsonist? Ghondish laughed. It took us months to figure out it was him all along! That guy was quicker in his brain than on his feet. I never thought of him as ''Just a War God'' after that. Right? Serric laughed, then sobered. He was covering our retreat when Gobb died, and I fell. She shook herself. I pray to the universe that he still lives. Ghondish hung his head, then looked up, I''m pretty sure of it. At least he wasn''t in the afterlife when I snuck in to talk with Ilaldin. She''s the new god of death? Serric asked. Sorry, god of the grave? Not exactly. Ghondish replied, Death is still Death, no one wants to fight HIM. No, she took up the mantle Exandis vacated, and altered things to also be in charge of the afterlife as well. She is doing an excellent job of it too. He took a breath, So, about the game? I like it. I think I will keep on playing. Serric smiled, It will never be the same as the old group, but I like it. Good. Ghondish smiled at his little sister. And I''m glad to have you back. Buuut, did you have to play a Karen? 62 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – The end of Tristan October 31, 1903 He looked up into the eyes of his young son, and smiled. Remember, Maxwell, if you ever go to war, remember, be on the right side of history. He coughed. The consumption would take him tonight. He knew it, and smiled. I hope I have made amends enough. He turned his head, coughed again, looking at the collar, the rosary, and the cloak of his office that hung on the wall next to his bed. And son, I will be with you, always. A coughing fit took him again, and he slept. At midnight, under a full moon, Tristan Abernathy, hero of the south, Hero of another world, husband and father, breathed his last. *-*-* 1914, Fall His trench had fallen. Maxwell Abernathy kissed the locket chained around his neck that contained the the picture of his pregnant wife. He looked at his rifle, ammunition expended, at his fallen comrades, and he awaited his death. As the Storm-trooper crested the top of his trench, he felt a weight at his side, and looked down. A gun belt from the Civil War, was strapped around him. In it were a pair of revolvers. He withdrew the one on his right and stared at the black, light devouring, metal in his hand. The Colt Army Model 1860 seemed to look back at him, and laugh. He looked at the Storm-trooper in front of him, cocked the hammer, just as his father had shown him, with this exact gun, and fired. *-*-* The sniper of the Canadian Expeditionary Force silently stepped into the trench that had fallen to the enemy, in search of more German uniform parts for his collection. He stopped and stared at the sight before him. He had expected a quiet trench of Germans, looking around, maybe scavenging food or sundries. What he saw stopped him cold. If an artillery shell had struck...no, two or three shells had struck, together, it would account for the carnage, and parts of bodies... but not for the acid like burns or limbs that were severed and cauterized, that decorated the hell that lay before him. In the center of it all, lay the corpse of a man, gripping a pair of old fashioned revolvers. As he approached the body, he stared as the revolvers dissolved before him. In the silence of the night, he buried the man in the bottom of the trench. He touched nothing else. I pray his afterlife is better than this place, the sniper thought as he left the trench as quietly as he had entered. Echoing in his ears, a quiet voice repeated Victory or death. Either is fine. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. *-*-* June 28th, 1927 Arkansas Junior looked over the lunch table at his mother, Mother, why do we not have share croppers on our land? Because your Grandfather forbade it. His will was very adamant on the point. ''...No slavery will EVER be allowed on My Land. Nothing even remotely related to slavery is to be permitted...'' Your father was also very clear on the concept as well. Mrs. Abernathy said. But Jamie at church said that we were loosing a fortune by actually employing niggers to farm--- Mrs Abernathy slapped him from across the table. If you EVER use that word again, I will put you over my knee and spank you until you see next week. *-*-* June 6th, 1944 Normandy He sat bleeding behind a rock; his M1 rifle lay empty on the sand next to him. In the moments of quiet between the mortars and artillery, he could hear the cries of pain around him, and the death rattles. He thought of his wife, Annabel, and his children, Maxwell the 3rd and Laura. I wish I had a picture of them...I wish I could do something. Like a mirage come to life, an old lever action rifle appeared before him, leaning against the rock as pretty as a picture. He lifted it, aimed it at the cliff that overlooked the beach, and started to fire. And in the back of his mind a phrase was repeating: Victory or Death. Either is Fine. *-*-* August 23rd, 1944 Arkansas A letter. It had come at last. Delivered by a man in service clothes, and accompanied by a pair of dog tags. Dear Mrs. Abernathy, We regret to inform you of the death... She fell to the floor, and wept. At the top of the stairs, little Max held his sister, and cried. *-*-* Arkansas, 1952 Maxwell Tristan Abernathy the 3rd, stood at the top of the stairs of the family mansion. He had heard a noise. His mother was at the cinema tonight, so it wasn''t her. His little sister was sleeping, he had checked. His eyes roamed the first floor from his vantage point. He heard the sound again, a scratching noise. It was coming from under the stairway! He scooted over a few feet so he could get a better view. More scratching, then a door that hadn''t opened for most of a century creaked open, exposing a man. No not a man, a something. Light from the half full moon fell through the cloudy sky and illuminated a creature. A thing of nightmares, all claws and teeth, and leathery arms and wings. Maxwell gasped, and the thing looked up. Large round eyes, glowing an unhealthy green, with horizontal slits for pupils skewered his guts. He squeaked. Dear God. Anything. I would give anything! HELP! His mind screamed, as the thing started to ascend the stairs. Something heavy, and cold, appeared in his left hand. Something that seemed to drink the light. He pointed the ancient revolver at the thing, cocked the hammer and fired. *-*-* The next morning he jerked awake in bed. He sat up, Okay, it was just a bad dream. Then he looked at his nightstand, and saw the revolver. Oh. Shit. He got up and went looking for answers. 63 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – El Gato Mexico City, Modern Day. The fight had been fierce, starting with the I don''t see you, so you don''t exist, then the I stare at you to show dominance, then the I have eaten your food, what are you going to do about it; and now he felt the crushing loss of defeat, as he had lost all three and been driven to attack. He had won that part of the battle, at least, even with the loss of the eye, but next time he wouldn''t be so lucky. As much as he was able, he was still just a cat, and he thought as a cat. Food, shelter, territory, mates. These are what is important in life. He had lost all of them. It was time to move on. His life had been long, as far as a street cat''s life could go, he was near the end at almost 6 years. If it wasn''t from poison, disease, larger predators, or vehicles, he would still die of malnutrition. The wounds from the last fight were still fresh but had scabbed over, and so, he lay in His sunbeam. It was warm on his old, and well scarred skin, better, it felt good. He eventually rolled over, and bathed his other side for a while, but not too long, as the sun did weird things to the shredded eye on that side of his head. Eventually he stood, and stretched, one of those comforting full body stretches that cats are know for the world over, and looked around. The new head tom on the block wasn''t around, so he gingerly picked his way down the alley, and turned left. Then EVERYTHING changed. *-*-* He looked around. Then he stared around. What was this? He crouched, hackles raised. Grass? Trees? He had seen neither since he was a kitten! He slunk along, towards the nearest line of trees, and fled into them. He calmed himself, licked at his patchy, dirty fur, and gave up. Then he heard it! The sound of a bird! A bird on the ground! He crouched. Bird was tasty food. Not as good as scraps from the meat place, but better than food from the metal bins. He let his ears, then nose, lead him to the bird. It was small. It was in a puddle, near the edge of the trees, among some grass that had unquestionably been planted to allow predators to have cover. He surreptitiously crept across the short grass, and hid amongst the tall stocks. His stiff tail twitched silently as his hind brain made the calculations. He sprang. *-*-* The small dove, looked about. It saw nothing but the lovely cool water it was bathing in. It was happy. Then, it was dead. *-*-* The elderly tom cat was, for the first time in ages, happy. The bird had tasted better than anything he had eaten before. It hadn''t been quite enough to fill the stomach, but close. He lay in the sun speckled grass near the trees, and slept. *-*-* He arose from his slumber, and stretched... His tail wasn''t stiff?!? That was odd. Welcome, but odd. He looked around, and spotted the puddle. He lazed over to it, and looked down. It was clear, and reflective. He could see the scars on his face, the healed eye-socket, the gray/white of his fur, the blue of the sky, and white of the clouds. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Blue...Blue? What is this? He thought, I can only see in shades of gray! What is Gray? Why can I think? What in the great Purr is going on?!? He shook his head and took a drink from the puddle. I am cat. These things are beneath me. I will not worry overlong about them. He went about his day. *-*-* The shadows were long, as Mr. Mouse took his stroll down the side of the building full of grain. It had been a good day. He was happy. Right up till the moment the thing of horror and nightmares had come around the corner. Scars of battle covered it, and where they weren''t, it had fluffy gray and white fur. It only had one eye! And it was made of tooth and claw. Mr. Mouse dumped pellets on the ground. His hind brain screamed. He shook. The thing was grace incarnate! It looked at him and Smiled. *-*-* The fat little mouse had been a tasty treat, but the cane it had been using? Not so much. He felt kind of bad for eating the little fellow, but it hadn''t said anything, so it was fair game. It didn''t matter, what was done was done. He stuck his tail in the air and walked on. This will be MY new kingdom. Over the course of the evening he hunted and napped in turns. Rabbit and squirrel were tasty, fish was better, but required more work. Bird was good. Boar was dangerous. He decided to avoid the boar in the future. He marked his territory, and generally enjoyed himself. Then it came calling... *-*-* Look you little fluff ball, These are My people you have been eating. A very angry goat eyed a somewhat worried cat. You keep it up, and we will have more than words. And why should I listen to some jumped up farm dweller? The cat asked. And the goat changed. Not much, just slightly, but he changed. ...Okay...How about if they don''t talk back? Can I eat them then? The goat changed back, I can accept that. If they don''t respond, you may eat them. He cocked his head a bit to the left, How did you come here? Cats were intentionally excluded from the celestial realm. You are bad for the ecosystem. Well, your ancient god of natur- Don''t. Never say what you were about to say. The goat interrupted. NEVER. As you wish. The cat swished his tail. So much for buttering him up. I think I will do what he says, otherwise things WILL get messy. And I don''t think I would even come close to winning...When did I start to think in terms beyond base survival? This is weird. I come from...another place? A place of black roads that soak up the sun. Where the air is dank, and poisoned. A place of humans and machines. Oh, you come from the Other world. The goat sighed. Very well. Don''t eat the talking ones. Stay hidden from the other gods. If you get caught, you are on your own. The goat turned, and walked away. *-*-* Maximilian? I think I saw a cat! Narissa, goddess of tranquility, looked at her sometimes friend and lover. Really? Didn''t you have them deliberately excluded? Maximilian replied, tone light. Yes. They are anything but tranquil. I want you to hunt it down, and kill it! Narissa said. Hmm... Very well, my little flower. But first, why? Why do you hate them so? Don''t worry your pretty little head about it. Just get rid of the damned thing. *-*-* He had decided, at last, his name was Tom. Tom Cat, El Gato, King of the Celestial realm! Then the man came running at him. He poofed his tail, and for effect, all the rest of the fur on his body. The man yelled at him, and charged. El Gato did what any respectable ruler would do. He jumped on the foolish mans head. He Clawed and bit him. *-*-* That damn cat! He almost took out my eye! Maximilian yelled. He hurt me worse than Maxwell! These scratches will take forever to heal!! He took a deep breath. In My name, I will Kill that bastard cat! *-*-* And so, the G?tterd?mmerung of El Gato the Great and Mighty, began. 64 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XIV The Road, Kingdom of Garthia, 54th of Anael, 2128 years since the new gods came. I''m stalling. I really don''t want to visit the family school. It gets uncomfortable. Maybe I''ll go to my vault and switch out some gear. *-*-* The old farm was deserted. The crop land overgrown by more than a decade, the fence broken, the house half burned, and the old barn fallen in on itself. It looked like it had when he first bought the place. He carefully crept through the vacant yard, and across the feed lot, into the back most section of the barn. Under a pile of fresh bird droppings, and a larger pile of dead and rotting hay he opened a trap door that moved smoothly on well oiled hinges. The still intact 500 year old wards on the passage allowed easy access to the tunnel below the cellar. His decent into the depths of the ancient root cellar took only a few minutes, but as things do underground, it felt like hours. At last he arrived at his destination, his ''Vault''. Looking around, he saw no trace of intrusion, and sighed in relief. Glad things are still intact. In her cage, Brandy complained, Can I come out yet? Yes. Brandy opened the door to her room, and stared. The vault, once the lights were lit, Sparkled. Gold, gems, pieces of art, silver, refined bars of star metal, celestial steel, and even bars of Elvin Mithral! Even the many many racks of tools and weapon gleamed in the light. For what was probably the first time in her long and sordid life, she was speechless. Y...Yo...You...! It''s like a dragon hoard in here! Three of them, actually. Tristan and I didn''t just hunt the demon lord, you know. Max smiled. *-*-* Tom Cat, El Gato, King of the Celestial realm, was having a bad day. He had been following the Head God''s instructions, and definitely NOT been eating any creatures that could talk back! How was he to know that fish could talk? It had never said anything! Well it had said Glub glub, but by that logic, all fish could speak! He ran. Who knew that the goddess who owned that fish was so good with a broom? And boy could she run. He made it to the relative safety of the trees, and lost her by pulling a squirrel. Glad that''s over with. *-*-* The central meeting hall of the gods was full to bursting. Extra chairs had been brought in from other buildings, and all of the snacks were gone. Tempers were running hot, and the populace was having none of it. That damn cat ate my fish! Toruer, goddess of Dreams, yelled at Maximilian. I want his head! I''m working on it. And don''t yell at me, I''m not the one who left a damn portal open! Maximilian yelled back. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Narissa, goddess of tranquility, was anything but tranquil. I demand a Hunt. The room went silent. As one, the room of gods looked at her. In the back of the crowd, someone spoke up, Really? Are you sure? Yes. It is the only way to rid the realm of the vile creature! It is bad enough that they live in the world! But here? I say thee Nay! Narissa replied, venom almost dripping from her mouth. I call for a vote! Hesitantly, hands were raised, and the vote counted. *-*-* Tom lazed on a tree branch, up in the top of the canopy of his forest. He sighed as the sun bathed him, and the breeze tickled his whiskers. Then he heard the sound. A Bark. He fell from his perch, but adjusted his fall and landed softly on his feet. On silent paws he crept to the edge of the wood, and stared. The dog was slowly sniffing at the ground, and with a wagging of tails, then it trotted towards him. Tom puffed himself up, and stepped out to meet the new threat. Hello, dog. You should scamper back to your masters now. Tom purred at the dog. In the distance, Tom could see the lesser gods yelling encouragement to the overly large, three headed creature that approached him. If you don''t, I will have to teach you respect. The dog, tails wagging, slobbered all over the ground. Oh, oh, oh! A cat! I''ve never seen a cat before! Do you want to be friends? The dog started to try and sniff Tom''s butt. No. Now begone, or I will say the hated words. Tom replied with a growling hiss. The dog stopped. No! You wouldn''t! No no no no no! It whined. Tom raised himself to his full height, placed a paw on the nose of the central head, and hissed, BAD DOG! NO BISCUIT! GO HOME! The dog whined, tucked his tails between his legs, and bolted for his kennel, not to be seen again for a hundred years. In the distance, the gods, dumbfounded, stared. *-*-* I suppose we will have to do it ourselves. Narissa grumbled at the crowd. CHARGE! The crowd of gods charged across the field at Tom. A lightning bolt flew at him, and he jumped to the left. An arrow missed him by inches. He bolted into the crowd. A foot missed him, and he wound himself between the legs of someone, causing them to loose their balance and fall. Using the fallen god as a jumping off point, he leapt for a face in the crowd, and dug his claws in. A broom swung at him, and he kicked off the face, letting the broom impact the blooded god''s head. He landed in the cleavage of a very well endowed goddess, and dug in his claws for another jump. She screamed, and flung him off. He bounced on the ground, and bolted for the granary. He leapt to the roof, and sat down. As he cleaned his claws, he watched the mob of gods beat at each other. When the cleaning was done, he let out the song of his people. Merrrrooowww! The assembled gods stared up at him. With all eyes properly affixed to his form, he announced, in cat (the only proper language), This is my plain of existence. You are all my staff, and you will act like it. A lightning bolt whipped past his head. Tough crowd. I may have to put on my charm. He stood, and stretched, posing in the way that had always gotten him treats as a kitten. An arrow buzzed past his ear. He froze, and looked down. Who did that?!? I am your king! You shall--- Another arrow interrupted him. He jumped and twirled out of the way. Enough is enough. He launched himself at the archer. Samarand, The Archer, had missed! He stared at his bow. He saw the incoming shadow, and angry cat, a tidge too late. It impacted his face, and knocked him to the ground. It''s just a cat! What in the hells is going on? The claws dug in, and he howled in pain. Toruer, still wielding her broom, swung at the cat. It jumped, again, and she hit the Archer square in the face. Damn it woman! Hit the cat, not me! Tom landed on someone''s back, and clawed his way to the top of their head. I am your king! Stop attacking me! A fist swung at him. He jumped to another back, and kick climbed his way up to the shoulder, where he dug his claws in to hold himself steady. Three people were grabbing at him. He kicked off the shoulder, getting a scream of pain in response, and barreled into one of the grabbers chests. From there he bounded to the ground. The feet of the angry mob were actually fairly easy to dodge. Except for the hoof. The hoof that kicked him across the field and off the Plain. In his head he heard the Head god''s voice Sorry El Gato, This is for your own good. *-*-* From the courtyard of his home, the cloaked rider on the pale horse watched as the counter on the new god''s hourglass turned from 9 to 8. *-*-* Narissa looked over the disorganized mob of gods, who were in the middle of nursing cuts, bites, and bruises. We shall NEVER speak of this again. 65 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XV The Sky over the Kingdom of Garthia, 54th of Anael, 2128 years since the new gods came. Tom Cat, El Gato, Deposed King of the Celestial realm, was falling. The first hour had been filled with panic. The second hour had been fun. Now he was bored silly. He had taken a nap, and a few moments ago he had eaten a bird that had flown to close thinking he would be an easy source of food. As he steadily dropped, he could finally see the ground. It was coming fast. Below him was a sprawling city! Not nearly as big as the one back home, but still more than large enough. Hmm, maybe I should start by conquering this place, before I head back to the celestial plain. Just to get some practice? He kept falling. As the ground approached, he started to aim himself with his tail. Below him was an open courtyard, with a lone tree in the center. He aimed for the tree. He spread his body, slowing his momentum, and gently landed in the upper branches. Then, something spoke to him. A happy female voice spoke in Tom''s head,Hello there! Where did you come from? Welcome to my home! He looked around, surprised, but recovering quickly, Tom replied, I have fallen from my former kingdom. I have been deposed by the foolish creatures that call themselves ''gods''! Oh, that''s too bad. I hear they are nothing but idiots. Well most of them anyway. The voice replied, overwhelmingly filled with sympathy. You can stay here, and regain your strength. When you feel up to it, you can go and reconquer the celestial realm. Well...thank you? Tom looked around at his new domain. As he watched, a woman came out the door of a large nearby building, looked up at the tree, smiled, and went back in. Who was that, talking voice in my head? Oh that was my best friend! She''s very nice. I asked if she would bring out a bowl of cream for you. You do like cream, right? The voice responded. Oh, by the way, I am the tree you are sitting in. Tom was done with being surprised, and just let the information slide past his brain. Oh. A tree. Very nice. He let his gaze again wander the courtyard. So, where am I? You are in the courtyard of the greatest smithing school in the world! They make the absolute best metal! Then they make it into tools, and weapons, and armor, and a bunch of other stuff! The tree replied. Very interesting. Tom said, then thought for a bit, So about this cream...? *-*-* The woman had returned a while ago with a large bowl of cream, and was currently laughing at something the tree had said while Tom finished lapping all of the cream from the dish. Good stuff! I wonder if they have fish here? So, the woman spoke, You are called Tom Cat? That is a wonderful name! May I give you skritches? Skritches?Tom looked at the woman...Why not? It may be food. He walked over and sat down, just out of reach. She stepped to him, sat on the cobbles, and started scratching him. First behind the ears, then the whiskers, under the chin, down the back, and eventually the belly. I could get used to this! A purr escaped him. Then another. Finally the bliss overtook him, and he just purred. Purring. I''ve heard of this, but?!? *-*-* Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Maxwell''s Vault, Kingdom of Garthia, 56th of Anael, Midwinters Eve. Brandywine has been swimming in the gold. I''ve been stalling. I have repacked my trunk four times. I guess it is time to face the family. I don''t want to. *-*-* Alright Brandy! It''s time to go. I have to lock the wards, and it can be a pain occasionally, so get a move on. Max said, waiving to the pixie. Fine, fine. Can I have one piece of gold for my bed? Brandywine asked. Only one. If you take more than that, I will take all the coins back. Max grumbled, hiding a smile. The pixie quickly snatched the biggest gold coin she could find, and barely got it through the door of her room. Done! They left the vault, and headed towards the city. *-*-* Max stared at the courtyard of the school. The stupid statue of him was still there. But it was now decorated. By a cat. Not just any cat either, it was a monster of the species, 30 pounds if it was a pound! Long gray and white fur that barely hid the scars. An eyepatch covered what he assumed was a missing eye. The cat, just lying there watching him, oozed, nay, screamed I am Cat. You will obey me! Max shook his head, Brandywine? Avoid that cat. I swear it''s trouble. Brandy stuck her head out of her room, locked eyes with the cat, and charged. *-*-* Tom saw the strange bird creature charge at him. He did what any self respecting god-king of cats would do. He leapt at it. The two collided in midair, and fell. Max watched with interest as the cat and pixie battled. Much biting, clawing, tail and wing pulling occurred. He looked away as a young woman walked out of the school to see what was going on, and asked, So, why does the cat have an eyepatch? The woman looked at him, paused for a moment as recognition crashed across her face, and dropped into a curtsy, My lord blacksmith--- Just answer the question please. Max cut her off, I don''t hold to formalities. She stood up, smiled, and said, You really are him! As to your question, he asked for it. The hissing and screaming intensified from the fighting pair, as fur, and pixie dust filled the air.That''s Enough! Both humans yelled in unison, then looked at each other and laughed. Tom and Brandy stopped. Tom with the pixies left leg in his mouth, and Brandy with a double handful of whiskers. They stared at the pair of humans, then slowly let the other go. Good fight, noble enemy. Tom said under his breath, tail lazily swinging back and forth. To you as well, enemy mine. Brandy responded with a smile. The humans looked on as the mismatched pair of cat and pixie started laughing. That was weird. The woman said. So, ancestor mine, how are you? Still watching the mismatched pair, Max responded, I''m doing well. I thought I''d stop by on my way west and see how the school was doing. And request, again, that the statue of me be removed. You know that isn''t going to happen. The woman responded. My name is Nancy, by the way. She stepped over to the cat, And the cat here, is ''Tom Cat, El Gato, Deposed King of the Celestial realm''. Unlike the rest of us, He seems to share your dislike of the gods. Max raised an eyebrow. Well now, that changes a few things. He turned to Tom who was now going about the serious matter of cleaning himself, King Tom, it is good to meet a fellow heretic. Even is you are a cat. Tom looked up at the man, then actually looked at him; and felt something from him. It caused a feeling he was unused to, awe. You too, petty mor... he cleared his throat, human. Max took half a step back. You can talk. That''s new. He looked at the now nearby tree, And what is wrong with that tree? The tree is named Sally. She seems to be mostly immortal. Nancy said as she gently patted the tree, At least she can come back from being a stump, anyway. She feels vaguely familiar. Max shook his head. Whatever. The little trouble maker over there, petting the cat, is Brandywine. My companion, and general pain in my ass. Nancy stepped over to Brandy and Tom, and bowed, A pleasure to meet you Miss Brandywine. Can I offer you and Tom a bowl of cream? Brandy and Tom stopped, and looked up, Tom answered, That would be the appropriate gift for one such as myself, and my guest. Brandy giggled. *-*-* 4th of Arah, the Second month of Snow, My last few days have been full of unimportant events, meetings, and classes. I had completely forgotten that it was midwinter eve when I arrived home. Idiot. The cat, Tom blah blah blah, and Brandy have wreaked unholy havoc on the school and town. Turns out, (I asked Bjorn), Tom actually ate the god of mice AND the goddess of doves while he was in the celestial realm! Kudos to him. He was apparently kicked out by a goat. Weird. A celestial goat? Who knew? Oh, I bet it was that goat. Meh. I will be heading west in a few days. The snow isn''t that bad this year. Oh, there is a tree here that claims it is descended from the tree I poured that damned potion on so many years back. Who knew it would turn a tree immortal? Meh. TTFN 66 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XVI Smithson School of Blacksmithing, Kingdom of Garthia, 5th of Arah, the Second month of Snow. I''m leaving tomorrow. That damn cat pissed on, and in, my chest of holding! I spent all day cleaning it. I shot him. Well, I almost shot him. I missed. *-*-* Look here, mister cat, I don''t care who you think you are. This is MY chest. Maxwell yelled at Tom Cat, El Gato, deposed king of the celestial realm, removing a revolver from it''s holster, You peed all over it like a common house cat! I am anything but common, you stupid, ungreat--- Tom jumped onto the dresser as Maxwell pulled the trigger on his revolver. How... How dare you! He dove behind a chair as the second shot splintered the dresser. I will claim everything in my realm that I deem worthy! He ducked left, under the bed, as the third shot engulfed the chair in a ball of fire. He bolted from the room. And stay gone! You no good flea bitten sack of dog! Max yelled at the fleeing cat. He shook his head, now I''m going to have to clean the stupid thing. *-*-* 6th of Arah, I left the family school today. I didn''t see that damn cat anywhere. Good. 20 miles today. Brandywine was sad to go, but she seemed to understand. 7th of Arah, There was a mouse on my pillow this morning. I gave it to Brandy. 9th of Arah, Two rabbits and a sparrow next to my bed this morning. I''m starting to worry. Did the Goat take notice of me for some reason? At least the fresh food was good. Mmm, rabbit stew. 11th of Arah, The snow has come in like a lion today. Barely 5 miles. 12th of Arah, Saw some tracks in the snow today. Couldn''t make them out. There was a dead goose next to me this morning. I may have to pretend to sleep in order to catch whatever is doing this. 13th of Arah, Fell asleep after all. The snow has subsided. We are reaching the edge of the demon wastes, so soon we won''t have to deal with it any more. 14th of Arah, I set a trap last night. It was trashed this morning when I woke up. There was a little bit of gray fur in it. I wish I was a better nature person so I could identify it better. I asked Brandy, but she just rolled her eyes at me. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. 17th of Arah, Two more traps have been destroyed. The sun was out in full force today, and the snow is all but gone. Tomorrow looks to be the crossing point out of the blight. 18th of Arah, The cold is gone, and the heat is wonderful. I have given up on the traps. Tonight I will put a protective circle around the camp. *-*-* An alarm went off in Max''s head, informing him the circle had been breached. He shot out of the tent, revolver in hand...and saw nothing. After lighting a torch from the remains of the cooking fire, he examined the entire area around the perimeter of camp, shook his head, and went back to bed. Only to find a pair of dead rats on his pillow. *-*-* 19th of Arah, To hell with it. I''m done. I''m not willing to waste the time and ingredients to make a better barrier spell for camp. I will just accept the strange appearance of the occasional bit of food. I passed a farmstead today. It was abandoned, but still a good sign. The old dirt track we have been following has widened somewhat. I expect to make better time tomorrow. 20th of Arah, The old track has turned into a mostly unused wagon trail. I think tomorrow will be productive. I sighted a wild boar before the sunlight failed. 21st of Arah, As expected, there was a dead boar outside the tent this morning. Brandy and I butchered it. We will be eating ''high on the hog'' for the next few days. I saw a cat''s paw print in the dirt. Must be people around. 22nd of Arah, Met a farmer this morning. Traded an hours work for some eggs and milk. He was as surprised about the boar as I was. Nice to have a conversation with ''normal'' folk after the school and School. We will reach the town tomorrow morning. 23rd of Arah, well past the City State of Red Oak, Red Oak is a town. It contains some 3,000 people. It is self sufficient. Something about the place felt off, so I kept going. *-*-* The winding... road...led to a small town named Red Oak. As was the fashion in the wild lands of the west, it was a city state. No actual wall surrounded the town, just a berm of dirt, and an old open wooden gate buried in vines. Max slowed the cart as he passed the gate, looked at the mud and wattle huts, a crumbling stone foundation, and shook his head. Don''t think I''m going to stop here, Brandy. Something feels off. He kept going. What he didn''t notice, at least consciously, was the lack of shadows. *-*-* 26th of Arah, I''m well into the Rolling Hills region, past the demon border. The grass is lush, and the breeze is warm. Ran into a clan of Gnolls and there herd of sheep. Nice folks. Didn''t need candlesticks. Got some information about Red Oak. They call it a cursed place, and won''t go near it. I bought a sheep. It made a fine stew. There is another city state a few days farther down the road that the Gnolls trade with on and off. They claim it is much better than Red Oak. Cleaner and nicer. No curse. *-*-* Max sat at a small camp table across from a large female gnoll, enjoying a cup of tea, and trading information. Chieftess Blueclaw, who cursed them? We do not know. We have a tale about a woman of shadow asking for help in her hour of need. They refused. So she took their shadows as punishment. Chieftess Blueclaw replied. The stories do not elaborate further, except to say that not offering hospitality to those in need is a grave sin, and an insult to the god. Don''t you mean gods? Max asked. I mean, there are several. Yes. There are. But we follow the old teachings. The teachings of Gehona, the provider. Blueclaw replied. He may have fallen from greatness, thanks to the petty new gods, but he still exists. Then tea was over, and the two parted ways. And then, Max remembered the shadows. *-*-* 28th of Arah, Tomorrow afternoon I will reach the city state of Baroness. I hope the peoples there have shadows. TTFN 67 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XVII Baroness, The western Wilds 29th of Arah, the Second month of Snow. 2128 years since the new gods came. The city state of Baroness is a wonderful town. It is filled with smiling people who have shadows! I have secured a room at a small inn, and will be exploring the town in the morning. 30th of Arah, Baroness is ruled by a town council of three. The walls are not tall, nor very thick, and mainly designed to keep wildlife out. There are two smiths in town, a baker, and several other trades present. The miles wide Wodburyme river provides transport and food for the locals. The river is five miles wide, if it''s an inch! The mixing of races here is nice to see. Gnolls, humans, an elven family, a couple of dwarves, even a goblin family with their ever present orc protector. I heard a rumor about a troll out in the northern swamps. I dislike swamp trolls. There is a small boat yard on the river. I may buy myself a small sail boat. Okay, I will be buying a sail boat after I get settled in. When did I decide to settle here? Just now I guess. Huh. 31st of Arah, I have purchased a small workshop area near the wall, next to the White Smith/Jeweler. I hope he is a decent fellow. I''m sure I saw that damn cat today, but how did it get here? We are a long way from the school... Meh. 32nd of Arah, I have met my neighbor, Henriette of Baroness. She is a nice woman. Brandy also met her, and got a broom for her trouble. Mostly because she tried to swipe an emerald. Idiot. *-* I''m sorry miss Henriette, Brandywine is more than a bit of a pain, but she is good company. Maxwell explained to his new neighbor. She''s a menace! Henriette replied, broom in hand, still menacing the pixie (who was hiding behind Max). If she enters my shop again, I will pin her wings to the wall, and use her as a fairy dust dispenser! She stomped back into her shop. Max turned and looked into Brandy''s eyes, Way to make a good first impression. Idiot! Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Brandy, head hanging, said sorry Max. It just glittered so much! I couldn''t stop myself! Meh. Whatever. Max said. Now, have you seen that damn cat around? I swear I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eye. *-* The Celestial Realm So, you are telling me that that damn cat ATE the small gods of Mice and Doves?!? Narissa, goddess of Tranquility, nearly yelled at Maximilian. We did a quick survey of the local small god population. Those two turned up missing. We found dove''s monocle mixed into some cat poo. Maximilian replied. And the mouse''s cane next to the grainery. Well, now he really is a small god. Kocha, up for a moment to observe the chaos, put in his two coppers worth. Do we have to give him a voice on the low council? NO! the other two gods yelled in unison. *-*-* 34th of Arah, The damn cat showed up. I backhanded Brandy across the shop. The Naked Eagle Glass and Candlestick Shop will be having it''s grand opening in a week or two. I need to make some inventory. *-* Tom Cat, El Gato, deposed king of the celestial realm, sauntered into the shop through the propped open back door. He jumped up to the counter, and sat down, fluffy tail wrapped loosely around his feet. Excuse me, master Smith? Max was bent over a kiln, checking on the heating runes when he responded, What can I do for you? Ahem, I am here to apologize. Tom said. For what? Max asked, not looking around. For marking your box as mine. Tom replied. I have been leaving you gifts on your journey, in an attempt to earn your favor. Max stood up quickly, almost striking his hear on a cross rack above the kiln. You what now? He spun in place to look at the speaker. Seeing Tom, his hand dropped to his hip, where the revolver sat in it''s holster, Really now. Yes? Tom eyed the weapon carefully, knowing full well what it could do to a human, let alone a cat. I was informed by someone that it would be a funny joke to play, not a near death experience. Brandy took that moment to make haste out the back door. So, again, my apologies for marking my territory. Tom nodded his head towards Max. I believe I will take my leave now, master Smith. Tom slowly disappeared from view, leaving behind a smile in the air, that in a moment also disappeared. Damn cats. When Brandy returned to the shop for supper, Max hit her with the business end of a broom. One that he had borrowed from Henriette for that exact purpose. You ever try and pull a prank like that again, I will nail your wings to a wall, and use you as a pixie dust dispenser! *-* 50th of Arah, The grand opening went well today. I sold some glass pieces, and a few ''sticks. I have received a few commissions for small windows as well. I should be okay living here. I haven''t seen that damn cat anywhere either. Really lifts my mood. *-*-* The Celestial Realm, again. Hmm, looks like something is coming for the demon wastes from the west. Narissa looked at the scrying orb in front of her on the table. I''m not sure what, but it will arrive in a few decades. She sighed, and pulled a scroll of parchment from the air, Now who do I have available in that area... *-*-* 54th of Arah, I''m going boat shopping tomorrow afternoon. I have already completed my commissions, and feel like taking a short break. I like boats. TTFN 67.1 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – H&H 4 So, big G, we going to ask the cat to join our game? Kocha asked after finishing his third can of green stuff. Aside from the fact that all cats are banned from the realm, could you imagine what a cat would do with dice? Ghondish replied. Pendleton looked up from some sort of newsletter, Quite right! And I believe they have also been banned from tournament play. Apparently there was a pair at a the last Centenium Con. It didn''t end well. Well, that''s too bad. Kocha replied. So what is tonight''s adventure called? Actually, once Pendelton is done with it, I wanted to bring up something I saw in the H&H newsletter Ghondish said. Pendleton handed the newsletter back to Ghondish, as Sarah came back from the kitchen, beer in hand, and snacks on a tray. If it is what I think it is, Pendleton and I are in. Did you read my mail before I did? Ghondish complained. No. I bought the newsletter yesterday at the news stand down the street. Sarah removed a pack of cigarettes with a blue llama on the front, placed a cigarette between her lips, and lit it with a flame from one finger. He sells these wonderful things too. She blew a smoke ring. When did we get a newspaper shop? Did Esmeralda, the Gnome Goddess of Knowledge, decide to up her game and expand her technology level? Thought Ghondish, before expelling a burping sigh, whatever. Doesn''t matter. As sister Sarah has intimated, there is news in the game of Humans and Highrises. Tournament play is resuming! Now that we have a ''properly balanced team, containing at least two species and two sexes (exceptions can be made in the case of species that have only one sex, and for single species worlds (please apply with the staff)), we qualify for both Organized AND Tournament play!--- This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. He was interrupted by many shouts and yells of glee. Ghondish asked the one true question. So, my question for the table is this: Who is willing to retire their current characters, and start new with the new season that is upon us? The table went suddenly quiet. *-*-* Tom Cat, El Gato, Deposed king of the Celestial Realm, sneezed several times. He looked around his new holdings from atop the nest of a large, now deceased, bird. The courtyard of the human school was bustling with activity, and soon his tribute of cream and skritches would be delivered. He sneezed again. *-*-* Several hours had passed. Arguments had raged. Tears had been shed. The final vote was in. The motion to become part of something more was unanimous. As the party departed the barn, Ghondish sighed the sigh of gamemasters everywhere. Thank the universe that is over. Sarah, smoking another ''Llama'', looked up from the rule book, You know, there is a new edition coming out that revamps the entire system. I''m not entirely sure that I want to play it. I am aware of it, sister. Ghondish said, I also am aware that it isn''t official yet, and it won''t be released for at least two years. It is in BETA right now. If this group weren''t so new, I would have asked to join the testing group. Well... What did you do, sister? I kinda signed us up last week? Sarah gave a weak smile, the new book showed up yesterday. ... It''s called the 1D system. Sarah took a deep breath, There are three stats, Physical, Mental, and Emotion; a profession instead of a class; and instead of skills, you have Perks and Flaws. And? It seems rough, unpolished, and easily abused. Sarah replied, On the other hand, the rolling mechanic is sound, if a little simple. I look forward to testing it out. Interesting. Yes. Yes it is. 68 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XVIII Baroness, The western Wilds 55th of Arah,, the Second month of Snow. 2128 years since the new gods came. Bought a boat today. A bit small at only 18'' stem to stern. Single mast with only a main sail. The hull is plank on frame in construction, with a shallow lead weighted keel, as well as leeboards and a removable centerboard, so as to be able to make shallow water. It is old, and I will need to restore it somewhat, but it is mine. 1st of Samue, the month of Planting, 2129 years since the new gods came. The year has changed, and the first planting (and party afterwards) has occurred. I have sold a lot of wine glasses. Tomorrow I put the boat in the water. 2nd of Samue, The boat sank. The guy who sold it to me has disappeared. I am...? Guess I will have to fix it in my spare time. *-* Maxwell, and his trusty First Mate Brandywine, stood on the ''new'' sailboat. It was already lying low in the shallow water. There was a soft thunk as the keel struck the sandy river bottom. They looked at each other, and said in unison, Well shit. *-* 5th of Samue, A good commission today. A set of twelve glass balls, roughly a foot across, with a loop of steal embedded into it. They are going to be used as floats for a fishing net. One of the customers employees says he saw it back home. The floats may need to be closer to two feet across, and woven into the nets with a monkey''s fist knot, as opposed to the embedded loop, in order to float properly. I will work on a small one as commissioned, and a larger one, then test them both with the customer. 10th of Samue, The test went well. I have made three dozen in both sizes. 18th of Samue, Work has plateaued. I will be taking the next couple days off to fix the sailboat. 21st of Samue, The boat floats now. I''m going to be taking it out every couple of days to enjoy the water. 31st of Samue, The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Had to bail Brandy out of jail today. She got into a fight at the bar last night. *-*-* Look, master Smithson, if she gets into another bar brawl I''m going to have to put her in for more than an overnight. Watch Captain Jules said. I understand. Max looked at Brandy, who, at that moment, was sipping from a flask, Brandy, you should apologize to the captain for causing trouble. Brandy rolled her eyes, The big job took a swing at me first! He almost spilled my beer! All I did was defend myself! She says it was self defense. Max translated for the captain. Self defense doesn''t include almost ripping George''s nose off, or breaking his arm. In THREE places. Captain Jules replied. Max shook his head. Brandy? Okay, maybe I over reacted. But still, he started it! She balled a small hand into a fist, and shook it at the captain. She says she apologizes. Max lied to the captain. Good day, sir. The mismatched pair left the jail. *-*-* Baroness, The western Wilds 32nd of Kielat, First month of summer. 2134 years since the new gods came. Five years. It has been a good five years. Sadly, the finances dictate that I move, otherwise I blow my cover. Sales have steadily gone down the last three years, and the local market is saturated. Glass is just to expensive. I will try up river at Knutsin. It has double the population of Baroness. If that doesn''t work out after a few years, I will do the wandering glass merchant bit. I will sell the shop to my neighbor for a reasonable price. She has been talking about expanding, and giving me the wink. I''m still not getting married again. I don''t care what Brandy says. 35th of Kielat, The shop is officially sold. I have started cleaning up five years of detritus and accumulated junk. Brandy has decided that we should take the boat up river. The current is fairly slow at only two knots, so we should be fine. We will have to make camp on the shore, but no different from normal travel. 38th of Kielat, The horse and cart are sold. I haven''t used either for a couple of years, so no loss there. Actually, since I was paying for feed etc. I am actually a bit ahead, almost...not really. 39th of Kielat, Everything is packed. The boat is ready. The morning is go time. 40th of Kielat, I curse the god/goddess of storms. It rained so much today that I had to beach the boat before I could even pack it! Looks like it will be half a week before I can leave. 45th of Kielat, We actually left today! I am melancholic about leaving, but it is for the best. The most dangerous part of the journey is behind us C the river crossing. It took more than twelve hours, and the wind was our enemy. Should have only taken us two, three hours at max. I almost think someone was playing silly buggers with the wind. 46th of Kielat, The wind has gone back to normal. We are making headway. Fish for dinner tonight. It will be another twelve days before we arrive at Knutsin. 49th of Kielat, Hit a deadhead log. Cracked the bow pretty good. It will take a day or so to fix it properly. I don''t want to waste the time, so I will magic it back together in the morning. 53rd of Kielat, So, river pirates are a thing. Who knew? They actually took the gold I offered instead of fighting me. I am officially surprised. *-*-* No Brandy, you may NOT eat the pirates. But Max?!?!? Brandy whined. The pirate captain looked down at the small boat they had encountered, Um, is that a pixie? Yes. Both Max and Brandy said. I tell you what, having learned from my grandpa that, ''fairies are fine to cross, but never pixies'', I will make you a deal, 3 gold and you can leave. The pirate captain said, looking at Brandywine. *-*-* 54th of Kielat, Fishing and sailing has been good. Not long before we arrive. TTFN 69 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XIX The great river Wodburyme, The western Wilds. 56th of Kielat, First month of summer. 2134 years since the new gods came. A small bit of trouble with the wind dying out halfway through the day. Lost a mile to the current. I need better paddles. Or a device to move in water without the wind. Meh. 2nd of Amsiel, Second month of Summer, Almost there. The number of boats on the water has greatly increased. Liam would have said ''exponentially''. Some of the barges are absolutely huge, some at almost 100'' in length and half that wide. The ones that size are carrying jungle timber down river to the port for processing and sale. City State of Knutson, The Western Wilds. 3rd of Amsiel, We arrived today. The lumber industry has invaded the town, as the harvesting season is well and done for the year. Had to get a dry birth for the boat. Got a room in a dockside inn. Way overpriced, but supply and demand. Tomorrow we explore the city, and make inquiries. 4th of Amsiel, Less friendly town. I blame the lumberjacks. I avoided a group of day drinkers who were brawling in the street. Brandywine spent the day guarding the room. Probably for the best. 7th of Amsiel, Knutson is a large city of almost 20,000 souls, plus half that number of ''Jacks. Rental space for lodging is at a premium. Actual shop space? Not so much. There used to be a glass blower in town, about 20 years ago. He died. His shop is, of course, long gone. I''m looking for shop space to rent. 15th of Amsiel, Brandy and I found the perfect spot! The previous owner used copper nails in the construction. More expensive, less strength, but Fey friendly. Strange indeed. It used to be an alchemists shop. Maybe iron makes problems for potion creation? I bought it as an impulse purchase. *-* The building is adequate for my needs. Max looked at the rental agent for the old alchemists shop, What is the monthly rent? Rent is 3 gold grams a month. The agent, a Mr. Johnson, said with a customer service smile plastered on his face. I am in the possession of the title as well, and the client has said they want to sell, if they can. The list price for the property is 100 gold grams. Max''s jaw dropped. 100 grams of pure gold? The shop in Baroness cost ten times that! And it was a third the size! I will take the offer under advisement. A frown almost crossed the agents lips. Well, if price is the problem, I am authorized to lower the price to 75 gg. But that is the lowest I can go. Stolen novel; please report. Very well. Brandy, pay the man 36 crowns. That will more than cover the gold and the recasting fee. The agent''s eyes bulged at the exorbitant over payment. Th...Thank you good sir! I will have the papers brought round in the morning for your signature. Thank you. Max looked over to Brandy as she pulled the coins out of her purse of holding. You have enough in there? More than. But it looks like I will have to substitute Heartglenian Marks for part of it. Just sub on a one to one basis. Sure thing boss. With his ring of translation, Mr. Johnson could understand the Pixie''s words. His heart skipped a beat, and he stumble back against the wall. Those coins are massive! 10 grams of almost pure gold each! Then the Pixie handed over the stack of coins and he fell over. Um, Max? You may need to call the watch to get this guy a healer. Brandy said, looking at the man on the ground clutching at his chest. Bugger *-* 17th of Amsiel, The paperwork has been signed. I now own a shop. Mr. Johnson has apparently retired from the real estate business. Something about a heart condition. Hmm... I will first need to clean the place from top to bottom. Make sure everything is is structurally sound. I will need to put in front windows too. Why did I buy the place on a whim? I must be getting sentimental in my old age. 18th of Amsiel, Brandywine has found my journal, and started drawing pictures of flowers in the margins. She is such a pain in the ass WONDERFUL GIRL!! *-*-* H&H Interlude... So what''s the word on the new edition? Kocha asked. Looks like it is being put off for another 50 years or so. They want more time for the god ranked players to Beta test it. Sarah said, puffing on another of the foul smelling Llama smoke sticks. Ghondish looked across the table at Maximilian, so what is this problem I keep hearing about the Heretical Blacksmith? I saw him a while back at the Ax games. He seems harmless enough. Well, aside from being unkillable, immortal, stupidly powerful, and more stubborn than anyone I have ever met; and that includes all of the gods? Maximilian sighed, He killed me on the mortal plane. That all withstanding, is there anything else? Ghondish asked. He bears a grudge against the goddess of Tranquility over the death of his wife. Pendleton spoke up. Oh. Ghondish looked at his players, Well, that would explain the sheer amount of anger dripping off of him when he''s drunk. Yeah, he gets maudlin if he drinks too much. Maximilian said. I did notice that he was god touched by several of our brothers and sisters. Said Ghondish, Is there any reason behind that? Sarah looked up from a book at that, eyes wide, and face going ever so slightly pale. Well, hitting him kind of requires it. And shaking hands too. You do realize that having physical contact with a mortal passes a small fraction of your power to the person in question? Ghondish asked. And the more they are touched, the more they collect? That''s why the old gods didn''t stick around that long after making the children. Didn''t want to make them too powerful. Maximilian''s face turned ashen. Oh...Oh shit. He spent over an hour brushing that damn cat! And the number of times Tranquility and I... Yes. You have been inadvertently been feeding him power. Power you have regrown over the years., but power he will never loose until he dies. Ghondish glared at the table, while Kocha did his best not to laugh. 70 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XX Outside of a Bedlam, somewhere in Kingdom of Garthia 23rd of Amsiel, Second month of Summer 2130 years since the new gods came. I''m free. I have convinced them that I am sane. I have stopped writing my name on the wall in my own blood. I must search. Something will tell me where to go. I have...a place. I will go north. Demons... NORTH. The haggard and disheveled young man thought as he staggered forward. His journey just begun. *-*-* City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 18th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2134 years since the new gods came. The cleaning has started. We have begun at the top of the shop. Not just the roof, but the attic. ...The attic has ROOM. Lots of room. It is a lot like my chest. I checked, and the runes around the walls are, indeed, the same. There are similar runes in the shop area, although those are proof against explosion. Brandy is actually pretty good at cleaning. I am thankful for that. Also, the attic is a gret place for a bedroom. 19th of Amsiel, Attic is done. Starting on the main floor. 22nd of Amsiel, Found a brass ring in the floor of the back room today. Several runes, and layered magic built in. It was under an ancient rug that Brandy lifted to mop beneath. I will put more attention to it later. 25th of Amsiel, The place is clean. We have officially moved in. I am now sourcing the ingredients we will need for opening. 33rd of Amsiel, The shop is set up! I have started on the production of glass candlesticks. It is good to be back in business. Opening wit be in a week or two. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! 35th of Amsiel, Got word that one of my orders got hijacked by river pirates. I am going to leave it to the locals to figure out. What are pirates going to do with 200lbs of sand? 40th of Amsiel, Got my sand. Apparently the pirates had no use for it. No one here knows me. It is so good to be free. The Goat followers are a bit strange. But they are excellent cooks. I wonder if Bjorn will stop by. 48th of Amsiel, Grand opening tomorrow. I have about 100 ''sticks made, as well as a couple dozen floats, and some glass baubles. 49th of Amsiel, The number of people who descended on my shop was surprisingly small. But I covered my costs, so all is well. I did sell the string of floats, this time without the steel rings. 53rd of Amsiel, A ''Private Tutor, who teaches about stars and such, has asked me to make a pair of ground glass lenses to mount in a tube. A large tube. He wants to map the surface of the small moon. This will be an interesting undertaking. 4th of Kusha, the month of Harvest, Didn''t know glass lenses were so hard to make. There was a department at school that specialized in it. I should have taken those classes as well. I didn''t know that lenses could start fires. Oops. 7th of Kusha, The first lens is done. It is the smaller of the two. It triples the size of things. Interesting. 10th of Kusha, The ruler of Knutson bought a couple of pieces today. I have now made back all of my investment. 16th of Kusha, Magnified light could be an interesting weapon. 20th of Kusha, The second lens is complete. I had to re-make it three times. Brandy broke the first one when she dropped it while burning ants. The second got horribly scratched. This one is better than the first two. 21st of Kusha, The ''Telescope'' is done. I love it. Don''t stare at the sun. 23rd of Kusha, I have had two orders for telescopes. One from a ship captain, the other from Lord Knutson.Not what I want to do, but Meh. *-*-* The Demon Lands. Date unknown. 2132 since the new gods came. My name is still James. I have finally found our cache. It is ours, not just mine, right? I have found one of the tablets. It has a map. I can see the target. I still dream of the electric shocks. I scream myself awake. At least they didn''t put an icepick through my eye into the brain. What is that called again? Oh well. The target is to the west. Outside of the forbidden zone. I can make it. This is a rifle...no a shotgun. That over there is a rifle. My world. How do I go back? Family. Home... Where are my friends? *-*-* A large rabbit hopped around his territory. The trap ahead was small, as most human things were. He stopped, and sneezed. Then he went over to the trap, grabbed it in his mouth, and ripped it out of the ground. That could have hurt someone, he thought, then he hopped off in search of some more clover. *-*-* City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 22nd Kusha, Second month of Summer. 2134 years since the new gods came. I think I have most of the spell work done on the trap door. Going to study it more tomorrow. TTFN! 71 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XXI ...Lore... Once when the old gods still ruled the world, there had been a mage. A powerful mage, who through many vast and powerful spells, almost gained the power of true creation. But not quite. By breading and magic, he changed the pack, bigger, stronger, faster, smarter. He called them his Wolves of War. When his project was finished, he set his army free upon the world. The first pack; as they are now called now by their descendants; served their master well. When he was finally killed, the first pack was hunted by the gods. And because they were hunted, they came under his dominion. You, the hunters, are now the hunted. You come under my auspice. I do not want you. I will give you a chance: join with me, and see my people guarded in the night, and away from their homes, and I will bless you. Otherwise, you will be destroyed. And thus the first pack was fractured across the world. Some chose to serve another master; some chose freedom and hid from the gods; and some chose to stand, and die. *-*-* City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 23rd of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2134 years since the new gods came. Maxwell lay on the couch in the attic. A happy young couple had com into the shop earlier that day, all bubbly and happy, to buy a pair of matched ''Sticks to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. He smiled a bittersweet smile, and stared into the distance. Remembering. *-* It was a beautiful day, and Deborah was smiling the smile he had fallen in love with. They were shopping for something special to celebrate the little bulge that was showing in her tummy. They found a sweets shop, and bought a small something to savor. They wandered to the jewelers, and bought a sparkly ring. They had dinner out, at the best tavern in town. They wandered home in the moonlight. *-* Max cried. And hovering by his side, unable to do anything, Brandywine wept for her friend. *-*-* Demon lands Date unknown 2132 years since the new gods came. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The target was still in one spot. Heretic. What is a Heretic? How does one become a heretic? The mission must be completed. James marched on, occasionally sipping from a canteen or eating a bite from a C-ration. Oh look, a Wyvern. His weapon went Bang. Hmm, it isn''t dead. Weapon switch. As the Wyvern approacked, diving for the tasty human food, it saw the food point a different metal tube at it. No worries, it can''t hurt. At a range of 30'' the M3A1 Grease Gun went Brrrtttttt, and the Wyvern crumpled, smashing into a low hill behind the human. I wish I had brought the Ma Deuce. Ma Deuce is the best deuce. Miss three is okay, but Ma Deuce is best. Maybe next bolt hole has Ma Deuce? Better Willie-Pete the corpse so it doesn''t attract undue attention. The White Phosphorus grenade turned the Wyvern corpse to ash in a few minutes. I still like the pretty lights. I should do a 1 in 5 load for the Ma Deuce so I can see the pretty tracers! James continued his march towards his target. *-* The pack of Worgs was small at just over two dozen, including the pups. The pack followed the single, strange smelling human, and ate the kills it left behind. When it rested, the worgs rested, and talked. I think the human is strange. I don''t think any of us would argue that. Can we eat it? One of the older pups asked. No! was chorused by the rest of the pack, in answer. *-*-* City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 27th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2134 years since the new gods came. Maxwell crawled out from under the covers on his bed. He didn''t remember undressing, or crawling in. His headache, on the other hand, did remind him that he had drunken to much the last...day? Or two? Scum covered his teeth and tongue. The smell of vomit covered him, and some of the vomit did as well. He shuddered, and looked for another drink. Brandy! He yelled, and shuddered from the noise. In a much softer, and less painful voice, he called again, Brandy? Can you get me another drink? No, you ungrateful wretch! She yelled up the stairs to the attic. I''ve been covering for your drunken ass for FOUR DAYS! If you think I''m doing anything for you, you have another think coming! Ow...do you have to yell so loudly? Max mumbled, attempting to stand, and falling to the floor. YES! ...damn fairy... He muttered quietly. I heard that! Brandy replied. *-* 28th of Kusha, I spent four days in a drunken coma. What has my existence come to? Why can''t I die? Cursed gods... I have a lot of back orders to fill. Work begins in earnest tomorrow. 31st of Kusha, I''m almost caught up. It still hurts to see young couples. Or old ones for that matter. 42nd of Kusha, What the hero''s call fall has started. I had forgotten how beautiful it could be. Just like the last place, the winter is mild here, the worst winters only drop to barely freezing. Not even enough to have a skate pond! So much different from living below the demon lands, where every winter is bad. Gnolls will be coming soon to sell their flocks. The ''Jacks have just finished leaving for the northern forests, while the temperatures have dropped. 43rd of Kusha, I have been studying the rune locks on the trapdoor again. I will open it this weekend. *-* 49th of Kusha, Morning. Maxwell and Brandywine stood, or flew, over the complicated diagram drawn around the trapdoor. It had already been a pair of hours of complicated spell work, diagrams, and circles, but it was finally done. Do you think this will work? Brandy asked. It should. It''s not like ''rocket science'' or whatever the kid called it. Max replied. He bent down and powered up the circles. Time to hide behind the counter. Brandy dove behind said counter, and waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing went boom. Looks like it worked! Max yelled from the other side of the counter. Come over and look at this! TTFN 72 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XXII 72 The Not-Immortal blacksmith C Candlestick Maker XXII City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 49th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2134 years since the new gods came. Morning. The stairway down from the back room of the Naked Eagle Candlestick Shop was open. Maxwell and Brandywine stared in awe. It was full of stars. Well, not really stars, just pinpricks of light, scattered around such a huge space, that it reminded the mind of stars. As the descended the stairway, they found themselves among glassware. Tubes, beakers, pots, burners, everything an alchemist would want. And lights. Lights, that when approached, went from pinpricks of light to full daylight illumination. The pair gawked at the sight. Okay, so this is the basement. I don''t think the previous owner expected anyone to enter. Max voiced his opinion. I think you''re right. Brandy responded. Maybe we should head back up, and forget it exists? Probably not a bad idea. Max said, heading back up the stairs. You never know what may have been left behind. Somewhere on another plane of existence, and alarm had started to chime, and the goddess of Tranquility felt a shudder in her soul. *-* 49th of Kusha, We opened the basement today. I''m not an alchemist. I''m not going back down there. 3rd of Anael, First month of Snow The first midwinter here is at the end of the month. It''s strange to not see snow. Apparently we are actually in the ''tropics'' of the world, or at least the most temperate zone. Average summer temperature is around 28 degrees, and winter gets as cold as 20 degrees. Nice temps, all things considered. I both enjoy, and dislike the lack of snow. I will need to put up some festive pieces for a midwinter sale. Best to work on that now. *-*-* The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The Celestial realm Maximilian! Why did I let you convince me to sell my alchemistry shop? Narissa yelled at her live in boyfriend. I didn''t. Was the quick reply. You asked if you should, because you were giving it up. All I did was say sure. Whatever. She replied, anger showing on her face. And why do you keep going to visit that goat every week? What does he have that I don''t? Intelligence, compassion, elegance? Maximilian thought, but didn''t say. I''m just keeping tabs on him. Well I forbid it! No more going off with that idiot. Narissa responded. If you do, we are done! We''re done then. Maximilian replied, breathing a sigh of relief. I will see myself out. He snapped his fingers, and disappeared. Well, fuck him! And thus the third war in heaven began. Not that it was much of a war, mostly just insults at the pub. Occasionally followed by angry sex. *-*-* The Worg pack followed the strange human. It had been years, and the pack had grown to almost fifty members. Up and down icy hills, across desolate or lush planes. Mostly the path ran north and south, but always leaning west, never east. Every few days, they would watch the human step into the side of a boulder or hill, and come out a few days later. Different clothes, different weapons, but same boots, and same metal tablet. Always muttering to itself. Always killing things, and leaving them to rot. And so the worgs fed, and grew, and reproduced. East? Maybe I should go east? NO! Never east. Always towards the target. What do I do when I get there? Kill target? No, bad Idea. Very bad. No kill. Oh, look! A big doggy is following me! Can I pet it? James rambled on, both in his mind, and out loud. He stopped walking, turned towards the largest of the worgs, stuck out his open hand, and approached it. The worg looked at the funny human. This was not the first time it had done this. It would come over, let him sniff the hand, pat him on the head, then forget about him and move on. All things said and done, it was confusing. Maybe I should talk to the poor thing? Pack leader G''rrf asked himself. No, best to not attract too much attention. James walked to the worg, let it sniff his hand, patted it on the head a few times, then went back to finding the next cache. That was a good dog. It looks familiar. Probably owned by some hunter. It looks like it hunts. I must continue. Find. Report back. *-*-* City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 28th of Kielat, First month of Summer 2136 years since the new gods came. I have a bad feeling in my liver. Something bad is coming from the far west. The last time I had this feeling... was more than five hundred years ago. Something wicked, this way comes. Business has continued strong. The idiot ''jacks. They do keep me in business, but making windows isn''t what I want to be doing. A lumber baron has commissioned a set of three chandeliers for his new riverside home. It will be fun to make, and expensive for him. He want''s a mixture of green, amber, and red glass in each. Red will be the most expensive, as it requires gold to get the color. I have set up several shade of red, to find out which he likes the most. 31st of Kielat, He wants the crimson. I knew he would. Materials and time will cost over four thousand grams of gold. It is a good day to be a Candlestick maker. 10th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer, I''m done. Six thousand parts. Two thousand crystals per chandelier. Plus threading the whole thing and making the reinforced glass base and hanging hardware. I let it slip that I used to do smithing and tinkering. I''m nine thousand grams richer, but what a pain. And what pride! I''m actually proud of myself. TTFN 73 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XXIII City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 15th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer, 2136 years since the new gods came. Instillation of the chandeliers is complete. The new mansion is gorgeous. As expected, the huge ballroom walls are tastefully painted in colors complimentary to the chandeliers. When the sun shines through the bank of north facing windows, the colored glass in the chandeliers sparkle. The floor is a well polished dark hardwood of local harvest, with neatly carved decorations along the outside edge. Beautiful place. I would never live there. 25th of Amsiel, I may have let it slip to Brandywine today that my birthday is coming up. I hope she was too drunk to remember. 26th of Amsiel, She remembered. Damn. It''s not like I can hide from her. Maybe I''ll take a few days off and go sailing? I do have a new sail to test out. That sounds like a good idea. 27th of Amsiel, Plan failed. 47th of Amsiel, My birthday is tomorrow. I will be having lunch with some friends. Then I get to go sailing...bugger it all. *-*-* 48th of Amsiel, In the small shrine to the god of crafting, an old, young, middle aged? Dwarf walked up to the young acolyte attending to the candles, looked him in the eyes, and asked, Lad, do you know where the town is from here? Y-Yes sir? He took a deep breath. Something felt wrong, but also right. If you head out that door, it''s just over the hill to the north. I bless you, my son. Somewhere, in the acolytes head? A silver chime sounded, and the Old? Dwarf walked away. *-*-* The small tavern wasn''t full, not even close, as Maxwell celebrated his...''26th'' birthday. Has it really been so long since I had a party? He was surprised as to how nice it felt. It''s been so long. Not since I retired...I''m...479 years old?...400 years without my wife... He took a long drink of his wine. Across from him, on a pile of empty plates and bowls of her own Brandywine gave him a Look. He sighed. Unnoticed by all but Brandy, who started smiling, a spry dwarf slunk up behind Max, and at the last moment yelled BOO! The table jumped, and Max turned around, about to smash his wooden tankard into someones head, then stopped, Bjorn! You old Bastard! How did you get here? Stolen story; please report. Well, obviously, I walked. His eyes twinkled. How else would I get here? Laughter echoed around the tavern. You didn''t think I would loose track of you, just because you moved out of the four...Five? Kingdoms? Well... Maybe? Max rolled his eyes, then laughed at his oldest friend. Still funny, or trying to be, anyway. Bjorn smiled. I have brought you a gift from Dwarf Home. He pulled a large stone bottle from his bag, Bottled in 1239, from my personal collection, the whole tavern gasped, I present the ''Dew of the Mountain''! And he opened the bottle and began to poor. *-*-* 51st of Amsiel, I have been happily drunk for...several days. Bjorn can be a wonderful person. And an asshole. My bed is soaked in water...I have a vague memory of fighting pirates...Lighting some docks on fire...What is a depth charge? I woke up this morning clutching a silver crown. Not the type you actually see monarchs wearing for daily use, no, the ones you see on display, or in illustrated books. It weighs 13 pounds, is etched with gold and white gold filigree, and mounted with 7 gems of different colors. At least three of them are glowing. Oh, and it is sized for a halfling. Not those short fantasy things that the ''Heros'' talk about, the ones that are half as tall as a true giant, the Real Halflings. Bjorn might remember where we got it...I doubt it. *-*-* 52nd of Amsiel, Brandy? What did we do for my birthday? Well, first we drank that wonderfully smooth booze, then we went sailing. I remember that much... Then...we drank more...hunted pirates? The crown? Where did we get the crown? Oh, that. I remember an underwater castle Bjorn said he saw sink a ''while'' back. Umm... Something about ''half pint'' giants? There was this vault...? You said a bunch of unpleasant words and punched the vault door...? Umm... Then the armor tried to kill Bjorn. That didn''t go well. Okay. Anything else? Blah, blah, stuff happened? And you got a magical crown! End of story! ...Thanks? *-*-* 52nd of Amsiel, I have put the crown in brandy''s bedroom for safe keeping. Shop opens again tomorrow. 3rd of Kusha, the month of harvest. Re-opening was a bit sluggish, what with having to clean out the bedroom. And someone has been sleeping on the dinner table. Stupid dwarf god. *-*-* The central demon wastes. Sometime in the past...present? What is time? Time is a mortal construct! Time is seconds. And thirds? No. just seconds that slip to minutes, to days, to years. Time. The time has yet to come. I search for more caches. They seem to be everywhere. The target moved. But not really. I think time will be soon. No. Not time yet. Time. Time. Time. Time....ZZzzzzz Hmm. I am awake, yet I still slumber. My name. My NamE. MY NAME! My name is... my name is... my name is? What is a name? Will it smell as sweet as a rose? Will Juliet wake from her dream as well? No. The bard of avalon is a dick. MY NAME IS JAMES!!!!! Do I have a second name? Ohh! The puppies are back! I will pet them ALL. The worgs looked at the human. He had actually sleep walked east for three hundred miles. How did they know? They checked to see if he was asleep, and/or dead. They waited for him to pet them all, and play catch with the pups, all 53 pups to be exact. Their number was now in the 400 worg range. And yet he still fed them all. When it was cold at night, they all piled on top of each other, and him. He provided for the pack, and they followed. Always followed. For he was the leader. The Alpha. And the Omega. Bad puppy! No frothing at the mouth! I told you to avoid the diseased ones! BANG! The short barreled .45-70 went off, and the crazed worg went down. He popped a WP, and burned it to ash, then cried for the lost one. I hope they listen better next time. Poor puppy. I wish I had some of that magic stuff the others used to talk about. Then I could have saved her. A while later, a flock of sheep descended from the hills, intending to eat the man and beasts. After half their number fell, they fled from the noise of the hounds, and the brimstone in the air. Mmmm. Sheeple taste sooo good. *-*-* The large rabbit sat very still as the bow hunters stalked down his trail. I don''t feel like killing them today. They may have food to eat. Unlike that last group. They were Wrong. I wonder if another demon king is crawling out of the soil again? I Know. I know I am not as I was. I do not care. I am at peace. Here. In nature. I will not leave. 74 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Candlestick Maker XXIV City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 14th of Kusha, the month of harvest. 2136 years since the new gods came. I''m...Beginning to get bored. This usually doesn''t happen to me. I can go several days here without seeing a single customer. I still make enough to live off of, I''m just bored. I have had too much time to practice, and have finally mastered the open tube twirly thing the master showed us on the first day. There are no new recipes for me to try, without access to the school''s library to use for research. Curse that place. I seem to have become too reliant on books to innovate on my own... Can I clean and sort beach sand into something worth blowing? 15th of Kusha, Experiments on beach sand have begun. I need to separate all the types of sand, dirt, pebbles, etc. that is found in beach sand. I need a lab of some sort. That will cost money... 17th of Kusha, I''m an idiot. Doubly an idiot now. Curse your existence Brandywine!I love you Brandy!!!!! 18th of Kusha, I have opened the Alchemy lab. Why did I listed to that angry little pipsqueak? I''m sure this will be a bad idea. 19th of Kusha, I spent six (6)! hours exploring the lab. Wow. Just wow. The place is huge. It''s like the attic, just not as confining. Found a picture of a goat, with a line through it. Did the previous owner ban goats or something? It makes no sense, I mean, why would you even think a goat would come down here in the first place?!? 20th of Kusha, I have closed the shop for the next week. I need more time to hunt up the tools and equipment for the sand separation experiment. 22nd of Kusha, I was crossing the lab, and loudly cursing the lack of appropriate equipment and space when several star lights lit up. They illuminated a...an area? Anyway, it was full of shelves of equipment. I mentioned what I needed, or described it, and it would appear... on a table that wasn''t there a moment ago. I''m starting to like this lab. 23rd of Kusha, Win for today! I either moved the steps up, or I moved the room, so that when I to enter/exit the lab, the stairs are right next to me! 24th of Kusha, A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Soda ash, limestone, and white sand are the base ingredients for clear glass. Add lead for shiny crystal. Add iron for green. Gold for red. Other raw minerals for different colors. Separating the white sand from the rest of the beach sand is the starting place. I didn''t know that there was gold dust in the iron sand. 25th of Kusha, Alchemy is kinda fun. 28th of Kusha, I have separated the sand down to it''s component parts. I have to open again tomorrow. 43rd of Kusha, I had a couple of big orders to do before I could head back down to the lab. I''m more interested in the alchemy, than I am in the glassblowing. Candlestick making is too small of a market outside of large cities. Especially glass candlesticks. I think I will be moving on to another profession soon. City state of Knutson, Western Wilds. 12th of Samue, the Month of Planting. 2137 years since the new gods came. The shop space is up for rental. I have set up a payment plan with the city so that the taxes and upkeep will be paid in perpetuity. I''ve purchased a cart and horse for the trip home, to collect more gear. *-*-* How did I go east? I must have sleep walked the entire way. The target is also moving east. I have started naming the puppies! Puppies! Puppies. puppies. Lick, lick lick go the dogs. I broke my foot! I ride puppies! I need another nap! Nap...nap...Zzzzz... The worgs carried the Alpha who had broken his foot in a fight with a Roc. He had fed them for weeks with that kill alone. Some carried magical bags that held the excess food without it spoiling. The newer worgs were becoming more intelligent. All was good. *-*-* Maxwell''s Vault, Kingdom of Garthia, 31st of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2137 years since the new gods came. I''ve loaded the trunk to full, not a mean feat. My plan from here is to pass through the Federation of City States, as I have found out Knutson was part of. Apparently the western wilds are even farther west and north of there. I feel like an idiot for not knowing this earlier. We are off in the morning, after Brandy has her swim. In the gold. Maxwell is just jealous that I can swim in it, and he can''t! 32nd of Amsiel, Travel has started. I doubt there will be much to record until I leave the Federation for the actual Wilds. 3rd of Anael, First month of Snow, I am passing through the Federation. Apparently there have been worg sightings in the east of the Fed lands, but they have turned back. Strange. 16th of Anael, Warmer and warmer as I head northwest. I have taken to riding shirtless to keep from overheating. Brandy is making rude comments. I need to exercise more. 34th of Anael, Jogging alongside the cart, and doing other exercises is helping. I feel better than I have in years. When did I let myself go so badly? 41st of Anael, Finally rid of the Federation. There are dirt tracks here and there, instead of proper roads. I still don''t know what I''m going to do with myself from here on out, but I think it will be just me and Brandy for a while. 55th of Anael, There is a small valley in front of me, maybe a mile and a half long, and a quarter of that wide. It is green, and lush, and a large stream runs through it. What would be called, back home, an ''Old Growth'' forest occupies the southwest end, and the northeast end has a small lake. I see no smoke, or buildings. There is no road, or dirt track anywhere nearby. It looks like paradise. I need to reconnoiter the valley, make sure no one has ''claimed it''. Then I think I will move in. 3rd of Arah, Second month of Rain, It rains a lot in the ''winter'' here. The valley is clear of people. Plenty of fish in the lake and stream. The valley it teaming with animals. I have found a couple of caves, but no sign of people in them, just an angry bear in one. I ran for it, I don''t like being eaten alive. Hurts to much. The elven god can piss up a rope. I''m going to make a log cabin. Then some outbuildings for shops. Then, maybe, plant some crops? I don''t know yet. I''ll see what I can forage. I''m glad I filled the box with stuff. 75 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – A Farmer in the Dell My Dell, the real Western Wilds. 11th of Arah, Second month of Rain. 2137 years since the new gods came. I have finally managed to chop down a tree. Why did I start on one of the BIG ones? Such a waste of time and resources. It will take forever to dry out. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will start cutting more reasonable trees. Ones that my 6'' saw will actually fit. 15th of Arah, A good two dozen trees felled and pealed. Next is to move them to the prep... Shit. I need to prepare a proper place for the house. Idiot. 28th of Arah, Small hill is flattened. I had to resort to magic. Trees and moved, notched, and waiting for assembly. One bedroom, and a living/dining area, plus a spacious kitchen. Brandy is refusing to help if it involves nails. *-*-* East. The target has gone east again! Now west. And north. Northwest. That reminds me...no it doesn''t. I want bread. No. not bread. NEVER BreAD! BAD. BAD BREAD. BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD. West. More west. Pew pew pew. Boom. Boom stick? Boom Branch! Thirteen Wyverns. Dead. A feast tonight for the Worgs. The Alpha, had provided. Again. *-*-* 35th of Arah, Mosquitoes I Hate Mosquitoes 37th of Arah, My home is in the middle of construction. I have taken a break to excavate stone from a small cliff face near the empty cave I found. The cart and Wally, my horse, are barely up to the task of hauling the stone. I will need to make more trips with lighter loads. Or use more magic for foundations. Meh. Magic. 43rd of Arah, Stone hauled. 52nd of Arah, House is done. Next is the workshop for the forge and tinkering gear. Before that, though, I am going to have to find a town to pick up some odds and ends. I will head out a day or so on horseback. For a starting point, I will head back east, then head widdershins around the dell. I hope I find something early on. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. 54th of Arah, Traveling in the rain is a pain. Nothing yet. 56th of Arah, I am reminded by my journey around the dell that I am some 3000 miles from my birth home. I never expected to be so far away. Even chasing demons, we were never this far away. Huh. Today was the last day of the year. Almost 40 miles south of The Dell. 6th of Samue, the month of Planting. 2138 years since the new gods came. I have found a very small village, around 70ish people, almost due south from the Dell. I have picked up seed, and a couple of specialty tools, like a plow, that I didn''t already have in exchange for some silver and a glass bowl. Back home tomorrow. Turns out the weather here has been ''wrong'' for a couple of decades. It used to be very cold and snowy. Now it is overly hot. 8th of Samue, I''ve been learning how to plow. It is hard work, and Wally doesn''t like it. At all. 15th of Samue, Plowing is done. Planting is done. Now I start to understand why farmers farm. Every day there is something to do. And when you are done, there is satisfaction. I need chickens and a cow. No sheep or goats for me. 17th of Samue, WHERE DID THE FLOCK OF SHEEP AND GOATS COME FROM?!? Someone is playing silly buggers with me. At least the birds are OK, even if they are actually turkeys. Idiot birds. Now I need to try and fence the garden. I think I will put Brandy on flock duty. *-*-* The Island Nation of Nortontia. Northwest of the eastern continent. 2125 years since the new gods came. I am Robert Vanheim. CIA operative in good standing. I died on Earth. I died on this horrid world. There are gods here. They are all stupid. That stupid baker killed me. I''m in the body if a 16 year magic student. Robert went over the facts in his head, as the lecture went on. He spoke when he was called upon, and went about his days as normal. Halbert was the bodies name. It had ''died'' in an explosion from the alchemist department. He had been thrown into it. I will continue my studies here. I will learn to summon and portal. I will find my way home. The Island Nation of Nortontia. Northwest of the eastern continent. 2135 years since the new gods came. Master, It has been five years since I graduated your class. I have continued to learn and experiment. Please find enclosed a brief copy of interesting summoning circle I found on the isle of Nash. It was in the remains of an ancient tower that looked to have been destroyed by warfare. As the island is tiny, only big enough for the tower and a couple of fields, I wonder what actually happened. I do plan on rebuilding the tower, as it''s foundation is nigh perfect, and it sits above a small mana spring. I will write you again soon. Best regards, Robert. Robert, I am glad to hear from you my lad! I will look into that circle for you. It looks very advanced, perhaps even above my abilities. I believe you should be able to make it work. You always were the strongest of my students. Carry on, Master Gabe *-*-* Garthax, capital of Garthia. 17th of Samue, the month of Planting. 2138 years since the new gods came. The king of Garthia, a direct descendant of the Queen Mother, woke in his chamber with a scream. A farmstead in a valley. Danger. And fear. 76 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – A Farmer has Sheep and Goats My Dell, the real Western Wilds. 17th of Samue, the month of Planting. 2138 years since the new gods came. Sheep belong in heaven. Goats belong in hell. 18th of Samue, Brandy is having a hell of a time keeping the sheep and goats contained. I''m trying to figure out how to attach some to the plow. 19th of Samue, Sheep are stupid creatures. They will follow almost anything. Especially goats. Goats are evil devil spawn of the animal kingdom who will head-but you in the crotch at a moments notice. 21st of Samue, Goat milk is actually fairly tasty. I guess I won''t kill them all. I need to figure out cheese. ...I wonder if That book has any recipes for cheese...NO. 25th of Samue, Cheese is fail. Butter worked. Different from cow butter, but still good. 26th of Samue, I will be washing and sheering the sheep soon. I have slat board fence parts made for the sheering and washing area. 38th of Samue, Fence is up. I have lots of good soap. The water is running fast and clear. Brandy is looking forward to running them through the gauntlet as an act of revenge. Tomorrow is go time. 42nd of Samue, Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. A pox on the gods. 43rd of Samue, I''m glad I have only 19 sheep. *-*-* Brandy closed the gate after bringing the last sheep into the coral. They immediately started to bleat. She threw a rope around the largest (head of the herd) sheep and dragged it bodily to the chute. The rest followed. Max grabbed the first sheep in the chute, wrestled it into the fast running stream, and scrubbed it for all he was worth. The sheep went from dirty brown to a clean gray in a few minutes. From there he shoved it onto the shore on the other side of the stream. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Wash, rinse, repeat. Several hours passed. The sheep were done. For good measure, the goats were done too. Max was tired, chilled to the bone, and completely sick of four legged creatures. 19 sheep, 8 goats, one horse, a pair of goats, again, a bear, two dogs and three cats. Where did the dogs and cats come from? Max thought that night, then passed out. *-*-* 44th of Samue, I could have sworn there were cats and dogs yesterday. Brandy confirmed it. There is no sign of them anywhere. Strange. Crops are planted. The herd is happy in the coral. I''m going fishing tomorrow. 45th of Samue, Weather was fair. A few clouds that Brandy swore were dogs and cats. Fishing was good. Several keeper sized trout. And a pike. I''m smoking the pike. Plenty of fish still in the stream and pond. 51st of Samue, Ogres. Some say they are descendants of Halflings and Swamp Trolls. Others say they are Demon cross breeds of some sort. Tristan said they look similar to what the western peoples of ''Ca-na-da'' called ''sess-k-uts'', just less hairy. Personally? I think they are natures attempt to make her own species. Anyway, a small family came into the Dell today. They wanted to trade for a couple of sheep. Peaceful folk, this group. When I told them how I came by them, the decided they didn''t want any. The family will probably be gone tomorrow. *-*-* 2138(?), actual date unknown: Master, I have completed restoring the tower. It did, in ages past, belong to a most powerful mage. In my restoration, and subsequent cleaning of the island, I have found many artifacts. Some of which I believe predate the disappearance of the Old Gods. I have also found an entrance to a here to unknown basement. I will need to open it at some point, but the wards are many, and hard to dismantle. Robert. *-*-* 55th of Samue, The family actually stayed for three days. It was good to have company. I have learned a bit of their language and culture. I will probably see them again. 9th of Kielat, first month of summer, Weeding is a pain in the back. I have a dog now. It is a skinny thing. It showed up a few days back. Patchy fur, cuts, scratches, tore up paws, the whole eleven yards. Brandy is nursing it back to health. 13th of Kielat, Dog can herd sheep. He is starting to fill out. I wonder if his flock and shepherd were killed. 18th of Kielat, Orcs. Un-familied Orcs. The wild ones. To quote that stupid book, Are unable to do anything but rage at the loss of their charges. They will attack any and all who stand in their way, and rape and pillage. Three un-familied orcs traveled through. They were...different. Not quite the same as the ones with family, but not as different as the ones who served the demon lord. Honestly? They just seemed sad. Dog liked them. He made them cry. I fed them. 19th of Kielat, The Orcs left before I woke up. 21st of Kielat, Beavers have moved in. I sense a battle coming. *-*-* Somewhere, in a clearing, in the great northern woods, a gathering was taking place. A family of bears, a murder of crows, flights and flights of other birds, and the jays were silent as they perched on branches. A small group of pixies and fairies sat near each other, and didn''t fight. A goblin with a staff topped by a rabbit skull stood to the side. Warrens of rabbits sat in the short grass. A herd of deer. Squirrels, skunks, rats, mice. Wolves, worgs, and coyotes. Cats, great and small. All the animals of the forest, and an ancient yellow dragon, were in attendance. They sat, and stared, and, they had all brought a stone. And there, laid upon a bed of soft moss, was the rabbit of the wood. His time had come, and they mourned his passing. The dragon laid the first stone. Then one by one the rest followed suit. As the moon set that night, the cairn was complete. And the animals of the wood returned to there lives. And on the world of Earth, a baby screamed at the doctor who had pulled him from the womb. 77 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – A Farmer makes a Barn My Dell, the real Western Wilds. 25th of Kielat, first month of summer, 2138 years since the new gods came. The long, low shop building is done. Around 100'' long, 20'' wide, and 12'' tall. The front wall can be opened fully in several places. I should have learned carpentry. My woodworking skills are all tangential to the rest of my training. Grrr. The next week will be spent making a proper barn, as opposed to the pair of sheds I currently have. The stupid turkeys are trying to roost on the house. I need to make a coop for them as well. ...they remind me of Tranquility. *-*-* On the celestial plane, the goddess of Tranquility sneezed, then continued talking to the news stand man. *-*-* 29th of Kielat, The foundation is done. The goats keep leading the sheep out of the corral. I am going to butcher the lot of them. 30th of Kielat, Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I am going to need more wood. It also looks like I''m going to need to head back to town for more supplies. Magic combat sickle does not work well for actual harvesting. Wrong curve on the blade. 34th of Kielat, Ingots of iron are expensive out here. I will need to locate a vein. Or search through the crate. I suppose I need to empty it anyway. 36th of Kielat, Where did this candelabra come from? *-*-* Where the hell did I get you? Max asked the golden, jewel encrusted candelabra, covered with strange glyphs. It didn''t answer. Meh. Stupid thing, I''ll think about it later. *-*-* 37th of Kielat, The idiots temple in Sleetpoint! That''s where I stole it! 38th of Kielat, I''m a lumberjack. It''s an okay profession. I work all day cutting down trees, and sleep like a log all night. Brandy and Dog are having a fun time with the sheep and goats. 41st of Kielat, Barn raising by yourself is such a pain. I''m having to use spells to keep pieces in place. 42nd of Kielat, It fell down. Not all of it, but most of it. Stupid lack of carpentry skills. I wonder if Bjorn knows how to build a barn from scratch? 45th of Kielat, Bjorn stopped by today on his way west. Apparently there is another continent! Full of other peoples! Minotaurs, lizard folk, and other such fantastical people! Maybe someday I will go there. He laughed about the barn. Asshole. Said that maybe he would send help later if I didn''t figure it out. I suppose I could just grow one? 48th of Kielat, The barn has been grown. Idiot of the elves didn''t even show up. That is weird. He always has in the past. I''m still making one the proper way. It is just farther down the list now. 77.1 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – H&H 5: The Taco Truck The barn was cozy, not to warm, not to cold, just perfect. The regular suspects were sitting around the table as the map was laid out and dice were gathered. Then the bomb was dropped. Hey, Mil? Did you know your Ex is sleeping with the news stand guy? Pendleton, the small god of Gnomes asked Maximilian. Maximilian sighed, Yes. Yes I do. Everyone and their brother has told me. He took a deep breath, held it for a four count, and exhaled, And why are you calling me ''Mil''? Pendleton coughed, Okay. I won''t mention them again. As for ''Mil'', well with the Heretic channel, every time I call you ''Max'' out there, people think I''m talking about him. And your name is a bit long. Oh, the ''All Max, All the Time'' channel on the scrying stone? Dude is hilarious! Washing dogs, cats, and a Grizzly Bear?!? I wonder what the bear was thinking! Sarah, the small god of small shadows, interjected. She put out her Llama in the ashtray, and cracked open a can of green stuff. Kocha looked up from his anchovies and artichoke pizza, If you were a bear, would you argue with a pixie? I sure as heck wouldn''t! True. So, brother of mine, what is tonight''s adventure? asked Sarah, looking at Ghondish. Ghondish smiled, Tonight, we have the newly published adventure, ''Ballad of the Taco Truck''. Do you all remember Mrs. Gonzales? She was the new neighbor I introduced a couple weeks back. The lady who''s grandma, her Abuela, sells those tamales? I had one last week at the Rio college! Those things are AWESOME! Pendleton''s eyes sparkled. Yep! That''s her. Ghondish replied, a smile crossing his lips again. *-*-* So, Abuela wants to open a Taco Truck in the community? We HAVE to help her! Sarah shot to her feet. My fellow neighbors! I hereby call for a vote of the community council, to approve ''Abuela''s Tacos'' for immediate access to our community! Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ''Sadly, I must disagree. While Mrs. Gonzales the elder is a wonderful cook, and her food is amazing, the bylaws of our community strictly forbid ''food trucks'' of any sort access to our community outside of designated festivals and other such events.'' Mr. Johnston, the head of the council says. Ghondish narrates the response. But, surely we can make just one exception? Pendleton responds, in character. ''Sadly, no. That would set a precedent that will open us up to lawsuits from other food trucks who we refuse.'' Mr. Johnston replies. Ghondish narrates again. Well, shit. What do we do folks? Mil asks. Should we just give up? Or what? Maybe we could force through a resolution for a one time exception? Kocha asks. Pendleton cocked his head to one side, then the other, Maybe...maybe... no, that won''t work. I have an idea for you. A voice from under the table announces. Kocha looked under the table, then grabs and pulls out a hissing cat from under it. What the hell do you think you doing here? Helping, you dolt. El Gato, deposed king of the celestial realm, replied, hanging from the scruff of his neck. Now if you put me down, I will give you a solution that your imaginary council may give credence to. Kocha unceremoniously dumped the cat on the table. I don''t buy it. Talk fuzzball. If you must know, I have been snubbed by the most adorable lady cat in town. She didn''t like the fresh salmon I brought her. El Gato looked down for a moment, before returning to stare at the party. The table of gods exchanged sympathetic looks. Anyway, my dear godling, all you need to do is introduce a resolution that changes the bylaws to allow ''Food Trucks'' and the like into the community on a regular basis, IF the owner of said truck is a resident of the community. El Gato replied as he cleaned his fur. That way there is no room for lawsuits, or other lowlife attempts at destroying the sovereignty of your imaginary dwelling place. The group of gods stared at the cat. Finaly Sarah spoke, We should do what the cat says. I think it has a shot. Put it up for public vote. I will start the rumor mill on it. Pen? You start on the wording. Mil? Get the redneck/blue collar group going on it. Kocha? Talk to Mrs Gonzales, both the elder and younger. Get a voting festival planned, with free samples so that we can show off how good her food is. You know Ms. Chang is going to want in on this too. She keeps fighting with the council about running a baking/catering business out of her house. Kocha said, bringing the discussion to a halt. Pendleton slumped in his chair. She is such a...unpleasant person. Do we have too? El Gato stretched out on the map, knocking dice and pencils off the table. If you are doing it for one, you have to do it for everyone. He looked around, Someone get me a can of tuna? *-*-* I didn''t expect so many ''racists'' to show up for the vote. Kocha shook his head. I can''t believe the number of different skin colors of racists there were in the neighborhood! Sarah said in disgust. Seriously! What the ever loving mother of the universe? What I can''t believe is the amount of damage that stupid cat did to our map. Ghondish said. Pendleton looked up from his notes, I can''t believe I failed to convince them to vote for the amendment. We can try again at next months meeting. Mil said. Maybe not do all the advertising? Good plan for next time. Kocha agreed. The game ended with all gathered in low spirits. 78 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – A Farmer makes a Friend 78 The Not-Immortal blacksmith C A Farmer makes a Friend Osowiec Fortress, Russian Empire. August 6, 1915. The chlorine gas hung thick in the air as Corporal Ivan Volkov prepared to charge the German lines. He had rounds left in his 3-line rifle M1891 Dragoon (what the west called a Mosin-Nagant), and 4 stripper clips left in his pouches. 11 rounds for the Nagant M1895 revolver he had taken from the corpse of an officer. Bayonet was fixed to the rifle, he was ready to die for his homeland. And make the German bastards die for theirs. He charged. *-*-* The celestial realm. Narissa, goddess of Tranquility, was having a bad day. Not only had she received bad news from the small god of divination about the impending demon lord, but in trembling hands she held a letter. Not just any letter. The letter was addressed to her, using her full name, and written in the ancient script. It contained two words: Fix It. No signature. No return address. Nothing. But she knew where it was from, and her soul quaked. *-*-* My Dell, the real Western Wilds. 50th of Kielat, first month of summer, 2138 years since the new gods came. The bear dragged a wounded soldier to my doorstep today. I yelled at the idiot to fix him. He''s been asleep all day. *-*-* Ivan clung to his rifle, now empty after the charge, as he fell from the clouds. The wind buffeting him back and forth, forcing clean air to circulate through his lungs. He didn''t know what was going on, or what had happened. There was a flash of light, then falling. He impacted the ground outside of a cave, and fell unconscious. - - - Max looked out his new front window, and saw the bear dragging something towards his house. Sighing, he walked out the door and shook his head. No. Not again. That Idiot! The bear deposited a mostly dead man in front of him, and ran for it''s life. Max rolled his eyes, looked up to the sky and yelled, Look, you idiot! If you''re going to deliver strange men to my house you had best heal them! A beam of softly glowing yellow light fell from the heavens, knocking Max''s hat off his head, and revived the withered grass at his feet.. You missed, you idiot! A second light shot from the heavens, bathing the now dead man in light. The man coughed, blood spewing from his nose and mouth. Max rolled him onto his side, and the man fell into a fitful sleep. *-*-* 53rd of Kielat, He woke up today. Very weak. Fed him and got his story. I''ve heard of poison gas spells like Q''ell''s Deadly Cloud, but this guys stuff sounds...monstrous. I''m glad he lived. *-*-* Ivan looked out the window at a peaceful blue sky. He was lying in a bed that wasn''t his. The room wasn''t his. The log walls looked like something out of the old country. He could believe that he was in an old farmstead in the country, If it weren''t for the Piksi that kept looking in on him. At least she spoke perfect Russian. Oh, the big strong army boy is awake! I should go tell the boss! It said, and flew off. I''m either dreaming, or I''m dead. Ivan thought as he struggled to get out of bed. Bathroom. Bathroom now. His body screamed. He stumbled towards the door, and fell over a bedpan. Bedpan. Good. He relieved himself, washed his hands in a conveniently placed basin, and stepped out into the larger room beyond the door. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. He was definitely in a cabin. The large room had a kitchen area on one end, a table with four rustic chairs around it with place settings for three and a pot of something that smelled good, as well as a fireplace with a comfy looking chair in front of it. No art hung on the walls, but a gorgeous crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. He waited for the dream to end, and the pain to resume. It''s not a dream. This is your new reality. A gruff voice from behind him said. Welcome to Gristal. That''s the name of our world. From your injuries, and your weapons, you were brought here from Earth, probably from some battlefield or other. Don''t worry, It''s all in the corner by the fireplace. Ivan''s eyes followed the spoken description, and alighted on his things. Rifle, revolver, clothes, boots, it all looked to be there. It all looked clean. And polished. He exhaled a breath he hadn''t realized he was holding. Thank you. Not a problem. The voice replied. You might be surprised how many times this has happened to me over the years. Stupid gods. Ivan slowly turned around to look at his benefactor and saw a young man, in his mid twenties, slightly unkempt beard, average height, and eyes. He couldn''t focus on the man''s eyes. They slightly glowed in varying colors, and it was a bit unnerving. Thank you for saving me. I...I should have died. I was charging the German lines...bullets were screaming past me...I emptied my rifle... and then they broke and ran... and then I was falling... Ivan started to sob. My friends, my brothers in arms, they died...I couldn''t save them... The strange man stepped close and gave him a hug. It happens. Needless slaughter. You did the best you could. He patted Ivan on the back, then stepped away. Now come, sit down and have some stew. Food will help you feel better. They sat and ate in silence. The piksi sat cross legged on the table and ate as much as Ivan did, matching him bite for bite. She even used the same sized spoon! The man spoke again, Don''t Mind Brandy, she always eats like a horse. She tried to eat my horse once, after he kicked her. The piksi, Brandy, piped up around her spoon, Not my fault. The big bastard was trying to steal my sugar cube! And if you hadn''t been teasing him with it, he wouldn''t have tried to eat it. The man answered. Then looked over to Ivan, My name is Maxwell, by the by. You can call me Max. Most people do. Mr. Maxwell, Where am I? What happened to me? Ivan asked. How did I come here? Well, firstly, call me Max. Secondly, you are on the ''planet'' Gristal. More to the point, you are east of the ''Demon lands'', in my little slice of heaven. Later on I can show you a map. We''re a bit far from any real civilization, but I like it that way. Third and fourth, you were grabbed from home by one of our idiot gods and dropped somewhere near where the local bear lives, and he dragged you here. ... um ... Yeah, that''s what most people say. Max said, giving a sad smile. I''ve done this a couple of times before. The idiots upstairs think that just because I went on one big adventure with a ''Hero from another world'', that I''m the best person to show the new ones the ropes, as it were. Looks like they finally decided to just drop people in my lap, as opposed to asking first. Stupid pattern recognition. Okay. So another world. It''s like the old fairy tales. Ivan shook his head. So I''ve been told. Max gave half smile. You look tired still. Why don''t you go back to bed, and we can talk more at supper. Ivan helped clear the table, and noticed that there wasn''t a stove in the kitchen, and no pot holder in the fireplace. Finally, with some hesitation, he asked, Um, there''s no stove. How did you cook the stew? Magic pot. Cooks while I''m bust. Best thing the mages ever came up with. Max replied. Sure wish I had brought it along when I was in the army. I guess I can be stupid too. Ivan shook his head and went back to bed. Food in his belly, he was asleep before he hit the mattress. - - - What felt like minutes, but was actually hours later, Ivan awoke with something small bouncing on his chest. He cracked open one eye and saw the piski. Please go away, rusalka of the wilds. I have nothing to offer you, and no inclination to make a deal. Finally! Someone who understands the old ways! Brandy said, grinning, then shouted over shoulder, Hey, Max! I like this one! Can I keep him? Ivan''s eyes shot open, as he sucked in a breath, about to scream for help, when Maxwell answered loudly from the other room. Brandywine the Fairy! I''ve told you no on the subject of that so many times, I''m sick of you asking! The answer is still NO, and will continue to be NO. Ivan slowly exhaled. Spoilsport! Then Brandy whirled, DID YOU CALL ME A FAIRY?!?!? And flew into the other room. Sounds of clattering and banging were heard for a few moments, then a metallic clang was heard, and the fight ended. - - Supper was an interesting affair. It included soup, salad, roast duck with a honey glaze, and a delightful cinnamon cake for desert. Ivan was stuffed, so he bribed Brandy with the last third of his cake. So. Tell me about when you came from. I''ve met enough of you people to know about Earth. But people come dropping in from different times. Max started the conversation. August 6th, 1915. My unit was defending the Osowiec Fortress for our great Russian Empire. The evil Germans fired canisters of poison gas over and into our defensive trenches. Ivan felt the burn of the gas upon his skin and eyes once again, and shook from the memories. I was in the far back of the trench work, right in front of the fortress walls, and the wind saved us from the worst of the gas. But it still killed us, just slower than our comrades in arms. When they stopped shelling us, and the gas had somewhat dissipated, the German army started to march through, and kill anyone who was left alive. They were mercy killings, to be honest. The few of us who remained, we bandaged ourselves the best we could, covered out mouths with whetted cloth, and charged the German lines. We were already dead, but we could still move, so we went. I saw the Germans break. But then I was falling. And then I awoke here. So the gas, it gave you those burns? Max''s eyes were wide with horror. They did that? To people? That''s horrific! Barbaric! Yes. Ivan''s eyes leaked, and tears started to run down his face. Max passed him a handkerchief, Here. Keep it. Ivan soon went back to bed. 79 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Letters and Goats and Pixies oh my! Isle of Nash 31st of Kielat, first month of summer, 2138 years since the new gods came. Master, I hope that this letter finds you and yours safe and well. I cannot believe that you will be retiring from your position as head of the Trasportational Magic department! I do understand that it has been over 40 years, but I had thought you would keep on forever. I do hope retirement treats you well. Please say hello to Melinda and the children for me. It has been three years since I found this island. I am still rebuilding the tower. The first floor has been restored, and the magical diagram has consumed all my free time. I believe that I have finally, with the help of the old books I have recovered from around the island, found it''s meaning. It is the foundation of a cross dimensional gate! With more study and time, I believe this will provide a basis for my trip home. In other news, the chickens and sheep like it here, and don''t seem to bother the garden much. I occasionally entertain visitors from home, but there isn''t that much direct contact with people. I''m glad for that, as seclusion makes for the best study time for me. Robert *-*-* The Island Nation of Nortontia. Northwest of the eastern continent. 4th of Amsiel, the second month of Summer. 2138 years since the new gods came. Dearest Robert, Melinda and the children say hello to you! We are buying a large cottage in the countryside, and getting out of this drafty tower later this week. As you know, my knees don''t like the stairs any more. The pains from walking have crept into my lower back now, and the cold stones don''t seem to give me the same support that they used to. I believe the change of scenery will be of some help. If nothing else, the fresh country air will be good for my lungs. I am glad to hear that your tower is coming along nicely. You know how bad the weather can get, so don''t forget the insulation, as you don''t get the same support from stone that I do. Keep working through those books, and while you are at it, I would bet my left testicle that they contain more hidden depth that you have seen. What have you done with that hidden door, by the way? There could be anything down there. Anything from treasure, to monsters, to rotted food. I am excited to find out! Take care of yourself, Gabe *-*-* The Celestial Realm. 50th ish of Kielat, first month of summer, 2138. Ghondish looked down on the world, and remembered. His friends. His family. Maybe I should look in on that Maxwell guy everyone keeps talking about? Naw. I did him a good turn, not interested any more. The scrying mirror he had been using switched pictures as his ''little sister'' walked in and sat on the couch. Yo G! I''m gonna see what Max is up to today. The broadcast has a summary episode every few hours of his last week. Sarah said, lighting a Llama. Now where is my ashtray? I threw it out after you forgot to dump it last night. Well, thanks. I guess? Sarah summoned another one. Sorry about that. I''m still getting my strength back, so I forget sometimes. I know. That''s why I''m not mad. Ghondish sighed. How much longer do you think it will take? Well, if healing took 10k years...probably another five thousand? She cocked her head to one side, thinking. Less if I can muster up a few more followers. The summary portion of the program started, and they watched in boredom, until the Russian soldier appeared. What the ever living?!?!? Sarah screamed at the screen. How did that happen?!? A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. I...I don''t know? Ghondish said, startled. Mil used a gray area of the law for those three spooks, but this is WAY across the line. No one should be able to do this. Unless... Unless what? I...I''ll get back to you. Ghondish fled from the barn. *-*-* Max''s Dell the Real Western Wilds. 54th of Kielat, first month of summer, 2138 years since the new gods came. Brandywine, Queen Pixie of all she surveyed, was relaxing on the roof of the cabin, catching some sunlight. She watched as Max showed the still weak ''Ivan of Earth'' around the local area. She grabbed a nearby butterfly, and munched down the tasty treat. Hmm, looks like they''re going to be at it for a while. I think I''m going to go get me some second, and maybe third, breakfast. She jumped up and let the wind take her to the big woods. A mouse, three chipmunks, and a large rat later, she stood on top of the tallest redwood, and gazed into the distance. Humans are silly. They can''t even ''flatten'' out the ground so that they can see over the horizon. Is it lack of magic? Or just not even thinking that it is possible? Maybe I should go back to that stupid school and teach a basic magic class...Naw. Most of them were idiots. Not a new thought in their pint sized minds. She stared for a while longer, then flitted back towards the cabin and Max. The pair of humans were talking. Again. Blah blah blah. War war. Blah blah blah. She made up the words, not even trying to actually listed. Oh, a Jay! I hate those loud things! She took off after it, divebombing from above, and cutting in and out of it''s flight path until it fled from the dell. She shook her little fist at it, yelling If you come back again, I will eat you and the rest of your nest! She smiled. She hovered for a while, surveying the land, then let the wind gently float he to where Dog was tending the sheep and goats. Who''s a good boy? Who''s a good boy? You are! She greeted him. Dog danced around, understanding nothing but the ''good boy'' part. When a wayward lamb started wandering off from the flock, he jumped after it, and chased it back to mama. Flock and Dog inspected, she took off to look in on the old grizly bear. Old bear was happily munching on a carcass of some type. Brandy checked in with him for a minute; cant get too friendly, or he will keep her talking for hours; made sure the lice and fleas were still gone, and departed for the empty cave. A cave, that behind a false wall, had some gold, and a tunnel in it. She hadn''t gone exploring yet. Maybe another day. She just wanted to make sure it hadn''t been disturbed. It hadn''t. *-*-* The Celestial Realm. 55th ish of Kielat, first month of summer, 2138. Ghondish had run to the forest. Deep into the forest. Unlocked an ancient gate in a hedge, and stepped into an ancient temple. The temple took him to a much deeper, brighter place. A place he hadn''t set foot in since the fateful day they had all left. Even the eldest of the young gods didn''t remember this place; he had made sure of that. He stepped out from the temple, knelt, and asked, What in the mother''s name have you done? There was no reply. A shadow fell over Genha, and he felt a change in the atmosphere, a change in the depths of his being. He didn''t turn around. He Knew this presence. This shadow. In his mind he heard the words, the ancient, antediluvian words. I DID THIS. IT IS IN MY DOMAIN. FIX IT. And it was gone. Genha ran. He didn''t even stop to lock the gate, he just slammed it. He hid in the barn''s sub basement, and trembled in fear. - - - Narissa was in a panic. A soldier? Who had broken the rule? That rule? The Cat? No, he lacked the power, and the knowledge. Maximilian? No, he knew better, even with that stunt a while back, he also lacked the power. Who had done it? Who? And the letter. Only the old Gods had know her full name and title. They were all gone, except Ghondish, and his power was chained. Kocha had seen to that. So not Ghondish, well the letter maybe, but he wouldn''t stoop that low for a prank. No one resorted to that level of command. Net even her. Not even when the council was fighting each other. No, the order came from elsewhere... - - - Ghondish, slightly drunk from his sisters stash, answered the knock on the barn door. Narissa stood there, disheveled, red eyed, and tears streaking her usually perfect guise. We need to talk. Moments later they were ensconced in the library, freshly cleaned from the other nights gaming session. Narissa started, I got a letter, addressed with my full name and title, in the old script. Telling me to ''fix it''. That was it. Just the two words. Ghondish blanched. I just saw the broadcast, a short while ago. I know for a fact that No One from here can break that law. At least not with the power they currently control. You know that for certain? Just because you lot caused me to loose most of my power doesn''t mean that I lost my knowledge. I have millennia on you. Even if you added all of your real ages together, I am far OLDER. Ghondish replied, a slight amount of annoyance may have slipped through his internal filters. I have the knowledge to enact the ritual, all of ''us'' do, but I lack the power. Even back then I lacked the power. Then what happened? Well...Either a mortal got his hands on a copy of the book that Knowledge has in her keeping, and ritually killed thousands of people; or... Or something else happened. There have been incidents. What kind of incidents? The kind that I can''t tell you about. The kind that...the less said, the better. As the head of the council of gods, I Compel you to tell me. Ghondish twitched for a moment, then started to laugh. You? You? He chortled for a moment, then recovered, You think you can compel me? He fell out of his chair, laughing, and pounded his front hooves on the floor. Finally he looked up at the very serious, very angry, face of Narissa. Oh. Oh, you were serious. He climbed back into his chair, poured them both a triple shot of Bjorn''s special stock, the stuff even Maxwell can''t have more than a couple drops of*. He began to speak. - - - Three hours had passed. Narissa threw up again, not from the booze, it had been Quite good. No, she threw up from what Ghondish had seen, back when the troubles had begun, what had caused the protocols that he must fulfill, to be put in place. And now she knew. She Knew what he was. And that he had Always been pretending. *Brandywine could actually survive a quarter shot of the stuff. Any more than that, and she needed to be resuscitated. 80 The Not-Immortal blacksmith – Isekai Brothers Palestinian/Israel border, Earth. 2010-2018 The wedding was small, with only friends of the couple attending, as Noah and Jana said their vows. Being Jewish and Muslim respectively, not having family there made sense, but was disheartening non the less. Each had a son, aged four, Yossef and Hamza. The boys were already inseparable, so there was that at least. They settled in a small apartment on the border, and had a good life for 8 years. - The rockets and shells fell short. An apartment on the border was destroyed. Just a number for the news. After the fact, when the investigators searched the scene, and a pair of bodies were found hugging each other. Noah and Jana cried for Yossef and Hamza, and buried them. Then picked up the pieces. They tried to move on. And unlike so many after a tragedy such as this, they did. 7 more children, and many many grandchildren were born. But, they never forgot their first. *-*-* The Celestial Realm. 2138. Yossef and Hamza looked around the glowing platform, at the three glowing ''people'' on the dais. They turned to each other, smiling, and in unison screamed ISEKAI!!!!! and pumped their fists in the air. Narissa, goddess of Tranquility; Maximilian, god of War; and Nedaris, God of Magic; were standing on the dais, jaws open and eyes slightly bulged. The boys looked up again, bowed slightly, then Yossef started. We suppose you are the ''gods'' of this realm, Hamza continued, and you want us to take up the mantle of heros. We accept. They said together. The three gods stared for a moment, then Narissa spoke, That is indeed why you are here. Your universe has granted our request for heros, and we summoned you upon your death. Hamza interrupted, We know the whole idea. Brass tacks time. Yossef continued, What or who are we killing, and how long do we have? Mil spoke, surprise finally overcome, You aren''t surprised? Not even a bit? Yossef and Hamza exchanged a quick look, Hamza shrugged, and Yossef spoke up, We''ve seen the Anime. We know the tropes. Hamza again, We don''t mean to be rude, we just don''t wish to waste your time. Narissa sighed, Very well. One of you will be given Magic, the other the gift of Arms. Yossef cocked an eyebrow, We already have a pair. I don''t think we need more. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. I think she means weapons and such, Yossef. Hamza interjected, hopefully before his brother put his foot in it any more than he already had. Yossef cocked his head, Oh... That makes more sense. He faced the gods again, My apologies. Nadaris spoke, You must choose. One will gain my powers of Magic. The other will gain the powers of the god of War. The boys huddled in conference. For five minutes. Then another five. Finally after a third set of five minutes, they turned back to the gods. Yossef spoke first, As I have less reservations on a religious grounds against magic, I will take it. I will take the teachings of the prophet of war. Hamza announced. Beams of energy struck the boys, and the celestial construct vanished, leaving the boys on a lush prairie and a town in the distance. The looked at each other, and smiled. *-*-* Prophet? PROPHET?!? I am a GOD! Maximilian ranted to the other two, after the boys had left. Now, now, I assume it was a religious thing for the boy, not a slight. Nadaris said, trying to calm him down. Don''t take it so personally. He impugned my god-hood! Mil yelled. How could I not take it personally! Narissa looked over at him, The last person you tried to punish for that killed your avatar. Mil shut up. *-*-* The Demon King had clawed his way through the void gate, and dug his way towards the surface of the world. He had started to dig out the expansive tunnels his army would use to move silently across the world when heard the sound of baying wolves. They sounded a bit off to his ears, then he realized they were worgs, not wolves. *-*-* Happy happy day. Puppies found a hole of demons! Demons are almost tasty. Bread bad. BAD BAD BAD. West. Go west. WEST WEST WEST. Big demon flee to sky. Missed him. Need better rifle. He put the Barrett M82 back on the sled he was pulling, and continued along the ice pack. I wish bread wasn''t bad for me... *-*-* Yossef and Hamza entered the town, and stopped to stare at the elderly tom cat who was stalking a bird. As the cat jumped, Hamza stomped his foot, startling the bird to flight, and the cat missed. The can turned and fixed the boys with a one eyed stare, What foolish mortals are these who would interfere with my lunch? Yossef looked at Hamza, Puss in boots reference? Probably not. He hasn''t tried to prove his intelligence. And Puss would have jumped off the wall to catch the bird. Tom Cat, El Gato, deposed king of the celestial realm, peered at the boys, Puss in boots? That trumped up fairy tale? Bah. He was a nothing. A fever dream! Wow, who knew that the story was known in another world? Hamza asked. No. No one here but me knows the tale. Even in Mexico, we read those silly stories. Tom Cat replied. MEXICO?!? Both boys exclaimed in unison. Yes. Mexico City to be exact. Tom Cat began grooming himself. Born and raised, pendajo. But here, I became a god! Until I was deposed from my rightful place. Bastards threw me out. He shook his paw at the sky. I will be back! Did you die too? Yossef asked. No. I walked through a portal some idiot godling left open. I ate the food, and drank the drinks of the gods of this world, and became a god myself. He left out the part about eating a couple other gods. Now I have been banished, and dwell in this realm. He stood, and shook himself, shedding any trace of the street cat look, and becoming a radiant personification of a well cared for long haired cat. Now with a leather patch over one eye. If you follow me, I think I can find what you need for your journey. He set off down the street. What do you think, should we follow our own Puss in Patch? Hamza asked his brother. I think we better hurry. He''s getting away. Yossef replied. Maybe he can tell us which way is Mecca? Crap! I forgot to ask those three! *-*-* My Dell, The real Western Wilds. 3rd of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2138 years since the new gods came. I have been training Ivan is sword and shield combat. He is learning quickly. Whatever god called him, gave him a huge amount of potential. Bigger than any I have ever seen before. He keeps looking at the scythe. When I asked him, he told me he was a farmer before he volunteered for the army, and it reminds him of home. 6th of Amsiel, Brandy informed me that bandits are approaching from the west. I have informed Ivan of the threat. We expect then tomorrow afternoon. 81 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith - A Farmer takes a Fight My Dell, The real Western Wilds. 7th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2138 years since the new gods came. The bandits came a bit after noon. Ivan was...Impressive. Reminded me of Tristan... I still miss that man. I hope he did well in that foreign land. I hate cleaning up after battles. *-*-* The bandits came over the ridge on horseback by the dozen, yelling and laughing. Ivan, crouched in a clump of brush, and aimed his rifle at the lead rider, adjusting his sights. Brandywine was hanging in the air, well above the eye line of the group, and Maxwell was crouched next to where the bandits were coming into the dell. When the last bandit cleared the ridge, Ivan fired. With a resounding report, a ball of black energy streaked toward the lead rider, clipping his shoulder at 200 meters. The bandit spun and exploded. Ivan stopped, and stared at the weapon for a long moment, then worked the bolt and fired again. Maxwell stood from his hiding place, drew his magical sword, and leapt on the last rider, skewering him from behind, then pushing the screaming bandit from the saddle. The body fell, smoking, as the enchantment from the blade ate into his flesh. At this point Brandy shot down from the sky, lifted a horse into the air with a slight (and very unladylike grunt) and hurled the horse and rider into another. The horses screamed and kicked, the riders died in the impact. Chaos rained across the glen, as combat continued. Max on horseback, riding down opponents; Brandy throwing riders, rocks, and the occasional horse; and Ivan shooting from his concealed position, bolts of black energy exploding on their targets. More than a dozen bandits were down in a matter of seconds. As the battle turned into a grand melee, Maxwell was struck from the saddle, a lucky blow that took the back half of his head off, from a rider swinging a war axe. Ivan screamed, the memory of past comrades falling around him flooded his vision. Then he saw the unbelievable, a thing of tales. Maxwell stood up. - Maxwell growled. It had been years since he had last lost his head in a fight. He pointed a finger at the cheering bandit, turned the palm of his hand up, and curled the finger and the rest of his hand into a fist. There was a quiet snap, then the bandit''s head popped from it''s body. The corpse fell from the horse, and Maxwell took the mount for his own. Forsaking the sword and shield of before, Max was done with ''fun''. He pointed, and uttered words of power. Bits of light and pure force scattered across the battlefield. Bandits, and sometimes their mounts, dropped dead. Some of the bandits, the ones with some sense of self preservation, fled the dell. The rest perished. Messily. The cleanup from the battle lasted many times longer than the seven minutes of the battle itself. The fleeing horses were captured. The bodies policed, the wounded killed. Then all of the corpses were buried, in separate graves that Max dug himself, by hand. There was no celebration of the slaughter of the day, and that night they had dreams of the dead looking at them with empty soulful eyes. All seeming to ask Why? *-*-* 8th of Amsiel, I finished cleaning up the battle site today. I did it myself. Told Ivan and Brandy to take care of the horses. 38 of the things survived. I''m going to have to head to town with most of them, sell them off, or trade for items. I spent this evening going over Ivan''s weapons. The spellwork is the same. THE EXACT SAME. It''s like someone copied the spellwork I laid on Tristan''s weapons, just stronger than I could manage at the time. And the magic at the core? I laid fire and lightning, with an explosive effect. This? This is straight up Death Magic. Not that shit ''Death Bolt'' stuff that Necromancers use. This is a straight up ''Hand of Death'' spell, with a complimentary explosive radius. The only Necromancer I ever met that could cast this spell could only do it once per day, and even he had to do a full hand waiving, chanting and throwing of components. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Ilaldin, Goddess of the Afterlife, could do something like this, but it would burn with her aura, and this? It doesn''t. I hope I never meet the one who made this... 13th of Amsiel, Ivan and I are heading to town tomorrow with a train of horses. I am in need for some kind of device for cutting down massive swaths of grass for hay. Failing that, I will need more ore of something, so I can make my own. Doing it by hand is getting old. 14th of Amsiel, Made it to town. Very late. Set up camp about half a mile outside of it. Kinda quiet. 15th of Amsiel, I will kill every bandit I see. I WILL NEVER let them walk away again. They torched the town, tortured women and children, threw them down the well! The town will never even be remembered! At least by no one other than me. I cry at the scene I beheld today. And I grieve for Ivan as well. I hate to admit it, but I don''t know what I hate more now, bandits or the gods? Maybe I despise them equally. If I had my druthers, I would wish the both gone. Given the choice between the two? I don''t know. *-*-* Maxwell and Ivan made it to town several hours after nightfall. The picketed the horsed just off the main road, if you could even call it that, and set up camp. Morning came, much too early. They didn''t bother breaking camp, as they would be there all day, trying to sell the horses. The sun rose, as it always did, in the east, and bathed the town in light. And they looked upon the burned out husks of buildings. Ivan shook his head in disgust, and turned to Max, I think we''re too late. Should we search for survivors? I think---. Max started to say, then heard a child wail in the distance. Let''s go. The men ran for the voice. They searched houses, small ramshackle buildings at the best of times, but made worse by the fires. They uncovered bodies, men, women, and children. Eventually finding the source of the cry. Huddled in the bottom of a well, several small forms were trying to climb the slick walls, looking to escape. Ivan grabbed the rope, on old thick hempen thing, and prepared to lower himself down. The children began to wail again. Ivan wait! Stop! Max yelled, looking down into the old stone well. We have come too late. A tear made it''s way down his face. He cast a light spell, and sent the glowing ball down into the well. What they saw made Ivan shrink away. In the bottom of the well, standing on the corpses of the dead were children. Once. Now they looked up with empty eyes, jagged teeth in the remains of their mouths, white hair, and clawed fingers. The dead, reanimated by the horror of what they had witnessed, stared at the two men at the mouth of the well. Tears dripping from faces and jaws set, Max and Ivan returned them to the world of the dead. They spent the rest of the day searching the small town for any who might have survived, but found no one. That night, dreams of the dead followed them. *-*-* 18th of Amsiel, We arrived late today, just before sundown with all the horses, and several other farm animals the bandits didn''t get. I don''t know what we will do with them all. I don''t think we can feed them through the winter. Starvation is the worst way to go. It''s worse than burning to death. I know that first hand. At least, when you die from fire, the smoke gets you first, even as the fire scorches your nerves. And if the smoke doesn''t get you, the pain only lasts for a while. Starvation takes weeks, months if you are unlucky. Worse by far. A quick death is better. Brandy is angry. More so than when she got cut off at the bar. She has been shedding pixie dust everywhere, and some of it has spontaneously caught fire. If we had kept prisoners... It''s just good that we don''t. 19th of Amsiel, Brandy has disappeared. 32nd of Amsiel, Brandy has been gone for a long time. I hope she finds what she needs and comes back intact. *-*-* Brandywine was hunting. She had her pixie bow, and poisoned arrows. She had the scent. She had become death on the wing. She had flown for ten days straight. No rest, no food, no drink. She was a creature of the Fey, of magic, she didn''t need it. She followed the bandits. Finally, not long before sunrise she found them. She smiled to herself. This wasn''t for fun, this wasn''t a gag, or a joke. This was retribution. - As the sun rose that day, blood ran on the ground. Tents were covered in it. Pieces of bodies, and parts of limbs were scattered. The last bandit, the leader of the group was tied, arms and legs spread out, over the remains of the previous nights fire pit. He screamed as the hot coals nesting in his entrails kept burning long after the pixie had left. *-*-* 46th of Amsiel, Brandy has returned. She refuses to talk about where she went, or what she did. She had more horses for us to deal with. I think I will set them free, to survive on their own on the plains. 47th of Amsiel, All but the six strongest horses have been released. I wish them well. I hope that Ghondish thing helps them out. I won''t pray, but I will Hope. 82 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – God Foolery, Isekai Brothers, and Dreams Smithson School of Crafting, Garthia. 3rd of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2138 years since the new gods came. The brothers, heroes from another world, Yossef and Hamza followed Tom Cat into a sprawling complex''s courtyard. They noticed that the gate was flanked by a pair of statues, A Dwarf dressed as a blacksmith, and a human man, dressed in the same fashion. Hey Tom, who are the statues? Hamza asked. The Dwarf is the so called god of crafting. Tried to kill me once. I ''bless'' it regularly. Tom replied, not bothering to turn and look as he sauntered across the paving stones of the courtyard. The other one is some guy called the ''Heretic''. Nice guy, even if he does like fairies. - somewhere in the Dell, Brandywine sneezed. - Anyway, were... Tom''s eyes gleamed as a middle aged woman, wearing a light blue dress and an apron, came out from what the boys assumed was the kitchen with a large saucer. Never mind! Cream Time! He bolted towards a strange looking tree in the courtyard''s center. The woman, placed the large saucer on the ground, at the base of the tree, and a pounce of furry mewling balls of fluff charged it. Tom waited for each to take it''s place, the settled in and started to drink. Hamza turned to look at the cats, then over to Yossef, Looks like we lost our guide? Probably right. Yossef looked at the woman, who had just picked a kitten out of the dish, and was drying it off. Maybe she can help? The boys slowly walked over to her. Hamza spoke first. Excuse us, elder, could you help us? Tom Cat lead us here... But, we are at a loss as to what we should do now. Perhaps, you may know... Where we may find shelter? Or a place to Eat? And get equipment... For our quest? Yossef finished the alternating speech that most adults found both enduring and annoying at the same time. Well boys, what kind of quest? She looked up from the kitten, who was now snuggled into an apron pocket, happily snoring. She then cocked her head to one side, as if listening to someone, then looked at the boys again. Oh. Heroes from another world! I will take you to the Matriarch. She will know what to do. *-*-* The Celestial Realm The Monthly meeting of gods. ...and in other items today, Narissa, goddess of Tranquility, said, Does anyone know why there is a herd of horses in Ghondish''s pen? Maximilian, Mil for short, the god of War, looked up from a drawing he was making (of a young man in work overalls, who was obviously drinking a can of schmitz''z beer), Well, they do look like the herd the Fake Max let loose the other day. Well, that settles that. Narissa replied. Any other business? Nothing! Trixie, goddess of deception, and secretary of the council (she had the best handwriting), announced. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Narissa stood up, Meeting Adjourned! As they all left the meeting hall, Trixie drew a line through the ''license requirements for a business in the celestial realm'' that Mil had asked to be discussed. She smiled, Screw him. I like the newspaper man. *-*-* Smithson School of Crafting, Garthia. 5th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2138 years since the new gods came. The initial reception had been a bit cool, as Tom Cat had dained to speak up at the meeting of the family elders. Look you idiots, the kids ARE from another world. They are the gods chosen ones. If you won''t believe me, then ask HIM. A flash of light later, Bjorn was standing at the end of the table. Stupid cat. Why did you call me? Because the heretics family are being dense. Tom licked a paw, and started cleaning his face. I figure since you hold them in such high regard, you might set them straight. Bjorn looked at the elders. Do you doubt the children? An old matron looked up from her needle point, smiled at Bjorn, and replied No. We don''t doubt the children. We are already making preparations to supply weapons, armor and training for them. It''s THE CAT we don''t trust. Bjorn smiled. Good idea. Then vanished in a puff of smoke. Tom looked at the empty spot, Asshole. 8th of Amsiel, Today was the day! Yossef and Hamza jumped out of bed, threw on their new clothes, and raced down to the kitchen. Tom Cat looked up from a dish of bacon on the table and said, First. Then bolted, bacon in mouth. Damn cat. At least he took the bacon with him this time. Hamza said. Right? That stuff smells good, but forbidden. Yossef replied, Grandpa told me once that he had tried it, and it gave him gut pain for days! Both boys shuddered. Another day of eggs, toast, and boiled grain with honey! The boys cheered. Breakfast ended, and the children headed to the forge. Not the student forge, or the masters forge, no, The Forge. The one that The Heretic had used, and left behind for his inheritors to use for their master crafts. The feeling of excitement as the forge was opened, and the cleaning and blessing began, was palpable. It was really more ceremony than actual work, as the place was spotless. The tools shone, almost with their own light. The anvil had a sheen on it that mirrors would be jealous of. The firepot itself was glowing steadily, almost like it anticipated the deeds of the day. Tom Cat stuck his head in, looked around, then thought I already claimed this room. On to the next place to bless. The work began an hour later. It would continue for weeks, and the distinct chime of this hammer on this Anvil would bring smiths from all over the city to watch. *-*-* Millrock, Dutchy of Coxnia, the kingdom of Garthia. 50th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2138 years since the new gods came. Duke Magnus lafsson III, direct descendant of Duke Einar lafsson from the Land of Ice, Godchild of Maxwell the Heretic, and current ruler of the Dutchy of Coxnia in the kingdom of Garthia, fell out of bed. Screaming. The dream had left his bedclothes, and the bed itself, wet with sweat. A distant dell, a fear of something from the west. His hands shook. He withdrew the oldest treasure of his house, and called the protector, The Heretic. Godfather? It''s me, Magnus three. he said into the old stone, polished by use. I have been having some... It''s silly. Never mind. Nightmares are Never silly boy. What happened? The reassuring voice of his godfather answered from the other side. It was... a feeling of dread. Of death. Feet. Many many feet. From the west. Magnus said. This is the third time in as many days it has happened. What else did you see? Or feel? A Dell, in the middle of sun browned grass. Safety, but danger. Magnus replied. Hmmm. Sounds like my new home. A moment of quiet, then, Why don''t you come for a visit? Clear your mind for a while? I can''t get away. But... Maybe if I send my third? I...feel... like that would do it. Mike? Sure. That would be fine. I can put him up for a few months. Or if he wants to be a farmer, I can teach him the trade. That would probable take a year or two. I will send him to you posthaste. Thank you, godfather. No problem. Directions and landmarks were exchanged. It would take several months of travel, but Mike was now expected. - - - Maxwell shook his head as he ended the call. I don''t know why sending his kid would end his nightmares, but meh. It will be nice to see Mike again. He thought for a moment. Now which Mike is it? 83 The not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Farmer takes a Drink My Dell, the real Western Wilds. 50th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2138 years since the new gods came. Tired. Farm work is hard. Been working on a hay making machine. It will cut down the grass, and sweep it into nice rows for me. Harder than I thought it would be. Magic would make it easier...magic is a shortcut. Not going to use it. Got a message from Einar''s kid. His youngest, Mike, is coming for a visit in a couple months. Something about nightmares. Meh. Will be fun to have the lad around. Going to have to add a guest cottage. Need to make one for Ivan too. Will work on that in the morning. 51st of Amsiel, Cottages started. Well, not cottages as it were. Just a couple more cabins like mine. I had to use more earth magic to level the ground. Ivan seems to have absolutely NO magical ability. Really good with a scythe though. I think I will make him a combat scythe. Keen blade, unbreakable, extra damage to the living. Where did that come from? Meh. 52nd of Amsiel, Had drinks with Brandywine and Ivan tonight... - - - So, Max, how did you end up here? Ivan asked, lowering his wooden tankard of beer from his lips. Dinner was over, the sun setting, and all three of them were sitting around the cabins only table. Well, my wife died. Maxwell lost his train of thought for a moment, before continuing, Then I got really drunk and went around looting and/or pillaging, or just plain old stealing, from various temples and churches of the gods as a form of revenge. I never killed anyone. I got caught a couple of times, but escaped before I was recognized. Brandy looked up from her shot glass, Do you still have any of it? Max hung his head, Yes. Several minutes passed as Maxwell pulled items from his trunk, and placed them gently on the table, This candle thing, an ornate candelabra, is from the Idiot''s cathedral in Garthax. That is the capital city of where I''m from. This red sword, The magnificent long sword glowed in a dark crimson hew, is from the church of war in Pearlbell. Nice bell there, too big to steal. He placed it on the table next to the candelabra. This magic book, It was bound in brown leather, with many cracks along the spine, from actual abuse, not just age, Is from the temple to whats their name, of magic. Littlespell was the name of the town. Big magic school there. Bit of a story too. You see, I found the book in the deep catacombs, behind a lead sealed silver door, inside of a sealed glass coffin. Just lying there for anyone to take. Ivan laughed. Brandy stared at the book. The book of spells. Confiscated from the first Fae to cross into this world, almost ten thousand years ago. A book long thought destroyed by the gods. Wars in the lost realms of ages past had fought over fake copies of it, because of the power the still contained. Max tossed it onto the table. The book is mostly useless. I learned a couple things from it, but I lack the time it would take to fully master it. Every so often it gets thicker. Max said, after swallowing beer from his own cup. Probably some form of good foolery. Brandy drained her shot glass, and filled it up again as Max continued. This knife I actually stole from a cult of death worshipers. The knife in question was made from obsidian, and seemed to suck in the light. The leather wrapping the lower part of the blade for a handle was wound with silver and gold wire. Funny thing with it, is that when I arrived to kill them and take it, they were already dead. Looked like someone had just walked through during their ceremony, and ''Death Touched'' them all at once. He took another swig. Good loot there too. He stuck the blade into the table a tiny bit. Brandy and Ivan watched as the wood around the blade desiccated. I''ve got more thingies in here, Max said, pointing at his trunk, But...Meh. Maybe I''ll show them off another time. He slammed his beer, only spilling a little as he noisily swallowed. URP! Max looked at his friends, and mistook their looks of terror as awe. Well, fine. One last one. He spent a full minute digging around the trunk. Finally, he lifted out a tiny figurine. This was in the ancient history section of Knowledge''s big temple near Sleetpoint. Back room, covered in dust. Bottom of the case labeled ''Goblin Artifacts''. Notice the clothes? Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Ivan studied the figure, just over an inch tall, made of lead, and standing on a 3/4 base. The figure had been painted by a master of their craft, as it looked almost alive. Then he gasped. It...It''s wearing clothing from my world! From the future, I''m sure, but from My WORLD! Yeah. There were hundreds of them in the case. But this one called out to me. So I took it. Max smiled. I even left a pair of fist sized rubys in the donation box for payment. Brandy sprayed her mouthful of booze across the table. *-*-* The Celestial realm. Viewing theater of the gods. DO YOU SEE THAT!?!?!? Narissa, goddess of tranquility yelled at her date, the newspaper man. HE STOLE ALL OF THEM!!!!! She stormed out. - - - ...and that, my brothers and sisters, is why I ask, nay, Demand that someone go down there and punish Maxwell The Heretic! Narissa mostly kept her voice steady throughout the statement. The assembled gods, great and small, looked at each other. How many items had gone missing over the years? How many holy relics were gone? Did He have them? They muttered in low tones. Then in more volume. Finally Mil stood up. I hereby make the motion that the Heretic be censured. And all of the artifacts he has shown stolen be returned. Ghondish, having surprisingly attended, as his game had been canceled by the summons, stood on his hind legs, I second the motion. Several eyes bulged. Someone called for the vote. The motion carried. Sarah, small god of small shadows, suggested by Ghondish, was given the job of punishment. *-*-* 54th of Amsiel, Weird dreams last night. The gods were yelling and screaming at me. No clue why. Remembered which Mike was which while we were working on the cabins. Mike is on his way. He will be taking the sea route. A captain I used to know was apparently in port, and was chartered to bring him to the coastal town of Houndhol. I will meet them there in 30 or so days. I keep forgetting how fast sea travel is compared to over land. He''s bringing along some of his fathers knights. Looks like I''ll need to build a bunk house of some sort. I hope the knights aren''t the arrogant sort. 56th of Amsiel, Harvesting for the winter starts tomorrow. It will get in the way of working on the Reaper, the name I have given the harvesting machine. I think it will work on grain as well. Gods are strange. One stopped by. She''s spending the night. - - - Sarah appeared in the sky over the Dell. She looked over the dwelling place of the Heretic, and smiled. Nice place. Too bad my...children...can''t live in a place like this. She descended towards a small rise, and settled before the men, and pixie. I have come to punish Maxwell the Heretic! She crowed. Come forward to receive your divine retribution! Maxwell didn''t look up from the wood he was squaring off. I''m busy. Come back later. Sarah stared. What kind of insolence is this? Clear disrespect for a god? All the gods? You have been sentenced by the council too be punished for your misdeeds. Thief! I said I was busy. Max finally looked up. Aren''t you a little small to be a vengeful god? Sarah looked down at her slight form, Are you mocking ME! No. Max went back to work, failing to notice Ivan and Brandy edging away from him. If I was insulting you, I would say something like ''Look at the short, prepubescent girl child the gods sent to annoy me''. Or something along those lines. Sarah looked down at herself again. She was exactly what he had described. What in the hell? Who designs these bodies? Did they just throw me into a generic girl child body? Assholes! Sounds like them. Max replied, finishing off his work on the log. Bjorn, and I guess the goat, seem reasonable. The rest? Idiots. He looked over to Ivan, Get the other end. Time to put this one up! Ignoring the now, literally, steaming Sarah, they hoisted the log into place on the cabin. Let''s take a break for a bit. Brandy? Get the poor gal a beer. One of the good ones. Brandywine bolted for the main cabin, returning moments later with a cask and four mugs. After filling a mug, Max held it out to Sarah, Beer? She nodded, still in shock, and quaffed the whole thing. Not bad! Another if you would? Sure. Max replied. The next day, two completed cabins, a bunkhouse, and a high-five later, Sarah left the mortal realm to slap a couple of gods. *-*-* 3rd of Kusha, The month of Harvest. I have to meet Mike on the 28th. Going to have to leave on the 23rd in order to make sure I''m on time. Most of the crops should be in by then. Still can''t get over the gods sending Sarah down in such an inappropriate body. I hope she smashed in a few faces. I''m glad to know she liked the little figurine too. The Reaper is done. 3 acres a day! Better than the 1/3 acre a day by hand. Too bad I did a rush job, and have to fix bits every so often. 84 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Of Gods, Pixies, and Men The Celestial Realm Ghondish is gone. Again. Said Maximilian, AKA Mil, the god of war. Nursing a large bruise on the side of his face. Sarah, did you have to hit me so hard? Yes. He told us last week that he had things to attend to. Pendleton said, looking up from a set of well painted figurines. These are very well made, and well painted. Of course they are! Sarah said. They were done by Gobb the Great! I only rescued them from Knowledge''s museum. So, no game tonight. Mil sulked. I wanted to tell off that new housewife so badly. Trying to limit the number of bird feeders? The insolence of that woman! Is she a Karen in disguise? I certainly hope not. Kocha said, looking up from the rulebook. That would be a disaster. The book says that more than three Karens in one development is an HOA ending event, and we already have three. He glared at Sarah. - - - Elsewhere in the celestial realm, Narissa, goddess of Tranquility, was in the celestial forge, having a conversation with Bjorn, who was also sporting a bruise. I know that little pest is doing something to interfere with the balance. I can feel it! Well, where would he be? Bjorn asked between hammer blows. It may be the famine in Karoksted. Or he may be looking after the disease in the frost deer to the north. Narissa replied. I just can''t find him. Well, of all of us, he is the best at hiding. Bjorn turned his project over, and resumed pounding. Probably a holdover from his lost power. He didn''t notice Narissa twitching at his comment. Just go look for him in your scrying pool. Or do you need someone to clean it again? No. I learned my lesson from last time. She shook her head, That was millennia ago, why won''t you let it go? Because I had to kill the kraken. Then clean up after it. Bjorn took a moment to wipe his brow, Who put that in there, anyway? I still haven''t found that out. Narissa said, then turned and left the smithy. *-*-* Maxwell''s Dell, the western wilds. 5th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Brandywine the Pixie was having a good day. She had flown the dell, eaten some tasty wildflowers, and had a bath in the stream. Mid afternoon was probably her favorite time of day, warm, lazy, sunny. She landed on a rock near where Ivan was practicing with a newly made War Scythe. So, Ivan. Want to talk about how you actually got here? I know it was more complicated than you told Max. Ivan looked up from examining his new weapon, You seem more perceptive that our friend. I think he put up his own mental blinders after his wife died. Probably more after he tried to off himself the first dozen times or so. Brandy shook a small frown off her face. That boy has been through some shit. So tell me the truth. Well, if you want it. Ivan leaned back on the rock next to Brandy. Where to begin? I fell in the trench, after the Germans ran. I couldn''t breathe. A hand reached out towards me. Yeah. Fairly standard so far. Then there was this, this place? Ivan shook his head, It was all grayish, and cold. Brandy stood up, Whoa... Seriously? Yes. Then this cloud...with pinpricks of blue light- Ivan was cut off. Lalalala! I can''t hear you! Brandy jumped into the air. Never mind! I never asked! Good day, sir!!! She bolted. A startled Ivan stared after her fleeing form. Did I say something wrong? *-*-* My Dell, the real western wilds. 5th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. Brandywine was very subdued this evening, kinda pissy too. Threw the Halfling''s crown out of her room. Almost like when my wife was having a really bad rag day...? Do pixies have that problem? Probably. Poor girl. Wish I could make her some warm honey-milk to sooth her suffering. 14th of Kusha, Brandywine seems better. Still won''t talk about it. Meh. Harvest is going well. Should have enough feed for the animals, and food for us. I do wonder what the winter is going to be like. I need to find a new town to shop in. Stupid bandits. *-*-* Elsewhere in the world, Ghondish, the goat god of eating stuff, was standing on top of a tree. Not just any tree, a giant redwood. He stared at the heard of frost deer. He had already tended to the illness, and was just enjoying watching them frolic in the sun. He didn''t bat an eye when the wolf pack jumped from ambush and took down a pair of younger ones, nor later when a wyvern swooped down and grabbed another. All was right in the world. He batted his ear, and the scrying spell that was hunting for him missed. Again. Sighing, he took a step off the tree, and landed on the other side of the world. Famine. Not natural, mostly. Some idiot mage had quadrupled the food production of the lands, and thereby stripped the land of it''s viability, causing a famine. Add to the mages stupidity, a drought, and the area was wrecked. Time to get to work. He sat in a small thicket, and waited for nightfall. Once moonrise, occurred, he stepped out onto the desiccated soil, and began to void himself. Take a few steps, void. Some more steps, void. As he worked, proper sustenance across the whole of the lands was restored to the soil. After midnight had come and gone, he finished up, and headed for the mages home. Upon arrival, he kicked the door in and looked around. The house was large, and included the mages laboratory, which he strode into it. A quick search found the mages books, and his collection of ingredients. After kicking them into a largish pile at the foot of the stairs, he took a bite of the more expensive pieces, and then ''blessed'' the rest, like Tom Cat did. On his way out, Ghondish chuckled as he herd the mage stumble down the stairs, and into the moist pile he had left. A glorious night indeed. 85 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Of letters and crime The Island of James. 1st of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. Hello Master, I hope my letter finds you well. Time fly''s when work is being done. The tower is more than complete. The circle is polished. The gateway arch over the circles center, is also complete and the runes transcribed. I hope you can come and observe the final project. I found a strange insect crawling through the door today; to the tower, not the gate construct. It had a long, thin segmented body, with legs on each segment except the first two. The first segment had large pincers for a mouth, and eyestalks. The second segment had claws, similar to the mantis of the central plains of the western continent. Unfortunately, my knee jerk reaction when I first saw it, was to step on it. Your student, James - - - 30th of Kusha, 2138 years since the new gods came. Dear Mr. James, We regret to inform you that your master has passed away. He talked about you fondly in his last days. Be well, The Family James read the letter for the third time. As the tears started down his face, he crumpled the letter, and threw in into the lit fireplace. *-*-* My Dell, the real western wilds. 16th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. It will be time to leave for the coast soon. Brandywine has been scouting for another town, but no luck so far. Nothing within at least 50 miles. Didn''t know she could see past the horizon! Her range from head height is about 10 miles, give or take. Something about the magic running out past that. I don''t understand it. She and Ivan have decided to stay behind while I go and meet Mike. *-*-* If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The basement of a bar. 20th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. Three gentlemen of repute, sat at a round table, covered in green cloth. In their hands were rectangular cards with pictures of items or people on them. Some looked like jewels, some were swords, some scepters, others blood splatters. They were playing a game, brought to the world by the Bard of Rio. In the middle of the table was a large pile of coins, and a few gemstones. One of the gentlemen was in the middle of tossing down a card when his eyes, and the eyes of his companions, glazed over. For a long moment the three looked at everything, and nothing. Then the moment passed. The three glanced at each other, and one spoke up, Well that''s a rub, ain''t it? Yes, Mr. Gem. I believe you are right. Said a second. The third man, an elf of old age, shook his head, Mr. Scepter, Mr. Gem, I believe we need to pick up Mr. Blood. As the three men walked up the stairs and into a nice, well attended bar; that was connected to the best, and arguably most popular bakery in the city; Mr. Gem spoke again, I believe we need to call a meeting. I will get us a coach. Mr Scepter stated. Mr. Sword, would you get the word out? Of course, Mr. Scepter. Mr. Sword replied. We will need Everyone. The three men nodded and exited the bar, followed by no less than a dozen other individuals. - - - Mr. Blood was late for the weekly bards game. His grandchildren had insisted on another tale of the once and future Godfather. And like any grandfather, he obliged them. His daughter didn''t appreciate the stories, as she had grown up during that time in the city, but she did grudgingly admit that her godfather, Max, had given the best presents. He stepped out into the well cobbled (and clean) street, and his eyes glossed over for a moment. Just for that one moment, he saw everything, and nothing. When it had passed, and he could see properly again, he was already running for the bar. Mr. Blood was halfway to his destination when a coach pulled up, and blocked his path. Before he could even bring his cane up to defend himself, the coach''s door was thrown open, and Mr. Gem was hauling him inside. He sat, looked at his associated and spoke, You saw it as well? Mr. Sword looked up from a book, Yes. I have put out the call for a meeting. A full meeting. I have even called Them. Mr. Blood smiled a bloodless smile. Good. The group of four opposed leaders, gathered in the Godfathers name, rode in silence to the old cathedral. The only place in the city large enough to hold all of the criminal element within the reach of the Godfather. - - - Gentle reader, I will avoid the tedium of titles, names, and positions of all in power who attended the meeting, but let it be said that it wasn''t just the organized and unorganized criminal elements that attended. Nor just humans. As the meeting took place in the catacombs of the cathedral, the ratkin (or ratlings, as some call them) provided the security, and refreshments for the meeting*. I will also avoid the machismo shown, and threatened. And the whole decision making process. The domed underground ''room'' sparkled, with jewels, gems, and gold reflecting the light of hundreds of magical torches. The criminals; even the newest, most stupid of them; touched nothing in the sacred space. When the four suits took the dais, all conversation ceased. They told of a vision. One that terrified them. Then the oldest of ratkin, the Shaman who had dealt with The Heretic, confirmed the story. And chaos ensued. Many hours, many speakers, and many near lethal confrontations later, a group of 13 left the meeting. Seven men, of ''great standing'' in the community, five hunters of the wolf clan, and a newly blooded ratling shaman. By horseback and wolf, they left the city, and loaded with provisions, they headed west. *If they had ever been part of a census, the ratlings would have doubled the population of the city. Also, because more than half of them had been ''blooded'' against the undead and worse during the ongoing battles for territory in the depths of catacombs, they were very good bouncers. 86 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A Farmer takes a Trip My Dell, the real western wilds. 22nd of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. I leave in the morning. I''m taking one of the new horses, as he seems faster. I have decided to name him Bob instead of Horse-meat 3. Brandywine has horrible Excellent naming conventions. Ivan has excelled with the war scythe. Found out why. Big D is a dick. *-*-* Max packed the last of his gear into the saddle bags. Tomorrow will be a long ride. Ivan looked up from cleaning his Nagant revolver, Good luck to you. He looked around, to make sure there wasn''t a pixie about, You know, I didn''t tell you everything I saw before I came here, right? Yup. Do you want to know? Ivan had a far away look in his eyes. Only if you want to tell me. Brandy stopped me before I could tell her the whole thing. SHE DID WHAT!?!?! Ivan now had Max''s undivided attention. Beginning to sweat, Ivan recounted what he had told Brandy. Then the glowing- Yeah. I get it. Max looked away from Ivan. I''ve seen him too. On the battlefield. He came for them, never for me. Once, when a prince died, he carried a sword, the rest of the time it was the scythe. He wiped a tear from his eye. That explains that. If he got involved, then something is Very wrong. Max stood, and dragged a chair over to where Ivan was sitting, and sat down. That one is a right bastard, he is. Second only to the universe itself. One of the old books I read before I liberated that figurine from Knowledge''s museum talked about the ''War of the Gods''. Apparently, He pointed out that something that should not be here was ripping a hole in the universe. And since the old gods were the first, and apparently most powerful, of the gods, He ''politely'' told them to make the invader go away. Max exhaled. Now we have this new lot. A bunch of idiots, who don''t know a shovel from a tent, trying to hold things together while the adults are fighting a never ending war in the farthest of heavens. Ivan looked at Max, Did you happen to take that book as well? Maybe? Max stood and stretched. Look in my box? Just don''t let Brandy know that I''m leaving it unlocked. Otherwise I''ll be finding it''s contents strewn around the dell. *-*-* The Ocean, Southern coast of the eastern continent. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! 26th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. Michael Olafsson the IV of Coxnia, Mike to his friends and family, was standing on the deck of a ship. We are two days out from port, then I will meet godfather Maxwell. I don''t really remember him. Father said he is a good man. A terrible man. An honorable man. A man the gods held ''in regard''. I''m not entirely sure what to make of that. He left off his thoughts as someone waived for his attention. Lord Michael! Are you ready for your lessons? His bodyguard and instructor, Sir Reginald, asked. Yes, Sir Reginald. Mike replied. He looked at the ocean, I wish I could just sail. I''m not even the spare. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Just a moment. *-*-* On the road, The Western Wilds. 26th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. The trail has been long. About fifty miles to go. Bob was a good choice for a mount. Sure of foot, fast, and level headed. Nothing much to see. I did discover the remnants of another burned out town, but no other atrocities. Cooling down a bit, but the weather is holding fine. Probably frost by the end of the month. 27th of Kusha, A settlement! I got a bath, and some fresh food. I shared about the two destroyed towns. Word will be passed on. Maybe the towns will be repopulated? Probably not. Not until a lot of infrastructure gets planed out. 28th of Kusha, Picked up Mike. He had booked passage on the Mercy of the Waves! I got to chat with the mate Tildee, and Captain Wilson. They have aged, but the sea does that to a man. We leave in the morning. Why did Mike have to bring so many knights? A dozen of them, and squires. Drank too much. I will have a hangover in the morning. *-*-* Polite social drinking was starting when Maxwell walked down the stairs from his room. Mike, Wilson and Tildee were at a table near the center of the inn, and the knights were filling the tables around them. The knights were not drinking. Shaking his head, Max walked to the open place left for him, and sat. Mike! Nice to meet you again. It has been what, twenty years? About that. Mike looked at the man across from him. He looked almost as young as Mike himself, he looked into his eyes and shuddered. His eyes looked old, elf old, maybe older? He didn''t know. You''ve probably heard this before, but you really look like Einar. Back when we were in the army together, I mean. Not after he got married, and old, and fat. Max smiled. Mike stared. I''ve...never actually heard that before. He took a swig of his beer to cover his surprise. You''re probably the only one who knew him that''s still alive. Max lost a bit of his jovial look. True. He shook his head. But that''s the past. You have your whole life ahead of you. Tomorrow we''ll leave for the Dell. The table nodded. It will take most of a week to get there, what with your... He waived a hand at the knights and squires. Entourage. Yes. They insisted. Mike looked down at his meal, mutton and vegetables. They are good people, but...they get underfoot. Plenty of room back home. I set up a bunkhouse for them, and anyone else who happens to stop by. Max gave an actual smile. I have a feeling that things might get crowded in the near future. Sir Reginald, having been listening in from a nearby table, stood and stepped up next to Mike, What kind of feeling, Master Smith? I am familiar with the family histories, wherein it is well documented that when you have feelings, it is best to listen. Max''s face went slack for a moment, then recovered. That was just Einar being modest. He had the best instincts of any man I''ve ever met. Max stretched his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together. Then again, there was that one guy, not me, who took him to the bank. Never gamble with a con man. Your feeling? Sir Reginald persisted. My feeling, if you must know, Max took a drink, Is that there will be more visitors this fall, and even winter. And in the spring something is going to happen. He stared into Reginald''s eyes, That work for you? Sir Reginald took an involuntary step back, and shuddered. He had felt the aura of command a few times in his life, it was a rare thing, but this? This was overpowering. He took a deep breath, Thank you Master Smith. He turned and rejoined his table, hands shaking so much that when he went to take a drink, he spilled it. Max raised his voice, so as to be heard across the inn, Drinks are on me tonight! Drink up! - In the morning, a somewhat hungover group left the inn, heading north towards the dell. 87 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Home again, home again, jiggity jig On the road, The Western Wilds. 29th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2138 years since the new gods came. I had forgotten how much of a pain in the ass knights were to ride with. Cautious to a fault, especially when guarding someone important. There wasn''t a long tuft of grass or copse of trees that they didn''t investigate... Okay, I''m just pissy, it wasn''t that bad. Mostly. *-*-* Master Smith, are you sure this...path is safe? Sir Reginald asked. Nothing in this world is ''safe'', Reggie. Maxwell replied, annoyance finally starting to surface. Keep asking me stupid questions, and I''m going to start giving you stupid answers. Master Smith! I am merely asking to make sure--- Sir Reginald was interrupted. Look, Reggie, I know you''re worried about Mike''s safety. I get it, I really do. Max took a breath and exhaled, BUT, you can''t keep coddling the boy. He''s almost 20. Let him live a little. Max couldn''t see Sir Reginald''s face behind his visor, but saw his shoulders slump. Look, this is as much a vacation for you as it is for him. The worst thing we are going to see is a bunch of deer, and maybe a bear. As you wish, Master Smith. And call me Max! As you wish, Master Smith. *-*-* 31st of Kusha, Travel is a bit faster. The leaves are turning beautiful colors. The grass is drying out a bit. About halfway home. The knights have picked up the pace. Saw a herd of deer. Venison for supper. 35th of Kusha, Made it home today around noon. Brandywine saw us a while out, so Ivan had food prepared. Goddess Sarah stopped by while I was out. We now have bunkhouses for around 200 people. I appreciate the help, but can''t help feeling nervous. I think the knights and Mike will unwind a bit in the next week or so, as long as Brandy doesn''t do anything too bad to annoy them. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. 40th of Kusha. The knights have ''let their hair down'', as it were. Fishing, boating, and hunting look to be the focus for the next few weeks. They were warned not to harass the bear. Brandy was very firm on the subject. *-*-* ...And if I find that any of you have even annoyed Mr. Bear, you will find out what it''s like to never leave your armor ever again. Brandywine was floating about 15'' in the air, in front of the knights, cuddling a rather large and confused bear around his middle. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!? Everyone present nodded, including the bear. Brand put the bear down, and made a shooing motion. Don''t worry buddy, they will leave you alone. The rather embarrassed bear ran away. *-*-* 51st of Kusha, I think that damned goddess made the Dell bigger. It''s still a quarter to half mile wide, but it''s now three miles long. Meh. Gods. 53rd of Kusha, First snow today. OUTSIDE of the Dell. Nothing falling in the Dell. Weird. *-*-* Gilip, capital city of the Kingdom of Demonia 53rd of Kusha 2138 years since the new gods came. Willa Glassblower awoke from the nightmare, screaming this time. It had been happening for most of the week, slowly getting worse. First it was just a bad feeling, and a lush valley in the west. Then the almost overpowering sense of fear. Now it was all that, plus things. Things crawling over her, biting her, crawling into her mouth, eating her from the inside. Her husband held her, talked her through it. Calmed her with hugs, and comfort food. In the morning they went to the church. It was small, old, and not well maintained. The church to the small god of prophecy. The old priest quietly sat, wearing his robes and hood of office, with a small, respectful smile on what could be seen of his face. When she was done retelling her tale, he stood. We must go to the council. They''ll all be there in two hours. You must relay this information to them. She fidgeted with the golden heretic she wore on her necklace, then nodded. - They waited at the council building for only a few minutes, before being granted access. The old priest, still wearing his hooded robes stood the entire time, with his cane tapping the marble floor. Upon their entrance, the chamber fell into a sudden silence, then the ruler of Demonia stood and bowed, Elder, what brings us your guidance today? The old priest of Prophesy pushed back his hood, revealing both the ancient horns that grew from his scalp, and the ritualized scaring where his eyes used to be. He spoke. You will listen to this young woman''s dreams, and judge them. Then you will take action. Shaking, as though being in a trance, Willa retold the dreams of terror, the sights and sounds, the location. Then she pointed to the only piece of art decorating the chamber, a stylized painting of a human man working on an anvil, a man she knew and loved. Him. He, was there. - The Order of the Puppies stood at full attention. Standards flying high and proud, featuring a different breed of dog on each. At a full battalion in strength, the thousand plus men and women were waiting. War. War for the Heretic. The Order of Kittens, not nearly so large at a full Company of 250, were waiting at the side of the field. Their parade rest ''needed'' work by any military standard, but no one batted an eye. Darkened full plate covered in spikes and claws, greatswords, and riding large destriers, they were the shock troops that any foe would fear. Their record was nigh unto spotless, with 243 engagements won, and one lost due to weather. Only those with a kill count of over fifty were admitted. And unlike the Puppies, they drew from every class, not just the aristocracy. Eventually speeches were made and finished. By noon, the combined forces and support staff were out of the parade grounds, and on the road north. They knew it would be dangerous. They knew it would be demanding on the body and mind. And yet, for a single man they had never met, they went willingly into the cold winter''s night. 87.1 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Humans and Highrises 6 Universe Con is coming up. The theme this decade is ''Day of the Karen''. They are celebraiting the new Sub-Class ''Ken'' the male version of The Karen. Ghondish, the goat god of eating stuff, looked around the table, catching each of his players eyes. Do we want to go? How much RAW will we have to deal with? Sarah, small god of shadows, enquired. All of it, Pendleton, god of Gnomes, said. I propose a vote. Ballot vote, that is, so no one is embarrassed. Maximilian ''Mil'', god of war, said. I second that. This from Kocha, god of chaos. Ghondish mad up the ballots. Okay. There five ballots, with two check boxes on each. Mark ''Yes'' if you want us to go, and ''No'' if you don''t want us to go. Does everyone have their permanent writing stick? He looked around, No, Sarah, a crayon doesn''t count. Sarah slumped for a second, then straitened and removed an ink quill from her folder. Fine. The votes were cast, and five ''yes'' and three ''no'' ballots were counted,. Not funny guys. Ghondish scowled at the group. Show of hands. Who wants to go? The group all raised their hands. Who doesn''t want to go? No hands were raised. Okay. We are all going. A small cheer broke out in the group. Now that that is settled, for straight RAW play, the Karen Class is restricted to ''Female'' players only, even if they are playing the new sub-class, ''Ken''. That''s sexist! Pendleton nearly yelled. What in the Universe! No need for extreme language. Sarah rebuffed him, It''s only for the reveal of the finalized ''Ken'' sub-class. On the second day of Con, it will be available to everyone. That''s still sexist. Pendleton frowned. I''m still pissed that Karen is sex restricted. What if someone Gay wants to play one? Or one of those Tr...Tran... bugger, Twin-Spirit peoples? They have both, are they banned? I believe the Council of Superintendents has ruled that Twin-Spirits and such must declair a sex, and live with it for the duration of the convention. Ghondish shrugged. They figured it was the best compromise they could make, as there are extremists on both sides of the issue. I suppose that works. A dejected Pendleton responded. I just really wanted to play one. Mil cocked his head to one side, You could claim to be Trans, and be female for the con? Kocha slapped him across the back of the head. Not funny, Mil. Mil looked up, rubbing the back of his head, What? I was being serious. PenPen has been known to switch from time to time. The whole group looked at Pendleton, who shrunk under the pressure. Seriously? Kocha asked. Um...yes? Pendleton mumbled. No shit. Sarah said. Wow. Ghondish whispered. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Holy shit! Kocha yelled. So, how did Mil know? Sarah asked, after the noise quieted down. He saw me change the other millennia. Pendleton admitted. And you thought we would care? Ghondish asked. Well, yeah? Idiot Kocha mumbled. Loud and proud! I told you to just tell them. Good folks here. Mil smiled. Sorry for outing you. Better you that others. Pendleton replied with a wan smile. Okay. Back to business. What do y''all want to play for the convention? Ghondish asked, trying to get people back on track. *-*-* Later that evening, Ghondish describes the scene: Okay, you have all been here before, but just to clarify, Ghondish took a deep breath, The bar is gloomy as always, cigarette and pipe smoke hangs in the still air. The smell of old beer and not well maintained wash rooms permeate the place. Dark wood paneling, not changed in forever, greet your eyes, as do the neon beer signs. The dance floor off to the side is mostly vacant, but the music is playing a decent beat. Jessica is tending the ancient and well polished oak bar. She waives as you walk in. ''Hey Y''all! How goes the rat race?'' What do you do? I ''saunter'' in and sit at the bar proper. Then, I''ll order one of those ''pale ale''s'' everyone was talking about. Sarah says. Then I''ll make small talk with Jess. Mil smiles, I hold the door open for my date, miss Jenny the high-school teacher. Then politely guide her to a booth within sight of the bar, so she can feel comfortable, knowing she can be seen by the ''tender. Sarah raised an eyebrow, Smooth, and well played. That should give you some advantage to seduce her tonight. I''m actually planning on playing it safe, and learning about her, rather than a ''one night stand''. I finally got the ''how to date'' feat. Long term relationships, here I come! Mil beamed, Also, I''m trying not to be a dick. Pendleton frowned at her sheet. I think I''m going to order a ''long island''...Who the hells makes up these drink names? Anyway, I order one of those, throw it back, and head out onto the dance floor. Ghondish looked at the last party member, Kocha, what are you doing? Still getting over ''PenPen'' being so cute. Kocha flushed, Sorry. I sneak around to the back door, jimmy the lock, and walk in. I''m trying to avoid Brash seeing me. I don''t want to have an issue after that Wombats betting fiasco. How was I to know the Ice Queen was married to the CEO of Ajax Cedar Industries? Stop calling me that. Sorry Pendleton. You forgot to add that you and Brash both work for the guy. Pendleton smiled. Worked for the guy''s company. Past tense. Kocha grumbled. Took me three, me forsaken, rolls to find a new job. Asshole. Ghondish chuckled, Okay Kocha, roll for the lock. The die is cast. Uhh...Fifteen on the dice, so 23? The lock goes ''click'', and you are in. Roll for stealth. Die is rolled once more. Clitter, clatter, click. Nat 20! Kocha yelled, fists punching the air. Ghondish rolled his eyes. You know that by RAW, a Nat 20 does nothing special on skill rolls. Crap. I forgot. Kocha dropped his head to his chest. So, 28? You easily sneak into the bar. You watch as Brash walks out of the rest room, looks around for a target, and then walk over to Mil and his date. Shit. Mil swore. Okay. I ask ''What do you want Brash?''. I get ready for a fight, just in case. He stops next to your table, Mil, looks at your date, and says ''Pretty gal like you should come with me, not stay with a looser like this guy.'' and he points at you. Mil half closes his eyes, I crack my knuckles under the table. Can I roll to intimidate? Sure. The die is rolled. It comes to a stop at on 7. Shit. Um...13. Mil shook his head. Not going to work, is it. Sorry. He rolled a 15 on the die. Ghondish picked up a different D20, and rolled it. Okay, a total of 14 on the persuasion check, to see if she will fall for the pickup line. I hope she doesn''t. She''s a teacher, so I can''t actually punch him... Okay, she is starting as neutral to him, Ghondish looked through the H&H manual for a chart, but she is ''okay'' with you, so he needed an 18-20. With his horrible pickup line, his roll wasn''t high enough. She looks at him and says ''Well bless your heart. But ''I'' am here with him. Please depart.'' She looks back to you, Mil, and asks ''What should we order for drinks?'' Your response? I look her in the eyes, and say ''How about a cocktail pitcher of the Strawberry Daiquiri?'' Then I smile at her. Okay. While that is listed as a ''romantic drink'', RAW says that ordering anything but beer by the ''pitcher'' is a social Faux pas. Well, since it is on the menu that you handed out last session, I assumed it was an alright choice. Mil glared at Ghondish. the ''How to Date'' feat gives me advantage on ''All social rolls to influence a potential romantic partner into enjoying the date.'' How''s that for RAW? Ghondish meets the look. Okay. I''ll give you that. So the modifiers from the pitcher and drink choice balance out, so no issue there, and with you getting advantage...She says ''Oh, good idea.'' And smiles. Whew. I was worried for a minute. Then, Brash punches you. In the face. Fin. 88 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Dream Theater The college of the Bard Of Rio, Deepfalsian Dominion. 53rd of Kusha 2138 years since the new gods came. An apprentice had been cleaning the grand hall when one of the holy instruments had thrummed. She stepped over to it, picked it up, and was lost in a vision. She awoke screaming, clawing and swatting at her own body, trying to kill things that weren''t there. On the floor next to her, drawn in blood, was a map of the western half of the continent, with a single spot marked with an X. The next day, a journeyman and pair of apprentices were sent out to find what lay at the X. The young girl was buried that same day, with the full honors of a master. *-*-* James'' Island 53rd of Kusha 2138 years since the new gods came. A black robed man appeared over the island James had claimed. He was tall, and perhaps a little over weight, his skin ash gray, his head bald, as was his face. He carried a slightly bent staff. He quietly settled on the island''s eastern tip, and slowly walked towards the rebuilt tower, shaking his head. Again. It was happening again. He could not directly interfere, so he had made ''arrangements''. Hopefully these new ones would do a better job than the last. He stopped outside the tower, and watched through the wall, as the wizard inside began the Ritual of Opening. He sighed, and settled in for the long ride. - - - James stood in the center of the gate. He bent forward to touch his toes, his lean frame cracked a bit as the bones shifted slightly. He bent backwards, then left and right. He stretched his arms and legs, hips shoulders, and neck. A couple of sips of water, and a few deep slow breaths, and he was ready to begin the ritual. He lit the candles in the given, clockwise (or sunwise, as they said in this world) order, skipping every third one. Then widdershins, lighting the missed ones. He filled the bowls with the prepared mixtures and placed them at the cardinal points, then added the incense at the ordinal points. Thus prepared, he stepped out of the circle, and began the chant and gestures. It would take up the next six hours of time. He hoped he wouldn''t have to pee. Over the hours he drained a dozen elemental mana crystals, pouring the power into the ritual. With each one, he could feel the gate fluctuate. One step closer to going home. At the end, one last push, and the gate cracked open. He stared at what he had wrought, and screamed. - - - The gray man stepped through the wall, and sighed. He twisted his staff in the middle, and a long slightly curved blade snapped out of the side. Gingerly, he stepped around the writhing mass of things that had come through the gate, invited by the mage to this, to HIS, dimension. The remains of the mage were before him. He cut the soul free of the body. WELL, YOU HAVE REPEATED THE MISTAKES OF THE PAST. I HOPE YOU ARE PROUD OF YOURSELF. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. But...It was supposed to take me home! IN A WAY, IT HAS. NOW LET US RETURN YOU TO YOUR WORLD. The pair left the world behind. And James...Went home. *-*-* Across the Universe, just around the corner. i-1=x between then =/= now. FNORD! Ihas, the god of destruction, swung his heavy mace, smashing the tentacle that was grasping for him. The sun god, Makell, blasted the things body with concentrated holy sunlight. It shrank back, burning. Zuston, goddess of conquest, stabbed her war spear through the bulbous clump of eyes, into the nerve cluster that acted as a brain. The thing from beyond screamed, thrashed, and died. Another dozen of the things were trying to claw their way through the rip in the dimensional membrane; then, they backed off. Shit! It''s happening again! Dhosin, god of rock and stone, cried, suddenly hemorrhaging bursts of power. Stop it! He dropped his simple miners pick, and started to scream. *-*-* My Dell, Western Wilds. 3rd of Anael, The First month of Snow. 2138 years since the new gods came. The snow is lovely to watch. A herd of deer has crossed into the Dell. I doubt the will leave for a while. I hope we don''t become overrun. Mike spoke with his father the other day, assuring him he was doing well. I wish I could talk to my father again. Melancholy is an unpleasant feeling. The Knights have fallen into a routine, and we have followed them in it. Awake before dawn, run the valley from end to end. Breakfast. Swordplay and other exercise until noon. Lunch. Personal pursuits. Dinner. Evening prayers (which I avoid). Nightcap. Bed. It is rather nice. 9th of Anael, One of the Knights is pregnant. A wedding will be preformed on the morrow. I have been asked, and wish to refuse, to do the ceremony. Without a proper priest, as the lord of the land, it falls on me none the less. 10th of Anael, A middle aged cleric, bearing the horns of a ram on his vestments, came into the Dell a scant three hours before the wedding. The (not so happy) couple were married on time, and departed for the southern end of the Dell for their honey moon. The priest will be staying for the rest of the winter, and conducting the evening prayer. Of course, he is the head (and only) priest of Ghondish. Bah. Stupid, but occasionally useful, priests. 12th of Anael, The couple are back. They are much more cheerful now. And happy. I will not ask them what happened. 21st of Anael, Lightning snow. Very pretty and delightful to watch. I wish we would get some snow to cover the dead grass and such. I worry about the natural order being disturbed. 22nd of Anael, F the gods. It rained last night. Torrential downpour. I''m glad the roof held. The Dell is a bit flooded, but the plants liked it. I wonder if the gods are reading my journals? I hope not. Assholes. - - - Standing above the Dell, looking through the rain clouds, a pair of gods converse. He asked for water! Why is he mad at us? Yhdos, the god of seasons, asked. He''s the Heretic. Of course he''s mad. He''s always mad. Redall, the god of the hunt, replied. Yhdos shook his head, Truth. They returned to watching the downpour. 89 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Winters Walk James'' Island 54th of Kusha 2138 years since the new gods came. They had wriggled through the gate, easily consuming the opener. Now the settled in for a short stay, as their forms contorted, adapting to the new world. They had been here once before, and failed. This time they would succeed! And open a way for their masters to finally enter and feed. Over the course of the next few days they did adapt. Bone yellow legs burst from the developing flattened segments, then the segments grew thick armored chitin. Instead of legs, pointed appendages that dripped an acidic liquid sprouted from a smaller segment behind the head, and the head grew barbed pincered jaws. Their bodies varied in size, the smallest being a mere two feet long, and the largest almost three hundred feet in length. Bodies varied in color from a dark burnt orange, to a lighter more pleasant orange, with a brown to black head and tail. Many days after coming to the new world, the thousand plus things headed to the north east, the nearest source of food, and place to lay eggs. They swam the salty water, and crossed ice bridges, losing half their number to water born predators, the cold, and drowning. Those that survived the journey happily ate the food of the new land, and laid eggs in the corpses. Then burrowed down to curl up under the snow to rest. Some would die in the snow and ice, but the strongest would live, and breed more. Soon enough, the spring would come, and they would make the journey to the south and east, toward more food. *-*-* The demon lands. Winter. 2138 The snow had started several weeks back. It lay thick and cold across the landscape of the demon lands. As the worg pack continued west, following the odd human and it''s mutterings, they communicated with the outriders through guttural howls. Back and forth the howls went in the cold night. Cold, except near the odd one. The keeper of the pack. The protector. For it, had mastered fire. He had lay back against a worg, letting the large fire warm his face, while the young ones played around it. Now is the time. West. WEST! There is danger west. Bread. Redemption. Bread is bad. But maybe good? I can run. No chains bind me. RUN!!!! West. Bread. Graaaa.... Soon. SOON. Then sleep. Rest. Then rest. End. Everything is ended. Soon. The snow fell. *-*-* The Demon Lands. 44th of Anael. 2138 years since the new gods came. Second Lieutenant Garath of the Order of Puppies was cold. The snow had been brutal for weeks now. Everyone was chilled. Ever the fire mages were taxed to exhaustion from the magic used to keep the troops warm. His tent was cold, the bedroll was cold, the rations were cold. It was a miserable march. Only some 200 of the orders troops were on horseback, and the majority of those were nobles of station, the rest were just of noble birth, second or third sons and daughters, relegated off to fulfill a parents wish. He sighed. Maybe tomorrow will be better? He knelt and prayed for the Heretic''s intervention. - - - Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. In the beginning of his sleep, Maxwell rolled over, and mumbled. If anyone had been there to hear him, it would have sounded like Just do your job. - - - 45th of Anael, The sun was out, but it was still cold as Garath led his troops under the cloudless sky. Someone in the Order of Kittens had started singing a bawdy pub song, and it just didn''t go away. People spoke, breaking the tranquility of the snow. And while the soldiers marched, a raven watched from the top of an long dead tree. 47th of Anael, Garath was on the northern flank when the rider came in screaming about wolf tracks. Hundreds of them. And the remains of a well contained fire. More scouts were sent out, most on foot to prevent being seen as easily in the blindingly white snow. That evening they returned with stories. Stories of horror, the likes of which hadn''t been seen for a hundred generations. Worgs. *-*-* He stared at the people across the shallow valley. People? Here take back bedlam?!?! NO! Wait. Knights, pretty doggies! Pretty pretty doggy flags! PUPPIES!!!!! I love puppies!! He steered his worg mount towards the people. I must talk. Puppies like talk. Happy! - - - Garath looked at the ''pack'' of worgs. More than a thousand! And with bitches and young. I can see that one standing and waiting for it''s pups to drink! He saw something different then. A giant worg, with...A man? There is a man riding on a giant worg! And he is coming my way. Now he''s waiving a...shirt?... a flag? At me? Shit. This is above my pay grade. Sargent? Get the commander. There''s some idiot waiving a flag at us while riding a giant worg. The Sargent ran for the Captain. - - - Nice people. Nice nice people. I used my words. We are friends now. My doggies aren''t really sure, but I am. We are ALL going west. WEST. Bread. Heretic. He shakes in fear for a moment. Redemption. - - - 48th of Anael, Garath had been assigned to ''escort duty''. This involved keeping an eye on the worgs, and their crazy human. The man kept babbling, and wouldn''t shut up. Why is he talking about holy bread? And what was that he was telling the worg about bedlam and blood? He''s a bloody loon! But Garath kept his mouth shut, like a good soldier. It was strange though, the longer they marched together, the less of a problem the worgs seemed to be. *-*-* 51st of Anael, Puppy man! PUPPY MAN!!! Why don''t you ride up here? The insane man asked the soldier, pointing to the top of a worg. Why no think of earlier? Stupid brain rot. They ride, we go faster! Worgs can handle it. I want toast. And C4. What''s C4? Fine. Garath said, giving up on ignoring the crazy man. Bring one over, and I''ll try. He almost jumped when one of the oversized wolf like creatures with a gray and white striped fur pattern, tufted ears, and very cat like fluffy tail, walked over and crouched next to him. He stared at it for a long moment, then tried to climb on. No, no, silly! Grab a clump of fun on the hackles, and climb up! The insane mane pointed. Garath grabbed the fur, and made it up. He clenched tightly to the fur, and looked around. This is better than a horse! And so warm! Thank you kind worg, and you as well. He patted the worg gently on the head. Any chance the rest of us could mount up? The worgs in the near vicinity showed their disapproval by grumbling, and huffing a bit, but eventually succumbed to the orders of their leader. The Order of the Puppies now had mounts. *-*-* The Demon Lands. 44th of Anael. 2138 years since the new gods came. The bards moved fast, much faster than most people. Boosted by music and song, they nearly flew towards their destination. On one of the roads heading northwest through Demonia, they came across a strange, oddly well dressed band of people. They rode together for a time, and when they all stopped for the night and made camp, proper introductions were made. The next day, a happy, if slightly hungover, group of sixteen people left the camp. Together the larger group made good time, crossing the country in three days. Nine days later they came across old tracks. Worgs. Hundreds of them. Since the tracks made the travel easier in the snow, they followed them. 90 – The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A farmer in the Winter Island nation of Nortontia 23rd of Anael. 2138 years since the new gods came. The air was thick with smoke and snow. Buildings across the harbor town of Ruciengelm were still burning in the overcast morning light. The things had come at last. There had been refuges all week booking passage on ships in the harbor, so much so that there were almost none left. The icy street was quiet this morning as Mav left his shelter, an old, recently abandoned garden shed. He could smell the smoke on the wind, and the stench of charred flesh. There were bodies dotting the the landscape, some in the open, others hanging out doors and broken windows, he didn''t look to closely. When the things from across the sea had come down the hills around the town yesterday, the people had broken and run almost immediately. Some were trampled, others were too slow and were eaten. Those who hid in houses were searched out, and consumed, or worse. He shuddered as he shook off the remains of something or someone from his clothing. That was how he had survived. The things didn''t attack the dead. Mav tried to sneak down the side of the street, but heard the skittering of pursuit behind him, and turned his head to look. It had come out of the alley he had just passed, hidden by smoke. He accelerated into a run, slipped and almost fell. He thanked the gods that wall was close enough to grab. He ran. Ran for his life. Vaulted over an overturned cart. The sound of the segmented things ''feet'' clicking on the cobbles behind him was growing closer. Despite the cold winter breeze blowing in his face, he was sweating. He tried to wipe it from his eyes, but to no avail. He ran on. Sweat burning his eyes, he crossed the street at a diagonal, barely missing a puddle of...something. He leapt over a body, and immediately wished he hadn''t looked down at the child. ''Eggs'', the size of coins, spilled out of the corpses mouth and stomach. He almost threw up, but kept the bile down. He rounded the next corner on the left and was now on the main road to the docks. 200 yards away, at the end of the large wooden pier, the last cargo ship in the harbor was still loading. It must have snuck in during the night! The street looked empty at first glance. His eyes lingered on the alleys, and store fronts with their broken windows and open doors. He saw the faceted eyes reflecting the firelight and early morning sun. He burst into a sprint. His heart beat faster and faster, feeling like it was going to explode. The sound of his pulse was a roar in his ears, drowning out what sounds there may have been. His sweat soaked his clothes, and he didn''t remember having shed his jacket. His lungs burned, his legs ached. 50 yards left to the shore. 20 yards left. His eyes could pick out the unfortunate passengers who had missed the ships floating in the water. The bodies on the shore line. 10 yards. 3. 2. 1. He was on the pier. Another 100 yards to the ship on the end. The passengers were waiving and yelling to him. He didn''t hear them. He looked behind him again, his pursuit had stopped at the shore! He slowed, and tried to catch his breath. Looking ahead, the ship was starting to reel in it''s anchor. His burning legs kept moving, carrying him forward at an unsteady pace. He was going to make it. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt hope. Ten yards from the ship. He could make it! As the ship started to pull away from the pier, the passengers were still cheering him on! CRACK. The end of the pier exploded, as the grotesque head of the biggest thing he had ever seen, came up from underneath. It''s jaws snapped at the ship, missing by only a few feet. The passengers cheering turned to screams of horror as Mav froze. The many segmented body of the horror followed the head, scuttling from it''s hiding spot on the underside of the pier, to the top. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Mav watched as the ship departed. His heart fell. The great black head, with pincered jaws larger than his leg, turned. If he had had anything left in his bowel, it would have fled. It tried to flee anyway. It''s eyes focused on him. The abomination''s bone yellow legs repositioned themselves, stabbing into the wooden planks of the pier for a better ''grip''. He saw the ooze drip off of its stinger ''arms''. Mav threw himself off the side of the pier and tried to swim. There were still small boats, day sailors, at anchor in the harbor. Maybe he could reach one? He swam. Better to drown, than be eaten, or worse. *-*-* My Dell, Western Wilds 4th of Arah, the Second month of Snow. 2138 years since the new gods came. Midwinter has come and gone. The new year will soon be upon us. We have finally had some snow. The first thing Brandywine did was dump some down the back of my shirt at breakfast this morning. I have been feeling weird lately. Like something is off, deep down inside. Maybe it''s just gas? I don''t know. Brandy has been jumpy too. She has been in and out of the Dell several times in the last couple weeks. Sometimes she is gone for several days. I haven''t felt like asking. Farm work has continued. Mike and some of the knights are helping. - - - Maxwell fell into bed, he was exhausted. Aside from the exercise and other things, he still had to take care of the farm. Animals to feed and water. Other chores to attend to. Fences to mend, literal fences. Eggs to gather, more chickens had shown up one day. It''s amazing how much knights DON''T know about animals, outside of their horses and tack. He lay there, a smile on his face. It''s a farmers life. I love it. He fell asleep. - - - 14th of Arah, A young, pregnant, couple arrived in the dell today. I decided to give them shelter after hearing their story. They have traveled most of the week through the snow since the village they lived in was sacked and burned by bandits. We will build them a cabin. 18th of Arah, Sarah stopped by this morning for drinks. She has a new ''Adult'' body. The cleric almost shit himself, and the knights all fell to their knees. I wish she didn''t always ''descend from the heavens'', it''s kind of embarrassing. After introductions, she deliberately shook everyone''s hands. She give Mike a hug, and kissed the young couple on the cheeks. I guess she likes knights and kids? The new cabin is done. Sarah is completely drunk. I think she crashed out with the knights. 19th of Arah, She wasn''t ''sleeping'' last night. I may have to throw her out. Permanently. - - - Seriously Sarah? A knight? Maxwell hadn''t slept well the night before. Too much noise. What? I have needs. And you have a bunch of gods to get handsy with up there. Max pointed to the sky. Sleep with one of those..those CHILDREN?!? She slapped a hand over her mouth. You didn''t hear that. Hear what? You insulting the rest of the gods? Max snorted. For gods, you would think they were smarter than that. Um...yes. That''s exactly what I meant. ...I think I''m missing something here... Max ''looked'' at Sarah again. Stop staring at me like that. Sarah raised an eyebrow. Unless you wanted a piece? Max almost missed the comment, he was concentrating so hard, he could almost see something. Something different. Wait. What?...Oh hells no! No. Really? Sarah stretched her arms behind herself, shoving her chest forward. Are you sure? Max rose from the table, almost knocking the bench over. Thank you for the offer, but no. I will wait until I meet my wife on the other side. He turned and stalked out. Well, that failed. Sarah got up and did the morning dishes. - - - 22nd of Arah, Sarah left this afternoon, claiming business. Things have been uncomfortable between the two of us the last few days. If/when she comes back, we will need to have a ''talk''. 91 – The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A farmer takes a hit Island nation of Nortontia 23rd of Anael. 2138 years since the new gods came. Mav kicked his tired legs. The adrenaline had worn off what felt like hours ago. He paddled with his arms as cold of the water seeped into his bones. His movements went from swimming, to flailing, trying to keep his head above water. A few more yards. Just a few. Almost. He couldn''t keep his head above water. He tried. His legs grew numb. They would no longer move. His arms flailed, and he sank. He welcomed the embrace of the watery abyss. Still better than being eaten. Or worse. *-*-* The Dell, Western Wilds. 23rd of Arah. 2138 years since the new gods came. We have investigated the remains of the village that Anna and Grant came from. Those are the names of the pregnant couple. It was burned almost to the ground. We gathered the remains we could find, and the cleric/priest guy gave last rites. We made a funeral pyre from the salvaged remains of the town. We did manage to find three survivors in a root cellar. There had been more, but we were too late. Mike is very distraught. I''m...kind of numb. Granny Millow is a riot. Her grandchildren? Not so much. Peggy and Adam. Poor kids. It has been too long since the raiders hit the town, we can''t follow their trail. I hope they try for the Dell. 25th of Arah, We have returned. The children are acting better. It is a front. They have been broken. They need time to heal. 26th of Arah, We had a ''family'' meeting. That is to say that everyone in the Dell sat around for most of the day, and talked. The knights have come up with a plan of sorts. With the input of granny and Brandywine, we have a map of the surrounding area out to about sixty miles. We have located 3 more villages. The knights have decided to ride patrols to the villages, and act as messengers between them and us. This will put us in the middle of any trouble, but so be it. I don''t want any more innocent deaths. That comes before my want to be left alone. 28th of Arah, The first group of six knights have left. I told Mike he was in charge of coordinating the knights. It will be a good learning experience for him. I made up a number of talking stones for the operation. 31st of Arah, The knights have reported contact with the village. They have some refugees from the destroyed town. It will take half a week to make the next town. The knights will be spending three days to rest, and meet the village folk. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. 40th of Arah, Mike has worked out a rotation for the knights. Eight groups of six knights each rotate through the villages. It leaves no village empty for more than a few hours each. Talking stones have been distributed to each village as well. I wonder if this is what Rio was talking about when he mentioned that ''internet'' thing? 44th of Arah, The new year is coming. Granny wants to have a celebration for the children. We have plenty of stores to waste some on a party. Anna and Grant have giver birth to a boy. The naming ceremony will be in a week. Until then it isn''t recognized as being people. Strange custom. Meh. 52nd of Arah, Name day. May I announce the birth of Johan of the Dell. Granny Millow as well as her grandchildren Peggy, and Adam, have also amended their names to include ''of the Dell''. I don''t get it, they do have a family name. Maybe it is their way to sever from the past? Meh. Preparations for the new year are on their way. 56th of Arah, New years eve. Sarah is back. We had a talk. - - - So, last time. I''m sorry about that. Sarah looked at Max over her mug of tea. Thank you for the apology. I talked to the others, and got the whole story. She sighed. It wasn''t nice of them. They could have done better. No. Actually they couldn''t. She took a swallow. The did what they could. She should have died of the pox. That was her fate. Max looked at her, slack jawed, and eyes wide. She continued, Even the old gods couldn''t have done anything more. Not without making her a god. But...but what about me then? Max managed to make his mouth work. You? You are an unfortunate victim of circumstance. That Idiot, Tranquility, was messing with things she couldn''t understand when she made that potion. Potions. WHAT?!?!? She made at least two potions. Maybe more. I found one for sale in a magic shop. Max wiped an eye that was ''leaking''. I bought it, and dumped it out under a tree. I don''t really remember where. Well shit. Sarah calmed her breathing with a force of will. You may have created another like yourself out of that tree. I DID WHAT?!?!? Sarah smiled at the reverse of emotions on Maxwell''s face. I will have to go ''look'', but you may have made a young tree become like you. Shit. Shit. Shit. Did you know that a tree that lives long enough sprouts a Dryad? Sarah refilled her mug from the teapot on the plain table. They have been missing from your homeland for several thousand years due to the expansion of civilization. If anything, you did the world a favor. ... Was it an Oak, or was it one of the other longer lived species? ...no...I think it was an Aspen, or maybe a Birch? Oh...oh dear me. They don''t live nearly long enough to develop... It may become lonely, or bitter... I need to go and visit. Yes. But not now. There are...things...coming together here. I can feel it. Some sort of convergence. You will need to remain for a while. - - - The Dell, Western Wilds. 1st of Samue, the month of Planting. 2139 years since the new gods came. The new year is upon us. Planting starts tomorrow. Everyone seems in good spirits, even if some are still drunk, and other hung over. I have made sure the plows are in operating order, and sharp. 92 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A “Day” in the life of Ivan It feels like I''ve been here for years, even though it has only been a few months. Ivan thought, sitting with the others at what he thought of as the ''inner circle'' table. Maxwell and the knights had erected a massive dining hall near the cluster of cabins and bunk houses on top of the ever growing hill near the north end of the Dell. I have met a god. I have met an immortal. I have met knights, and royalty. It''s a medieval world. They barely understand math. There''s no engineering, no buildings of steel and glass. Just stone and wood. THERE IS MAGIC!!! He looked around at the different people. Most were dark tan like some of the moors, or the Italians and Jews. There is no strife between the races here. Maybe it''s because there are other races? I have heard tell of giants and orcs and goblins. Not the horror stories of my world, but stories of massed armies of them fighting demons on their own. Some are still held as heroes! So different. So much the same. He stood, deposited his dishes, and departed the mess hall. Wandering a short way down the hill, he reached the barn. His task of the morning was cleaning stalls with a few of the knights. They laughed and talked, telling ribald jokes that crossed the lines of the worlds. Everyone knew he was from another world, and no one even batted an eye. He shook his head. Sir Paul, it still amazes me that you took my place of origin as fact. No proof necessary. We have many stories of heroes coming from other worlds to help save us from creatures or problems that we are unequipped to deal with. Sir Paul smiled, My liege lord is the direct descendant of one such hero. He...He is? Yes. He served with honors alongside the Heretic. Sir Paul shook his head slightly, The Heretic is actually responsible for the ascension of the house of Olafsson. He didn''t want the title, lands, and responsibility of a duchy, so he gave the whole thing to his friend, my liege''s ancestor. ...Wow. Exactly. Sir Paul stopped for a moment and drank some water from a skin, You keep powerful company, friend Ivan. - - - Ivan saddled a pleasant mare, and rode down into the heart of the Dell. I have a lot to learn. Too much to learn. His thoughts then turned to ''home''. I wonder if my parents have survived. My sister, and little brother. I know the army was recruiting hard. I wonder if they will start conscripting? He shook his head, and frowned. My god in heaven... His prayer went on for a long while. He reached the end of the Dell after a little more than an hours ride. He dismounted, and stared across the slightly shimmering barrier that kept the snow out. This is magic. This is the work of a god. I guess they are real here. They intervene. Does my god exist? Does he intervene? I guess I will keep faith, and find out when I die. He walked down the nearby bank to the stream, and cast a line into the water, and fished away his afternoon. The sun set sooner than Ivan would have liked. He caught his horse, cursed himself for not removing the saddle and tack, and mounted the poor beast. Father would have whipped me for this back home. How could I forget such a thing? He rode back to the slowly growing farmstead. - - - Morning was upon Ivan before he even noticed. He sat up slowly, observing his surroundings. Small cabin? Yes. Wood floors? Yes. Table with chairs? Yes. Running water? No. I need to figure out plumbing so I can take a hot shower in the morning. He made his pilgrimage to the privy, cleaned himself up in the double barrels set up for such things, and sighed. I really need to introduce plumbing. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. What was that, Sir Ivan? One of the knight whose name he couldn''t remember asked. Just thinking that back home, we have running water in our homes. We even have hot water on demand. Of course that was only in town, in the homes of the rich, but they don''t need to know that. Oh. Yes. We have that in the castle, and surrounding town. The knight smiled. My grandfather was a pipe layer. Good money in that. Grandfather didn''t want that for my father, since he was a sickly child, so he was sent to higher school, and became a scribe. Thanks to that, I, as the youngest, was able to become a Paige, and follow the path to knighthood. Ivan was stunned. They even have running water. Showers. Do I have anything to add to this world besides martial prowess? Instead of asking out loud, he said, That is impressive. Back home you had to be born into the nobility to become a knight. Most domains are like that. But not home. The knight smiled, Back in the olden days, it was decided that along with the education reforms, there were other changes as well. The army was small, and war with the neighbors was always a possibility, so lord... I forget who, decided to open the knighthood to any who could qualify. That is...amazing. What is this knights name? Damn it all! Sir Reginald! Someone called, and the knight Ivan was talking to looked up. What is it, Sir Peter? Sir Reginald answered. Dame Mary is looking for you. Sir Peter responded, coming to a halt. She is apparently displeased with the current state of the armory. Oh no. Sir Reginald looked worried. Let''s not keep Dame Mary waiting. He turned to Ivan, Have a good day Sir Ivan. It looks like I have work to do, and someone to sacrifice to Dame Mary. Ivan nodded. I wish you godspeed on finding the culprit, Sir Reginald. The three men parted ways. I feel bad for whomever crossed Dame Mary. Even Brandywine is respectful to her. Ivan shuddered. I hope it wasn''t one of the children. - - - Many days had passed since the incident in the armory, and Ivan was glad he had stayed out of it. Apparently a couple of the younger squires had decided to play a prank on Dame Mary. It had backfired. Now the two squires were up to their elbows in work, doing the worst chores Maxwell could imagine for them. Ivan shuddered. I can''t believe he''s making them clean the pigsty with trowels. The bird coop was bad enough! He walked down the hill to the lake. It had grown since he had arrived. He fondly remembered helping Max build the dam. It was so calm then. I could cry, and he would just pat me on the back. I wish things were still that simple. Laughing at Brandy''s bad jokes, and her teasing Max. Now? Now it''s people, and work. His train of thought derailed, then reassembled itself. I...I don''t need that anymore. I...I can remember their faces and not cry. I don''t wake up in my sleep, screaming! He stood there absentmindedly ''looking'' at the dam for a while, his mind''s eye replaying the last battle. I am sad. But I don''t panic any more. Is this what healing looks like? He smiled. - - - Ivan spent many hours every day training with the war scythe. The ever so slightly curved handle, and offset angle of the blade, somewhere between the classic angle of a scythe blade, and a polearm (A/N: the angle is around 150* off the shaft of the weapon.) He had gotten to the point that he could both block arrows with the flat of the blade, and cut them out of the air. He could reap a single blade of grass from a clump, even if the blade was on the other side of the clump from him. He practiced with the knights using a wooden training version of the scythe, but only won about half the matches. His favorite times of practice were the weekly trips out of the Dell, to his private target range, where he shot his weapons from home. He had finally figured out how to turn the enchantments off, so hitting the targets was just him, his breath, and his skill. Breathe. Slowly engage the trigger. Smooth pull, don''t jerk it. He slowly breathed in and out for a time, laying in the snow several hundred feet from his target. He exhaled, and slowly pulled the trigger. Bang went the rifle. Ping went the old breastplate that was swinging from a tree branch, that he used for a target,. Nice shot. Ivan jerked up, and spun towards the voice. It was the cleric of...Gone-Dish? Hello, father? I''m sorry to sneak up on you like this, but I wished to speak with you without the others hearing us. The cleric said. Okay. Speak your mind. The sudden adrenaline spike from the surprise started to recede from Ivan''s blood. My god has asked me to speak with you. The cleric started, He bid me to give you his blessings, and tell you that your road will soon be hard, but, should you succeed, you will be given a choice. To return to your homeland, or to remain, and live here, Thank you, father. The cleric of Ghondish departed for the Dell, job done for the time being. Now what the hell is a ''Karen''? He sighed, shaking his head. And why does he keep asking? 93 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A Farmer takes an Army? The Dell, Western Wilds. 3rd of Samue, the month of Planting. 2139 years since the new gods came. Watching knights attempt to plow fields is hilarious. The land outside the Dell if free of snow. The villages that the knights have been patrolling are doing well. The pregnant knight has been put on duty to operate the communications system. She hates it. 7th of Samune, I have marked out almost 100 acres of land to plow and seed. Most of it is done already. Those knights do learn quickly. They also like to compete. Once they leave next month, it will be all I can do to maintain it. I guess some of it will end up as winter food plots for roving animals, like that herd of deer that hasn''t left. *-*-* The demon Lands, Late winter/Early spring. Winter had mostly come to an end. The lack of roads impeded the army somewhat, but the worgs did a good job of making a trail for the horses to follow. He was feeling Happy. Happy happy happy. Little soldier men are nice. Puppies are nice. My puppies are better. Kittens are all spiky, and don''t like to cuddle. Pbth. He spat, then pranced around the worgs, giggling. The soldiers gave him the side eye, but said nothing. They had seen the metal rod he carried send out a gout of sound and fire, dropping an enraged Wyvern from the sky with a mighty explosion. The horses had panicked. The worgs had just gone and retrieved the thing. Bread bread bread. Can''t wait for bread. Are pancakes bread? They serve pancakes. BACON!!!! Camping in a tent is fun. Camp camp camp. An RV would be fun. Rv rv rv...What is an RV? He dance for a while longer, then spun around too many times and fell over. He was asleep in moments. As the soldiers watched, a worg, not the one he rode, curled up around him. They would be in the western grassland soon, and the silly singers had a map! - - - The bards and the ''Men of Repute'' gathered in the command tent. They discussed the direction and distance to the target. The general in charge of the troops leaned back in her chair and spoke, Ladies, gentlemen, we should arrive at our destination in two or three weeks time. I want our outriders, yes including the worgs, to step up their game a bit. Start scouting more than a mile from our lines. I don''t want any surprises. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. *-*-* The Dell, Western Wilds. 14th of Samune. Brandywine says we have company coming. She ''smells it on the wind''. Sometimes she says that, and when you go so sniff the wind, all you smell is rancid fart. I only fell for that...twice. 16th of Samune, There have been some animals fleeing east across the Dell the last couple of days. They have usually migrated already. I think something may be wrong. 17th of Samue, The village of Grath, to the north east of here, has reported an influx of refugees from some island nation. They apparently are deathly afraid of house centipedes. They have some crazy stories. Grath is trying to spread them out across the three villages, but also wants to send some here. I don''t want to deal with this kinda shit. I just want to farm. I said yes. 18th of Samue, Worgs have been spotted outside the Dell. I''m worried for the local wildlife. If they don''t move on, we will have to deal with them. *-*-* The scouts seem to have found our target. The worg riders reported today that they found a large valley with buildings and a group of knights. The general was standing in her tent, and speaking to a group of officers and civilians. We can make it there by noon tomorrow. Does anyone have questions? The insane man was standing in the back of the tent, looking around with narrowed eyes. For the first time, he wasn''t being ''silly''. In fact, he didn''t look like himself, either. He was clean and wearing what was obviously some sort of uniform, but instead of the normal bright colors, it was covered in earth tone splotches that made him nigh unto invisible on the plains. He carried his bang stick on a sling over his shoulder, and had a smaller one on the belt around his waste. A woven green harness crossed his chest, with fist sized metal balls hanging from it. He saluted, General? What is our plan for first contact? Will we send a stealth recon group in first to explore? Or will we just march in as if we are expected? There was a stunned silence in the tent, then the general answered, I believe that as soon as we get even remotely close, the Heretic will notice we are here and come out and greet us. Gods rest our souls if he is angry about us coming And I will be very surprised if he didn''t already see the worg patrols. The sole worg at the meeting had her head sticking in through the tent flaps, made a growling chuffing noise. One of the civilians spoke up. She says that a pixie saw them, but none of the humans did. Pixie?!? Several people almost shrieked. A bark, whine and chuff filled conversation was had, then Yes. A Pixie. Not a fairy, or a brownie, a Pixie. She says the pixie waived and smiled at her scouts. The general sighed, Well, I will assume that means that it won''t interfere. Much. The meeting broke up soon after. *-*-* 19th of Samue, Stupid. Gods cursed. Worthless. Ancestors be Damned. Coxswain buggered. Broken Anchored. Mizzen masted. Goddess loving. Flat chested. FAIRY. I''m going to hit her so hard with my cast iron frying pan! She stole my underwear! While I was wearing it! AND PUT IT ON TOP OF THE WINDMILL!!!!!!! An army showed up today. 93X The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Humans & Highrises 7 “The Expandoning” The Celestial Realm The usual suspects were gathered around the large table located in the barn''s game room. Sarah, sitting with a beer and smoking a Llama; Pendleton, looking like a young woman; Mil chugging his third ''Mountain Spring'' soda (all the caffeine and twice the sugar of the competition); and Kocha, sitting cross legged in a stool, rolling dice to test for imperfections. Ghondish walked in, nodded to the assembled group, and laid out a new, glossy, full color map in the center of the table. Everyone ready for the big reveal? The response of smiles and nods was almost immediate. Good. As you remember from last week s game, the city of Brownsville had decided to expand by acquiring low income housing. Mil, as a Blue Collar, you have been assisting with the construction project. So let me ask, would you break the NDA, risking that large bonus, to tell people what is going on? Mil rolled his eyes, Oh, hells no! I need that money to expand my house! Even if I do all the labor myself, it''s going to cost a small fortune. But, once I do, it will be larg enough to acquire a privacy fence, so I can have barbecues in the back yard without the ''Frost Queen'' calling it in. You could just invite her over. Pendleton suggested. That will be the day that I die. Mil took a calming breath, If I invite her, then I have to invite her kids. Then her kids will try to set us up. AGAIN. I''m not doing that. Fare enough. Pendleton cracked a smile, It was funny though. Mil threw an empty can at them. Now that that interesting byplay is done, let us continue. This from Kocha. Alright. It is saturday, and the mayor has announced the opening of the ''low rent housing district'' to the public. Ghondish smiled, Who is watching it on TV, and who is in person? Mil laughed. I''m staying home with a cold beer. I''m in person. came from Kocha. Live, and on scene! From Pendleton. I''m passing out free, cheap beer, to people at the opening. came from Sarah. Okay. Ghondish raised an eyebrow to Sarah. Roll persuasion to avoid the ire of the police on duty for the event. Has my reputation with the police changed any? ...no... Sarah rolled a D20, I rolled a 3. They smile, wave, and leave you be. You use your Karen Power to help one cop''s husband at the Mart-Mart, and you never have problems again. Sarah smiled, Of course you still need to donate to the departments ''widows and orphans'' fund, but it is well worth the perks. One of the officers, Officery Cherry, does ask if you will be around later, after the current crew is off the clock. I smile at her, and tell her ''But of course! All our officers are welcome. I brought a keg in the minivan, and a case of cups.'' Yes, I am planning a block party. Sarah grinned from ear to ear, while everyone else at the table groaned. Mil shook his head, How do you manage this amount of trouble, and not have more problems? The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Well, I took a single level in ''Politician'' to get the ''Law'' bonuses. Now that I''m known as a ''Good Actor'' in questionable circumstances, I get a lot of leeway. rules lawyer someone mumbled. Sarah just smiled. Moving right along, since the Elpha-Donk party, as well as the Vation, Unist, and Terrian partys, all signed off on the project, they all have speaches. Everyone shuddered. And before any of you ask, no, nothing of substance is said. I won''t even let you roll. There is nothing. Ghondish may have given Pendleton a harsh look during that statement. Mil yawned, I throw an empty ''at'' the TV. I''m not drunk enough to actually hit it. Yet. Okay. The ribbon is cut, and the curtain blocking the view of the street is pulled back! Ghondish giggled, so did Mil. And you see a fully populated Bario going about it''s business. The street just past the curtain seems to not quite match squarely to the street you are on, and looks to be poorly patched. That was my job. Mil spoke up, They airdropped the neighborhood wrong, and all the infrastructure was off bu an inch. Pain in the ass to fix. He chugged another Mtn. Spring. The rest of the table sat for a few moments in complete silence, then Pendleton shot out of their seat, YOU MEAN THEY STOLE A SUBURB FROM ANOTHER CITY AND JUST PLOPPED IT DOWN HERE?!?!? Pretty much. Mil and Ghondish answered in usison. Pendleton stood slack jawed, eyes bulging; Kocha placed his elbows on the table, and placed his head in his hands; Sarah started to gently bang her head on the table. Mil and Ghondish just laughed. Several minutes of yelling and insults later, the group calmed down. So, there is now a significant minority in town, boosting the economy and workforce. Sarah? Your reputation remains intact. Ghondish said, A few days have past, and the ''Required'' weekly HOA meeting is starting. Those of you with the ''Social Connections'' Feat may make an Investigation check, DC 12, to have picked up any rumors or discontent after the unveiling. Shit rolls, even with advantage, I rolled a 2. That gives me an 11. Pendleton grumbled. And...I rolled a pair of 1''s. Crap. 11. Sarah groused. Ghondish proceeded, Okay. All of you are blindsided when Mr. Yong the elder, demands an immediate hike in rates to beef up the security of the neighborhood. He wants automated gates, chain link fences on top of the 3'' decorative walls, and a gate guard. Eyes bulge around the table, then Kocha spoke up. Wait an us damned minute! Mil looks up from the map, I ask him ''why are you asking for all that?'' He responds in his accented, broken common, ''Have you no hear? Immigrants evil! Everyone know! Look at news!'' How are you going to respond? Sarah looks at Ghondish, and after a long drag on her Llama, asks.Didn''t he fight in the ''Race Riots'' twenty years ago? Yup. Then why? Sarah pressed. Pendleton slammed a fist on the table. I remember! He was a part of the ''Pink Skins'' Party, before they died out! Wait. The Mad Bombers of Ralph Street? Mil stared at Pendleton, then switched to glaring at Ghondish. You mean that one of the colorists is here? In our neighborhood? Well, after the President and Parliament pardoned them, no one thought about it. Kocha said. Mil snarled, Still burns my ass. So, does anyone respond before the motion is seconded? Mil beats everyone else in an initiative roll, and goes first, I start with ''Mr. Yong, you do remember that we are, according to our charter and bylaws, ''...An equal opportunity, and open community...'' That being the case, we absolutely CAN NOT add the sorts of measures you are demanding!'' I would like to roll...a...an...I want to shut him down before this can go to a vote. What do I roll? That would be a DC 25 Intimidation roll, at disadvantage, to get him to drop it. Unless I punch him, and use Strength, I can''t make that. And if I do use Strength, my ''Community Ranking'' goes down. Pendleton raised their eyebrows, Since when do you even care about your rankings? Since I found out that if it falls much more, I will be forced out! I''m on probation for the next three months. Crap, I forgot. Pendleton shuddered. Yeah. Maybe I can roll Deception to turn the crowd against him for the moment? Ghondish shook his head, I''m sorry, Mil old boy. If you aren''t hitting him for an Intimidation roll, you will have to use a Persuasion roll on either him, or the crowd. DC 20 on the crowd, but due to your low standing the roll is at Disadvantage. You have Disadvantage with him, and a DC 30, due to deeply held beliefs. ...shit...Okay. I will roll for the crowd. Pendleton raised a hand, I will assist with this by reminding the HOA of his previous participation in the ''Pink Skins'' party. Alright. You get to roll strait up. No advantage or disadvantage. Mil shook the die. Please, universe, grant - - - NONE OF THAT!!! Ghondish yelled. SHIT! Sorry. Forgot. Mil shook the die, and dropped it in the dice tower. The die rolled and clattered, and bounced around, before coming out the bottom into the tray. It''s a... a 4. For a total of 14. Me Damn it all! You fail to persuade the crowd to shut it down completely. To skip some time, the HOA board has decided to table the motion until next week for ''research purposes''. You all have a week to figure things out. What are ''Y''all'' going to do? Pendleton and Sarah looked at each other, and smiled in unison. Mil drummed his fingers on the table. Kocha started to whistle a jaunty tune. Sarah broke eye contact with Pendleton, What the hells Kocha? I ''fork'' his entire lawn. Real silverware and plastic chopsticks. Then I ''flamingo'' his roof, and not the classy ones, the nasty paper and stick ones from Dollar Jar. And finally I ''Shrink Wrap'' his car. The room went deathly silent. The three offenses of death. If you succeeded, the target could be quickly removed. If you failed the unholy trinity, you were both removed from the HOA and the blow back lost you your job. Kocha cackled. 94 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Isekai Brothers Too Manducare, the newest demon king on the world, was depressed. He sat on low mountain, in the northeast of the demon lands. His people were gone, eaten by worgs as they crawled, exhausted, from the ground. They didn''t even have a chance to recover! There was no honor in their deaths! No glory! A mountain goat skipped up to him and Baaed, before sampling his robe. He sighed. Now what do I do? He asked the goat. The rest of the flock climbed towards his location, baaing. Maybe I will become the king of goats. BAA! Oh, you already have a king? And he''s a god? Ba, Baa, bah. Very interesting. I will avoid him. BaA!! bAAa. A Heretic? Seriously? Is this world absolutely MAD?!? Manducare''s jaw hung open. Baa. They do nothing about him? Baa, baa. Baa! Urp. BaaA. Immortal? His head drooped to his chest. Is there nothing I can do to this place? An Immortal Heretic that the local Deities are unable to get rid of; Goats have their own super powerful god; And they outsource their heroes, instead of promoting from within? He looked up to the heavens, and rolled his eyes. YOU ARE ALL STUPID! He got no response. Baa? No, little one, there would be no sport in eating ewe. BAA!!! I know, goat not sheep. Just a little pun to pass the time. baa. It wasn''t that bad! urp. Baa. ...So, you seem to be in heat, you wanna? *-*-* Yossef and Hamza looked across the large workshop that had once been owned by Maxwell The Heretic. They stared at the impressive forge, the many anvils, and even whistled at the over engineered bellows. I think you could fit a missile in here! Yossef exclaimed. Hamza smiled at his brother, Or a pair of tanks. Then he looked at Yossef again, Did you loose your kippah? No, I tucked it into my pocket so I wouldn''t loose it in our room. Oh. They went back to musing over what all they could fit into the workshop. - - - Weeks had passed in an almost blur for Yossef and Hamza. Lessons in swords, magic, armor, other weapons, and survival. Before they knew it, a local month had passed, and the arms and armor they would carry in battle were almost complete. The dedication and presentation ceremony were in three days. - - - Mistress, Master Smith? Yes John? Um...I appraised the sword. It is a ''Blessed sword of the Celestial Ruler''. It what now?!? The sword came out of the forging process already blessed and enchanted. You have got to be kidding me. {Identify} { Celestial Ruler''s Blessed sword of the Celestial Ruler
  • Bonus damage, Canidae*.
  • Blessed Item.
  • Holy Blade.
  • Mark Territory}
What in the ever-loving gods? It gets worse. ...Do I want to know? What the Hells is going on here? Mistress Smithson wondered. Um, you should probably be aware. John replied with some hesitation. The armor and Shield have similar issues... Let me see the shield first. {Identify} {Celestial Ruler''s Blessed Kite Shield of Blessing
  • Blessed item.
  • Holy.
  • Immunity: Hairballs.}
Mistress Smithson, shoulders slumped, and sighing, requested the armor. Armor. {Identify} {Celestial Ruler''s Holy Armor of Holiness. Full Set.
  • Blessed Item.
  • Claws
  • Climbing
  • Enhanced Hearing.
  • Ghost Sight. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
  • Holy.
  • Immunity: Fear.
  • Night Vision.
  • Perfect Balance/Land on Feet.
  • Resist Cold}
I am familiar with the words, but...the hells? I agree, mistress. It may be a hero thing? Probably. What about the staff and robes for the Wizard? The robes ''seem'' to be normal. The Staff, not so much. Give me the staff. {Identify} {Celestial Ruler''s Blessed Magic staff of MAGIC!
  • 3/day Casting: [Blasting Stuff]
  • 3/day Casting: [Cone of Scent]
  • 3/day Casting: [Cursed Hairball of Doom]
  • 3/day Casting: [Scent of Territorial Mark]
  • Spell Strength Boost. }
Mistress Smithson was looking for something to hit. Someone is playing silly buggers with us, and I don''t know who. Maybe Trixie, or Kocha? It would be their kind of thing. Mistress, as you know I''m not a priest and I do hesitate to debate religion with you, but I don''t think this is their doing. It doesn''t feel right. Mistress Smithson took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, You are probably correct. But who would do this kind of thing? What god would play this kind of prank? Tom Cat walked by the large door into the Heretics shop. Why are they working in MY shop? He stopped and cleaned his right ear. Oh well. He wandered on in his pursuit of an annoying rat terrier that was harassing his rats. Stupid dogs. *-*-* The great hall of The Heretic was full of decorations, with the family crest, a revolver crossed with a hammer over an anvil, was on full display over the dais. Enchanted chandeliers hung from the aged ceiling beams, and spread light over the lush rugs and tapestries. Banquet tables of food were set, and objects of wonder were displayed on plinths around the hall. The halls fireplace roared with fire, and to its left, in a spot of shadow, a basket of well behaved, blue eyed kittens sat under the watchful eye of an old, battle damaged, tom. A boy aged seven or maybe eight, sat next to the cats, and alternated between petting the tom and the kittens. You know Tom, Tree says you need to slow down your breeding a bit, otherwise there won''t be enough food around for y''all to eat. The old tom snorted. Look, it''s not like we are going to insist on you getting clipped, just slow down, maybe a litter every two years? The tom looked at the boy through hooded eyes, The day you can clip me, is the day I have had my final death. His tail swished near the basket, and a kitten jumped on it. But if you all insist, I will keep my rutting down to once a year. I do not want my children to starve. Very good, Lord Tom. - - - The time had come for Yossef and Hamza to leave, and the boys stood in the great hall. People were moving between the tables of food, and retiring to smaller, more intimate tables. Yossef looked to Hamza, When do they give us the goods? About an hour, I think? Hamza shrugged, I just hope it''s not like that fifth grade graduation cousin Sam sent us the link too. How could anyone sit through that many bad speeches? Both boys shuddered. The paced through the hall, each gathering a large plate of deserts and smaller plate of ''food''. They pulled up a trio of chairs next to the hearth near Tom and the kitten minder, Kris. Laying out their feast on the third chair, the started tossing meat bits to the kittens and chatting with the other two. So Tom, how has the breeding program been going? Hamza asked around a brownie like confection. Tom shook the kitten from his tail, Not as well as hoped. It turns out, after several attempts, that all that has been transferred to the children is my good looks and perfect health. Well, better luck next time. Yossef said, after swallowing a strange fruit tart. Oh, look. Here comes our minder. I suppose the ceremony is about to start. Indeed it was. It took, subjectively, hours and hours of time. In truth it lasted just over an hour. The boys took their new equipment, and several dozen presents, and ran off to bed. In the morning they left on their grand adventure. - - - They were finally leaving! The boys were ecstatic. Their mounts were well rested, and loaded with provisions. They slowly walked out the gate of the school, and stopped to wait for a wagon to pass. As the watched the wagon approach, one of the kittens, having escaped from the basket, raced out into the street, chasing a leaf as it was blown across the ground. The leaf blew under the wagon, and the kitten followed. CRUNCH The wagoner hadn''t seen the kitten; and honestly would not have stopped if he had seen it; and so the boys saw the little white ball of fluff get crushed under a wheel. The poor thing didn''t even have a chance to cry out in pain. The boys stared, as the blood pooled, and the wagon rolled on. Yossef began to cry, when Hamza elbowed him, Look! He pointed to the kitten. Yossef looked, then his eyes widened, unable to believe the input they were giving. The kitten stood up, gave an adorable yawn, and walked off. The whole while a little wooden timer floated above the kittens head, and eventually switched it''s number from 9 to 8. The boys rode for the north in silence, pondering what they had seen. *-*-* The ''Demon Wastelands'' were, in a word, wastelands. Scrub brush that barely grew, and where it did grow, it was twisted and sickly. The grass was an off orange in color, exceedingly short, and smelled so bad that both boys had to cover their noses. They had been warned, and because they were actually smart enough to listen to the locals on the border, had exchanged them for a pair of ''Hera''. The Hera was a strange beast, almost the size of a horse, but more muscle, with cloven hooves, a tail that more resembled a lizard''s, and sharp predatory teeth. They could eat any manner of plant, but preferred flesh, rotted flesh. Apparently they were also immune to poison and disease, but the boys didn''t want to test that. The Hera plodded along, sniffing the air, and making little growling noises. Riding the one named ''Zeus'', Hamza was the first to speak. Alright, we are here. Now where do we go? Mounted on ''Ananke'', Yossef looked at the surrounding area. I would say east. I feel like there is something important in that direction. They plodded along the uneven terrain, up and down hills made of rocks more than earth. They crossed a ''stream'' that was more like a slowly moving swamp than a stream. Hours passed. When night descended, they made camp near a sheer cliff created by a boulder that sat by itself in the middle of a mostly flat plain. The Hera were fed a combination of oats and offal from a well sealed bag, and picketed not far from the tent they erected. Camp made, and fire built from local ''wood'', the boys sat and discussed the day. First off, this fire stinks to high heaven! Yossef said, poking the fire with his staff. So do the Hera. Hamza replied. Do you think the locals know what ''Hera'' means back home? Probably not. But if they did, that would be funny. That creak was nasty. Do you think we will find any clean water out here? Or food? I don''t know. Our survival training didn''t cover the wastelands at all. Yossef smiled. It will be an adventure. That night the boys slept fitfully, waking every few hours to strange sounds before relapsing to sleep. The morning was heralded by Ananke licking Hamza''s face with a rough, almost barbed, tongue. He sat up shrieking. Breakfast was fast and cold, and they were back in the saddle before the sun had finished cresting the horizon. Wish I had a watch. A glum Hamza said. I wish I had my phone. Yossef replied. A moment later he pointed to a low ridgeline just off to the left. I see some sort of opening there! Om the right side of that ridge! ??Hamza took a look, and a few minutes later the Hera were racing across the ground, towards what was indeed, a cave. It took an estimated ten minutes to get there.?? The cave entrance was man sized, maybe a little larger. The morning light only extended a short way into the cave, and revealed a smooth, unblemished, sandy floor. Hamza and Yossef looked at each other, and stepped into the darkness. Below lies the ''original'' descriptions I was going to use for the magic items the boys got. I decided to not use all of it, and changed a bit. I mean, while this is, at least tangentially, an Isekai, it really isn''t a LitRPG, so why act like it is, except for comedic effect? Anyway, without further ado, The Original Items! (I never finished them, BTW). { Celestial Ruler''s Blessed sword of the Celestial Ruler
  • +100% Basic Attack
    • +150% Bonus to hit and damage against all forms of, or related to, Canidae*.
  • Blessed Item.
  • Holy Blade.
    • +100% damage.
    • Inflicts Holy xxx** on ''evil'' targets.
    • Inflicts Holy xxx on Exo-planar targets.
  • Territorial Mark
    • Any ''being'' killed with this blade grants the ''Celestial Ruler'' additional territory equal to 10x the size of the body''s remains.
    • When activated, the blade projects a 20'' cone of stink, causing all in it''s path to become ill.}
{Celestial Ruler''s Blessed Kite Shield of Blessing
  • +100% Basic Defense.
  • Blessed item.
    • Cast Bless on party 3x per day.
  • Holy.
  • +100% Chance to Reflect Ranged Attack.
    • +50% Chance to Reflect Ranged Attack (Hairball).
  • +100% Resistance (All).
  • }
{Celestial Ruler''s Holy Armor of Holiness. Full Set.
  • +100% Basic Defense.
  • Holy
  • Blessed
  • }
{Celestial Ruler''s Blessed Magic staff of MAGIC!
  • 3/day Casting: [Blasting Stuff]
    • +100% Blasting stuff
  • 3/day Casting: [Cursed Hairball of Doom]
    • +100% Cursed Hairball of Doom
  • 3/day Casting: [Scent of Territorial Mark]
    • Any ''being'' killed with this Staff grants the ''Celestial Ruler'' additional territory equal to 10x the size of the body''s remains.
    • When activated, the staff projects a 20'' cone of stink, causing all in it''s path to become ill.
  • }
95 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A Farmers Soliloquy The Dell, Western Wilds. 20th of Samue, The Month of Planting. 2139 years since the new gods came. I ''have'' an army now. They are from Demonia. What caused me to play politics? Oh. Yeah. Innocent lives on the line. I''ve had a formal introduction to General ''Boots'' of the ''Heretical order of Kittens'', or something like that. I look to the universe and cry ''why me?'', no answer as of yet. After thinking on my conversation with Sarah, I find myself unable to come to terms with anything any more. Once things are settled with this Scary thing from the west business, I''m going to find a deserted island, and live there for a hundred years. I''m leaving everything behind. EVERYTHING. Probably even my chest. I just want done. I want to be left alone. Surely a century isn''t too much to ask? - - - It was morning, and Maxwell was seated in his small boat, floating on what had become a lake, talking to himself. There is an army at my door. They have come to ''assist'' me. Assist me with what? What in the ever loving hells is this about? He looked across the lake towards the campsite of the army. At least they have their own food. But where are they going to find food for all the worgs? Those things are voracious eaters. And the green man, he looks familiar...Did he shoot me? Max never even bothered to bait his hook, as it sat in the water suspended under a float, and contemplated his life. - - - Across the dell, a young mad was coming to grips with his own life. Michael Sorenson. I am from the planet Earth. I died to a grenade. My team and I were rescued by someone who claimed to be a god, and given a new life hunting demons. His audience of worgs were paying him little attention as they ate the carcass''s of several large creature they had killed, and dragged to the camp to share. Those look like wild buffalo. Michael sighed, My little brother would have loved it here. He could have been healed, and been out of that chair. He stood from his own chair, walked into the feeding pack, and petted several of them. Now I am here. I can think again. How long did I wander? Now what do I do? I know, I can feel it in my bones, there is something coming. Am I supposed to fight? Am I supposed to die? Have I yet to pay for my sins? He hugged a worg, and cried into it''s fur. - - - Sir Reginald looked across the stream, more of a river now, and shook his head. That is an army. 2000 soldiers strong. An elite force, no, The elite force of Demonia. I cannot compare myself or my knights to them. He looked to the bunkhouse, the cabins, where his men slept. Compared to them, we are naught but chaff in the wind. Melancholy took him, and he wept. *-*-* 21st of Samune, I have started to level out ground across the stream...river for the army to make a semi-permanent camp. The worgs are being quite useful in bringing logs in from the nearby forest. This pack (can you call a thousand plus worgs a pack?) is quite agreeable. The green man is helping with them quite a lot. Several of the Men of Repute are as well. Strange interaction between a couple of the Men and the worgs, they are quite leery of each other. All of them are leery of me. I''m not sure of the worgs, but I recognize a pair of the Men. When I greeted them by name, they bowed. I noticed several of their fellows giving them money as I left their company. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The Bards are an interesting lot. Nice people. Good taste in music. I miss that young man. I''m glad he was able to make it home. I am saddened that one of their own died so that they could find their way here. Stupid gods... It becomes harder for me to say that... - - - General Boots was looking on as the heretic, without much effort, raised and leveled first one, then three, then a full ten acres from the sloping side of the dell, into lightly banked, buildable land. He almost immediately fell over afterwords, but still, she was impressed. If he can do that, I wonder what he would be like in bed? Sir Reginald, standing beside her, saw the look on her face and ventured, I think I understand your thinking, General, but I would caution you not to try. He said ''No'' to goddess Sarah of Shadows. He...he refused a goddess? Even though the shock didn''t play on her face, it did flavor her voice. That is so like the stories I heard. Did you know he once backhanded a succubi? That wouldn''t surprise me in the slightest. Reginald answered. I also heard from Brandywine that he turned down an quite lovely Elvin princess. Her family didn''t come for him for the insult? They did. It failed. Reginald smiled, I believe the missive the assassin sent home was along the lines of ''I give up. He won''t stay dead. I''m retiring immediately.'' or some such. Boots laughed. That fits everything in the catechism of the Heretic. Your people really do treat him as a god, then? He is held responsible for all that has happened to, and in Demonia. Boots sighed, Even in some border towns, he is referred to as a saint. Some worship him as a god, some pray to him as a saint, hoping he will intercede on their behalf to the gods. You can''t be serious! Oh, but I am. Boots chuckled, Although, I''ve heard many a tale about the intercession not going the way they wanted. Considering his track record with the gods, I am not surprised. 22nd of Samune, People are settling in. The worgs have herded an incredible number of ''tri-prongs'' into the southern dell, and are treating them like sheep. I hope they can be sustained. 27th of Samune, Mike''s knights are starting to integrate with the Demonia troops, and vise versa. They are running joint patrols out to the surrounding villages. The refugees are due tomorrow. 28th of Samune, Refugees. It sickens me to see so many destitute people. It''s only a hundred or so in this group, but there are more on their way. I have dispatched some men and a pair of Men to procure supplies from the coast. They have plenty of money to buy goods, and hire wagons. - - - Ladies, gentlemen, both and neither, I am Maxwell Smithson. Welcome to my land. The flat land on the west side is set up for the military. The flat on the east is laid out for your use. Mind the markers for your dwellings and the road. Once you are settled in, we will see about getting you on a work shift. All who can work, will work. Those who can''t, will be taken care of. Max sat down behind the table someone had lugged outside for the occasion. The refugees came up to the table singly, in pairs, or rarely, in families. They gave names, place of origin, and former occupation to Brandy who write down, and in turn were assigned a tent for housing. The army took care of most of the details, and people were mostly thankful for the help, and the dry place to sleep. Max kept to the sidelines for the operation, and listened closely to the gossip and rumors. What he heard shocked him to the core. Abuse after abuse upon landing. Rape, theft, and murder. Running in horror from things that took the form of centipedes, but on a scale to rival a dragon. He was sure that some of it was nonsense, but... there had been that tomb he and Tristan had cleared of undead, with the strange murals on the walls. Murals that had made his blood run cold. - - - 29th of Samune, The tent city is up and away. I''ve had to deal with a few malcontent individuals, but nothing abominable. Just people twisted beyond recognition, trying to regain themselves. Just like every other refugee I''ve seen. The children, at least, seem to be coming back more quickly. I place that firmly with Granny and her little ones. I''m glad they came. - - - Far across the continent, the demon lord looked around himself. I am alone. His eyes fixed upon a herd of goats, all female, all being followed by young. Well, not alone. I have children. A slight shudder moves across his body. Now what? An army of half spawn? Can they preform as needed to conquer this place? How many more do I need? How long will it take? Can I sacrifice them and get what I need to open a portal? He kicked off from his perch, and went looking for more beasts to breed. Flashback - The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Flashback to Chapter 1 – The Immortal Blacksmith As the Head Conservator of the Goddess of Knowledge, it is my job to organize and compile ''The Heretic Collection'' at the Museum of Knowledge. This has been a difficult experience, especially with the first few journals. I have had to do much more than I had originally thought was needed to edit and combine the journals with accompanying letters and papers. Please bear with me, as these first few books are rife with stains and gibberish. V.L. Xxx? I don''t know what day it is. I think it''s been a week since I left home and grabbed my chest. I miss my wife. [Puke stain] [Gibberish and spilled ink for three pages] ?? then I punched the idiot in the face. [Coffee stain?] I got drunk last night and threw myself in the river. Woke up sober on the shore. Wet and penniless. [water stains, ink splotches] Got stabbed to death last night at a bar. I don''t remember what one. Woke up in the garbage dump. ?? What day is it? Woke up with the biggest hangover yet. I''m going to the big temple today. - - - They have some nice stuff on display here! Max took a swig from his flask of booze. Nice armor, high level craftsmanship. Several beautiful swords. I can''t wait to see the rest of the place. Max spent the next several hours admiring the temple''s architecture, relics, and wall hangings. As he walked the tour guide went on explaining each piece, and talking about how great Maximilian was to have as a god. The longer he walked, the more Max drank. The more he drank, the worse his mood got, until finally the tour was over. I''ve seen the entire thing. Burp. I wonder how hard it would be to sneak in and steal something? It''s not like the gods are going to notice that something is gone... Much later that evening, a very drunk Maxwell walked into the temple. ''scuse me, good sir, he said to a statue in the main room, where''s the alter thingy? The statue didn''t answer. He took a hammer out of his bag, and smacked the statue in the face. The statue''s head exploded into bits, and he ran in a random direction. Never had a head do that before... His random choice of directions carried him past worried priests and guards, as he yelled the bugger went that way! they ran past him towards the noise. When he stopped, panting, he looked up and saw a sword. This one hadn''t been on the tour. It was a dark crimson red, and looked to be covered in flowing blood. He smiled as he took it down from it''s stand, and made his way out the main door. ??? What the hell did I do last night? I have a sword sticking out of my leg. Stupid thing hurts like hell. Into the chest it goes. I apparently need more booze in my flask. This thing never ran out before...Better buy a keg. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. [several pages of puke stains] Ugh. Pain. Sleep now. ?? My whole body hurts. Some lucky bastard stole the ''holy blade of war'' from the temple last week. Good on them! I might go look at the description. Meh. ?? Apparently an addendum. Apparently I stole the blade. Who knew? Good on me. Maybe I should keep it up? Naw. That would be stupid. [random doodles of genetalia] ?? Whore house? Why the hell am I in a whore house? Did I cheat on my wife? ?? Poison doesn''t do the trick. Talked to one of the whores. Apparently I was to drunk to participate last night. Thank the...no fuck them. [mud and dirt soiled most of the pages] travel. Driking too... ...horses are good company... ...kicked me. Asshole... ...three days before..?som place... ...bar is good. Good food, clean beds. I like it here, wherever here is. A good nights sleep, and touring the area in the morning. [Beer stains this time, 14 pages ruined] ...there''s a death cult in the next city over. I''m going to pay them a visit when I get there. Maybe they can cure my issue. I hope so. ?? The Circlet of Dysher, god of Healing is on display this week at his temple. I wonder if it would work? - - - Maxwell walked in with the rest of the morning crowd. He studied the building, the angle of the walls, the precise arch of the ceiling. Beautiful place. I like the glass work. He followed the tour guide, and listened to the speech. Eventually they made their way to the head alter, where the Circlet was on public display, under heavy guard. I can''t get to it today. I will have to wait a few nights for security to get lax, then try my hand. - - - ?? Still haven''t checked the date. Don''t care. Winter hasn''t come and gone yet, so meh. Going to stay sober until I can try the circlet. If it doesn''t work, then it''s off to see the death cult. ?? Dreams are weird when you''re sober. Really really weird. I dreampt about my wife. She was waving at me. Maybe telling me something? I don''t know. F-it I''m drinking tonight. ?? I think it''s been two...three? days. I''m going tonight. - - - Maxwell slipped on his ring of stealth, and followed a worker into the temple. He lay down under a pew, and waited for night to fall. Hours passed, and the shakes started to set in. He flashed back to the fight with the demon that almost killed him. The smells of blood, and fire. The smoke screams as Lt. John went down, burned to a crisp by lightning. Pushing Tristan out of the way of the barbed tail, and it slamming through his chest, barely missing his heart. Living jusl long enough to see the thing die. He jerked from the memory, hitting the pew with his head. And that''s why I drink. He shook his head to try and clear it to no avail. The first moon was up, time to go. Max crawled from his hiding spot, and slowly walked towards the still displayed circlet. A few steps, then listen. A couple more, listen. Baby steps. Baby steps. Listen, look, listen again. No one around. He stepped up to the alter, and cast Detect Magic. The circlet glowed like a sun. He canceled the spell, lifted the circlet, and placed it upon his head. His body relaxed. And nothing else. Maxwell took off the circlet, and replaced it on the stand. He fished around in his pocket, removed some coins, and left them beside the stand. No one stopped him on his way out. Several minutes later, he walked into a bar, ordered three pitchers of beer, and got blindingly drunk. In the morning, he woke up in a ditch, severe stab woulds and blood stains on his clothing, his body was fine, and he was sober. 96 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Farmer runs a game The Dell, Western Wilds. 31st of Samue, The Month of Planting. 2139 years since the new gods came. I was able to speak with an older man today about what happened to make the residents of Nortontia flee in such numbers. The story has chilled me to the bone. At least the monsters are afraid of the water. - - - Max sat on a stool in Irving''s tent, as the older, balding man, coughed into a handkerchief. So, we were finishing collecting the hogs that day. Cough, When the beasts suddenly went wild. Complete panic! They broke out of the pen, you''ve seen hog pens? Max nodded. Then you know how hard that is. Irving coughed again, We were trying to figure out what had happened, when this centipede thing scuttled across the clearing. Maybe a foot long? George stepped on it, it made a loud crunch, and he jumped back, screaming. Max listened with a growing sense of dread in his stomach. The things blood, or something, had gotten into his boot, and was burning him something fierce. Irving almost collapsed with a full body wracking cough. That''s when I said to myself ''I''m outta here'' and ran. I reached the village, just in time to see more of those things swarming over the buildings. I ain''t afraid to admit I peed myself at the sight of them. I ran. We weren''t that far from the coast, a few miles at most. I don''t think I could run like that again. His eyes were filling with tears, as another bought of coughing took him. The things were there already. I ran again, barely catching my breath. The coastal path was empty, and I saw no birds anywhere as I ran. You could easily kick up one or two on that path. Tears were running down his face now. The first fisherman I got to, I threw my bag of coins to, and took his boat. He started to sob. I took his boat, and left him to die! Max stood up, patted the man on the shoulder, and cast a sleeping spell under his breath. Irving collapsed onto his cot, and Max tucked the man in. In a low voice he cursed, Damned hells. This is bad. and he walked to his next destination in the ever growing tent city. - - - 32nd of Samue, Irving''s story has been recounted in many ways, but the basics are the same: Animals flee; People get some sort of chemical burn when they attack the things; people get eaten, or worse yet, get eggs implanted in them. I''m going to assume that the eggs hatch into more of the same monsters. It sounds like blades don''t work well against the large ones, but spears and blunt weapons do. If the stories can be believed, some of them are over 100'' in length. That''s the size of the old red dragon we killed. I hope these things can''t breath fire. 35th of Samue, The knights have reported a bandit raid. It went...poorly for the bandits. They had almost nothing of value, and what they did have was given to the village. It has been decided to station parts of the army in each village to give protection. Barracks are being started at each site post haste. The Kittens are the most inclined to search out the bandits on the roads. I wished them luck in their endeavors. 36th of Samue, I found out today that the Kittens ride, not a horse, but a Hera. Universe damned creatures. I saw one birthed once after a demon got a horse pregnant. Tore it''s way out of the mare. Poor girl. Apparently if you breed them ''properly'' they make great war mounts. I''d rather not. It''s no wonder the Kittens don''t take prisoners. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The bandits are more stupid than I thought. They tried to ambush the Kittens. 20 bandits dead in seconds. 29 horses dead. 18 slaves...still alive? 41st of Samue, It''s being called The Bandit War. There are six groups of ten Kittens each, scouring the land within a hundred miles of the Dell. Thus far only three Kittens have gone down in battle, and that was only due to a magic wand of ''Flame Barrage''. They will recover fine, and are joking about their bad luck. I will never look at cats the same way again. I made the mistake of telling the wounded about Tom Cat. Now the bastard is showing up on their banners. Better than the picture of me that it replaces, but still... - - - Tom Cat, El Gato, Deposed king and ultimate ruler of the celestial realm and all that he surveys from the top of his tree of power, sat up. He looked around. Nothing had changed. EVERYTHING had changed. He felt stronger. Wiser. Smarter. He knew about over-population. Breeding for the better form. He stretched his slightly longer body, and smiled. - - - 43rd of Samue, We had a band of bandits come to the Dell today. They came under a flag of truce. We have a pile of treasure now. They claim they will only raid outside of ''my lands'' now. They have only attempted to raid the Dell once. WTF? Bandits. Meh. 46th of Samue, People are recovering well. Well enough to start fights anyway. You really can''t use an army to quell civil issues. It doesn''t work well, and patrolling the tents with Knights isn''t much better. I have asked a small favor of the Men of Repute, to take care of it. Maybe recruit some decent guard types? Ones I would approve of. The Ratling fellow, Gargar, is an interesting fellow. He spends a lot of time with the bards, learning songs, and teaching them old hymns. I quite like him. And his tribal magic? Absolute magic! Not in the arcane sense. 49th of Samue, Most of the issues in the tents seems to be cultural in origin. Different...sports teams? I''ve heard of religious wars and such, but this is ridiculous. I''m going to have to dig into this. 51st of Samue, Not sports per-say. Just tangential. Apparently, they mostly worship the god of Ice and Snow. They do this by ''Ice Dancing''. On skates. At some point in the past there was a schism in the church about what dance was the ''Proper'' dance. There was a fight using clubs. Blood was spilled. Then someone, a prophet apparently, directed them to compete in a sport on the ice to decide. Now each group fields a team to decide who is ''correct'' once the ice is thick enough. Best ratio of wins to loses is the winner of the Holy Chalice, and leads the religion for the year. There was no game this year, so they are fighting. Religion is stupid. - - - So you are telling me a man of ''Frost and Snow'' came out of the ice, and directed the game the first time and laid down the rules? Max asked. Brandywine was doing her best to not laugh. Exactly! Now every year we build a snowman to represent him at the final match. The young acolyte proclaimed. I''m glad you understand, Master. But now we are risking a new schism because there was no Stick match this year. Then just use a ball and sticks on the ground, and deal with it. - - - 52nd of Samue, We are having a ''Stick Ball'' game to decide a religious conflic this next week or two. I don''t understand these people. I really don''t. 53rd of Samue, I''m the head referee. WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING HELLS! 54th of Samue, High sticking in a thing. Concussions are a thing. Betting is running rampant. I stuck the Men in charge of betting, so no one gets cheated. At least the rules are simple: Don''t kill anyone; Get the ball (a fist sized rock) in the net; Get the most ''nets'' in an hour; ''Nut Shots'' and head shots are illegal. Helmets, helmets would be good. There are women on the teams. To get in ''uniform'', everyone changes on the field. I''ve never seen this much skin outside of a brothel, no wonder it''s so popular. 55th of Samue, Double compound fracture of the legs. First real injury of the games. Ouch. At least the healers are good at their jobs. Construction of the permanent structures are at a standstill until the games are over. I hate being in charge. 97 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Farmer runs a game II The Dell, Western Wilds. 1st of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. Of the 9 teams competing, there are only four ''real'' contenders: The Traditionalists, The Reformation, The Melioration, and the Orthodox. The others are: Peace Brother, Fire and Brimstone, Quiet Prayer, Moon "Cult", Disenfranchised. Weird names. Everyone plays each other once. It''s a ''Round the Barn'' tournament, with points awarded: 2 for a win, 1 for a tie, and 0 for a loss. Apparently the top four teams need to have a ''Playoff'', and then, finally a championship game. Teams are allowed to ''tie'' except in the playoff and championship games, where ''overtime'' and ''double overtime'' are used to score more. After that is ''final death'', first point is winner. Final death I approve of, but it''s still Stupid. There are 9 teams competing in the tournament, and 4 games a day. Sooo...36 games divide by 4...9 days of games. Plus another 4 days for the ''playoff'' and championship games... almost 2 weeks of games. Holy Hells, this is going to take forever. The 14th will be the day of the championship, just to give people the chance to recover. I''m being pestered for the running scores. Might as well write them here too. Day 3 running score:
3 (bye) - Fire and Brimstone 0 0 - 0
3 The Orthodox - The Reformation 4/2 2 - 0
3 The Melioration - Quiet Prayer 4/3 2 - 0
3 Peace Brother - The Traditionalists 3/2 2 - 0
3 Moon "Cult" - Disenfranchised 2/1 2 - 0
The Traditionalists =3 The Reformation =3 The Melioration =5 The Orthodox =5 Peace Brother =6 Fire and Brimstone =0 Quiet Prayer =3 Moon "Cult" =5 Disenfranchised =0 2nd of Kielat, No grievous injuries today. Betting is evening out. Granny had a tower made, and is commenting on the games from the top of it. She is getting cheers. And I''m getting booed at. Day 4 running score:
4 (bye) - Peace Brother 0 -
4 Moon "Cult" - The Melioration 2/3 0 - 2
4 Disenfranchised - The Orthodox 2/3 0 - 2
4 The Traditionalists - Fire and Brimstone 4/2 2 - 0
4 Quiet Prayer - The Reformation 4/2 2 - 0
The Traditionalists =5 The Reformation =3 The Melioration =5 The Orthodox =7 Peace Brother =6 Fire and Brimstone =0 Quiet Prayer =5 Moon "Cult" =7 Disenfranchised =0 3rd Kielat, Lightning storm washed out the games today. One of my out buildings sank a bit and a goat is now standing on the wall. It''s an 87* angle, I measured. How do they do that? 4th of Kielat, More goats are on the wall now. What the hell? And who let them out of the pen? Threw a rock at a cat in the chicken coop. I''m getting worried that we are going to have to have a bracket tournament. People from the local villages have come to see the games. There are stalls opening up everywhere. It''s kinda like a festival now. More scores.
5 (bye) - The Traditionalists 0 -
5 Quiet Prayer - Disenfranchised 1/1 1 - 1
5 The Reformation - Moon "Cult" 2/3 0 - 2
5 Fire and Brimstone - Peace Brother 4/2 2 - 0
5 The Orthodox Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. - The Melioration 4/2 2 - 0
The Traditionalists =5 The Reformation =5 The Melioration =5 The Orthodox =9 Peace Brother =6 Fire and Brimstone =2 Quiet Prayer =6 Moon "Cult" =7 Disenfranchised =1 5th of Kielat, Day 6 of the religious battle. More civilized than some, I suppose. Someone in the crowd broke their nose, sticking it in where it didn''t belong. A large flock of turkeys have arrived in the Dell. This will help with the food shortage.
6 (bye) - The Reformation 0 -
6 Fire and Brimstone - Quiet Prayer 1/4 0 - 2
6 The Orthodox - The Traditionalists 4/4 1 - 1
6 The Melioration - Disenfranchised 4/1 2 - 0
6 Peace Brother - Moon "Cult" 3/1 2 - 0
The Traditionalists =6 The Reformation =5 The Melioration =7 The Orthodox =10 Peace Brother =8 Fire and Brimstone =2 Quiet Prayer =8 Moon "Cult" =7 Disenfranchised =1 6th of Kielat, Day 7. The crowds are getting a bit rowdy now that someone...several someones, are selling beer. I would rather be marching to my death in the army again. ''Sports Fans'', Meh. Someone tried to rob The Men of Repute. Didn''t go well. The bodies were buried south of the Dell.
7 (bye) - Quiet Prayer 0 -
7 The Reformation - The Traditionalists 4/3 2 - 0
7 Fire and Brimstone - Disenfranchised 3/3 1 - 1
7 The Orthodox - Moon "Cult" 2/2 1 - 1
7 The Melioration - Peace Brother 2/2 1 - 1
The Traditionalists =6 The Reformation =7 The Melioration =8 The Orthodox =11 Peace Brother =9 Fire and Brimstone =3 Quiet Prayer =8 Moon "Cult" =8 Disenfranchised =2 7th of Kielat, Fight on the field. Peace Brother/Reformation match. Someone decided to run across the field naked. Granny called it Showing off his shortcomings. He got jumped by both sides, and beaten nearly to death. Religious people can be scary.
8 (bye) - The Orthodox 0 -
8 The Melioration - Fire and Brimstone 4/1 2 - 0
8 Peace Brother - The Reformation 1/1 1 - 1
8 Moon "Cult" - Quiet Prayer 1/3 0 - 2
8 Disenfranchised - The Traditionalists 2/4 0 - 2
The Traditionalists =8 The Reformation =8 The Melioration =10 The Orthodox =11 Peace Brother =10 Fire and Brimstone =3 Quiet Prayer =10 Moon "Cult" =8 Disenfranchised =2 8th of Kielat, Today was the last day of the tournament. I am NEVER going to do this again. EVER. Tomorrow is a day off for everyone. Maybe I''ll even find some time to sleep. Peace Brother is in the lead, and going to the semi-finals, Orthodox is also in. Traditionalists, Melioration, and Quiet Prayer are going to have a round the barn to see who gets spot 3 and 4.
9 (bye) - The Melioration 0 -
9 Peace Brother - The Orthodox 2/1 2 - 0
9 Moon "Cult" - Fire and Brimstone 1/4 0 - 2
9 Disenfranchised - The Reformation 4/2 2 - 0
9 The Traditionalists - Quiet Prayer 1/2 0 - 2
The final win/tie points. The Traditionalists =10 The Reformation =8 The Melioration =10 The Orthodox =11 Peace Brother =12 Fire and Brimstone =5 Quiet Prayer =10 Moon "Cult" =8 Disenfranchised =4 10th of Kielat, Spent yesterday sleeping and fishing. Today was the round the barn for third and fourth spots. Traditionalists and Melioration took the day. Tomorrow Peace Brother and The Traditionalists face off in the morning, and The Orthodox Vs/ The Melioration in the afternoon. I can''t wait for this horror show to be over. I''m beginning to want to shoot people. 11th of Kielat, I hate the stands we have now. Unsafe for kids. And adults. Going to make new ones in the morning. Orthodox and Traditionalists are in the finals. - - - This is granny, announcing again from the high tower! A quick breath, This morning''s match between Peace Brother and The Traditionalists will be a good one! Peace is taking the north side, while Tradition is taking the south. And now, The Heretic is taking the field! Maxwell raises another loud stone on a stick, Alright, you religious idiots, lets do this right. You have 30 minutes to do your thing, before we take a piss break, and change side. Don''t kill each other, and if you F around, you will find out why I''m called The Heretic. He stepped back and dropped the rock. GO! The crown went wild, and the teams attacked. In the first five minutes, Max was forced to throw a player into the penalty box for a five minute time out, complete with sucking on a binky. Then a pair of players crashed into each other hard enough that a time had to be called to clear the field. I hate my job was muttered loud enough for the crowd to hear it. After that play was fast fierce. The Traditionalists won in overtime, 1 C 0. The crowd screamed. A break for lunch was had, the quickly erected bleachers for the nearly thousand fans who came early to get seats, were checked, reinforced, and checked again. Max ran around much as a headless chicken does. Finally he had a ''meat on a bun'' thing, and headed back out to the pitch for the second match. Granny? I hate you, and this job. He yelled to the tower. Listen here, young one, you just run around and do your job. Gran replied. A very muffled ''asshole'' was heard from the pitch. This is Granny again! Yelling all the plays by the boys and girls on the field! The Orthodox have decided to start on the South today, leaving The Melioration on the North! Now we go down to the increasingly angry Maxwell on the pitch! I''m tired of this crap. I will break legs if you cross me today. Do your job, don''t die. Max walked away from the pitch, throwing the rock behind him at the players. An almost instant stick fight began, but since none of the strikes were high, Max let it run it''s course for a while before having Brandywine throw them into timeout. He stood and watched the rest of the game, absently yelling at people to Hit the f-ing rock, so I can go home! The crown ate it all up. Mid game the teams were tied, 1 C 1. Ten minutes later, the glass was started again for the second half. No brawls broke out, but a net minder for Melioration broke his stick after letting a stone through. The game ended 2 C 1, The Orthodox. Max walked out onto the pitch after the game to make an announcement. As I don''t like the seats we have, tomorrow will be a day off for the rest of you. I''m going to fix things here. Now piss off home, the lot of you. - - - 12th of Kielat, I fixed the seats. 13th of Kielat, Someone won. Someone lost. I''m going to bed. - - - People stood and stared. The pitch had been surrounded by a dark barrier the day before, and no one had been able to see what was going on. Today the barrier was gone, and people just looked. Before them stood an oval arena. Stone walls. Bench seating for more than a thousand. 30'' drop to the pitch itself, which was covered in thick, short grass. 4 entrances, an equal distance around the walls, made of intricately carved stone arches. Places to ''rest'' if you ate or drank too much dotted the stands. Wide halls under the seating for vendors to hawk their wares. The crowning achievement was a tower at the center of the oval, with plenty of room for someone to sit and see everything. What normal people didn''t see was the access tunnels and rooms under the whole thing for the teams to relax and change; or supplies to be shuttled around; and for other things to be worked on. Max had worked hard, and had needed to call in a couple favors. Sarah and Bjorn had been intrigued at the idea, and would have helped even without the favors. They even stayed for the match. - - - Granny here! Everyone give some applause for Maxwell, for this new place to play! The crowd broke several noise ordinances. Annnd Now for the moment you have all been waiting for! In the north, the one, the only, The Orthodox! Cheering ensued. And in the South, The brave, the bold, it''s The Melioration! Granny yelled into the stone. More cheering ensued. And now down to the field, where The Heretic is making his speech! Alright you little snow blowers. Wave to your frost covered snow man over there, and lets get this farce done. Max yelled over the noise of the crowd. I expect you to have a proper game. I also expect you to cheat and fight. He held up the stone. Now GO! He dropped the stone, and jumped back from the already swinging sticks. The action had Max rinning back and for the across the pitch for the full half hour of the first match. He didn''t have to break up any fights, but he did have to call a timeout due to a player running into one of the stone walls, and knocking himself out. Halftime was called with a score of 1 C 0 Orthodox, and the Bards of Rio did several numbers while everyone got food and sundries in the ''under'' as people were calling it. Several people asked about using the Under after the games were over as a shopping district. Max muttered to himself, but did grudgingly say ''yes''. The second half started with a net for the Orthodox. Followed by a quick pair from the Melioration. About halfway through the round, the grass started to ice over, and players started to slip. Maxwell called a game break, and yelled at the sky until the snowman came to life. There was an argument on the field, snow and ice was thrown, and a pair of disheveled individuals walked off the field whie it properly iced over. Overtime, then Double overtime came and went, the score tied at 2 C 2. Sudden death was in the air. Maxwell yelled at the players to get it over with. On the ice, the sticks and rock began to blur. The rock bounced off of a wall, ricocheting off a wall towards the Melioration net. The net keeper took the stone to the left thigh, and kept going. The rock went spinning past a pair of players, both of whom tried to stop it, but their sticks broke on contact. The rock sped on. An Orthodox leapt on the stone, and stopped it, but earned a penalty box trip from Brandywine. Finally, after much racing, sliding, and falling the Orthodox center swung her stick, breaking it in half, and whipping the stone across the ice towards the Melioration. The net keeper''s left leg went out from under him, and the stone flew into, and through, the net. A horn was blown. Sudden death was over. The Orthodox had won. Wax gave the winning team a cup, told them to ''piss off, and don''t wake me up.'' and went home. The actual score tracking page I used for this: https://tournamentscheduler.net/schedule/MTMyNjI0MTg2ODE?auth=yOjvuAZtwUhG 98 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Farmer sends a scout Early Samue, the month of Planting... The snow had melted, the young were ready. The Things from Beyond boiled into the sea. They swam, some of their number sinking in the depths, others eaten by the denizens of the deep. Their tide came on and they made landfall, and spread out on the beach to warm. Food came looking, and was eaten. Some food escaped. More Things landed. The largest thus far, a mere 300'' long, grazed on food that had been left in a low wooden enclosure until it had had it''s fill, then laid eggs in the rest. *-*-* The Dell, Western Wilds. 17th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. I have spent the last 4 days hiding from people. Mr. Bear is a nice fellow, even though he snores. I spent yesterday exploring Brandy''s cave with her. There was a padlocked old iron door in the back that she couldn''t get through. I broke it for her. The cave beyond the door was filled with bandit loot. Rotted food stuff, trashed leather riding gear, and a small lock box of coins. Not much, really. But all hers. She has put the ''Halfling''s Crown'' in there. I wonder if she will move in? I am well rested. I will rejoin society tomorrow. 18th of Kielat, Today was all meetings. Why the hells do I have to attend the meetings? - - - This mornings meeting is to go over the food stocks remaining for the encampment. Dame Mary announced to the assembled dozen or so individuals in attendance. Max walked into the workshop turned town hall, cup of coffee in hand, and sat down on a bench. The gathered people looked up, astonished at his presence. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. What? I live here too. Max mumbled around his coffee. - - - 19th of Kielat, More refugees. Disturbing news from the coast. Sent out a patrol. The Men of Repute have finally returned with the shopping. - - - Mr. Bairn. Good to see you again. Max shook the made man''s hand. Did you get everything on the list? Yes sir! We even made a bit of money on the side. Mr Bairn replied, a worried smile on his lips. Excellent. Max gave him a real smile. Grab some of the soldiers and have them unload the...wagon train? Yes sir. Bairn said, a smile crossed his face, Turns out that some of the trade goods went for excellent prices in certain quarters, if you get my drift. We were able to make a tidy profit, and get extra provisions. Hmm. I need to introduce you to Dame Mary. Max smiled. That will be a story for the ages, a match made in hell. Twenty soldiers and 48 wagons later, a very tired Maxwell, Bairn, and Dame Mary were sitting in a newly finished mess hall sharing a pint. So, Mary, this is Mr. Bairn. Max waved at the man in question. I think the two of you have much in common. He winked at Mary, and stood. I will leave you to it. He left. - - - 24th of Kielat, Dame Mary and Mr. Bairn have been nigh inseparable these last few days. A good quartermaster and a ''gentleman'' thief. Not really much difference, all things considered. More refugees came in. Down to barely a trickle now. And My Dell has grown another ? mile longer. Army and all, we are at almost 4000 people. Plus the worgs. New houses are going up a half dozen at a time. I have started helping, as this is probably my only chance to learn the craft. I wish I had more time to learn... We currently have about a dozen small neighborhood blocks, each with it''s own well, and a couple of storefronts on the ''main road''. No one has asked about a temple. I am happy about that. Bjorn and Sarah have been instrumental in helping with the occasional home design, and with setting up ''Craftsman Hill'', what people are calling where all my workshops are setup. I can barely set foot in one, they are so busy. It kinda makes my heart proud. Feeding the worgs has become a bit of a problem, and more than half of them have left. The Green Man has promised they will return when we ''need them''. I am unconvinced. The pregnant bitches haven''t left. We have puppies. Children have been adopting the pups as soon as they leave their mothers. The early crops have been gathered, and the animals washed. All of them. Mr. Bear too. Wool has been shorn. Textiles are taking off. 99 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Isekai Brothers Also Manducare was having another bad day. If only I could find some goblins, or orcs! Then I could build a real army! He looked around at his Army. Some hundred plus half demon goats, cows, and horses looked back at him, most munching on a sounding of wild hogs they had gathered. I am reduced to animals. Animals! What has the universe come to? *-*-* Yossef and Hamza stepped lightly into the cave. The sand at the entrance slowly turned to an even stone floor after a few feet, then before them was a large swelling of the cave. A pair of dimly glowing electric lights hung from the ceiling, illumination a bunk room/kitchen area. A few pieces of clothing and a couple of empty shell casings were scattered across the floor. The walls were covered in metal storage lockers and cubbies, most hanging open and empty. The boys looked at each other, eyes wide, and jaws slack, What is this place? They asked in unison. And immediately answered each other with I don''t know! They searched the the place for anything they could find, but only turned up a pair of large reinforced cardboard boxes, one was marked Meal, Combat, Individual and the other Food Packet, Long Range Patrol. Both had long strings of numbers on them. Any clue what the heck this is? Yossef asked. It looks like old school MREs. Hamza replied. Grandpa used to complain about them in his letters from Vietnam. So...''Turkey but-hole surprise'' is on the menu for tonight? Probably. Lets get back to the Heras'' before they do something stupid. Like what? Eat a couple rocks? ... Hamza took a moment to think, Okay, fine. The boys departed the strange cave. *-*-* Manducare''s day was going from bad to worse. Look you little fake fairies, He took a calming breath, looking down at the flock of lesser pixies, I don''t care what you think, I will pay nothing to the likes of you. The pixies swarmed, shooting poisoned arrows at him, and screaming war cries with their little high pitched voices. He laughed. You have two choices. First, lay with me, and make my army; Second, Flee. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. The pixies, as one, gave him a one finger salute, and flew off. Manducare slumped. I get no respect. He sighed, and continued his search for warriors. *-*-* Several days had passed for Hamza and Yossef since finding the strange cave. The thrill of eating old school military rations had worn off, and they had been relegated to ''emergency ration'' status. They continued their trek east, in search of the demon lord. Shouldn''t we have found him already? Yossef asked. Hamza shrugged, Probably. If nothing else, his minions should have been spreading out already, and we should have run into their patrols. Do you think this one has actually learned from the past losses? I hope not. According to the records, they haven''t really shown much in the way of original thinking. Hamza replied. Then again, there is 10,000 years of history to look at, and several dozen dozen kingdoms have risen and fallen over that time. I''m sure records were lost several times over. True that. Their mounts came to a sudden stop, and started to twitch. The heads came up to their full height, mouths opened showing their long sharp teeth, and they hissed. Hamza and Yossef looked at each other, and almost leapt from the saddle. Once ''safely'' on the ground, they crept forward, using the sparse vegetation for cover. Upon cresting a small rise they saw the rotting remains of a massacre. *-*-* Finally! Manducare almost yelled, Finally someone I can converse with. He smiled at the swamp troll in front of him. You will join my army, and lend your strength to my cause. A strange light emitted from his eyes, and penetrated the troll. Eyes closed, it fell to one knee, and bowed. Yes, master. I will follow you to the ends of the world. When it opened it''s eyes, they weren''t the typical yellow color if it''s species, rather the smokey red of demons. Manducare went from hut to hut of the small village, continuing the ritual of subjugation. Once he had a third of the huts converted, the ritual completed itself, and the village fell to him en mass. He smiled, Finally, I begin! *-*-* Hamza and Yossef stared at the carnage. Bodies lay everywhere, torn to bits, pieces of brain and intestine and other things littered the landscape. The stench this close was almost overwhelming. That smell is worse than your farts after the but-hole surprise! Yossef said, holding his nose. ...I can''t argue that. What do you think? Whatever did this left large dog tracks heading west.Hamza said, walking down the incline towards the stink. I think these were all demons... Huh? Seriously? Yeah. Heads with horns. Clawed hands and feet. Giant physics defying swords. Hamza sighed. I think we know why the army isn''t searching around. They got slaughtered by dogs. Well, if the dogs went west, then let''s head east. Yossef turned his back on the carnage. If the Demon Lord was smart, that''s the way it should go. 100 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Another day on the farm The Dell, Western Wilds. 26th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. 1500ish civilian refugees is harder to deal with than I thought it would be. I have decided to start a council. I don''t want to be a politician. It was harder that I thought. I have 5 people. Granny refused. Yet she still showed up. - - - Maxwell stepped out of his cabin and surveyed the Dell. His Dell. Well damn. This place has grown. I''m going to have to set up some sort of ruling council to take care of things. I sure as hells don''t have the time to do it. He set off down the slight hill towards the little village. The village had grown quite a bit from the mere two score or so tents to several dozens of cabins and proper houses. The streets weren''t paved, but the few shop spaces he had made sure to leave were under construction. One was going to be a butcher, another a bakery, and he knew that a blacksmith had moved in on the southern end. He greeted the few people he saw out and about by name, and stopped to kneel next to a graying worg who was surrounded by young children playing in the dirt, and climbing all over him. How are you doing, Blood Tear? Max asked. Blood Tear looked over to Max and yawned, I am well, lord Heretic. I am glad to still be of use to the pack. He growl spoke. One of the children, barely out of diapers, wobbled over and started to scratch Tear. After so long of being hunted, the Sun and the Goat have given us elders a paradise for our end years. Max raised an eyebrow, You worship that goat guy? Nay. We worship Gehna, god of the hunted. One of Tears hind legs began to twitch as the child scratched the good spot. He, of all the gods, saw our plight and saved us from extinction. It is a debt we will never be able to repay, and will never forget. Max nodded. I see. He took a deep breath to prepare for his recruitment spiel, I was wondering if you have any inclination to take part in a council of elders I want to gather in order to run the village? Blood Tear turned his head and licked the child doing the scratching for a moment, I think I would like that. Max smiled, I''ll put you on the list. Please come to my cabin at sundown. He said his goodbyes, and walked to his next target. - - - Granny? Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Yes Master Maxwell? I''ve asked you not to call me that. Max said with a sigh. Would you be willing to assist in the running of the village? Granny shook a rolling pin at him. Hells No! Do I look like a useless politician to you?!? Max ran from granny''s cottage. - - - 28th of Kielat, The crops are doing quite well. Rain has been plentiful. Mr. Bear has escorted a pair small children back to the village. I am missing several of my socks, all for the left foot. I suspect Brandy. 30th of Kielat, The council is set. Granny, Blood Tear the worg, Grant the smith, Mrs. Ella Bellman, and Jessie Tiler. Jessie is a strong day worker that should have been a scribe, or a scholar. Too bad he was born to the lower class on that island. Basic rules have been written: Don''t cheat in business, don''t rob or steal, don''t rape, don''t murder. I wanted to add Don''t be an asshole, but I was unanimously voted down. No legalese was used, we are all of common stock. Next week we will be having Mr. Dnigy, our resident master carpenter, come and talk about the best safety plans for homes and structures. 34th of Kielat, First real report from the scouts I sent to the north west. They have encountered a few small groups of refugees and sent them our way. Several nearby villages have sent representatives to us. I have caught Brandywine feeding worgs beer. Meh. 35th of Kielat, Children are a menace. I have recovered my socks. 38th of Kielat, Mr. Dnigy has been very enlightening. He believes that any structures that exceed two stories in height (outside of workshops and barns and the like) should have ladders or steps (on the outside of the buildings) leading from the upper floors. This is to ensure that people living there can escape in case of a fire. I think it''s a good safety feature, but risky in a security sense. The council is mixed. The other villages wish to join the council and have sent people to represent their homes. Apparently they are of the opinion that this will turn into a ruling council for the entire region. (What region?) Brandy has informed me that her spies (the children) have been listening to their parents, and telling her things. One of the things is that my dell is being called ''Heretic''s Dell''. 40th of Kielat, Mr. Dimple, the representative from the village of Hert, asked me about taxes today. I couldn''t stop laughing! What are we supposed to tax, sweat? Lords, kings, and rulers, Meh. - - - Mr. Dimple, I''m sorry about laughing. Max finally said, gasping. Please, look out over the village. Do you see anything to tax? Well... The buildings could be taxed. As could the workers wages? Mr. Dimple quietly said. For what money? They have none! Max shook his head, And besides, it''s not like we''re an actual political entity here, right? Respectfully sir, this is the most powerful place within hundreds of miles. Mr. Dimple removed a sheaf of papers from a valise he was carrying, And this is for you. He handed the papers to Max and quickly walked away. Max looked through the papers, swore loudly in a variety of languages, and stomped off to his cabin. Upon entering he found a similar sheaf of papers on his table from the village of Blaine, also a sheet from the tiny village of Dys. The contents were almost identical: formal decorations of fealty. - - - 43rd of Kielat, More news from the scouts. They are encountering new, and larger, bands of refugees. More rumors of ''demons'' and such. 47th of Kielat, I got word from the scouts. The Things are real. We are, as Tristan would occasionally say, Well and truly Sodomized. 101 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A Farmer goes to war The Dell, Western Wilds. 48th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. The village morons want to build a shrine to the gods. I told them to keep it out of the Dell. It is 10'' past the border. Stupid gods. I made a couple calls. *-*-* Garthax, Capital of Garthia. 48th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. The Stone Room was an easy post. You could do almost anything on duty. Apparently the last guard had a whore in, at least it smelled like it. Guardsman Hanson sat at the desk, head in hands nursing a hangover. He started, almost falling off his chair, when the small brown stone spoke for the first time in 300 years. Hey! King boy. Whatever your name is. We need to talk. - - - Liam was standing on the parade ground, watching the new recruits the king had ordered ''Just in case'' when his amulet spoke to him, Time for me to call in that favor. Liam smiled and went to fetch his wives. - - - King Anderewe, third of his name, sat in the smelly Stone Room, cussing. You know, guardsman, that thing was a gift from The Heretic. The Queen Mother''s journal says he was a horrible human being, but also kind and generous. She also said ''Do what he tells you, you don''t want his kind of trouble.'' Now I understand what she meant. Guardsman Hanson''s stomach was queasy, not from the hangover or the stench of the room, but from what he had heard. Y...Yes your majesty? Well, you are in the thick of it, son. Grab the cursed thing, and lets go tell the council that we are going to war. Yes your Majesty. Call me Andy from here on out. I hate that name, and we are probably going to be working together for a while. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Y...Yes Andy? - - - Millrock, Dutchy of Coxnia, the kingdom of Garthia. 48th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. Duke Magnus lafsson III, sat in the great hall. His seat was simple, and the Dias was barely 4'' off the ground. He looked over the hastily assembled nobles, Alright. The rumors are true, The Heretic has called us to war. An uproar of voices filled the hall, and he waited for a minute for the noise to settle. Yes, I know. This is the first time he has ever asked for help, and by my ancestors, we will send help. And before any of you object, the wizard has also received a message from the king, calling for our forces to march. He took a shaky breath. Begin the draft. - - - Gilip, capital of Demonia. 48th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. Ladies, gentlemen, both and neither! The speaker of the council was standing on the steps of the capital building. The Heretic has called us to war! It is our holy duty to send forth the army to do battle with our foes from across the great veil! He took a deep breath, Cry ''Havoc!'', and let slip the dogs of war. The crowd screamed, some already frothing at the mouth. In the back, the old ones who rememberd, smiled, their moment of redemption was at hand. *-*-* The Dell, Western Wilds. 50th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. War plans are coming together. I have no clue how troops are getting here, but they are. Liam isn''t coming because he is training the recruits. I hate the gods again. I''m a gods damned king now. - - - He had tried to run, but Brandywine the Traitor had taken him out at the knee. Then Bjorn had caught up to him with Sarah. Both were currently holding him down in front of a cheering crowd. The priest of the goat was walking forward followed by Adam, who was carrying a pillow with a familiar crown on top. The priest stopped and arms length away from Maxwell, Maxwell Smithson, Heretic, Favored of Bjorn and Sarah, Unjustly touched by the gods, and many other titles that have been forgotten or ignored by time; I hereby declare and affirm, by the power of the gods, that you are the King of The Dell Lands, and protector of the realms of the world. He took the Halflings Crown from the proffered pillow, and placed it upon Maxwell''s head. He yelled, Long Live The King! and fled the scene. The crown started chanting the words, and Bjorn and Sarah disapeared, leaving Maxwell to his, in their opinion, well deserved fate. - - - 51st of Kielat, I''m not hungover. That means I died from alcohol poisoning. Again. I need to research how much I can drink before death. This stupid crown won''t come off. Work continues. I need to enchant more stones. Someday I will read that whole spell book I found. Maybe. We will be moving out in a week. - - - The elven spy looked at his target, looked at the quart of poison he had fed him last night, and shuddered. That was proof. This was The Heretic, not a pretender. He shook his head. Great. Now I have to make first contact. Stupid gods. Stupid royalty. Stupid spoiled children of petty nobility...I wonder if King Maxwell needs a spy? He sighed, and walked back to the village to make plans. 102 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – A Farmer prepares The Dell, Western Wilds. 52nd of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. The endless hours of meetings drag on. But unlike before, these are needed things. Securing the supplies, mounts, supply lines. Making sure the back end is is strong. I forgot how much I love and hate this. Brandywine has elected to stay behind and protect the Dell and surrounding area. Civilians are signing up. I have put a hard limit on recruiting, I''ve seen too often where a land is stripped of it''s hardy folk and have fallen to ruin through starvation. Never again. We need magical support. I''m only one man, and any senior wizard can cast better than I can. They can also make better items than I ever will. If only Liam and his old crew were available for this. Maybe I should apprentice myself...? Some day. Maybe this will be my time? I will pray for death. Demonia is making some sort of noise, I can hear it in my sleep. I wish they wouldn''t. *-*-* Are the wards in place? Lord Garnixx the third was standing in the middle of the largest parade field in Demonia, surrounded by several dozen senior wizards. They nod, or answer yes in some fashion. Alright. Get the gate set up, stabilized, and charged. We move at Noon tomorrow! *-*-* 53rd of Kielat, Demonia is full of assholes. - - - Maxwell held his head in his hands. It was throbbing something fierce. Gods curse it all! What is going on? He yelled at no one in particular. People looked up from their paperwork, to see what was wrong. No one spoke. As quickly as it had started, the pain stopped. Brandywine, looking slightly shaken flew into the room, Max? You really need to come and see this... Max slowly stood up, and walked outside, I''m coming. But if you ran my breeches up the pole again, I''m going too... He stared at the rim of the Dell. Well son of a bitch. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Portals, over a dozen of them, lined the eastern rim, and from them rode the hoards of Demonia. Max shook his head, Well, looks like we have a proper army now. - - - Most of an hour had passed, and the seemingly endless march of an army had come to a close with the last portal disgorging a pair of green dragons and a full family of Orcs(1). The Dell seemed to have enlarged again, as the 20,000 and more person army that had swept down had plenty of space to maneuver, and make camp. Maxwell stood in the middle of it, shaking his head. Lord Garnixx the third was on his right, the dragon ''Buttercup'' to his left, and ''Garnz Bone Cleaver'' stood in front. So, Demonia has decided to send half it''s active forces, and two thirds of it''s reserves to fight the invasion? Max was still shaking his head. Garnixx was the first to respond, Yes, my lord. You called, and we have responded, as is our duty. Max felt a second headache coming on. Very well. Coordinate your selves with Lord Michael and the worgs. We''re still in the logistics and planning stages of this campaign. He looked at the three, And Buttercup, why are you here? I don''t remember meeting one of your kind. Buttercup tried to imitate a human smile, and failed. There was a rabbit. A tear dripped from an eye. He said you were a good man. So we are here. Maxwell just stared at the dragon, A rabbit?!? - - - 55th of Kielat, Dragons are useful to have around, especially when they aren''t eating your livestock, or burning your fields. Lumber production is up. Orcs and Goblins are better crafters than I had previously known. Weapon and arrow production have tripled. The Bear has filed a ''formal'' complaint about the dragons on his hillside. We have Wizards! 56th of Kielat, Midsummer festival was tonight. Very subdued. Three days until we leave. 1st of Amsiel. 2139 years since the new gods came. Preparation is almost done. The wizards are being helpful for once. Several villagers who are ''magically active'' are starting training. Wands and swords are being, at least temporarily, enchanted. There are about two dozen of them here. Most are in the military, but some are not. The civilian ones are staying behind to teach. 2nd of Amsiel, Today was a madhouse. Green man was true to his word, the worgs are back. We have a full flying wing, thanks to the Demonia army. I didn''t know there were any full demons left. Tomorrow we leave at dawns early light. I insisted on NO speeches. The town council is prepared for our absence. The children gave me socks as a going away present. I''d be lying to myself if I said I wasn''t worried. 3rd of Amsiel, There was an attempt at speeches. I shut it down. We left less than hour after dawn. 20 hard miles behind us. We ran into some refugees. No sign of bandits. Things continue. 4th of Amsiel, Light rain today. A trading caravan passed us. Another 20 miles down. We need some way to speed things up, and I am out of ideas. Got a message from some kings, they are shipping troops by ship around the continent. They might beat us there. Such is. Including the worgs, we have an army of almost 25,000 soldiers, plus support personnel. And everyone thinks I''m in charge. Ivan just laughed at me when I complained. (1) As we all know, this would be between 1 and 200 Orcs, plus their charges. In this case the charges are a ''small'' village worth of Goblins. Total number? 900 or so people plus livestock. 103 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Heretics War Western Wilds. 8th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. The earth has been baked hard, and the sun is brutal. Footing is better for the army, but going is slow because of the heat. Net gain of zero. 20 miles of travel is still the average. All of the wizards, Ivan, and the green man have disappeared. No one has seen them for two days. 15th of Amsiel, Messages from the front continue to roll in. The scouting force has been falling back, and emptying villages as they go, all in the name of ''The Heretic''. The Things have taken about fifty miles of coast line, and are about fifty miles inland at their most aggressive points. More that a hundred small fishing villages are just gone. In some places glistening egg sacks clutter the beaches. Thinking about it makes me sick. I don''t understand why they have stopped the advance, are they waiting for something? We keep gaining recruits from villages we pass, as well as from the caravans of refugees. The camp followers are making a killing. The Men of Repute have been recruiting, I''m unsure what to think about that. 19th of Amsiel, Our first real setback was today. Buttercup was flying reconnaissance when he was fired upon by a group of bandits. One wing was damaged during the ensuing fight, and he will be unable to fly for a few weeks. It would be months if it weren''t for the clerics. Oh yeah, clerics from all the morons have been showing up along our path. If it weren''t for their popularity I would throw the lot of them out. The dwarves are the worst of the lot, worse than the Idiot''s people. I''ve punched out a few. A strange mixed race man, claiming to follow the old god of ''shadows and hidden places'' has joined us, and sought me out specifically. I call him strange because he looks like an albino with almost translucent skin, and slightly oversized eyes. I can tell some of his racial makeup, a mix of elf, human, goblin, and dwarf, but there are several others I can''t identify. Like his nose, to big for his face, his eyes are a bright amber, his hands have a slight tuft of fur on them. And while he walks like he has a hump on his back, he is actually almost eight feet tall. Maybe he hails partly from one of the ''dead'' races? 20th of Amsiel, The Idiot appeared before her faithful today at dawn. No one told me until after she left. Probably for the best. Just like her to stir up trouble. I wish Bjorn would show up and speak to his people. There is an elf who keeps trying to talk to me. It''s been weeks. If he keeps it up, I''m going to throw him in the next body of water we come across. Speaking of, we''ve had to alter course almost due west to find a sufficiently large water source to fill our supplies. Magic bags can only hold so much, after all. This total march should, at our current speed, take just over thirty days or so. Three and a half, now four, weeks. We are about halfway there. 25th of Amsiel, The wizards, Ivan, and the green man are back. They brought a ship. - - - So you left without asking for permission, or even telling anyone. Then you just show up out of the blue with a, and let me be clear, A FUCKING FLYING SHIP?!?! And then proceed to tell us that you may have ''borrowed'' the ship without permission? Lord Garnixx the third was just winding up his ''speech'' to the assembled idiots when Maxwell walked into the command pavilion. A pavilion that had been set up in the middle of the day, instead of the evening. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. And now, because none of you had any forethought, you just show up? You could have grabbed one of the stones! Lord Garnixx continued. What in the hells is wrong with you? Ivan stepped forward, I am what''s wrong with them. Sir. Lord Garnixx stared at him, What? I spoke of a thing from my world, and Greeny agreed. An airship. So that''s why we have a floating cargo ship tethered in the middle of camp? Max finally spoke up. Sir, Yes Sir! The green man said, This way we can ferry troops to the front in small batches to relieve and reinforce the front line unit. Sir! How many will that abomination hold? Max asked. If we were meant to fly, we would have wings. These other-worlders are crazy! We expect a load of three hundred, before we lose some efficiency...sir. A wizard with a very tall and pointy hat spoke up. We haven''t tested it too much, but we believe we can maintain a speed, under load, of eight knots per hour. That''s damn fast. Lord Garnixx said, Is it safe? So far it has been. Pointy hat wizard replied. Anyway, what truly is safe in this world? Max stifled a laugh and Lord Garnixx rolled his eyes. Very well. Put the Kittens on it before they sneak onboard themselves, and steal it. The renegade party saluted, Sir! Yes Sir! And bolted for the exit. Once they were out of earshot, Max and Garnixx burst out laughing. - - - 26th of Amsiel, Moving the troops by ship has started. The Kittens are first. It will take some time, but will be faster in the long run. It will take roughly three and a half days for the first round trip. By the time they make it back, we will have marched...seventy miles? Math escapes me. I''m tired. 29th of Amsiel, More and more refugees every day. The ship has come and gone. The front line, as it were, is stable. Small crawlies are making it to the lines. They are easy to kill, but sneak very well. Every night at least one soldier dies. They haven''t had any sort of coordinated attack as of yet. The scouts believe they are hunting for anything still alive to eat or lay eggs in. The troops will probable need some kind of mind healer after things are all over. 34th of Amsiel, We found a road, and have been following it for the last several days. The refugees are a constant stream. Five days until the front line. We found an ''infected'' corpse. Buttercup burned it to a crisp. I''m afraid we will have to resort to slash and burn methods to clear out this infestation. We cannot hope to control such a blaze. 38th of Amsiel, One more day. The road has been eerily empty, as has the surrounding area. No birds, animals, or even insects. I think the quiet is worse than the noise. Everyone is on edge. 40th of Amsiel, We have made the front lines. The whole area is forest. Not great for the army. The reinforcements from the kingdoms will be here in half a week. I will be helping the wizards raise a stone wall along a large section to cut off the forest from the plain. It will be a new spell for me. The Green man said he knew a way to kill off all the foliage in the forest. He claimed he could get it from ''his cave''. I don''t know how someone called ''Agent Orange'' could do it. I told him no. 41st of Amsiel, The wall idea is a bust. Too much effort, for too small of a gain. We have low fortifications for the camp at least. Someone is going to need to ask the gods for help, if we are going to have a wall. I sure as hells won''t. 42nd of Amsiel, They came for us today. A roaring mass of legs and jaws. They truly didn''t roar, they chittered. - - - Do you hear that? Captain Garath of the Order of Puppies asked Spike, his worg mount. Spike gave him the side eye, as if to say ''Of course I do, you idiot.'' Garath sighed, first he had been promoted to Lieutenant, a rank he didn''t want to achieve, but now with the full army here, he was promoted to Captain, and given a full company to command. What did I do to deserve this? Oh, yeah, the crazy man. I just wanted to serve... He snapped out of his contemplation after a moment, and had the signaler blow the warning call. As the chittering sounds grew louder, the troops clutched their weapons tighter. They would hold the line. For gods and country, they would hold. Then the things came out of the woods. 104 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Heretics War - Battles Western Wilds, the North West coast. 42nd of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. Captain Garath of the Order of Puppies and Spike, his worg mount and companion, stared in horror at the onrushing horde of things. Long bone white legs, low slung segmented carapaces, huge pincered mouths, and a set of forward facing legs dripping a sticky blueish venom that sizzled when it struck the ground. When the first archer loosed an arrow in fear, the terror holding the army back, broke. Arrows were fired into the mass of things, the lone wizard they had been allotted threw his first, and only, exploding ball of fire. The fire exploded, throwing charred bug corpses into the air, and lighting some of the underbrush on fire. En mass, the things turned their sickly pale yellow bodies towards the wizard, and advanced. The ranks of soldiers followed orders as Garath directed them to defend the wizard. He then led a mounted charge to cut at the things from behind. A scream, then several sounded as the ranks began to be overrun. Garath ordered the troops to withdraw. The wizard let loose a gout of fire, then another, and a third, slowly backing up and covering the retreat. Then the swarm reached him, and the screaming started, and then ended. Their moral broken, the soldiers fled. - - - 43rd of Amsiel, The puppies had a massive defeat yesterday. 87 wounded and 36 dead, including the Company wizard. The company commander tried to resign his commission. I gave him a pat on the back, a bottle of Bjorn''s finest to share with the survivors, and reminded him that he was able to bring them home, and that was better than most first time officers do. I think I can hear them celebrating their life from the other side of camp. - - - Sir Garath, you brought back most of your command, even the wounded! Max stood looking the disheveled Captain Garath in the eyes, I would have killed for a first time commander that could do that. and more quietly to himself, ..and did a few that didn''t even try too... Garath stared at the man before him, The Heretic, in the flesh, was praising him for combat killing over half his men! He held back his emotions as best he could. But sir? I lost the wizard. And 36 men. And got almost 90 more killed! There is a difference between ''almost'' and ''did''. Max gave him his full attention. Listen well, boy. You did better than any unblooded officer has any right to dream of. You. Brought. Them. Back. That is the important thing. They may be wounded, but they lived. Sir? If you live, you learn. If you learn, you get better. Max kept his eyes on Garath''s, Now take the bottle on the table over there and toast with your survivors to the fact that you lived. And then make a little offering to the fallen. He broke eye contact, and Garath took the offered bottle and fled. Once Maxwell sat down, Ivan stepped out of a shadow, Well done. Better than any officer I served under. Who? Me or him? If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Both. - - - 44th of Amsiel, Apparently worgs like hard liquor. Who knew? The war is going poorly. Burning the place to the ground is looking better and better. Overall casualties are only 10%, but combat killed, aka unable to fight, numbers are near 50%. The rest of the armies should be here soon. - - - Garath awoke with a hangover bigger than the gods. He had drool on his face, and was having trouble breathing. He opened his eyes to see nothing but fur. After a mighty struggle, he freed himself from the pile of Worgs. Worgs that smelled of whiskey. He only vaguely remembered yesterday... - - - 46th of Amsiel, They have arrived. We now number almost 70,000 strong. And then there are the elves. 10,000 of the pointy eared bastards... - - - Alright, so why did the Elven nation of Heartglenia sending troops? Max asked the nervous looking elven general. Didn''t your god deem me ''untouchable'' or some nonsense? Um...Well, the archbishop made an exception for this case? the general replied. Fine. Just stay away from me. Max shook his head. General Michael will take care of settling you in. He turned his back on the elf, and walked away. Elves. What in the hells? - - - 49th of Amsiel, The things have started raiding our front lines. So far we have been able to fend them off, but there have been too many close calls. Ivan and the Green man have been in deep conversation of late. I find myself a little concerned. Ivan has also been spending a lot of time on the front lines. His weapons are devastating. He is also responsible for the troops having such high moral. He is much better at it than Tristan ever was. 50th of Amsiel, We got torn up today. It...it was bad. - - - Several thousand of the things came chittering over the small rise. Ivan took aim at the largest one, some ten yards long, and fired. The boom of his rifle signaled the rest of the unit to fire their arrows. The beast he had shot flopped for a moment, then lay still. He aimed a second shot, and fired. Twelve fell. Two dozen. Over a hundred. They kept advancing, ignoring their fallen companions. When the archers ran out of arrows and the wizards were out of spells, the things surged forwards. They hit the front line of soldiers and were only slowed for seconds, before the still thousand strong swarm over ran the position. Breathing hard, Ivan yelled over the sounds of war, Fall back to position C! Fall BACK! Those that heard the call, repeated it, and those who could fell back the two hundred yards. Those that couldn''t get away made the things pay with their lives. As the soldiers regrouped at point C, the creatures did a similar thing. Kind of. They gathered around the dead, and ate them. All of them. The wizards, somewhat recovered, dropped balls of fire on the old position, hoping to burn as many as they could while they were eating. Another dozen of the things burned. Then a second, larger, swarm came over the hill. Ivan knelt down in the front, took aim, and fired. One shot, one kill. He emptied his magazine, reloaded, and repeated. The reinforced swarm scuttled across the open battlefield. Arrows held at point C were loosed. Ivan kept up his fire. When the things reached the halfway point, He called for a slow retreat. What began as a slow retreat quickly descended into a route as a third swarm came over the hill. Soldiers lost their nerve. Horses reared. Worgs howled. They fled from the field of battle. Only eight minutes had passed. The route ended at a shallow river, a line the things did not seem willing to cross. Ivan had started the deployment with eight hundred soldiers. The horses were gone, and he had less than half his soldiers left when they finally arrived at camp. - Ivan staggered into the command tent, and stared Maxwell in the eyes. He started his report with It was worse than the trenches. and continued his report until the end. I do NOT blame the men. I was taken by the fear as well. We need to do something. Anything. To pare these devilspawn down to size. I agree. Max frowned and broke eye contact with Ivan. I''ve heard the same report from all the commanders. I will be putting forth the idea of burning the whole place to the ground to our joint command. Thank you, Maxwell. Thank you. 105 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Heretics War - Fire Western Wilds, the North West coast. 51st of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2139 years since the new gods came. The Elves are against the plan. Completely. They don''t want the fire anywhere near the trees. Ivan and Green man say they might have an alternative, but to be effective, the things need to be herded back to a smaller area. - - - Trees are sacred to our god. We cannot let the forest burn. The elven general was pacing up and down the length of the table. If need be, we will bodily stand against you. Maxwell looked at the rest of the assembled leaders, then stood. Very well, general. We understand your concerns. We will see what else can be done. The meeting went on for hours, with no other ''good'' ideas put forth. - - - 53rd of Amsiel, An elven unit got thrashed. 28 survivors out of a thousand troops. Their camp was overrun in the night. The survivors were part of a long range scout patrol, out of camp chasing a small group of things that had slipped past the lines. Our camps are spread to thin, five hundred to a thousand soldiers plus support staff per camp. Each camp is five to ten miles from the next. The line is far too long. At this point we have had to retreat to the edge of the forest, and the forest border is almost four hundred miles long. It is too big. There are constant patrols, day and night. If it weren''t for the constant support from the city states, smaller local kingdoms, and from back home, we would be over run. On the plus side, if the things aren''t very hungry, they don''t attack at night. I worry about how many of the things have been able to sneak past our lines. - - - The things were barely a foot long, but there were dozens of them. If it weren''t for the sandy soil, the elven patrol would have had more trouble following them. But they had found the trail, and had finally been able to get ahead of them. They set their ambush, laid in wait, and then attacked. The things fied under the withering fire of magically enhanced arrows and magic wands. Only three of them had made it past the first barrage, and they lasted mere moments against the front line scouts. The patrol finished policing the area, burned the bodies to ash, and headed back to camp to make their report. As they closed the distance, they saw fire on the horizon and smelled smoke. They ran their mounts at full speed, several dying from exhaustion after the already long chase. When they finally made it, their camp was flattened and vacant. All that was left were a few half eaten corpses, and hundreds of bodies of the things. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. - - - 54th of Amsiel, They don''t kill/eat everyone. They take half of them back for later consumption. They seem to be getting smarter. A report made it back of a an exceedingly large one, some hundred yards long and thirty high. It was ''observed'' directing the smaller ones. It was long gone when Ivan got there. 55th of Amsiel, Elven command has formally endorsed the plan of burning the forest. It will take three days to set up the fire lane so we don''t get burned ourselves. Five soldier teams will be sent to the forest edge, at one mile intervals with fifty gallon casks of flammables. They will lay a line of liquid, and once everyone is ready, they will light it. At least all of the locals are gone. 56th of Amsiel, Granddaddy was spotted again today. Outpost fifty-two is gone. I no longer care about the fire breaks. The burn starts tomorrow. 1st of Kusha, the month of harvest. Fire. Fire burns. We started the blaze in the hour before sunrise. The line of liquid fire worked wonders. Green man had a strange spraying device attached to a metal backpack that we used in the central area. Thankfully the winds have been with us all day. A couple of spots had flames cross the lines, but they weren''t allowed to spread. When a patch doesn''t burn fully, we will send in a group of mages to roast the area with fire spells. Tomorrow we will begin moving our camps forward. 4th of Kusha, Three days of constant fire. The enemy is retreating, rather than burning to death. We drive them forward, but....their numbers aren''t dropping. 5th of Kusha, They have retaliated. Fifteen hundred are dead, or taken. We did manage to beat them back, but just barely. Ivan was the saving grace. Granddad was there. He needs to go. - - - Ivan dove off the horse, rolled, and came up to his knees, firing. The ''click, click, bang'' of his rifle exciting the troops around him. The things, creatures from beyond, or whatever they were, took notice of him, and began to charge. Green, having been slower in his dismount, stepped to his side, pointed the end of his flamethrower towards the enemy, and pulled the trigger. They burned, they screamed, they chittered, they fell. Then Granddad slowly lumbered from the hole in the fire. The battle field went quiet for a moment, then the screaming began, as thousands of small ones scurried out from under the thick ash, and climbed onto the soldiers. They bit, and tore, and stung. Soldiers screamed in pain, and dropped where they stood, as the acidic venom quickly ran through the victims blood. Ivan aimed at the giant creature, and fired. The round impacted between the second and third segment, leaving a black scorch mark. The giant creature reared back like a snake preparing to strike, and turned towards him, eyes locking onto his position. The ground shook when it dropped back down, and it lumbered towards his position. Green and Ivan traded looks, then split up. Ivan retreated a hundred yards, taking up a position behind the charred remains of a large tree. Green moved north, unleashing flames as he went, bathing the feasting things in death. Granddad stopped, looked over the field of battle, and made a loud clicking noise. The smaller things stopped, then grabbed the corpses of the fallen soldiers, and fled. In a surprising burst of speed, Granddad spun, and followed them. Fifteen minutes later, Maxwell and a thousand reinforcements arrived. 6th of Kusha, Green and Ivan have brought me a metal canister labeled ''NATO DESIGNATION: GB''. He says that it will kill the things. But that everyone will have to stand back to our original fortifications, or will need a wizard to cast some sort clean air bubble around people. Ivan, although he looked regretful, agreed with him. 7th of Kusha, Esmeralda, goddess of knowledge, has forbidden NATO GB from being used. She didn''t like my response. I hope she likes her vacation. - - - Maxwell was sitting at his desk in the command pavilion. It was half an hour after dusk, and he was finishing going over some supply paperwork when an older middle aged gnomish woman walkind in past a pair of frozen guards, and sat down across from him. He recognized her from a library, in the not so distant past. Looking up at him she spoke, I will make your life a living hell on this world if you use that gas. Really? Max laughed at the goddess of knowledge. You think you could make this living hell worse? He cackled for a moment, What are you going to do? Kill my wife again? Make all of my friends age, and die on me? She stared at him a moment. Nothing frightens you any more, does it? Not really. Max smiled, pulling his revolver from it''s holster, and keeping it under the desk. By the way, I have a present for you in return for that book. Taken aback by the sudden change in topic, she raised and eyebrow and asked, Really? Yes. Maxwell smiled, then emptied the revolver through the desk, and into her chest. Guards! Summon Ivan and Green. We have things to discuss. 106 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – The Heretics War - Gas Western Wilds, the North West coast. 8th of Kusha, the month of harvest. 2139 years since the new gods came. I have decided to not inform the council of the gas. Just that I have come up with something that will end the war. We retreat in three days, and deploy the gas on the fourth. Ivan and Green have volunteered to deliver it to the enemy. They have convinced me that since it is from their world, they are immune to it. They are loading a dozen wagons with the canisters, and plan on using something called ''long range remote detonation'' to release the gas. They claim they need to be in the middle of the circle to release the gas. Ivan and I had a little chat about the island the things came from. I may get my hearts desire. 9th of Kusha, The wagons are full, and Ivan has started delivering them. There are now twenty five wagons. Green says the cloud will be big enough to cover the remaining ninety square miles of unburned forest. 11th of Kusha, We retreat tomorrow. I do not understand how he keeps getting these weapons from his world, but the airship now has three very large metal cones in the hold. The cones have ''CCCP'' written on them in ''engrish'', as well as a yellow and black triangle. When the boys head into the ''hot zone'', whatever in the hells that is, I will take the airship to the origin of the things and press the large red button Ivan installed next to the wheel. In order to get the full effect of the ''core of the sun'' on the island nation, I need to be around two miles above it. Once I press the button, I will finally be reunited with my wife. Thank you Green. I forgive you and yours. 12th of Kusha, Morning. This will be my last entry into my journals. I have taken care of everything. I''m sad I won''t be able to say goodbye to Brandywine. Probably my only regret. In three hours Ivan and Green will finish the distribution, and if everything works, they will hit their own button. The things will die. The mages have figured out some form of containment ward to keep the gas from getting out. They have over twenty five wagons of the canisters. They went for ''overkill is the only kill. I don''t understand the math, but something about ''1 part per something million'' will kill people, they decided on ''10 parts per something million'' to kill the interlopers. Goodbye. Maxwell Smithson, Heretic. - - - Michael! Glad you came. Maxwell said, a smile on his usually impassive face. He waved to a chair, and Michael sat down. What do you need? Michael replied. Hold him down! Max said, and a pair of guards held Michael in place, as Max stood and placed a crown on Mike''s head. Congratulations, King Michael. All that''s mine is yours. Then he walked out of the tent, and got lost in the throngs of people. - - - Arriving at his personal tent, Max placed all of his weapons, gear, and other things into his old chest. Lastly, he placed the revolvers on top, Goodbye old friends. If another can open the box, I want you to serve them as well as you did me. A single tear fell on them as he closed the box for the last time. - - - It was Zero Hour. Max climbed the rope ladder onto the airship, ordered the rest of the crew off, and cast off the tether lines. His last adventure. He hoisted the sails, gave one last salute to the camp, and sailed for his final destination. *-*-* Ivan and green had donned heavy rubberized suits, and climbed into the last wagon. With a shout and a shake of the reins, the departed for the center of the wood. The travel was slow, but uneventful. Do you think we will make it there without any problems? Ivan asked. Maybe. Our luck has held so far. Green answered. You know, my team and I tried to kill Maxwell once. It went poorly. Yeah? Ivan stifled a chuckle. I bet it did. Yeah. Green shook his head. I spent sixteen years in an asylum after my memories of that life came back to me. He shuddered. I used to write my real name on the walls in blood. That place drove me mad. He giggled, then laughed. You know, doing this makes me feel like a super villain. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. A what now? After your time. Sorry. Green smiled. They never tell you how hot these things get, do they.? They passed the rest of the trip in silence. - - - They arrived at the destination, and began the setup. Canisters piled and linked. Charges set to aerosol the gas. Then disaster struck. Granddaddy exploded from the ground. Ivan and Green scattered to either side of the pile. Ivan drew his revolver, and began to fire. Green unslung his Uzi and opened up. Both did little to the massive beast. It charged Green, and in a single massive stroke, drove it''s venomous spike through his guts, and out his spine. Green screamed, still firing, until the Smg went click. Ivan dropped the revolver, took aim with his rifle, and fired. The round made a small crater in ''Daddy''s armor. He dropped the rifle as well. Shaking Green off his spike, landing him next to the pile of ordinance, ''Daddy slowly advanced towards Ivan. Ivan removed the staff from the wagon, twisted the handle and the scythe blade swung out with a click. He advanced to meet his end. ''Daddy thrust a spike at Ivan, testing his reflexes. Ivan parried, removing the end of the spike with the scythe, and stepped back. ''Daddy scuttled to the left, and tried again. Ivan removed the other spike, much closer to the body. It charged. Ivan tried to leap out of the way, but a tree root caught his foot, and he fell. Meanwhile, Green crawled towards the controll box, his life''s blood draining. He reached for the box, flipped the arming switch, and coughed his death rattle. *-*-* Celestial realm. There doing it! The gods were gathered in the colosseum, watching the looking glass. Then there was silence as they watched the men fall. Is there nothing we can do? Pendleton yelled. There is one thing... Bjorn said, But it would break the rules. Maximilian, the god of war stood up. That is my man. I sent him there. Damn the rules! He stepped to the ''glass, and walked through. *-*-* Ivan rolled away from the thing. Brought up his scythe, and slashed. It cut the head, but only a shallow gash. He heard a small whooshing sound from behind him, and payed it no mind, as he pulled himself to his feet and faced the Granddaddy of beasts. You fucking monster! I may die here, but there''s room in this grave for the both of us! and he charged, swinging the scythe with all his might. The thing brought it''s head down and bit. The blade flashed. Granddaddy''s head, and Ivan''s torso fell to the ground. Dead. Maximilian reached out his hand and touched Green''s corpse, and dissapeared. Green gasped and looked around himself, taking it all in. He laughed. And laughed, and laughed. Then he pushed the button. - - - On the battle line a noise was heard. Then a billowing cloud danced across the woods, and into the magical barrier. In some places the gas leaked over the side, but mostly, it held. There were screams of pain for hours after the cloud formed, but eventually the sounds died out, and the cloud dissipated. Nothing in the woods moved ever again. *-*-* Nine days later, Maxwell floated above the remains of a once prosperous nation. He looked down from his two mile height, and sighed. One last time. He smile and pushed the button. He never saw the light, felt the heat, or heard the explosion, but in that instant he didn''t care as he walked into the arms of his wife. The End. Epilogue. One hundred and fifty years had passed since the end of The Heretics War, and nothing had really changed. King Michael the second pondered the silverware at the dining table. You know, dear, tomorrow ids the 150th aniversary of the war. I wonder if it should be the last celebration? His wife, Queen Dana, looked up from the terrible good leak soup and stared at him, Are you daft? The people love it. And would probably revolt if you took it away from them. it just doesn''t feel right, you know? Celebrating the deaths of our greatest hero''s. Shouldn''t we celebrate their lives instead? You may be right. Perhaps you should include that in your speech tomorrow? I think I will. He went back to pondering the silverware, as his mind drifted back to his history lessons. *-*-* Boy! King or not, you will learn this. When the Heretic died, the teacher made a gesture of blessing, The world shook, and the clouds parted. Even the gods rejoiced. I bet it wasn''t just for the winning of the war, A young prince Michael the second thought. After it was over, the island of death was found to be unlivable, and Heretic''s wood will never live again eithor. The old man continued. But in his death we can take comfort, for he saved the world from the things from beyond. Michael rolled his eyes. I know all that. But what happened to his trunk? To the Green Man and Ivan the Scythe? According to Brandywine, they perished facing the Granddaddy of monsters. The teacher replied. I''m so sick of this Dwarf''s lectures! Michael thought. Will he ever tell me something new? Now that you are old enough, I will tell you something that may peak your interest. The teacher grinned. There have been rumors...rumors about a pair of men showing up on the losing side of conflicts, and changing the tide of battle. One with a long handled blade that shines with darkness, and the other with a metal wand that spits fire and noise. The old dwarf smiled a wicked smile. I think you might be able to guess who that maight be. Michael stared. Is he serious? How could people not know? It is something to keep under your hat, young prince. There are few who know the stories, and fewer still who will repeate them, as they seem to...be unable to speak on the subject. So why tell me? Because you are old enough to keep it to yourself. The teacher took a few moments to fill and light a pipe. Also, who is going to believe you? Michael grumbled. Who indeed? Now as you know, the Cult of the Heretic is expanding. Most of it is located in Demonia, but every year we get our fair share of pilgrims, both to his cabin, and to his wood. That is the reason both are surrounded with fences, and gated. That and the risk of death. About twenty years ago, one of the pilgrims jumped the cabin fence and tried to open the chest. The wardens found his corpse in the morning. Michael nodded, he had heard that story before. What about the wood? The air and ground are still poisonous. If you spend much there, you get a horrible rash and have trouble breathing. Too long, and you die from lung hemorrhaging. And the Island of Glass? No one goes there. First your hair falls out, then your teeth, and eventually your organs fail. Even if you are only there for an hour. The teacher sighed, I feel sorry for the people that get sentenced to maintaining the stone arc on the southern most island. It is still deadly, it just takes longer to die. *-*-* In the early morning of the 150th anniversary of the Heretic''s war, smoke began to emerge from the chimney of the cabin on the hill, and if anyone had been there to listen they would have heard, God''s damn it all! from inside. Maxwells Demons Prologue My name is Tristan Maxwell Abernathy II, and I hunt demons (1). I don''t hunt werewolves, or vampires, or other critters like that, just demons. I work through a detective agency (2) that also employs my dad, and my aunt Misty. It may surprise you that most of my clients here on the Colorado West Slope are farmers. Let me tell you, a Demon possessed rooster may sound funny, but they ain''t no joke! Then there''s the cows, horses, geese, and pigs. Pigs are the worst. Hard to kill, will eat anything, smarter than hell, and bad attitude. I hate them. That''s also why I eat bacon at every meal (3). Is that "Llamas" I hear you asking? No. Just no. Hell no. And don''t bring up anything from Australia. Ya know what? You''re an asshole. Go away. I will taze your ass.. (1) No, I don''t get a government bounty, that''s another series. I get paid in cash, like a proper employee. (2) No, I''m not a Wizard, that''s yet another series. I also don''t do parties. (3) Healthy shmelthy, I don''t care. I''ll probably get drafted and shot in some 3rd world country before heart disease kills me. *-*-* The phone sitting on the old sturdy desk rang at the Abernathy Detective Agency. A middle aged woman wearing a cake''s worth of makeup and a pink pants suite answered, "Hello, Abernathy Detective Agency! How can we help?" "Helllooo Ms. Misty! We got us a problem at the Crooked S today." "Farmer Bob! What a pleasure! What happened today?" Bob sighed on the other end of the line, "Well, Franklin got into something the other day. We thought it was just some weed, you know the devils lettuce? But weren''t that. I think we got a infestation." "Oh, dearie me! I''ll send out Max 2, he''s not doin anything at the moment." Misty looked over her shoulder and called, "Maxie dearest! Got a job for you!" "Aunt Misty! Can''t you please just call me Max like everyone else does?" T. Maxwell Abernathy II replied rolling his chair out of the back office where he had been playing bones with his dad. "Please?" "Bless your heart, young man. I can''t use the same name for you and your father! That would just be wrong." Maxwell, the elder snorted. "Thanks sis. Now what''s the job?" "Farmer Bob has a live one!" "That''s the third one this month! Is his daughter still trying to summon things?" The younger Maxwell rolled his eyes, "She''s off at reform school till next month, dad." Misty went back to the phone, "Alrighty Bob, Max 2 will be there in an hour or so. You good ''til then?" Bob''s voice was a bit shaky on the other end, "I think so. The missis is in the house, and I''m in the hay loft." "Very well. He''s on his way. You take care now, ''here?" "Yes''um!" and the call ended. "Now take the big gun, and don''t forget the knife, just in case!" "Yes aunt Misty." Max said, already collecting his go bag, and heading out the door. "Poor dear. I hope things go well today." "Which one?" "Both." - - - Max climbed into the old Toyota 4x4 he had bought with his first several paychecks. Why does that woman always do that? I hate being called Max 2! He drove down the paved road through the west end of town, then turned south onto Hillock Trail. The old rutted gravel road wound around swamps, old trees, defunct farms that nobody had tried to resurrect in fifty years, and finally reached the Crooked S farm. He drove over the cattle grate, and parked near the sway backed barn. He pulled his chainmail shirt from his go bag, and tossed it on over his light leather jacket, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and strapped the knife to his left arm. "Let''s do this." Upon exiting the truck, he noticed two things, first, the pigs were all out of the pen, and second, one of the old hogs was standing on his hind legs, writing math on the side of the barn in marker. Shit. A smart one. This could be bad. "''Scuse me, yes you with the marker, what in the hell do you think you''re doing?" He yelled at the hog. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly as the case may be, the hog answered back in a posh London accent, "I happen to be solving Newton''s fifth law." "I hate to tell you this, pig, but Newton only had three laws." Max yelled back. "That you know of. Now get over here and give me a hand." The hog oinked something, then continued, "Get me a box or something else to stand on. I need to add several more levels of exponents to this section here." The hog gestured up and left with it''s fore foot. Max stopped and stared at the math equation. He had seen it before. Was it in grandpa''s old journal? Or that other book set he brought back from his ''Travels''? "Wait a minute! That''s the formula for opening a door to the beyond!" He racked the lever on the rifle, not realizing that he already had it in hand. "Bugger! It is, isn''t it?" The hog responded. "That isn''t what I started with." He drew a number of lines through the equation. "That would be a horrible thing to do! I wouldn''t want one of Them coming and screwing up my vacation!" Max just stopped. And Stared. "You what now? Say that again?" "I said that I wouldn''t want one of Them ruining my vacation." The hog looked around. "WaitWhat are you doing here? Humans don''t belong here! This is a ''No Human'' zone!" "I hate to break it to you, Mr. Pig, but this is Earth. Where Humans live." "Well, that is an unfortunate turn of events. I don''t suppose I could trouble you to let me stay then?" "Nope. No demons allowed. No dimensional travelers either." Max replied. "Well, damn." The hog shook his head and the floppy ears wagged. "Can you get me back then?" "Well, if you''re willing, then I can get the preacher down here to preform a voluntary exorcism." "I would most appreciate that." The hug sighed. "When I get home, I''m going to have a word with that sow at the travel agency! How dare they screw this up. I saved for decades for this trip!" Max walked into the barn, "Bob! You can come down now! Looks like we got us a cooperative one on our hands." Bob''s head poked out from the loft, "Really? Well don''t that beat all." He climbed down the ladder in the wall. "Seriously?" Stolen novel; please report. "Yup. Apparently the travel agency messed things up." "Remind me to never use that agency." "Can I borrow your phone? The cell don''t work around here." "Sure. On the wall, just like always." Max called the local pastor, "Pastor Johnson! Glad it''s you. Look, I got a willing one this time." The dry voice of the pastor came across the line "Oh. What a pleasant change from the norm. Let me guess, Crooked S?" "Yup. Third one this month." "Really? Interesting. Maybe we should look around this time, and see what madness is still there." "Probably a good Idea. I''ll tell farmer Bob." "Excellent. I will see you in about half an hour, I''m giving miss Betsy last rights. Again." They said their goodbyes and hung up. "Hey Bob, Pastor J wants to have another look around, see if something cropped up again." "Alright. Gimme a hand getting the pigs back in?" Bob yelled from out front. "Sure." Max walked outside, and assisted Bob and the hog in rounding up the pigs. "As I was saying, farmer Bob, I am truly sorry about this. It wasn''t my intention to inhabit your prize hog." The hog, who''s name was actually Kersamps, said. "This is a truly dreadful thing. On the other trotter, this beast in in fine condition, so you are doing quite well in that department." Bob just nodded. He was used to possessed animals screaming, or threatening him, not talking like a person would. "Umthank you? I do my best. Only the finest kitchen slop for my pigs." At that point an older model sedan pulled into the farm, and a well dressed man stepped out. "Ah, Mr. Abernathy, Farmer Bob, a pleasure to see you again. Too bad I don''t see you in church more often as well." Then he laughed a deep laugh. "Now that that''s done, where is our poor victim?" "Right over here, Mr. Pastor, sir." Kersamps said from where he was lounging in the shade of the barn. "Bob, may I call you Bob? This is some excellent slop! My compliments to your wife!" "Um, thank you Mr. Kersamps?" "As I was saying earlier to Mr. Maxwell, it would probably be a good idea for me to accompany you on your little excursion around the farm here. I have a ''good nose'' for the occult." Kersamps giggled. "Good Nose! Ha!" "It may be a good thing?" Pastor Johnson gave Max the side eye. "Do you think that''s wise?" Max shrugged, "Well, he could have killed us several times already, and he didn''t, so, I guess? It couldn''t hurt." "Extra eyes, and nose to the ground." Pastor Johnson said with a straight face. Kersamps laughed. "Well played, I say!" "Please, call me John." Pastor John Johnson said with a large smile. "Welcome to our walk." The quartet wandered the nearby fields, and woods for nearly an hour when Kersamps stopped, and then backed up. "That''s Pigs Bane over there. Makes us deathly sick, and is used in some tracking and location spells." He walked to the patch of shiny spines and leaves. "I believe someone has been playing silly buggers with you." The humans looked at each other, then the plant. Bob was the first to speak, "Never seen that plant before. It does what now?" "It spreads like kudzu if you don''t keep it contained. It needs to be killed, and the area around it burned until the soil is killed." Kersamps replied. "Damn stuff is a menace." He cocked his head to the side, "It also can attract unsavory types to the area, if you know what I mean?" John and Max looked to each other, then John spoke, "Bob? Do us a favor and get the stuff for lighting brush piles? I think the pig''s right, we need to do this fast." Bob ran for the ''fire'' building (1). "John, do you have salt on you? Otherwise I have some in the truck." Max was keeping an eye on the plant, as a small tendril slowly reached forth from its center, and arched it''s way to the ground several inches away. "Don''t you have some in your go bag?" John asked in return. "Yes, but not enough for what I''m thinking." Max was already fishing in his bag for the can he always carried. "I want to cover the whole thing, not just a circle." Finding the can, he opened the spout and began to liberally draw a circle around the plant. John left to get the spare salt from the truck. After several minutes had passed, both John and Bob returned. Bob with a ''proprietary'' mixture of flammables in a sprayer, and John with the extra salt. The plant itself was pushing against the oblong ring salt, trying to escape and spread, but with little in the way of luck. "Thank god you''re both back." Max tossed the empty can to one side, and grabbed the spare from John. "This thing has been trying to make a break for it since one of its sprouts encountered the circle as I was drawing it." He opened the can, and liberally doused the plant with salt. "Kersamps, how should we go about burning it out?" "Well, the best practice is to contain it with a spell, then excavate, then once contained out of the ground, you place it in an inferno spell." Kersamps replied. "And how does it usually go in the field?" John asked, as Bob began pumping up the pressure in the sprayer. Kersamps looked up at John, "Well, since we don''t have the luxury of doing it properly, douse the outside of the ring with flammables, then douse the inside. Don''t get any on the containment ring itself, it will make a hole through which the beasty can escape." Farmer Bob carefully started his spray around six inches from the salt, and worked out to about twelve. When that was done, he started just inside the circle, and spiraled the spray into the center, where he let it spray a good amount. Max looked around the group, "Y''all ready for this?" He asked, pulling a barbeque lighter from his go bag. All in attendance stepped several feet back before nodding there assent. Max reached out to ignite the center of the ring. "Remember to light the outer circle first!" Kersamps cried at the last moment. "I''m so sorry I didn''t mention that earlier!" Max nodded his thanks, and lit the outer ring. The mixture of chemicals burst into an explosive white flame, and Max let out a yelp as he fell backwards. "JesHoly Bob, what the hell is in that stuff?" "Well, you know, stuff?" Max gingerly reached the lighter inside the salt circle, pulled the trigger, and the inside exploded into flame. The four ''men'' stood and watched as the pant screamed, shuddering. They winced at the noise. A few minutes later, the unhealthy thing was nothing but a pile of charred ash inside a partly melted circle of salt. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. "Now what you need to do is sprinkle the entire field with salt for the next three years, and burn it all down each season." Kersamps said. "Once that''s done you will be rid of the evil thing forever. If you don''t, it may come back." "Seriously?" Max cocked an eyebrow. "Wellno." Kersamps laughed, "But the look on your faces was priceless!" "So we''re done here?" Bob asked. "The Pastor should say a prayer to bless the area, but that should do it." Kersamps said, before trying a bite of a nearby dandelion, and swallowing. "Best to check it every few days for a month or so. If you see anything starting to grow, just dump salt on it, and burn it again. Might I add that these are amazingly tasty?" He nosed at another dandelion. Everyone else stared at him, shook their heads, and headed back to the barn. A half hour later, Kersamps was standing in the middle of a circle of holy water, listening to Pastor John renounce his presence. "Oh, I can feel it taking hold!" He whispered. Then there was an audible pop, and a very confused, and therefore angry, Hog charged out of the circle. Everyone ran. Several hours later found Max driving back to the office on the rutted gravel road, envelope of money on the seat next to him in the truck, and music playing on the only rock station in the county. Just as the DJ was announcing a song by the Rolling Stones, a voice came from under the passenger seat. "Damn them all! They killed my body! And I can''t pass on!" Max locked up the breaks, and started to skid as the opening bars of ''Sympathy for the Devil'' started to play on the speakers. 1. Known by many names, this is the place on a farm where one stores inflammables'' (Gasoline, Kerosene, Diesel, and others ) and explosives (Dynamite, Blasting Caps and the like). 000 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Prologue The far eastern shore of the Eastern Continent had a very nice white sandy beach. On the sand sat an extremely tiny lawn chair. On the lawn chair lay a Pixie, snoozing in the sun, strawberry daiquiri by her side. Her magnificent dragonfly like wings shown like rainbows. Her red hair lay across the chair, out of their customary pigtails. Instead of her normal overalls, she wore a light green sun dress. She snored happily. Her wings gave a sudden and violent shake, and she bolted upright from the chair, looked around in a panic, said some very unladylike words, and headed west at speed, leaving the rest of her strawberry daiquiri to melt in the sun. - - - An unusually helpful brown bear was sleeping in a small forest in a well populated dell. She was happily dreaming of the children who came to ''get lost'' in the forest, when her stubby tail, adorned today with a beautiful pink ribbon, did a sudden, and painful, corkscrew as her hackles rose. She grumbled for a moment, then caught a scent on the wind, and began to walk towards the nearby city. - - - In the stillness of the calm predawn light, a pair of trees trembled. Nearby, a cats ears twitched. - - - At the college of The Bard of Rio, the B string on an ancient guitar on display snapped with a reverberating twang. - - - It was the early morning of the 150th anniversary of the end of the Heretics War, and Pendleton was late for the weekly Humans and Highrises game. With good reason. With Maximilian, the god of war, gone, they had been barred from the last H&H con, and were still having trouble finding a new player who had the time to commit. And without him, the barn, turned gamer''s haven, seemed emptier as Pendleton almost blew the doors off their hinges coming inside. Guys, guys! He said. No one paid him any mind, as they kept arguing the new ''Karen'' ruling from the games council. GUYS! Pendleton screamed, using a tidge of his god powers. All three gods present, Kocha, Ghondish, and Sarah, stared at him. Sarah was the first to speak, anger tinging her voice, What?!? I was flipping through the channels... So what? Kocha demanded. The Heretic channel is back! Pens, pencils, and a very heavy rulebook dropped to the table with a resounding chorus of WHAT?!?!? Pendleton took a breath, It only says ''Please Stand By'', But IT''S BACK!!! *-*-* In the preserved cabin of The Heretic, there resided a used bandage under glass. It began to twitch. The dried black blood on the bandage turned a healthy red, and began to spread. The glass display case shattered outward, and the wood laid in the fireplace caught fire. A figure began to form on the floor, and over the course of a few minutes, it took a breath. The figure stood and looked around the cabin, then yelled, Gods Damn it all! - - - Captain Murphy, morning shift commander of the watch C Parks and Rec division C was not a happy man. Someone had defeated the physical and magical alarms and defenses of The Cottage. Sometimes people would jump the fence, and run the path to the door after hours as a test of courage. But this wasn''t it. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Someone had broken in and lit the fire. The fire the Heretic had laid before he departed to bring salvation to the world. His last act before his eternal rest. Captain Murphy was angry... No, he was raging MAD. Had he the ability, he would be spitting nails. He quickly walked the streets from the station house to Heretics Gate, pushed his way through the crowd, crossed the watch line, and met with his reaction team. What do we know? Sir! The Sargent in charge saluted. An unknown person or persons has been sighted through the window. They are now frying eggs on the stove. Have you questioned them yet? We wanted to refrain from aggravating them until you arrived, as they have already dumped some of the priceless artifacts out of the front window, complaining loudly about ''Trash in the house''. The Sargent replied. Alright. He looked around at the flat faces of the watch on duty. Form up! We advance now! A moment passed, and the Parks and Rec division marched up the hill. They passed the iron fence and gate, the well manicured lawn, the immaculate wildflower beds, and the informational display boards. Eventually arriving at the cabin''s door. Captain Murphy rapped loudly on the door, City Watch! Open up! Cooperate, and you will be treated well! He knew it was a lie. Most of Parks and Rec were part of the Heretics Cult, and took their job very seriously. The eventual response from inside was, Meh. Go away, I''m having breakfast here! He pounded on the door again, I will count to five. If you don''t open this door, we will open it ourselves, and beat you into submission! There was a shuffling sound from within the cabin, followed by the sound of rusted hinges creaking. A moment later the whole watch contingent heard a double ''Ka-Click'' sound from within. You can try. - - - Across the demon wastes a small streak of red and green flew, leaving in it''s wake a succession of sonic booms. - - - In the palace, really just a large brick building, the king was awakened by his steward. My lord! There is an urgent message from the P&R! King Michael the second sat up in bed, dreams of ''Iced Cream'' vanishing from his head. Wh...What happened? Did the cottage catch fire? No sire, it is worse. Michael climbed out of the huge bed he shared with his wife, threw on a robe (his wife''s) and followed the steward to the throne room. The P&R runner, still out of breath, bowed to the king as he entered No time for that, what has happened? Michael asked, not even sitting on the throne. There is smoke coming from the Heretic''s chimney. And the smell of fresh coffee. The messenger said, still trying to catch his breath. The Captain is in route as we speak. Hesitating only a moment, Michael replied, Very well. Take some moments to refresh yourself while I get ready. He nodded to the steward, and walked as fast as was proper out of the room before breaking into a dead run. - - - The countdown timer has started! T -3, 2, 1... Pendleton yelled to no one in particular. The colluseum was almost packed, as all of the gods who could make it had come to see the premier of the new Maxwell channel. In the far back of the colluseum, a shadow formed, and Maximilian, the god of war, was bodily thrown from it. - - - The very polite bear of the wood walked through the city, chuffing at the children who were already out and about. She gave out as many hugs as she received, and was generally happy. Until she reached the gate to Heretic''s Hill. It was very crowded, both by pilgrims, who backed away from the large bear, and by curious onlookers, there to see the smoke and their P&R response team in action. She chuffed loudly at the guard contingent blocking the gate, and moved through without much resistance. They didn''t want to incur the wrath of a bear. Let alone the bear who dismembered ''Bad'' parents. She walked up the hill, and sat down on her haunches, awaiting the proper time. - - - The kings carriage arrived without the usual pomp and circumstance, it skidded to a stop, and Michael stepped out. He was dressed, but still disheveled, hair uncombed. He almost sprinted up the slope. Windows on the eastern side of town blew out as a small red and green form streaked past them. People screamed. The form continued, sonic booms in it''s wake. - - - At the top of the hill, the P&R crew were quietly discussing what to do. We can''t actually break down the door. It''s a historical monument! One member said. True, but he has already defiled it. We will need to have a leader come and purify it again. A second replied, On the other hand, I don''t think we can even break it from this side. You remember that one idiot a few years back that tried to chop it open? A third piped up, Oh, the one who fried to a crisp on the second hit? He shook his head, I had to clean up that bastards remains. At least it was easy. Not enough of him left to fill a dust bin. The group heard the sound of pounding feet, and turned en mass to see the king stop at the top of the hill. They bowed. Captain Murphy stood and saluted, Majesty! We have the culprit secured in the cabin, but are at a loss as to what to do at the moment. Michael returned the salute, Have you tried --- the rest of his suggestion was lost as the green and red form blew past them and through the front window. The assemblage stared as loud shouting issued forth, then there was a loud ''GONG'' and the now recognizable pixie flew back out the window, not of her own volition. I''ll get you for that! You miscreant! Brandywine screamed at the cabin. You didn''t even say goodbye! She flew back in the window. The guards and king Michael couldn''t understand the ensuing argument, but some of the curses uttered made them blush. Michael looked away from the cabin for a moment, feeling a twitch on the back of his neck. Behind him was his old teacher, and the grizzled dwarf seemed to not have aged a day. The old dwarf calmly walked past the guards and king, opened the cottage door, and stepped inside, allowing the door to close behind him. Michael looked at the door, over too the bear who nodded to him and stood up on her hind legs. They followed the dwarf into the cabin. The bear looked back at the now staring guards, and kicked the door closed behind her. Captain Murphy looked at the door, thought of everyone who had went in, shook his head, and ushered the guards down the hill. I don''t understand what the hells is going on, but this is above my pay grade. 001 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod As the flash, heat, and mushroom cloud bloomed behind him, Maxwell stepped forward into the arms of Deborah, his deceased wife, and smiled. - - - Maximilian looked around at the gray plain, and sighed. The expanse was limitless, nothing to see, nothing to do; for the first time in his living memory, there were no voices of worshipers begging for things, no demands, just blessed silence. He fell to his knees, and wept. - - - Time had passed, and Maxwell was content. He smiled at his wife. When they came to visit, he smiled and laughed with his children, old friends, and even some old enemies. One day Deborah looked at him and asked, Why did you not take another wife? What!?! Max dropped his coffee cup, Why would I do that?!? I tried to tell you, when you would appear on the other side of the river. Deb gave him a stern look. Mr. Wellington down the street had three. They were all very happy to finally meet each other! Mouth agape, Max stared at her. Mrs. Johnson next door has five husbands! Very handy to have around the house, I must say. Deb gave Max the side eye. I was not thrilled when I found out you had a child by a whore. A lovely woman, by the way. Of course she has four other children, but still, not staying around to help him grow up? The shame. I...I...I didn''t know! Max''s eyes bulged from his face. Oh yes. Apparently the little bugger wouldn''t take the ''hint'' from the medicine. Deb then laughed, and almost fell to the floor. He is a sweet one tho. Didn''t have any children. And his mum died when he was twelve. But...but...but... Max mumbled, shock and fear covering his face. And how many proposals did you turn down? Deb gave him a stern look. Dozens? Hundreds? I heard there was even an elvish princess that tried? ...yes...? So I ask again, why did you not remarry? Deb''s eyes flashed a steel gray, And what is this about you and a Pixie? - - - Maximilian sat, arms and legs folded, and meditated upon the meaning of being a god. - - - Max met his relatives, children, and grand children. He spent time thinking, as he and his boat sailed the undead sea. He fished, he sailed, he even occasionally swam. He learned to master the wind and sail; the clawed hammer of the builder; the pick of the miner. He spoke to sages, and wizards; witch''s and warlocks. He followed his passions, and learned. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Until one day, Deborah hugged him and said goodbye. Goodbye my love. Safe travels. I want a sister wife or two. Maybe another man around the house? Maxwell cocked an eyebrow, and simply nodded to his wife''s odd request. - - - Maxwell''s Dell, Capital city of ''Heretic''s Kingdom''. 12th of Kusha, the month of harvest. 2289 years since the new gods came. Maxwell awoke groggy in the morning, his back hurt like he had been sleeping on the floor. There was light coming from a fire in a fireplace. He stood up, and looked around, then cursed, Gods damn it all! - - - Something grabbed Maximilian by the back of his shirt, and tossed him through a dark spot in the plain. He landed on his rear, in a familiar place. I wonder how many sessions I have missed? - - - Maxwell busied himself with a broom and dustpan for a while, before deciding to just throwing most of the rubbish that had accumulated in his cabin out the front window. Why is so much of this garbage under glass? He looked out the window for the first time, and stared at the skyline. Buildings, dozens of them. Four or five were square towers of metal and glass, that must have been six or even seven stories tall! Stories of the heroes'' world, come to life! He opened his chest, not bothering to knock the rust off the hinges, got out some eggs, bread, and coffee, and started to make breakfast. A short while later, coffee in hand, he heard heavy footsteps outside. He saw a uniformed man glance in the window, and then run away. Meh...How long was I gone? I should probably start writing stuff down again. He bent over his chest and retrieved a notebook, and began making note of his time in the afterlife while eating his over easy eggs on toast, and sipping his fresh coffee. Moments later someone started pounding on the door, and yelling. City Watch! Open up! Cooperate, and you will be treated well! Maxwell rolled his eyes, and continued to chew, before responding with, Meh. Go away, I''m having breakfast here! They pounded on the door AGAIN, I will count to five. If you don''t open this door, we will open it ourselves, and beat you into submission! Maxwell got up from His spot at the table, poured himself more coffee, shuffled to his box, and opened it, the rusted hinges creaking loudly. He retrieved his old friends, and cocked them with a very satisfying ''Ka-Click'' and spoke so the ''officers'' outside could easily hear him. You can try. He sat down and returned to his meal. When he was done, he stepped to the sink, and began washing the dishes when, with a louder than loud BOOM sounded, and a screaming pixie slugged him in the face. He reacted on reflex, swinging the cast iron skillet at the wee beastie, and with a resounding ''GONG'' launched it back out the window from which it had come. Wait, was that Brandywine? Shit! She''s going to be so mad! He dove for the chest, and started throwing things from it, trying to find one of his special bottles. He grabbed it just in time, as the rather angry pixie flew back into the cabin, screaming obscenities to make the most vulgar of gods blush. In the midst of the screaming Bjorn walked in, closing the door behind him. Nice to see you again, Maxwell! How was your vacation in the afterlife? Brandy and Max stopped screaming at each other, and stared at Bjorn for a moment, then Max said, It was good, actually. I met a lot of old friends, and egged a few old enemies. Splendid! Bjorn replied. The door opened again, and a man wearing a familiar crown entered, followed a moment later by a large bear with a pink ribbon on it''s tail. The bear chuffed a greeting while kicking the door closed behind it. Brandy flew over and gave it a hug. Max looked at the crown, then the man wearing it, and sighed. I ain''t taking the crown back. King Michael''s eyes bulged. Bjorn laughed, Don''t worry lad, Max won''t bite. But in all seriousness, don''t offer the crown back to him. He might shoot you in the foot. So...I''m back in this hell. I was hoping I would be done with this place for good. Max groused as he uncapped the bottle he had recovered from the chest and waived it around. Who wants a shot? Brandy swooped over, the bear chuffed an assent, Bjorn placed five glasses on the table. Michael stared, for a moment before dropping into one of the antique ''holy'' chairs. Maxwell poured a drink for each of his guests before settling down in his own chair, lifting his drink in the air and said, A toast to the return of...me, I guess? The assemblage clinked their glasses together, and began to drink. King Michael was late for his speech, even though it was to be made just outside the door of the cabin. His wife gave it instead, stating that the king was attending to Other more important duties of the crown. Later that night Queen Dana was introduced to the assemblage, and the drinking extended long into the night. 002 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Morning After Maxwell''s Dell, Capital city of ''Heretic''s Kingdom''. 13th of Kusha, the month of harvest. 2289 years since the new gods came. Yesterday was eventful. I''m back in this gods forsaken world again. I should have known it wouldn''t last. I wonder if...No. She wouldn''t hide it from me. Well, maybe she would. Meh. Probably better that she didn''t tell me. Anyway, I''m back. The Worgs dispersed after the war, as did the armies. The ''Isle of Glass'' is dead, and makes people sick if they remain too long. Seemingly, the arch that held the original gate is still there and has ''some'' magic hanging around it, but has never reopened. Guards are posted there to prevent any incursions. The little village I remember has changed so much. It has grown very large, and the dell has expanded with it. Weird. Sometimes worgs will leave sick or runt puppies in the town square to be adopted by the locals. They are snapped up almost instantly. Sometimes fights will break out over them. They crossbreed with the local dogs very well, keeping most of their intelligence. Honestly? It''s kind of scary. On the other hand, they are the best family oriented guard dogs in the world. The smartest ones are allowed to herd the sheep and goats by themselves. Speaking of dogs, the werewolves have an enclave here too. They trade with the townsfolk, assist in search and rescue requests, and serve in the army, such as it is. A community of Goblins and Orcs are also in residence. There are some elves, and even gnolls. That annoying elf is back, too. He wants to talk to me about a marriage agreement. Some granddaughter of the elven crown wants to marry me. Even after 150 years! Meh. I think I will spend a week here learning what I can, before I leave for some other quiet place to live. Also, hangovers SUCK! - - - Max wandered around the city, marveling at it''s size, and bemoaning the massive headache he was nursing. The city had grown from the few thousand people of the war to nearly a hundred thousand inhabitants. He stared openly at the ''new'' buildings, appreciating the work that had gone into some. He gawked at the seven story behemoths of metal, stone, and glass, admiring the ingenuity in the combination of form and function. He staunchly ignored the stares some of the passerby''s gave him, and the comments of surprise others made. He was glad to see the lack of chapels and temples in the city proper, and headed to ''church hill'' just over the western ridge of the dell. He spent the whole afternoon wondering the classical stone and wood structures. He meandered through the open gardens, made a few small donations to the more rundown chapels, and ate at a street vendor''s cart. Mmm. Good food. Max said, sitting on a stool next to the cart. Good flavor too. Thank you sir! My family has been making this recipe for several generations. Ever since the green man taught it my ancestor during the Heretics War. The vendor replied. It is called a ''Hamburger'', but actually it''s just ground cow meat with with some spices on a fresh bun. Ah, mister Green. I miss that guy. Max mumbled around a bite of the sandwich, He was a good lad. The vendor cocked an eyebrow, Really? Oh yeah. Started out as a hired killer, but turned his second life around. A real hero, that one. Max smiled a little, Him and Ivan were almost two peas in a pod. He swallowed the last bite and wandered off, leaving a very confused man in his wake. That evening he sat with King Michael and Queen Dana, discussing the history of the last hundred or so years. - - - 16th of Kusha, Morning thoughts... Apparently I have a cult. An honest to the gods, religious, CULT! I will try to talk them out of it. I hope they don''t turn into some sort of fanatics, killing people in my name and all that. I will have to go and speak with them. - - - It was almost noon when Maxwell approached the ''Temple to the Heretic''. He cursed a bit under his breath, before entering the old building. Alright. I''m here. Gather round. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. A group of young men and women, lead by a middle aged woman, looked up in shock, then jumped to their feet and bowed. Max grumbled to himself again. Then the woman spoke, Great Lord Maxwell, Heretic of the gods, we welcome you! That''s nice. Max retorted and frowned. I have words for you. Yes lord? the woman said, waiving for the initiates to kneel. Don''t kill people in my name. No blood sacrifices. No bullshit like that. He took a breath. Act like decent people. Build stuff. Follow my buddy Bjorn. He looked at the rapt faces of the woman and children. And lastly, DON''T GO RECRUITING! He looked around the room, saw several people running in, most in hastily donned vestments. Before him, the woman and children wept. Bugger this. He turned and stomped out of the building. Behind him he heard loud talking, and some yelling. He shook his head, and walked back down into the dell. - - - 16th of Kusha, Evening thoughts, Today went well? I have followers. What in the ever loving hells? In some quarters I''m a prophet, in others I''m a saint, in still others, a god! I want none of this. I blame Demonia. I need to remember to NEVER meddle in politics, no matter what. Maybe I''ll leave tomorrow? Perhaps tonight...? Meh. I''m tired. I''ll decide later. 17th of Kusha, I can''t leave yet as Brandywine has business to attend to. It will be nice to be on the move again. I hear that a demon lord was killed by a pair of little kids not too long after I died. The sick bastard was breeding an army! Glad he''s dead. My history lessons have continued. After I died, there was a period of peace and expansion. The city states became a whole nation. The western wilds aren''t any more. Gnolls and goblins are not being hunted anymore, something about them having joined the war effort has done much to improve their standing in the world. The Dwarves have opened up the mountain cities to trade and tourism. And Buttercup the Dragon sent me a message. He claims he would have been here, but he is sitting a clutch of eggs. It will only be a decade or so until they hatch. The new big ''enemy'' on the continent is the swamp trolls, and the rock trolls are active again. The ''pale ones from under the mountain'' are feared for their strange belief that ''little Sarah'' is the actual goddess of shadows. Weirdos. Brandy and I are going to tour the norther half of the continent on our way to the eastern beach region. From there we will probably take a ship to the ''western continent''. Weird how you can go east to get west. Maybe the world is round? Meh. Couldn''t be. 18th of Kusha, Early this morning Ivan and Green visited me. Well, I say visit, but really they just came in through the door, and saluted. I saluted back, and they faded into nothingness. The sparkles they gave off were fantastic. Brandywine cried at the sight. Did not cry. I have a ''State Function'' in a few days. I don''t feel like sewing, so I will have to find a tailor to make me an outfit. Probably from one of my unused patterns. - - - Maxwell, bleary eyed, opened the door onto a pair of old friends. He saw them, but could also see through them. He nodded. The two men saluted, and he returned the gesture. Then the pair of men melted into a shower of golden sparks. Behind him, he heard Brandywine sniffling. - - - 19th of Kusha, Found a tailor. Small shop, near the lower class section of town. Nice couple. Beautiful needlework. Showed them the pattern I wanted, an old one from my trunk, and offered what I thought was a reasonable sum for their quality of work. They asked for the pattern instead. I still left them money. I hope the young man will be okay. - - - Maxwell spent several hours visiting tailors and seamstresses around the city, looking for the proper quality of work, and proper respect for the materials. Eventually, near the poorer section of the city he found a small mom and pop storefront, and stepped inside to take a look at the merchandise. Excuse me, does all of your merchandise have such exquisite stitching and double seams? Max asked the young man with the measuring tape who had been mending a shirt behind the counter. The man looked up from his task, Yes, good sir. We of ''Daniel and Crew Tailors'' do our very best work on everything we make or fix. He smiled. It is a point of pride. Maxwell nodded, and walked to the counter. Good enough. I would like three loose fitting work shirts, I leave the colors to you, two pairs of pants, and this pattern made. He extended the pattern to the man. Of course! The man turned his head towards the back, where the workshop was, and yelled, Three large work shirts in brown, gray and dark blue! Two work pants in brown! He turned back to Max, I''m Brian, by the by, I should have introduced myself earlier. He held out his hand and Max shook it. Now lets look at this pattern of yours. Max held out the pattern, It''s an older design, but I have wanted to see it made for years...I just never got around to... Brian fell off his stool, and yelped from the floor. Marry! Marry! You NEED to come and look at this! Brian yelled from the floor. It''s an original ''Smithson'' design!!! Max bent over the counter and looked down at Brian, Is that name still worth something? Are you kidding me?!? Brian picked himself up off the floor as a plump woman came racing out of the back. Marry, look at this! He waived the sheaf of paper at the woman. I swear it''s an original! Marry took a small glass from one of the pockets on her apron, and examined the papers, especially the signature on the bottom of each sheet. It would appear to be genuine. The cant of the ''I'' in the signature is correct, and the lines of the shirt are a proper match. She looked at Max, who was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, Where did you find this beauty? Well...I found it in an old chest I was given some years ago. He gave an almost smile at the half truth, I have been wanting it made for a while now. Well, forgery or not, this pattern is worth more that what you''ve ordered. We will trade you triple your order, and put a credit on your account, in exchange for the pattern. Marry smiled, showing off a set of slightly pointed teeth. Plus free alterations on all your clothes for life. Even if you didn''t buy them from us. Very well? Max nodded, scribed an illegible signature on a sheet of paper, left a few gold pieces on the counter, and beat a hasty retreat. - - - 21st of Kusha, Dark royal blue. Ruffled sleeves. Small rubies at the throat and cuffs. Cream colored silk under shirt, and matching hose with pleats and subdued beadwork. Even a new pair of black suede boots with silver buckles. I love this tailor! Apparently they are well known in the working class as well as the rough and tumble neighborhoods. I have no clue as to why they aren''t frequented by the more ''affluent'' peoples. Meh, people with too much money are stupid. Tomorrow is the thing. I don''t want to go. 003 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Royal Affair Maxwell''s Dell, Capital city of ''Heretic''s Kingdom''. 22nd of Kusha, the month of harvest. 2289 years since the new gods came. The thing was a thing. Highlights were Sarah and Bjorn showed up. ''Downlights'' were that other people showed up too. At least the Gentlemen were nice. - - - The large mechanical clock in the center of the city was striking five bells, as Maxwell and Brandywine walked (or flew, as the case may be) up the steps into the kings palace. A red carpet was laid out, making a striking contrast to the almost black stone of the steps. Ornate glass lamps lit the way up the steps, shedding illumination over the whole affair. Max walked with purpose of stride up the steps and across the relatively short lawn, entering the great hall. He didn''t wait to be introduced at the door, and just walked on in. The assemblage of nobles, aristocrats and dignitaries halted their conversations and openly stared at the pair as they entered. A dropped spoon mad a loud clatter as it hit the polished stone floor, and the man responsible hid his face in his hands. It took several moments for conversation to resume as Max and Brandy walked the distance from the door to where King Michael and Queen Dana stood, surrounded by courtiers. Michael! Max said, a bit too loudly, A pleasure to see you again. He nodded to the Queen, And you as well, Dana. Brandy smirked at Max''s standard ''who cares if you are a king'' greeting, while those nearby audibly gasped. Without missing a beat, Michael responded, You as well, Max. Those nearby gasped again. How are your vacation plans shaking out? Fairly well. We are planning to visit the Dwarves on our way to the eastern ocean, and it''s white sand beaches. Brandy says they are warm year round. Brandy piped up, They serve wonderful drinks. She flew over to Dana''s shoulder and settled there, And have the most amazing oceanfront cottages. As well as beautiful views. She smiled, showing her small pointed teeth, Best of all, the buffet dinners are stocked full of fresh seafood! When do you plan on leaving? Dana asked. In a few days. Max responded. Sever hours passed, and Max mingled with the guests. Not his favorite pastime, but required, so he did it. He answered the occasional question from a lord or lady about where he had gotten his clothing for the evening, and gave a glowing review of the ''Daniel and Crew Tailors''. He also mentioned that the outfit was based on a previously unknown ''Smithson'' pattern the shop had gotten it''s hands on, as well as the full number of alterations and options the original patters usually came with. He spoke at some length to some well dressed gentlemen, and received a ''gift of appreciation'' from them in the form of a small intricately designed broach, designed to be worn on a collar. It is a token of your regard. None will touch you if you wear it in cities. was the response when he asked about it''s meaning. Shortly thereafter the ''gentlemen'' departed the gathering. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. A hubbub at the door began just as he attached the broach to his collar, and he looked up in time to see the idiot, Bjorn, and Sarah sweep into the gathering. He saw the magic move as the three spoke something, then it quieted. The room went still, even the minstrels fell silent. Master Maxwell, the Peacemaker, and Defender of the Mortal World, Narissa, goddess of Tranquility, spoke, Welcome back from the land of the dead. Max gave a grunt. Thanks, I guess. Many gasps were made. Then coldly, he spoke again, To what do we owe the dubious pleasure of your visit? Sarah spoke this time, We have come to welcome you back. She gave one of her winning smiles, And to enjoy the party. Behind her, Bjorn rolled his eyes. Sarah continued, We have also come to Bless This Gathering. Her voice almost boomed at the last bit. Several men, and a few ladies, swooned at her comment. In a whisper only Max could hear she added, Besides, I have some needs. And winked. Max rolled his eyes, and spoke the words he had learned while ''dead'', Then I welcome you to this gathering, held in my honor, as long as you harm none. The three gods nodded there assent, and entered the party proper. Max shook his head as the three passed him heading strait for the food. Gods. Why does it always have to be gods? - - - 23rd of Kusha, Brandy and I have our affairs in order. We will be leaving the Dell on the 26th. Baring any stupid stuff. Since when can I see magic? Clerics. Bah. - - - Clerics of many faiths had descended (ascended actually, since Max lived in his cabin once more) upon Max''s cabin. The started to arrive mere moments after dawn, driving Maxwell from his bed. Brandywine slept through it, by virtue of here ''bedroom'' having been soundproofed. By three hours past dawn, they had had to move outside and occupy the public picnic tables. So, now that you are all here, Max gazed over the forty odd clerics, why have you woken me up so gods cursed early? One of the clerics he recognized as being from the cult, stood up, Master Maxwell, the Peacemaker, and Defender of the Mortal World, we have come before you to gain your wisdom before you depart for lands unknown. Max''s head slumped to his chest as he cussed under his breath. Alright, you want My wisdom? Most of the crowd nodded. Fine. He started on a rant about the gods, and then switched to the general theories of forging and glass blowing, interspersing little nuggets of things he had learned from the cursed cookbook he had gotten from the goddess of Knowledge. He droned on for three hours to a rapt audience, then ended by walking back into his cabin and slamming the door. Bjorn looked up from Max''s kitchen table, and snickered. You know that is All going into the holy books, right? Max jumped at the words, then gave a slight smile, I certainly hope so. Maybe it will make them think, as opposed to following in blind faith. We can hope. Did I notice a lack of your followers in the crowd? Yup. They have orders not to seek you out, unless it is an actual Smithing emergency. Bjorn yawned, Do you have any good coffee around here? - - - 24th of Kusha, The watch is now keeping the clergy away from the cabin. All it took was a quiet word to the corporal on duty. They still let the pilgrims through, and the public at large. Some of the sign boards that they put up about the war, and me, were wrong. I fixed them. We depart tomorrow before dawn. Hopefully no one notices us leave. Yes. I lied about our timetable. 004 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – There, A Vacation Story Heretic''s Kingdom 25th of Kusha, the month of harvest. 2289 years since the new gods came. I had a dream last night. The goddess of Wisdom sent it to me. Why does she bother? I don''t need to know how the ''Universe'' works. Moron. She said In some places, the universe is happy and helpful. In other it is malevolent, and cruel. Ours is neither; it has forgotten our world, and moved on to other pleasures. What in the hells is that all about? In other news, we made almost 30 miles today! New horse for me, her name is Strident. She is barely six years old, and quite spirited. I''m sure we will get along famously. 28th of Kusha, Stupid horse threw me today. I swear she was laughing at me! I wonder if she is to young for glue? 29th of Kusha, Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Strident got hobbled today. 30th of Kusha, She threw me again! I think I will ask Brandy to say something to her. 31st of Kusha, A curse on Brandy and her family! She was telling Strident to throw me!!! Stupid fairy. I have decided to stop talking to her. - - - So this whole time, you were telling her to throw me? Max seethed. You little...FAIRY MUNCHKIN!!! Brandywine kept laughing, even with the insult. Serves you right for abandoning me like that, you jumped up wannabe! Wannabe? Wannabe what?!? Max snarled. Wannabe god. Max stopped. He stared at Brandy. He walked away. Brandy watched Max walk away, ...oh crap... - - - 35th of Kusha, Things have been quiet. Strident doesn''t throw me any more. I''m still angry with Brandywine. Why would she accuse me of wanting to be a god? The Cost/Benefit analysis doesn''t add up. Pros of being a god? Big power, long ''life''. Cons? Stupid coworkers, people constantly bothering you for stupid reasons, religion, working on your vacation days, no overtime pay, giant responsibilities... the list goes on. Definitely not becoming a god. 36th of Kusha, It''s been long enough. I talked to Brandy. Waste of coffee. - - - I will never become a god. I don''t want it. I don''t need it. I refuse it. Max stared at the evening fire. I didn''t think you would. Brandy replied, also gazing into the fire''s depths. I''m still mad about you leaving, you know. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Yeah, I know. Max sighed, Just don''t say things like that again, okay? Fine. Brandy smiled, God lover. She ducked as Max threw his coffee at her. - - - 37th of Kusha, Met a small pack of worgs. Had a nice talk. Shared a kill. Good people. 40th of Kusha, We are finally nearing the border. The only way I can tell is the signs stating End of Country C 20 Miles. Tomorrow we will pass the border. 43rd of Kusha, Realized today that the road we have been following is called the Heretics Highway... I don''t know what to think about that. 350 miles as the crows fly, so about 15 days by road, is our next destination, Rether. It is a city of trade along the highway. I hope to find some interesting trinkets there. * * * * * * Hello Ladies, Gentlemen, Both, and Neither! I am Vast Listen, 2nd Assistant Curator of Esmeralda, the Goddess of Knowledge''s Museum of Facts and Knowledge. I was assigned the Maxwell Smithson, Heretic project some years ago, after the last curator quit (15 years of service, and not one piece done! The man was a complete mess). It is my job to properly reconstruct, annotate, and collate his, and others, papers as they pertain to ''Maxwell the Heretic''. I announce myself now, so that I may inform you that I will be skipping what I deem to be ''uninteresting'' travel days. Now back to the archive. * * * * * * 2nd of Anael, We made it just in time to beat the snow. Rether is a trade city on the Saltan River, which empties into the freshwater Pondshear Sea. As a major trade city with almost fifty thousand permanent inhabitants, there is a wall, with a slum surrounding it. The markets are booming year round with thousands of people travel through each month, and winter only slowing the numbers somewhat. We will be spending a few days before traveling on, so we can gather more supplies and see some new sights. 3rd of Aniel, The architecture is fairly standard for what I remember of the world, but there is a new building being constructed in the ''Dell'' style of metal and glass. It is slated to be completed next year, and will be a full five stories tall! A young Dwarf has manufactured a new concept weapon! It is a new style of crossbow. It is called a ''Compounding Crossbow'' as it uses pulleys to ''compound'' the force of the spring arms. I had a long talk with the young dwarf about the working of the design, and how he came up with it. He is now ten pounds of gold richer, and will be working on a longbow variant. 7th of Aniel, We departed for the next leg of our trip this morning. We have joined a trade caravan heading north. Their final destination is Hatford of the Xuekorian Brotherhood, where the Rock Trolls live. We will be splitting off from them at Newleigh, so we can take the roundabout route for Newleigh in the Dwarven kingdom of Hasandrian. 11th of Aniel, Bandits struck at noon today, during a light snow. They were rebuffed. Brandywine hates bandits more than I do. She left to ''finish'' the threat. 12th of Aniel. Brandywine had a large string of bandit ears today. She claims she only took the left ears. There are forty of them. We now have a string of fifty three horses and such to trade while on our journey. Goats piss themselves during mating season to ''smell good'' to the opposite sex. I find myself having a dislike for goats. We are averaging 22 miles a day, even with the snow. Around fifteen days left before we split off from the caravan. 18th of Aniel, Ruts in the road called us all to a halt. Six broken wheels and two axles. It will take a day or three to fix. We are between towns and wagon rests. I have lobbied for a larger guard than normal for the night. The caravan master agreed. He is a tough old bird. 19th of Aniel, More brigands attacked in the night. Brandywine now has three more strings of ears, I helped. I am now the ''proud owner'' of six wagons, fifteen oxen, a dozen sheep, four goats, ninety seven more horses, and a caged flock of chickens. At least the wagons fit all the feed, I''m sure as hells not putting all of that in my chest! I guess I''m a right proper merchant now. Oh, we are also a number of weapons, armor, and trade goods richer. Idiots. - - - The last bandit went down hard, with a pixie fist shaped hole in her chest. Max and Brandy took deep breaths for a while. Finally Max spoke, A hundred and some bandits? How do they keep the highway open? One hundred twenty four bandits. You barely kept up. You feeling sick? No. Just out of shape. Max winced at the rebuke, Time to start evening weapons training again. Or just stop eating so much. Look, in the underworld the food is a pale imitation of the real world. Much like unlife itself, actually. Max pondered this thought for a moment before moving on, Are there any...non-combat people about? Brandy and Max did a quick search of the sprawling tent city that was once the bandit camp, and found nothing but animals alive. Brandy smirked and giggled. Maxwell, you know we can''t just leave all these poor animals for the elements. They can''t take care of themselves! ...Fine, you drunken trollop. Lets get the loot loaded, and secure the line of animal flesh. Max shook his head, exasperation flowing off him in waves. Stupid pixie. - - - 21st of Aniel, We are back on the road. I hope we can offload some of this baggage on the local farmers. 23rd of Aniel, We arrived at the inland seaport of Dradow at midday. We will be staying for an additional day for repairs. Gives me time to offload some of this horse meat. 25th of Aniel, Profit made! I''m some four thousand gold richer, and down to just thirteen horses and a pair of oxen with wagon. All the goats are gone! Got a cover for the wagon so we don''t have to set up a tent every night. Pulled the old iron camp stove out of the chest too. Hot wagon, here we go! We leave in the morning. 26th of Aniel, Apparently bandit ears are worth money. Brandy has decorated her bedroom with more gold too sleep on, and a new silver swing. 005 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – There, A Vacation Story Too Unclaimed Territory. 28th of Aniel, the first month of Snow. 2289 years since the new gods came. The city is behind us, as are the comforts found therein. My exercises in this...reclaimed (?) body are tough, as I limber up and push myself. Brandywine has decided to undertake coaching of my training and being vicious. Nice It is good to be properly training again. I enjoy the exercise. I finally feel like the road is welcoming me with open arms. 31st of Aniel, The first big snow of the season has found us. At least we made it to a wagon rest before the full storm hit. I am guessing that a a full three to five feet will fall before it stops. There will be extra work to do with the remaining animals. 32nd of Aniel, -4 degrees this morning; two and a half feet of snow. The snow has stopped for the time being. There are animal prints on the roof of the wagon. 35th of Aniel, I''m getting tired of the snow. A team of overly large oxen are pushing a plow to clear the road. An ingenious setup, with the plow out front, being supported by large wheels, and the yoked oxen pushing from behind. I like it. 38th of Aniel, One day at a time. We met another caravan, heading south. They have a similar plow, and have cleared the road they traveled. I expect more snow tonight. 39th of Aniel, The wagon smelled of goat piss this morning. I had to resort to cleaning spells to be rid of it. Brandywine stated flat out that it wasn''t her, and for once I believe her. 45th of Aniel, We have arrived in Newleigh. I plan on purchasing a plow for the rest of our trip. The caravan will be stopping for the season as they don''t want to face the mountains in the snow. There was a party tonight. I enjoyed it. 46th of Aniel, It will take a full week to build the plow. The cost was exorbitant, but I paid it. As it will be done so close to Mid-winter, we have decided to stay for the Festival. 55th of Aniel, I have secured a present for Brandy, but as she reads this journal, I will not mention what it is. Except that it was cheap and poorly made. Newleigh, Unclaimed Territories. 1st of Aria, the Second Month of Snow. 2289 years since the new gods came. She was overjoyed at the present. She has always liked sparkly things. A ball with a glowing core set with gemstones. It sparkles. A lot. There was a small floofy white kitten in front of our rooms door this morning. Brandywine has decided to keep it, and call it Puff. Meh. 2nd of Aria, Snow. An Armageddon of snow. If I don''t see a Frost Demon or an Ice Giant I will be both surprised and disappointed. Too bad Ice Giants are several thousand years extinct. We will be stuck here until spring. 4th of Aria, I have decided to continue my training at the local adventurers guild. I realize that I haven''t explained that bit of local color before, so here goes. Adventurers are a mix of con men, mercenaries, thieves, and bounty hunters. You walk into the guild hall, place your request (for a small fee) on the quest board, and when someone fulfills it, you pay them. Never short an adventurer. It''s bad for your health. 7th of Aria, Had an interesting meeting with the local criminal element today. - - - Not far from the inn where he and Brandy were staying, Max heard a commotion down an alley. He stepped to the entrance and saw a trio of thugs with truncheons about to beat a young man into the ground. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Max cleared his throat and the thugs looked up, Excuse me? Clear off, or you''ll be next. The largest thug said. I don''t think so. The three dropped the unfortunate man and slowly walked towards Max, You think we won''t? said the second one, he sported a scar on his cheek from a long distant knife fight. I think you will try. Think we will try? The third thug laughed. You hear that Ralph? He thinks we will try! The big thug, Ralph, looked at Max, evaluation and calculation clear in his eyes. No. We won''t try. He placed a large hand on a shoulder of each of his companions. Bob. Whelt. We will be leaving this gent alone. Why? the third thug, apparently Whelt, asked in a petulant tone. What''s he going to do? Scream? Maybe. Look at his bearing. It screams soldier. What we can see of his sword hilt says it is well used and taken care of. Ralph took a deep breath, Lastly, look at the pin on his lapel. What does that tell you? Looks like the boss''s pin. Just less fancy. Bob, the scarred one said. That have special meaning? It means we ask him, politely, to come visit the boss. Ralph replied. He nodded to Max, Please accept our invitation to visit our boss. I''m sure she will want to meet you. Max raised an eyebrow, Um, sure? - Ralph and Bob lead the way to a small bar several blocks from the alley; Whelt having been sent on ahead to inform them of a visitor. As the trio walked in, the normal din of the bar quieted, and max found himself the center of attention. Around a dozen unpleasant men and women were eyeing him up and down, evaluating him. Most came to the same conclusion Ralph had, only one had the bright idea to leave. Welcome to my bar! a middle aged woman stepped out from a side room. I see you''re with the Gentlemen as well. She held up a thin silver chain with a gaudy broach on it, the broach bearing a design similar to his pin. Come in and have a seat! As Ralph and Bob slunk over to the bar and ordered drinks, the establishment returned to it''s normal volume. Max sat at a nearby booth, and was soon joined by the woman with the broach. So what brings you to my section of the city? A friend and I were traveling through, and got stranded by the storm. Max replied, We have decided to stay until spring comes. Very good, very good. She smiled then, showing the gap where a tooth was missing, So what''s the real reason you''re here? I just told you. Fine, fine. She sighed, You don''t have to tell lowly old me. Just know that the heist over at the magic academy is going down tomorrow night, and don''t you dare take the credit from me. It''s my last chance to move up in the ranks. But you already knew that. Max raised an eyebrow in response. ...What the hells did I just walk into? Anyway, when you report back to the old men, tell them it''s all under control. Max sat for a moment before things clicked into place. Oh... Please believe me when I say that I have no interest at all in what you are planning. I have...''Other'' things to attend to. Really? I thought the Gentlemen of Repute were going to send an observer... I''m in one of the ''Other'' branches. Oh...OH! The woman turned pale. I...I''m sorry. I will have Ralph and his crew put down directly. Several of the people at the bar stood up, pulling concealed weapons from about their persons. We didn''t mean to cause problems--- NO. Max stood up. The bar froze. Sir? She cowered in her seat. They did their job. Correct? Yes? Then. They. Are. Fine. Okay? She took several deep breaths, Then they don''t need to be ''retired''? They do not. Max said. Then looked over to Ralph and Bob, who were standing back to back, truncheons at the ready. His eyes played around the room before saying, Stand down. All of you. Everyone sat down. At least your crew knows how to listen... He thought back to his old bar, then shook himself out of the memories. My business will be concluded upon the arrival of spring. Don''t get to greedy with the mages, they can be a vindictive lot. He smiled at the woman. Do a good job, and I might even put in a word for you. He winked at her, then turned to leave. Upon reaching the door, he looked over his shoulder at the room, And if I see anyone besides Ralph and crew on MY street, all of the streets will become MY street. Max opened the door and left, back on his way to the adventurers guild. - - - 10th of Aria, The town criers and ''paper of newsworthy subjects'' have been screaming about a heist at the mages academy. Several thousand gold worth of expensive magical reagents went missing overnight. The details are still coming in, but it''s looking more and more like a fraud investigation than a theft every day. I wonder if they had any powdered Wyvern wings? I shall have to ask at that bar... 11th of Aria, I have acquired, thirty eight thousand gold of magical reagents. Including powdered Wyvern wings. I was able to pick all of it up for less than half of wholesale. I love the local markets. 14th of Aria, The mages guild is now under investigation for fraud. It ''looks'' like they were responsible for the accounting errors in the school. I guess I do need to write a letter to the Gentlemen. 15th of Aria, This whole postal system is a wonderful thing! No longer do I have to hire a professional courier, I just stop by an office and drop off the parcel. The parcel gets sorted with the rest of the mail, and sent out on a bulk delivery. Guaranteed delivery anywhere on the continent in three weeks or less, or your money back. The majority of the long distance carriers are from Demonia since they have the largest population of people who can fly without having to use spells. It reminds me of the ''Pony Express'' Tristan told me about so may years ago. *-*-* A slight breeze blew a tumbleweed across the barely defined prairie road, and Tristan sneezed, Now if you don''t ''Pony'' up the money in those saddlebags, I''m going to have to ''Express'' myself with my guns. But I have a job to do! The young man on the stopped horse replied. Fear gripping his face, shaky hand slowly moving towards the revolver on his belt. I just want the cattle barons money. Not the rest of it. Oh. Okay. The rider relaxed almost instantly, reached into his left hand saddlebag, and tossed a heavy black leather purse to the ground at Tristan''s feet. Thing gives me the creeps! Me too, young gun, me too. Now good luck to you, and god speed! Tristan waited for the young man to depart before he bent down to investigate the bag. He could feel the coins unholy warmth through the sturdy leather. A good day to do the lords work. He unloaded his revolvers into the bag, and waited for the souls trapped inside the coins to depart for the afterlife. He sneezed again. Stupid allergies. *-*-* 17th of Aria, I have been informed that the local acting troupe is preforming ''The Ballad of Tristan'' starting next week, and that we ARE GOING. The old thing has been beaten to death and back, but some moron has resurrected it as an opera. The original was bolox, this new version will likely be as well. Although, it does come from the Rio college... I am preparing to be underwhelmed. 006 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – City Life Newleigh, Unclaimed Territory. 18th of Aria, the second month of Snow. 2289 years since the new gods came. The News in Print, the other broadsheet of news, had an article about the financial stability of the mages guild. Someone was able to get them the ''actual'' books, and the ''tax'' books. It looks like someone has been embezzling for several decades. I had a chat with my friend at the bar, sadly she didn''t have anything to do with the guild problem, just setting up the school''s finances too look like they had swallowed the money for the reagents, as opposed to actually buying them. Still, that amount of paperwork meddling is amazing. If I ever run ''that'' kind of business, I will have to look her up. 21st of Aria, Brandywine dragged me to a ''Meat and Greet'' with the actors of The Ballad of Tristan. The meat themed appetizers were good. The actors seemed to be nice people. The lead looks nothing like Tristan, and they don''t have a goblin playing Green Za''Onion. They have a gnome! I''m more that a little upset. Big G was pivotal in the battle of Hester''s Pass, where he died taking out the reserve barracks on his own. If they had joined the field, their two thousand strong unit would have wiped us out. Idiots. I have written a strongly worded letter to the Rio College of Bards, expressing my, and by extension Tristan''s, displeasure. I also included the after action report Tristan submitted to the generals. The original with the tear stains, not the clean one I handed in with the spelling errors fixed. 22nd of Aria, I received and delivered a package from the Gentlemen today. Very fast turnaround. I also received a notice from the letter carriers that the letter I sent had been stolen. I am losing my touch, it seems. - - - After nodding to Ralph and company, Maxwell walked to a certain bar and entered. Where is the woman in charge? He yelled. The woman in charge walked out, What do you need? Max threw a less gaudy broach to her. Catch. and turned back to the door. His exit was interrupted by a hug from behind. He waited for the surprise huger to let go, then departed. - - - 24th of Aria, Three days before the opera. I have heard criers in the streets advertising the opera for several days now. I am tired of it. Ralph bought me lunch today, asked how my ''job'' was progressing. I told him it was a ''work in progress'' and not to worry about it. 25th of Aria, Large shapes have been seen moving in the snow. No one has been out to look for them as the snow is around ten feet in depth. Still a wonder that they have been seen from the walls. I''m fairly sure the reports are the results of drunkards pissing from the walls as nothing in existence is that tall except demons, and demons fly, not walk. 26th of Aria, I await the opera with an ever growing pit in my stomach. The last time I saw The Ballad of Tristan it was an abhorrence to the arts. 27th of Aria, The opera was tonight. It was...I don''t know. I have mixed feelings. The choice in music was disturbing. The battle of the Urnest plain was indeed large, and full of the dead, but the price of a mile wasn''t that large. The number given was more than both armies combined. Tristan never talked about the power of his sword. Green Za''Onion was not a ghost, and there were no trenches at the battle of Hester''s Pass. The young blond man that played me, was wearing gaudy armor. And Tristan singing that I was wearing his armor when I died was way off. Oh, and Tristan was NOT a young man from Tex-ass. He was middle aged and from Denvrr. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The instrumental background music was well written and preformed, and the march they played whenever the enemy troops came on the stage was eerie. I just don''t know what to think. - - - Maxwell sat in the box seats with Brandywine and Ralph and his crew. They stared. The music rolled over them in wave after wave. Flashbacks played back and forth in Max''s mind, but he was jolted out of them by the music. Music the likes of which he had only heard once before in his life, back when he had built the caged lightning for the bard of Rio. At the end of the opera there wasn''t a dry eye in the house. Not even Brandywine''s. - - - 28th of Aria, The opera will be sold out for months. It will be a hit for the ages. If only there was a way to record the music to play it for yourself. 29th of Aria, I was a drunk pissing off the wall tonight. I am sober now. I saw the shapes moving in the distance. I feel an existential dread creeping over my soul. I doubt I will sleep tonight. 31st of Aria, I went and looked today. The gouges in the snow are huge. The footprints are huge, some four feet long, and maybe half that wide. I would guess the creatures to be bipedal. I don''t know where they go during the day. The city watch has received many reported sightings. 32nd of Aria, The sightings have stopped. Whatever they were, the creatures are gone. 33rd of Aria, Life continues. The Council of Wizards, Adepts, and Sorcerers has shown up to deal with the local mages guild and academy. This may get bloody. 38th of Aria, I was called to testify at the Mage''s hearing today...Meh. Apparently I am an ''outside expert'' on magical dealings according to the ''Council''. Idiots. - - - Maxwell sat in the uncomfortable witness chair as the mage inquisitor began to swear him in as a witness. Mr. Maxwell Smithson, Do you swear by the Gods to tell the truth on this witness stand? Max rolled his eyes, No. A murmur ran through the assembled crowd. Order! Order in the court! The judge slammed his hammer on the bench in front of him. Explain yourself Mr. Smithson! Said the Inquisitor. That''s easy. The gods are all idiots. Well, except for Sarah and Bjorn. So I guess I can swear by them, but I would rather not. Max said, and the courtroom fell quiet. ...No...You can''t be... The Inquisitor mopped his brow with a frilly blue handkerchief, Are you That Maxwell Smithson? One time and first companion of Tristan the Great, Heretic of the gods, Immortal of Mortals, who has his own cult? His voiced raised in pitch throughout the abbreviated listing of titles. And a few other things as well. I believe I have a couple of royal titles in Heretics Hold, Demonia, and Garthia that you missed. As well as some unflattering nicknames. Max responded with a smile. I tell you what, I swear to tell the truth, to the best of my knowledge, by by dead wife''s grave. That good enough for you? His voice turned to ice at the vow. Yes? answered the Inquisitor. Good. Now get on with it. - - - 38th of Aria, The testimony has continued. I have been asked my opinion of the local guild, the school, and the local criminal element. I told the truth. As I see it. - - - So even under oath, you refuse to answer any questions about the criminal underground? The defense Inquisitor asked in a scathing tone. No. Max sighed for the umpteenth time, You just didn''t like the answer. Let me ask again, for the record, Did the local criminal underground have anything to do with defrauding the defendants? To the best of my knowledge, the Gentlemen of Repute had nothing to do with the problems at the local mages guild. So you admit that they did have something to do with the problems at the school? The Inquisitor sounded triumphant. I did NOT admit anything of the sort. You are jumping to unfounded conclusions. Idiot. Did you just insult my intelligence?!? Yes. HOW DARE YOU!!! Pretty easily. You are trying to put words in my mouth. I''m tired of it. You have tried, and failed, four times already. Max shook his head. I will remind you that I am an ''expert'' witness, not a witness to events. If you cannot respect that, I will walk, and call a pox on you and this whole proceeding. ...Your honor? I would like to call the next witness? the now very nervous Inquisitor asked. - - - 42nd of Aria, The ''trial'' has ended. The incumbent leadership will be replaced, and punished whatever way the council does things. I am getting sick of mages. In other news, I have been given lifetime box tickets to the local playhouse where the opera was preformed. They are engraved platinum. The whole box is mine. Where am I going to find twelve other people to fill the box? 007 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – On the road again Newleigh, Unclaimed Territory. 45th of Arah, the second month of Snow. 2289 years since the new gods came. We have settled the bill and will be leaving town in the morning. The local branch of the Gentlemen of Repute threw us a going away party. The stupid flufball, whatever it''s name is, stole my turkey leg. I can''t believe it can eat so fast! And like most kittens, it isn''t getting fat. I hope I don''t find any more dead rats on my bed. 46th of Arah, The weather is a bit chilly, but the snow is melted for the most part. I gave the ''plow'' away to the first person who asked about it. Good riddance. 10 miles today. 49th of Arah, Bandit activity is nonexistent in the winter and early spring, thankfully. We have come across a frozen over bandit camp. Looks like they ran out of firewood and resorted to burning their wagons and about half of their tents. Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Is it wrong to say I''m glad they are all dead? We buried them. 50th of Arah, The spring planting/new years festival is approaching. I plan on stopping at a random farm and helping with the planting for a few days. I miss farming. Perhaps some day I will be able to do it again. 53rd of Arah, Roughly 170 miles so far. The roads are muddy, but still fairly good. 56th of Arah, Goodbye old year. Welcome new one! I wish I had had more time with my wife... The Swensons'' are a lovely family and were more than willing to welcome us into their home. Fluffball even got fresh cream on account of being a ''pretty boy''. That cat is pure demon. Swenson''s farmstead, Unclaimed Territory. 1st of Samue, The Month of Planting. 2290 years since the new gods came. I have missed plowing the soil. I gave Mr. Swenson a copy of my plow plans, as well as a copy of the reaper plans as a new years gift. Mrs. Swenson received a dress pattern. We received new socks, fresh cream and a 50lb wheel of smoked and aged cheese. Mmmm Cheese. The plowing and planting is mostly done. We will be leaving in a day or so, once everything is in the ground. 4th of Samue, Farmer Swenson and I built the plow. Then he and I plowed the neighbors fields too. We leave in the morning. 5th of Samue, You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. On the road again. I miss the travel. We may have ''lost'' a couple of horses at the Swenson''s farm, and his neighbors. I hate leading lines of livestock. Not like I could send good animals to the slaughter house. 15 miles today. 12th of Samue, Spotted a flight of Griffins. We are getting near the mountains. The next major city is Forbach, a mostly Gnoll town, but still separate from the Council of Bangivia. After Forbach it will be Jazepel, Rektusk, and Pondspell. Then we will cross out of Council lands, into the Dwarven Kingdom of Hasandri. A long trip. 18th of Samue, Forbach tomorrow. Pick up some new supplies. Sell some horses, and maybe a kitten. See the sights, if any. 21st of Samue, Forbach was nice. Good prices. Down to 8 extra horses. Fuzzy butt refused to be sold. I got scratched quite a bit. Good thing I heal so quickly. 22nd of Samue, Gnoll traders on the road. A little standoffish. Brandywine did the talking since I don''t speak the language yet. The road from Forbach to Jazepel is apparently a little muddy still, but no bandits so far. We shared a meal. About a hundred miles, so four days left. 24th of Samue, Lots of travelers, and the first preservation wagon of the trip! The freezing magic in those wagons is a marvel. It freezes whatever you put in it in less than a quarter hour. This one was carrying fish. We bought a couple. It was very tasty roasted over the fire. 26th of Samune, Jazepel! Jewel of the sea. That is what the locals call it anyway. The farthest west city of the Council, it bosts a population of some twenty thousand residents. Mostly Gnolls. The seaport is very active, with a fully functional dry-dock facility and shipyard. It is actually a nice place. Hopefully we can sell the remaining horses. 27th of Samue, Horses are sold. The locals outside the business district are very insular. I wonder how things will go the deeper we get into Council territory. 28th of Samue, Yup. Humans are generally disliked here. Brandy is fine, they love her. It reminds me of what Tristan said about where he came from...racism he called it. Humans are second class citizens. At least Gnolls don''t keep slaves. We leave in the morning. 29th of Samue, If we keep making good time we will make Rektusk in two more days. It''s strange, being treated differently because of my lack of fur. The children point it out to their parents, who tell them it''s rude to stare. The adults just kind of ignore you, unless you get right in their faces. I was able to talk to an old Gnoll about it today. A veteran. - - - Ya see, young one, It was after the third Demon war. Gnolls had fought on both sides in that one. The elderly Gnoll coughed into a kerchief, The humans forgot about the ones in their ranks, and started a campaign to ''rid the lands'' of our kind. So we left. We just never forgot. Oh. That makes a lot of sense. Max nodded, and waved at the bar gnoll for another pair of beers. Yes. Now there are some tribes that hang on the outer edges of the human kingdoms, but most of us live here. Up where it, is civilized. - - - 31st of Samue, Rektusk. It is a city. It is full of Gnolls. And a lot of trees. 34th of Samue, I will say this about Gnolls, they have a very dim view of crime. We found a gang of bandits strung up on trees today. 35th of Samue, We are in the company of a trade caravan that visits the small homesteads and villages off the main roads. Nice people. Only mildly racist...Speciesist? Tristan probably would have had ''words'' with them. 37th of Samue, I was whistling an old tune while bathing in a stream this morning, and the Gnolls around me just stared. At first I thought it was all the exposed skin, but they kept staring even after I was clothed. I was asked later about the tune by the caravan mistress at breakfast. As I am playing ''Max the Tourist, recently come into inheritance, and out to tour the world'', I had to answer in line with the story, so I lied... When in the hells did my whistling get so good? - - - That was quite the complicated tune you were whistling in the bath. The caravan mistress said, walking up to Maxwell. ...It''s an old song from the past of my family? Max lied. Cocking an impressive eyebrow, the mistress asked, How old? Um...more than ten generations? Not exactly a lie, as it was three to four centuries ago that Max had learned the tune. Very interesting. You whistled it well. Max raised his own eyebrow, Is my excellent whistling the reason everyone was staring? She laughed, Yes and no. You hit all the notes, even the ones silent to your ears, perfectly. But no, it is because that was the battle song of the Gnoll Republic that the first demon war destroyed. We thought it forgotten by all but the bards of our people. Max stared wide eyed at the woman, and slowly nodded. 007.1 Interlude - Humans and Highrises 2-1 So you spent the last century and a half meditating in a colorless void? Sarah asked. Yup. Maximilian ''Mil'', god of war, replied. So what did you learn? Pendleton, god of gnomes, asked. Nothing I''m going to share. Mil smiled. Ghondish looked at the assembled players, Now that we are back to an actual party, the community board has assembled to hear your petition about putting up the ''Don''t pee in the public pool'' signs. Who wants to take the stand first? We have a pool now? Mil asked. Yeah. Kocha smiled. Happened about sixty or so years ago. Damn. Mil shook his head. I really did miss a lot. He doesn''t know about the fence rules. Sarah laughed. Oh, shit! The fence regulations! Kocha laughed. Pendleton just giggled. Fence rule? What fence rule? Mil asked. The new one! Kocha said between laughs, then fell to the floor. assholes Mil mumbled to himself. Oh, did anyone notice that Bjorn has been really quiet lately? Sarah asked. Yeah. Pendleton responds, I asked him what was happening, and he just grumbled about schisms. You don''t think--- Kocha asks. No, Charity hasn''t been revealed to them yet. Ghondish cut off the comment. She and Bjorn are keeping it hush hush for now. It''s been a hundred years. Wait?!? Bjorn? Has a girlfriend? Mil almost shouted. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Well, yes. Pendleton said, I introduced them at the last gathering. She''s a nice gal, perhaps a little young, but she wanted to get to know him. Well, I never thought that would happen. Mil said, jaw around his ankles. Things happen. Sarah said. Oh, you also missed my kids, John and Jack. ... Mil''s eyes bulged. Don''t worry, they had happy lives in the world. A tear ran down Sarah''s cheek, They died a few years back. Old age and battle scars. Ghondish thumped a hoof on the table, Game is starting! Who is speaking first? - - - Alright, Mil your turn. Ghondish proclaimed from behind the GM screen. The children are cowering behind you, up against the fence. I step up the the loitering jerk, and... do I punch him for spitting on the sidewalk and cussing at the kids? Or just chew him out and hope he leaves? Mil looked at the rest of the players. Pendleton looked up from his notes, Last time you clocked someone, they pressed charges. Yeah. Court is a pain. Mil looked over to Ghondish, I chew him out in the most polite way I can, then ask him to leave. Roll...Intimidation. Mil rolls the D20. I rolled an eight, for a total of thirteen. He laughs in your face, ashes his cigar on your new sneakers, and headbutts you. Ghondish rolls his D20, Does a seventeen hit? He hit me. The look of shock on Mil''s face was funny enough that Sarah began to giggle. I clock the guy. Right in the ear. Asshole. He rolled his D20. Natural 20! Ghondish looked over to Kocha, who shook his head ''no'' and Ghondish exhaled in relief, Alright. Nat 20 on a called shot. He crumples to the sidewalk, clutching at his ear. Good! Sarah interjected, smiling. Yes. A good shot. Ghondish shook his head. Sadly, you have forgotten about his pals on their motorcycles. You know, the ones with the ''angry'' tattoos? Sarah looked up from lighting her Llama, Shit. Them. Yes. Ghondish replied, a small twinkle in his eyes, Them. Mil grinned. I cuss them out, and then I say something along the lines of ''F around, and find out''! When they get off their bikes and attack I let loose my rage. - Okay Mil, the cops are at your bed in the hospital, and taking down your statement. Ghondish said, What kind of story are you going to spin? I think I''m going to try the truth. Sarah choked on her beer, Really? Yep. I, for once, didn''t do anything wrong. Mil said, And the whole incident should be on the CCTV recordings for the clubhouse. Well played. Ghondish said, You give them your statement, and point out the cameras. An officer is detached to go and investigate. He paused, and looked at the others, The rest of you have already given your statements, so you are free to do as you will. When will I be able to get out of the hospital? Mil asked. Three days. You have a broken arm from the pipe you blocked. Ugh. Mil rolled his eyes, At least I saved myself from another concussion. One more of those and I lose an Int point. I still can''t believe you bit that biker''s ear off. Sarah said. I didn''t know you had taken the ''rage'' tree, instead of the ''working man'' tree. Pendleton piked in. Mil gave Pendleton a look, Didn''t you notice that I never worked overtime, if I could avoid it? Sure, but I thought that was because you took your weekends too seriously. Why didn''t you ever rage before? Sarah asked. Didn''t need too before. Two or three on one is an easy fight. Especially with backup. But six on one? With no backup for three rounds? I would have been dead! Mil replied. He then looked over to Ghondish, Did the Ice Queen''s kids make it to safety? I was too busy making combat plans to pay attention. They made it out of trouble just fine, thanks to your intervention. Ghondish smiled, Oh, one last thing, that so called ''Ice Queen''? She comes and visits you in the hospital. A chorus of WHAT! is heard from around the table. 008 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – On the road also Between cities, Council of Bangivia. 38th of Samue, the month of Planting. 2290 years since the new gods came. The dive bars you find on the outskirts of cities seem to be the place I either get the most or least amount of speciesism. Either they really don''t care, or they really do care. We should make Pondspell tomorrow. 39th of Samue, Pondspell has a larger population of Dwarves than I expected. I went and visited Bjorn. Nice place. Some Idiot added a reasonable looking statue of me kneeling next to him. I had a good laugh about that. So did Bjorn. Well his statue did. The priest on duty fainted, and I left a bit later. No donation from me this time. 40th of Samue, The caravan (and threre fore us) will be waiting another day or three for a delivery that was contracted to be taken to the Dwarven town of Newleigh. 42nd of Samue, Delivery came in. We leave tomorrow. I''ve been dodging dwarves for a couple of days now. 43rd of Samue, On the road again. I like the travel. I am glad I evaded the dwarves, Brandywine told me they were burning me in effigy in the temple last night. She may have participated. Most definitely did not participate. 44th of Samue, Helped a smaller group fix a wagon. 8 dwarves have joined us. 45th of Samue, Another wagon has joined the caravan. Another dwarf. 47th of Samue, Five more days to Newleigh. We are up to 22 dwarves, with assorted gear and wagons. *-*-* Demon Lands Laying across an ornate throne in an equally ornate room, an androgynous demon looked up from a well worn book at a dwarf who has walked into the room. Good evening Vtev, how goes the plan? The dwarf slowly grows and twist, morphing into a large and hulking brute, with large pointed teeth and even larger clawed hands. Vtev took a knee, Quite well your majesty. We have pushed the dwarves as much as we can, and now they are on the brink of a religious war. Soon they will be too busy with their own strife to assist as we start to destabilize the human kingdoms. Excellent. Vtev looked up from his place on the floor, My lord, if I may, where did you come up with this plan? This old book, The Prince, by a man named Machiavelli. The demon on the throne sits up, holding up the ancient book. It is a very straightforward guide to statecraft. Perhaps when I am done, I will loan it to you. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Very good my lord. Now, I think a treat is in order, to celebrate the oncoming revolution. The demon lord smiled. Baby Harp Seal is on the menu tonight. *-*-* 48th of Samue, Bjorn is now an Idiot. Give me a quest in my dreams will he... Of course I''m going to help him, but still, have some common decency! - - - Sorry for this Maxwell, but this is the expected thing. Well this or sweeping you away in body. Bjorn gave a dissatisfied smile. So, my dreams huh? Max frowned. What''s the problem? Thank me. So glad I don''t have to do the spiel. Or The Voice. Bjorn let out an godlike burp, There is a religious schism forming in the mountains. About you. Well shit. Yup. Bjorn shook his head. A percentage of the clergy is advocating putting you in the realm of my saints. Another percentage is arguing for you to be cast as the evil defiler. A third is arguing that you are just a man stuck in a bad spot. The last, and most vocal group, are claiming that by our long association, you are a member at large of my pantheon of craft deities. The hells I am any of those! Max stopped for a moment, then added, Well, I am just a guy stuck in a bad spot... Pretty much. For now. Max, do you know how Dwarves fight civil wars? No? They collapse the mines and halls of their enemies. Crushing their opponents in their own homes. ... Yes. Exactly. Yeah. This is a problem. Yup. Bjorn sagged in the dream, Will you help me in this time of need? Yeah. Yeah I will. Thank you. - - - 49th of Samue, How do you stop a religious war without killing everyone? Rain has delayed us. The roads are covered in water, and the rich soil has turned to mud. 50th of Samue, Brandy has been useless. The fuzzball at least looks at me when I speak. Kinda disturbing, actually. I have no plan, and will be arriving in the teeth of the problem soon. This will probable be messy. 51st of Samue, More Dwarves have joined us. One of them bowed to me... What the hells do I do? At least no one else noticed? 52nd of Samue, They stare at me. It is a bit unnerving. I guess I will need to have a chat with them. 53rd of Samue, We had a ''chat''... I will probably be hungover in the morning. Stupid religion. - - - Look you little grit-suckers, ''I'' am just a man. Max looked at the assembled groups of dwarves. Yes, I apparently can''t die. Yes, I know your god. Yes, we are drinking buddies. NO, I am NOT a god! No, I don''t want worshipers. Any other questions? A young dwarf looked up at the red faced, and clearly angry Max, Um...Does this mean that the objectors were right? You aren''t any sort of deity? Not even an apostle? YES!!! Oh...shit... The dwarf''s head drooped. Can we still ask for your guidance when we make small crafts? Max raised an eyebrow at the question, ...Um.......I''ll ask Bjorn about that, and get back to you. The young dwarf smiled. Meanwhile the rest of the dwarves had broken from their respective groups, and were having several heated discussions. Words along the lines of ''Idiot'' and ''I told you so, SmallAxe'' were bantered around liberally. After a while, Max yelled for Brandywine to bring out a keg, and an impromptu discussion of gods started (also known as a normal drinking session). - - - 54th of Samue, The weather has warmed up considerably, and the roads are finally dry again. Hangovers are unpleasant. Someone needs to make an alchemist''s cure. We arrive at Newleigh. I don''t like it. Something feels off. *-*-* Demon Lands My lord? Vtev stood before the throne, shaking slightly, Our spies have reported in, and there may be a problem. The demon lord looked down from the throne, placing his favorite book on his lap, What sort of problem? Sire, he''s back. Who is back? Vtev finally gave in to the shakes, The Heretic. 009 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Religion 009 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II C Religion Newleigh, Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri 54th of Samue, the month of Planting. 2290 years since the new gods came. Newleigh is a mostly Dwarven city of some ten thousand souls above ground. Buried in the foothills of the mountains it reaches 10-15 degrees above freezing, a cool, but comfortable temp in the summer. There are only two large temples here, Bjorn''s and the Idiots. The city only dates back a bare thousand years, so there is no real deep history here. As one would expect for a dwarf city, the place is well kept, and maintained. Most crime is blamed on the travelers that come through. All of the dwarves in the caravan departed as soon as we arrived. Brandywine and I will be spending tomorrow exploring the city, and looking into the local religious issues. 55th of Samue, The good news is that the cult of the heretic is not present in town. The bad news is that the place is about to explode like a delayed fireball spell that has become unstable. I had a chat with the bishop of Bjorn. He at least understands the stakes, unlike some of his underlings. I have scheduled a meeting with the full assemblage of clergy for the day after tomorrow. I hate this. 1st of Kielat, First month of Summer, My meeting has been called off on account of riot. - - - The first bottle of flaming oil flew through the downtown bars window. It exploded upon contact with the floor, splashing the liquid fire across several nearby tables and patrons. The more furry patrons screamed and flopped onto the floor to roll around and try to put the magically enhanced fire out. It didn''t work. The second bottle hit the front door, and burst. The entire front of the building was soon ablaze. As Maxwell had been intending to enter said bar, he was less than pleased at the sudden turn of events. Brandy? Would you please be so kind--- The sound of screams from inside interrupted his speech. Bugger. Let''s go! He charged through the fire, and into the bar, Brandy hot on his heels. Brandy! Kill the fire, I''ll help the injured! Max ran to the nearest victim, and began to smother the flames, only to find that it wasn''t working. Brandy buzzed to the ever larger pool of flame on the floor, and started her casting. Her basic spell failed to do more than disrupt the flames. Max? We may need to just let it burn out. Get the patrons out. I will do what I can. Max yelled in return. He stood from the floor, ignoring the dying gnoll in front of him, and began to chant in a deep voice. As Brandy grabbed a pile of people, he dug down inside himself, and felt the power bubble up to his call. Using words he had never consciously learned, he gestured to the bar in general, and kept chanting. A bubble of power burst forth, blasting frozen air across the space, throwing furniture into walls, and tossing cups and plates to their doom. The pools of fire froze solid, leaving charred bits and ice sculptures of flames behind. Max righted a chair, and sat heavily upon it. Well that was new... - - - 2nd of Kielat, The town is smoldering from the violence of last night. Five houses, an apartment building, two shops, and 11 bars, all burned to the ground. 164 dead, including 23 children. I am pissed. The Bishop is dead. The abbot and I will be having a chat in the morning. 3rd of Kielat, The chat went...well? I think I put the fear of Bjorn into him. I may have gone a bit far...No. No I didn''t. - - - The Abbot impacted the wall. Again. Max was getting annoyed with the wall to wall counseling he was having to resort too. I am Maxwell the Heretic. Nothing more. I am not a hells cursed god. I am not a prophet. I am just a cursed man. He repeated the words for the third time, then walked over to where the abbots still form lay on the hallway floor. He grabbed the abbot by the foot and dragged him into the Nave of the temple, and dropped him into a pew. Dozens of clergy and worshipers stared at the scene. Max took a deep breath, Listen up you blood sacks! My name is Maxwell Smithson. I am ''The Heretic''. Any questions so far? The people in attendance all shook their heads. Good. Now let me tell you a story. The gods, in their ignorance, made me immortal. The end. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The attendees all nodded. Good. Max said. Don''t make me come back, you won''t like it. He walked out. - - - 4th of Kielat, Funerals started today. I am disgusted at the number of extra small coffins in the processions. I am beyond angry. The town mayor is missing. 6th of Kielat, The funerals are over. The graveyard is almost full. The mayor''s body was found buried in his basement. It had been there for seventy years. Something is going on here... 8th of Kielat, News has filtered in from other provinces. Most are in a state of civil war. For some unholy reason Bjorn is banned from interfering. I am extremely unhappy. I don''t know what to do, where to go next, or anything. Brandywine is frothing at the mouth. Displeased. Exceedingly upset. 10th of Kielat, The Abbot of Bjorn, now high priest, stopped by today and apologized to me. We had an actual discussion. Apparently during his nap he had a realization...epiphany?...of sorts. He didn''t want to talk about it. I didn''t want to know. Religion makes my skin crawl. My pity party is over. We are heading to Barakib next; one hundred seventy three miles; and from there we will follow the above ground road south to the capital city of Louthfield. We will stop in the main cities on the road, and I will Preach my truth. I can''t believe I''m writing those words without it being a joke. 11th of Kielat, We bid farewell to Newleigh this morning. Travel in the mountains is slow and cold. Switchbacks, narrow bridges, rock slides, it''s a wonder anyone actually travels through them. The travelers rests are large caves hewn into the mountain, capable of housing two dozen wagons and their assorted accompaniment. I doubt we will see temps above freezing outside of the mines. 15 miles today. I fear this will be the average. Around another 11 days to go. 12th of Kielat, We are spending tonight at a small clan mine. Beautiful supports in the main shaft. Reinforced stone with mountain pine gilding. We traded news from Newleigh, and stories of our travels. I noticed that the family altar was bare. When I asked, I was told of rumors about militias roaming, and burning out mines of ''The Wrong Religion''. I am reminded of Tristan cursing the Protesters and Cathartic churches ''back home''... Apparently the two religious groups fought several bloody wars. I don''t get why, they were the same religion... 15th of Kielat, Religious militias be damned to the deepest hells. Idiots. - - - The militia was searching the travelers rest. Max and Brandy sat on their wagon, awaiting their turn. As they were finally waived forward, the dwarf in charge started asking questions, What Gods do you follow? Max and Brandy looked at each other for a long moment, before Max replied, Well, that''s a hard one to answer. Are they heading to a church or a bar? If it''s a bar, then that one, obviously. If it''s a church, then probably not. Unless it has exquisite architecture. Brandy launched herself to the ceiling. Looking through half closed eyes, the dwarf responded, You know what I meant, human. Max shrugged, Fine. I follow none of them. Of the hundred or so known gods, I follow none at all. I like Bjorn, and the small god Sarah of Shadow, but the rest can go jump. The dwarf''s eyes bulged, You sound like a follower of the Heretic. You know what we do to the likes of them here? Max sighed, and under his breath muttered, I''m about to find out... We kill them! The dwarf struck, stabbing up under Max''s ribs into his chest. He twisted the blade as he pulled it out. We got one for the burn pile tonight! Brandy alighted on the dwarfs shoulder, You probably shouldn''t have done that... Red blood spilled from the wound, and the dwarf laughed. Brandy smiled as the blood flow slowed over the course of seconds, then stopped. The dwarf jumped down from the wagons running board. He took two step, then looked around as all those around him stopped moving, and stared. What are you lot staring at? We have unbelievers to purge! The surrounding dwarves, militia and not, pointed behind him. He slowly turned too look. In the now silent rest area, the ''Ka-Klick'' was loud. As the dwarf stared at the towering inferno of rage that was Maxwell, time seemed to slow as the boom sounded and the third of an ounce slug of lead flew towards, into, and out the back, of his head. When the echo of the gunshot faded, Maxwell looked around the quiet cave, staring into the faces of all present, Who''s next? Half of the militia screamed and ran for the entrance, the rest dropped to their knees. Brandy? Please make sure the ones who ran are ''helped'' to the bottom of the mountain. In a flash of sparkles, Brandy chased the fleeing dwarves, gleefully laughing. The rest of you fanatics. Max frowned, disgust heavy in his voice, What in Bjorn''s name do you think you are doing? We were--- Max interrupted, Don''t answer that. It was a rhetorical question. Idiot. The dwarf in question mumbled something that vaguely sounded like ''sorry''. From outside, the sound of terrified screams decorated the air. Max spoke again, Listen up you morons! This is how it is. Unless you want to join your friends, I will have you swear by my Friend Bjorn, not to do this kinda shit again. A dwarf, not one of the militia, whispered a little too loudly to his companion, It is. It is him! It''s the Heretic! Max eyed to overly perceptive dwarf. Yes. And? The place went deathly quiet, and Max sighed. I will say this only once, and it is a speech that I''m sure I will have to repeat again, and again. Bugger. He took a deep breath, and started, I am Maxwell the Heretic. Nothing more. I am not a hells cursed god. I am not a prophet. I am just a cursed man. He turned towards the mouth of the ''cave'', Brandy? Have you helped everyone reach the bottom yet? There was a loud scream, followed by, That was the last one! Good. Now get in here and explain, in great detail, that I am not a god, prophet, or any such bollocks. Brandy flew back inside, If you insist. But it''s more fun to watch you do it. 009.1 Humans and Highrises 2 – 2 - Hollie Days So tonight''s game is all about the ''spirit of gifts''. Said Ghondish. Sarah looked up from packing her pack of Llamas, I thought there was no magic in this game. There isn''t. Kocha replied. Ghondish smiled, Exactly. ... The assembled players looked at each other. Hollie Day, the festival of giving is quickly approaching. Gifts are being bought. Snow, a rare occurrence in this part of the country, has dusted the city. Ghondish began. People are singing carols, laughing, and being pleasant. Does that include the ''Karen''s'' of the world? Pendleton asked, squinting across the table at Sarah. Ghondish sighed, Sadly no. There is no power in the universe that can do that. Crap. Mil mumbled. Mil, your former ''Ice Queen'', Penelope, and her children are over for an evening of decoration and small gifts. Well, if I knew about the holiday in advance, I would have bought all the things. Mil said. You did know, and since your income score is more than high enough to cover more than the basics, you are able to do that. Mil smiled, Good. - - - Someone stole The Tree?!? Pendleton almost yelled. I got a Nat 20 to decorate that thing! HOW DARE THEY!!!!! A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Yes. Ghondish replied. They did leave a ''calling card'' of sorts. A name written in yellow, in the snow. Sarah coughed for a moment, Eww, gross. The letters seem to spell out ''Krimcu''. Who the hells is Krimcu? Krimcu is the spirit of Anti-Hollie. Ghondish said. He destroys the spirit of the season, and punishes the happy people. Kocha looked up from playing with his well worn dice, Well screw him. He looked at the rest of the party, Lets find this asshole and show him what it''s like. - - - Ghondish reads from his notes, You find yourself in front of a service garage on the far edge of the HOA grounds. Good thing that elf looking guy squealed on his boss, Otherwise we would be out of luck! Pendleton said. Yeah. Kocha said. All we had to do was have Sarah give him a hug. And I resent having to do that. Said Sarah. Anyway, ''So there you stand, snow blowing across the industrial lights of the small lot.''Ghondish read. What do you do? I approach the people sized door around the side. Mil said, determination in his voice. I''ll take the big rolling door in the front. Sarah and Kocha said at the same time. Pendleton thought for a moment, I''ll backup Mil at the small door. On the count of three, we open the doors. Mil said, then started counting. One, two, three! Ghondish nodded, You all open the doors, and see not the small Hollie tree that you had decorated, but a tree that fills the garage from floor to ceiling. Everyone stared at Ghondish, then Pendleton spoke up, But...but they don''t grow that tall... Around a smile, Ghondish said, It''s the spirit of the Hollie Days. After you gawk for a few moments, you notice dozens and dozens of small packages surrounding the base of the tree. I snap a bunch of pictures with my new fangled Fone. Sarah announced. Then I load them up to my HeadScroll account for all my friends to see! Pendleton vigorously shook his head, ScreecH is the better service. Sarah shook her head, Screech is for the unsophisticated. I investigate the packages. Kocha said, and rolled a D20. 14 plus my bonuses...For a total of 20. Upon closer inspection, there seems to be a package for everyone in the HOA. Even the crotchety Mr. Scranton. Kocha scratched his head, Wow. Mil piped up, Very Wow, Much Amaze. Ghondish laughed. Fifty points for proper slang. - - - You have managed to move the tree out of the garage, and back to it''s proper place in front of the club house. There is much applause from the rest of the resident. Sarah smiled, I start to hand out the colorful packages. I''ll assist! The rest shouted. All''s well that ends well. Ghondish stood up from the table. And here are some packages for each of you. Happy Hollie Days to all of you! Of course, everyone got new dice. 010 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Religion II The Road, Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri 16th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2290 years since the new gods came. When all this is over, I need to have a talk with Bjorn about this non-interference thing of the gods. I''m just one guy. Six more days of travel before we reach Barakib. What other shenanigans will await us there? 17th of Kielat, Tonight''s rest spot had the remains of several wagons, and several graves. We are traveling with a couple three other wagons now. They wanted protection from the militias, and we are more than willing to provide it. We scavenged the destroyed wagons, and then burned them. Sad. The pointless loss of life. I am getting more than a little irate. 20th of Kielat, A section of the road had been blocked by a landslide. We managed to clear it. Two more days, thirty some miles, to Barakib. 21st of Kielat, Tomorrow we will make it to Barakib. The roads, such as they are, are wider in this section, and well maintained. We actually met some of the local guards today. Nice people. Informed them that we cleared a landslide. They were grateful. Barakib had a lockdown after the troubles started. The mayor is more secular than religious, and put the guard to good use. This may be more pleasant than Newleigh. 22nd of Kielat, Barakib. A delightful city of 11,000 souls. There are some non-dwarves in the city. I have been invited into the Mine proper tomorrow. I should probably explain... The Dwarven mine is a combination city/mine/living quarters for the population. Wood is scarce in the mountains, so it is used as decoration as opposed to furniture/fire etc. The city runs on coal for heat, by way of steam pipes. They were the first to have running water that didn''t require magic. The entire place is regulated to a temp of 15-20 degrees, a comfortable temp. The occasional combustible gas cavern is quickly sealed and tapped for the use in lighting. It is very ingenious, if you ask me. Dwarves are an insular people. Not exactly speciesist, but close, it is mainly due to a lack of exposure to the outside world. The average Dwarf doesn''t usually travel much, if any, as almost everything they need in in the mine, or a short distance above ground. Some mines have shafts that lead to nearby mines, but that is the exception, not the rule. Those that dwell mostly on the surface for food production, or who trade with the rest of the world, are almost as respected as the deep miners, or master crafters of the community. Deep miners are a breed apart. They delve into the bowels of the mountain and explore for new places, seams, and other things. Dangerous work. I have arranged a meeting with the Mine Master aka Mayor in the morning. 23rd of Kielat, The meeting was not eventful. The Mine has been in a state of lock-down since the troubles started. The church has had only minor objections. Things seem to be calm so far. I wonder how things really are. Tomorrow I visit the cathedral. I hope Bjorn appreciates all this. 24th of Kielat, Bad day. Assassins. Thugs. Unresponsive clergy. Coup. - - - The knife through the heart didn''t wake Max up, and he awoke with blood covering his bed. Looking around, he found bloody footprints on the floor and followed them, but they disappeared halfway down the hall of the inn. He shook his head and reported the need of cleaning at the front desk, cleaned himself up in the inn''s private bath and headed out for the day. No sun shown in the immense cavern of the mine, but the gas lamps had been turned all the way up. He stopped at a morning vendor and got a ''pulled pork'' sandwich for breakfast. Several block of walking later, he arrived at the modest cathedral that had been carved from the actual stone of the mine (as opposed to being built of blocks). In his opinion it was rather plain, all things considered. He entered the courtyard and looked around. The holy forges were as busy as usual, and no one paid him much mind. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. As he crossed the area, he saw a plinth that had had it''s statue destroyed. When he asked about it, all he got was the undeserving were removed. as an answer. When he made himself known at the front desk, he was hustled to a small waiting room, and was soon taken to the bishop. Max looked at the old, round shouldered dwarf, Master Bishop, I have come to see how things are here in Barakib. Everything is fine here, heretic. I am happy to hear that. Max smiled. I assume then, that I don''t have to give my speech about just being a cursed man who has fallen in with some odd company? Such deception is not needed here for my flock. The bishop said. We all know who and what you are. A twisted pile of flesh, masquerading as a man, even able to somehow twist the mind of our god. If it were within my power, I would rid the world of you myself. That was not at all what I was expecting. Max said, raising both his eyebrows. I don''t suppose there is any way to prove otherwise? The bishop laughed, Prove otherwise? Meh. You are a cursed demon spawn who aspires to godhood! There is no test that you could fail! Therefore, we rebuke you in the name of Bjorn, and all the other Gods! The Bishop hurled a ball of holy water at Max. It splashed across Max''s face, and ran down the front of his clothes. Nothing else happened. Gods curse you, Demon of the Abyss! Get the behind me! The bishop threw another ball of holy water. Again it splashed across Max''s face, and ran down his shirt. Max just shook his head, You know, if I had realized I would be getting a bath here, I wouldn''t have bathed at my Inn this morning. The bishop began to froth at the mouth, GET THEE OUT YOU BASE CREATURE OF THE DEEP! BE THEE GONE FROM THIS PLACE! He began to shake. Then his eyes bulged, and the color slowly drained from his face. He fell off his chair with a crash, and lay still. Shit. Max stared at the dead dwarf, HELP! The bishop has fallen! Moments later the room was filled with lay preachers and guards. Max was shoved to the side, and eventually escorted from the cathedral. *-*-* Demon lands The demon Lord lay on his throne, back laying on the seat, legs extended up the thrones back. How goes our little civil war? My Lord, the Heretic has only caused a small amount of disturbance so far. Newleigh is a loss. Our agent there fled as soon as the Heretic raised his head in the ''Devils Night'' assault. Vtev said. Where did you get the name Devils Night''? Oh, there was a publication I found when I was searching through one of the losers castles. The ''Detret Time'' I believe it was called. The demon lord replied. It looked like fun, fire and explosions everywhere. There was also a picture of a raven... Humans. As if the real world wasn''t scary enough, they have to make things up. Yes. A truly deplorable species. The demon lord rolled off his throne, landing in a standing position facing Vtev. It will be good to finally get rid of them. Did you know their original god abandoned them? Something about them being unfit for service? I did not. No wonder they submit to all those weak gods. Vtev answered. Back to the war, where is the Heretic now? He is causing our agents some trouble in Barakib. He survived the assassin''s knife. Earlier this week he had his fairy slave throw a group of our militia off some cliffs. Vtev replied. Now he seems to have driven the Bishop of Barakib to having a heart attack. Our informant in the church has made the attack deadly. Good, good. The Demon Lord smiled. What faction will be assuming the bishops post? I am unsure. Our agent said he was trying to nudge them towards another member of the Anti-Heretic faction, but while plentiful, they don''t have enough high members to be able to truly assume control. Unfortunate. Yes my lord. Vtev cocked his head to one side listening to something, then smiled. News has just been relayed, the Anti-Heretic faction has started a Coup! They are ''cleansing'' the cathedral of all non Anti-Heretic individuals. The Demon Lord smiled. This is getting better and better. *-*-* Maxwell had been walking for under an hour when he felt an uncomfortable ''cramp'' like sensation in his head. He glanced around, and when his eyes fell on the tallest cathedral tower, it went away. He looked left, and the ''cramp'' returned. I get it. I get it. He mumbled, setting off for the cathedral at a dead run. It took him less time than he thought it should, and he arrived at the now closed and barred gates in what would have been a record time, if anyone had noticed. He pounded on the gate several times with his fist, before drawing his sword. He stabbed the gate through the only crack he could find in the wood, twisted the blade a few degrees, and cut himself a doorway. As the chunk of gate fell inward with a small push Max saw blood. The main courtyard was awash in blood. Blood on the ground. Blood on the walls. Blood on the benches. Blood on the gate. As Max took a breath, the iron and copper smell of dwarven blood hung thick in the air. He could hear the sound of battle emanating from from all around. He chose a direction at random, and charged. A path to the right. A door he cut through. A short flight of stairs. Another door, chopped open. The barracks. There were bodies everywhere. Dwarves in disheveled uniforms were facing off against each other, one side outnumbered three to one. Max leaned against the door frame in which he stood, and called out, What in the hells do you thing you''re doing?!? The fighting stopped, as all of the combatants looked over to him. The larger group with rage in their eyes, the smaller group with hope. KILL THE HERETIC! Someone yelled and a third of the large group broke off, and charged. Maxwell parried and thrust like a madman, and still took what would have been deadly wounds for anyone else. He mentally cursed himself for his lack of proper maintenance training, and swore to get back to it soon. When the pile of bodies at his feet grew to half the number of his original attackers, he stepped back. ENOUGH! He dropped his sword point down, and the tip sank several inches into the stone floor. He cupped his hands together in front on him, quietly said a few words, then flung his arms apart. The semicircle of opponents didn''t even have time to scream as the white flame of his magic burned through them. The barracks went deathly still. I am sick of this needless bloodshed! He looked daggers at all of the dwarves. What is wrong with you? The two sides looked at each other, then back at Max. Murder? Max took a step forward. In These holy halls? A second step forward. Are you stupid? Another step forward. Are you stupid? Another step. Are you Demons? Another step. Are you trying to desecrate Everything Bjorn stands for? Another step. I ask again, What in the Abyss is going on?!? TO BE CONTINUED!!!!! 011 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Coup The middle of a Coup in the Cathedral of Bjorn; Barakib, Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri 24th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2290 years since the new gods came. The two sides looked at each other, then back at Max. Murder? Max took a step forward. In These holy halls? A second step forward. Are you stupid? Another step. Are you THAT stupid? Another step. Are you Demons? Another step. Are you trying to desecrate Everything Bjorn stands for? Another step. I ask again, What in the Abyss is going on?!? A mere five or six feet from the two groups, Max shook out his arms, then pointed at the nearest ''Heretic Hater''. You. What. Is. Going. On? I don''t fear you, Heretic! I will see---. Max made a gesture with his pointing hand, and the dwarf exploded into chunks. NEXT. Max pointed at another member of the same group, You. Answer me. My faith is strong. I will never---. Another gesture from Max, and chunky dwarf chum was made. They are of the Anti-Heretic faction within the church, dearest Prophet. One of the dwarves from the losing side said with a shallow bow. They have started a Coup. Bugger. Max looked up to the ceiling, and raised his voice, Alright jackass! You want me to kill them all? Because that''s what I''m about to do here! The group of dwarves inhaled sharply. For a moment nothing happened, then a deep, low voice echoed through the room, I would that you spare my children, old friend of mine. All of the dwarves fell to their knees and wept. Fine. You owe me a keg for this! Max yelled at the ceiling. There was no response. Stupid gods. Stupid coup. Stupid religions. He waited, left foot tapping the floor, for the dwarves to compose themselves. It took a while, but they eventually did. Listen up you lot. We need to end this shit. And end it now. Max looked over the assembled group. Are you with me? Or will you fail your god again with your petty squabbles? The guards, seeming together again, saluted. Okay. Good. Lets go wreck some idiots. Max led them deeper into the cathedral. Try not to kill anyone? I don''t want to listen to Bjorn cry about it, like he did when the Ungle mine collapsed. He shook his head, and under his breath added, That was two weeks of him moping around my bakery, and drinking the bar dry. - - - It took over three hours to settle down the coup. The death toll among the clergy and guards was a staggering 247 dead or injured. Maxwell let his anger be known by yelling and swearing at the full assembly of dwarves, almost all of whom had been tied up. The cathedral''s Nave had never heard such language come from the lectern. You are all stupid morons! What in the '' The assemblage had started by just looking at him, anger in most eyes, but as his tirade continued, including such insults as Half-men, Grit Sucker, Short stack, Rat-kin fornicators and the like, their eyes started growing wider and wider, until Maxwell actually noticed. What? What are you looking at? One of the guards from his first encounter pointed behind Max, Um...Look behind you? Max turned and narrowed his eyes. Where his shadow should have been was the oversized shadow of a very recognizable Dwarf. Oh. You. Next time I see you, I''m kicking you so hard in the left nut, that your bishops, priests and deacons will feel it for weeks! A cold, gravelly laugh echoed from the back of the gathering, and a large dwarf stood up, the ropes falling from his form. He approached the lectern, stretching his large muscles. You are going to die by my hand today, Heretic. And I am going to eat your soul. The dwarf removed a ring from his left pinkie and let it drop to the floor. He slowly grew to three times his previous size, skin turning a sickly pale, and scales running over his entire body. His hands grew several more joints, and claws sprouted from each fingertip. His face flattened, and nose sank into the flesh leaving behind an empty slit. His mouth opened fully and revealed a double ring of sharp needle teeth, graced by a multi forked tongue. As the demon''s aura settled over the assemblage Max sagged into the lectern. You''re new around here, aren''t you. He said, drawing both of his old revolvers, marked Colt Army Model 1860" on the barrels, and on the bottom of each grip, in a stilted hand was scrawled "For Max, T. I will rip your heart from your breast, and eat it in front of your eyes! The demon bellowed. I will rap--- In quick succession the revolvers spoke, BOOM! BOOM! The demon staggered back a few steps, black blood began to pour from the pair of wounds in the front and back of it''s chest. The blood sizzled where it hit the floor. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. You... You think that is enough to kill me? The demon coughed up a mouthful of blood. You will nev--- The paired revolvers spoke again. Bits of demon skull and brain spattered across the nearest dwarves. The demon''s body fell to the stones, sizzled there for a short while, then dissolved. And stay down. *-*-* Our agent in Barakib has gone silent? No, my lord Vtev replied. They have died. At the hands of the Heretic. Oh...Splendid... The Demon Lord let out a long suffering sigh. Contact the rest of our agents. Institute part three of the plan. We need to really kick things off now, before that idiot interferes any more. Yes my lord. Vtev paused for a moment. Do you think this will cause us difficulty down the road? I don''t think so. Humans are much easier to subvert than dwarves. The Lord answered. But just in case, once the conflict has started, recall all of our agents from the dwarven kingdoms, give them a few weeks off, then retrain them for the human kingdoms. Not Demonia. I plan to take care of them myself. Very good, my lord. Vtev smiled. And this is why I gave up the throne for Him. He may be weak of body, but his mind shines brightly, like the morning''s first star. *-*-* 25th of Kielat, It''s over. Several clerics and guards have gone to prison. I will NOT be the judge. I was asked, and said no. I refuse to be some sort of religious figure who decides someones fate. Screw that. We will be leaving in a couple of days. Fast couriers were sent to other mines with details of the Coup. 27th of Kielat, It''s a total of 311 miles to Brigh. With 15 miles traveled today, that''s about 19 days left. Where''s my vacation? 30th of Kielat, Remains of a battle on the road today. We buried the dead and dumped the rubbish off the cliff. So many wasted lives. I am become more certain that religion is pointless. 31st of Kielat, A rockslide; a rockslide with trees mixed in; and a number of fallen trees with rocks mixed in. Barely six miles today. At least they seemed naturally occurring, as opposed to manufactured. No bodies found. 32nd of Kielat, An almost strait road today. Complete with a low wall on the outer side of the cliff. It lasted for 5 miles, and stopped as suddenly as it started. Strange. Fifteen more days. 34th of Kielat, We met a caravan going the other way. Took a bit to go around each other, but everyone made it. I am vaguely tempted to come back and use an earth moving spell to widen these roads, but I don''t think I want to spend three hundred some days doing it. 37th of Kielat, Ten more days. It has been ''smooth sailing'' these last three of days. Glad of that. 42nd of Kielat, A Pro-Heretic militia? What in the ever loving... - - - Look, while I suppose I appreciate your ''assistance'', just stop. Max looked at the 40 odd dwarves. Seriously. Just do what Bjorn says, and leave me out of it. Your lordship--- a dwarf''s dwarf looking fellow named Volkner started to say. No. Max stared at the dwarf, No means No. That''s the end of it. Very well, your lordship. Max walked back to his wagon, shaking his head. Brandy was training the fluffball of a kitten to be a ''War Mount''. These people are morons. Brandy looked up from the kitten, who was already as large as an adult cat, I keep telling you to just kill them all. And I keep telling you that I don''t need that kind of attention. Max responded, Besides, my wife wants me to find someone ''suitable''. I can''t do that if I scare everyone away, He took a breath, and the sort of woman that behavior attracts is not the kind of woman I''m looking for. I''m told they can be fun in be--- SHUT UP. - - - 47th of Kielat, Tomorrow we will arrive at Brigh. While the scenery is beautiful, my appreciation of the view is waning. 48th of Kielat, Morning Fire in a mine is a useful thing. An uncontrolled fire in a mine is a catastrophe. - - - Maxwell, the members of the caravan they were leading, and the forty odd dwarves who were ''no longer'' a pro-heretic militia ran. Not far ahead they could see black smoke rising from the city of Brigh. Brandy, on her steed of war, had flown ahead to scout. When she returned, she had bad news to report. There are dead all over the streets. The above ground city is...on fire? Char? Destroyed? She took a deep breath. Meanwhile her mount, Puff the war kitten, cleaned his ear, seemingly undisturbed by the flying. It''s bad. I didn''t try to reach the mine proper. They ran on. As the ruins of the city loomed closer, the bodies of dwarves who had tried to flee became evident on the road. Most had been shot by arrows, but some had large ragged claw marks across their backs. Max stopped to investigate the marks, and stood up, cussing. Demons. Thrice cursed demons. The gathered dwarves took and involuntary step back. Are you sure, lo...Master Smith? Volkner asked. I''ve seen it too often to mistake it for anything else. Max turned back to the city, We need to run. Every second will count if they''re still here and hunting! Sadly, they arrived too late to save the city itself, but spent several hours rescuing the living, the injured, and accounting for the dead. Finally, as evening closed in and the injured started to die from their wounds, Max stood up strait and looked to the heavens. Alright. Fine. I Need a Favor! He took a long deep breath, then spoke, Goddess of tranquility! I cannot heal them all myself! I have run out of strength. Please, come and heal this multitude of your brothers followers! A soft wind blew, the smoke curled, and from the smoke stepped the goddess. She was immaculate, in an ivory dress bedecked in lace and pearls, black tresses flowing down her back in a pearl infused intricate braid. The only blemish in her looks were her red, puffy eyes, and the tears streaming down her cheeks. Master Maxwell. She nodded to Max, I most sincerely apologize, but I am Required to not fulfill your request. She bowed her head, Really, I am sorry. The smoke engulfed her, and she was gone. Face red and frown fully installed, Max looked around. Go figure. Useless. Another deep breath, and he yelled. Gather the wounded in as close as you can to each other. The assemblage followed his orders, even as some of the wounded expired. Once the wounded, and a few of the dead, were gathered close, Max again yelled, Grab hands in a circle. Yes, even you Brandywine. Brandy, still astride her ''War Mount'' complied. Hands were held. Max concentrated. His weakened bubble of power slowly rose to the surface of his conscious mind. He felt those around him, and began to draw from them as well. Brandy''s bright green, and the earth tones of the dwarves, he made them his own. Unbeknownst to him a whisp of a touch of shadow had also entered the mix. Unknown words of power flowed from his lips, and he fell to the ground, unconscious. - Maxwell awoke to see the ceiling of a tent. He arose, and stepped from the tent into the gloom of a smoke filled morning. As he stretched, he noted hundreds of dwarves gawking at him. He looked around, then in a very startled voice yelled, Brandy!!! 012 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Brigh Destroyed city of Brigh, Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri. 49th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2290 years since the new gods came. Brandy!!!! Max yelled at the top of his lungs. Brandy quickly appeared from around the tent, What do you want, MORON? Why is everyone staring at me? Perhaps because you mass healed some six hundred people yesterday? Maybe you also brought a couple of them back from death''s door? Brandy replied, dancing in the air just out of reach, You kinda looked like a god for a moment there! I will cut you! Brandy flew away. - Cleanup continued for several more hours, and the mine entrance itself was finally uncovered. Alright, it''s open. Who is willing to go into the depths with me? Max asked the assembled workers, some of whom he was sure were dead yesterday. A few hands were in the midst of being raised when the voice of Volkner spoke from the back. No. None of you have the experience to handle this. I will go with the Heretic, alone. The dwarf''s dwarf walked to the front. Max looked him up and down, You were a Delver? Correct, Master Smith. I will mark the way, and you will follow me down. Hopefully we''re not too late to save some of our brethren. Not my brethren, but whatever works for him, Max thought. Let''s go. As they entered the partially collapsed entrance to the mine, the pair started listening for sounds of movement, rhythmic noises that nature wouldn''t make, and anything else that would be out of the ordinary. In several spots they had to lay flat and slide under fallen stones where the ceiling had collapsed. As they finally arrived at the mine proper, they heard the hissing sound of gas escaping a pipe. The gas combusted into a ball of fire for a minute, then burned out. That''s actually a good thing. Volkner said, If it wasn''t sparking off on something, this whole place would kill us. As it is, I''m impressed the venting system is still working, keeping the air breathable. Max nodded, straining his ears in an attempt to hear even the slightest of noises. Hours passed, with nothing but the sound of the occasional gas line hissing, and the occasional air vent blowing cool dry air into the mine. The pair stopped for a bite to eat, and spoke quietly. That was about a third of the mine. No signs of life. Volkner said. Yup. Max kept his eyes roving the area for movement of any kind. Why are we not calling out? So as not to attract the ghosts of the lost. Volkner said between bites of dried meat. They seek the voices of searchers, and try to drag them to where they died. No joke? Not superstition? Max asked. Not at all. I''ve seen it with my own eyes. Volkner took a drink of water. I''ve chased Delvers who go looking for lost loved ones, and found them having been pulled through holes too small for them to fit. When we finally got them out, their dead loved one was on the other side. That...that is a little creepy. Yes. So we use our ears, and nose, and hands to preform the search. Volkner said. I''m surprised you have kept up so well. Aren''t humans mostly night blind? ...well, yes.Max said, not having noticed the lack of lights, Usually we are... They left their lunch spot and concentrated on their work. More hours passed, finding no survivors. Finally they stopped for the last meal before heading out of the mine. Alright. We''ve searched enough of the mine for me to have come to the conclusion that this was an act of war, not an accident, or anything self done. Volkner said. How can you tell? Max asked, Bjorn never talked about how his people made war on each other. You truly did meet our lord, didn''t you? Yup. Took him drinking for his birthday once. He got more drunk than I did that night. Max smiled at the memory from so long ago. Those were fun days... Alright then... Volkner coughed, then continued, If you look at the ceiling, way up there, He handed Max a viewing scope, You''ll see that some of the cracks are much to regular to be natural. In other cracks you will see the char that remains from mining charges that didn''t completely consume themselves. I see them. And the last proof. Is that no one mines UP in the main shaft. It''s much too dangerous. Volkner said. - - - 49th of Kielat, This day is shit, shit and more shit. No survivors underground. We have about six hundred souls rescued from the city above. Total population of the city and mine would have been over fifteen thousand. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The shaft leading to where the attack came from had been collapsed as well, and I bet the fire was set above to make any rescue attempt fail. I did smell one thing down below that I didn''t tell Volkner. I smelled demons. Some survivors have already left, heading to the mines of family and friends. We will be leading the remaining refugees to the next mine big enough to take them in. My anger burns in my soul. 50th of Kielat, I used the sending stone to speak to Demonia. Sending stones have been ''re-branded'' Calling Stones. Weird. So I guess I called Demonia. I got the answers I needed, not the ones I wanted. - - - Gilip, Demonia''s Capital City; Citadel of Parliament; Communications Room. The acolyte of communication 1st grade, Heretic Division, sat at the Rock Board. He made connections, switched out stones, and rematches them with others, completing calls. Only occasionally did he listen in to the more ''important'' calls. He nearly jumped from his chair when an alarm went off. No, not an alarm, THE Alarm went off. He ran for the back room, not bothering with the lock on the door, he knocked the door frame out of the wall and stepped up to the holy alter. He stumbled through the quick prayer, hoping it would be enough to keep the Heretics wrath from consuming his soul, and answered the stone. Yes, Master Heretic? Finally. Someone who isn''t an Idiot. Maxwell said from the other end of the call. I need to know if Demonia is responsible for the Demons in the Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri? Um, no? The acolyte responded. At least I''m fairly sure we aren''t. What''s your name, son? Alexander? Alexander the acolyte replied. Fine, Alex, how do you not know if you guys are responsible or not? Well, your Hereticness, I''m the Rock Board engineer for the parliament during the day and evening shift, Alex began, and occasionally I may have listened in to some of the calls between high ranking officers in intelligence and members of the separate organizations? So...Whatever stone boards are... You can listen to the private conversations of everyone in the government? Yes sir? ...splendid... Maxwell rolled his eyes. Have you heard anything about a batch of demons in the western mountains? Um... Our tracking systems only monitor the local five hundred mile stretch of the demon wastes, so we have no conformation past that. Alex paused for a moment and removed a ''Heretic Approved'' notebook from his personal (and illegal in the Rock Room) dimensional pocket, and looked through it. According to my notes, about a hundred and twenty years ago there was a spike in demonic energy in the far wastes, but that signal disappeared before we could launch a reconnaissance patrol to the area. ...um...okay... Past that, we have only been receiving reports from agents in Hasandri about the troubles starting and the current state of affairs. Alex took a deep breath, As Bjorn is a friend of yours, we have been doing our best to support the ''Prophet'' and ''Normal Guy'' factions with money and non-military assistance. ...I will take you at face value, Mr. Alexander. Maxwell said. Next time I''m in Demonia, I''ll take you out for a drink. Max ended the call. Alexander stared at the stone. If I could tell my mom about this call, she would forever be proud of me! He put his notebook away, and slowly walked back to the now renamed ''Stone Board'', when a hoard of high level representatives burst into the room, demanding access to ''The'' sending stone. - - - The ruins of Brigh, 51st of Kielat, Two hundred fifty miles to the next mine, Warton. Everyone is ready to leave in the morning. Everyone is treating me like some sort of god. I hate this. We leave in the morning. ...All that having been said, I need to have words with the actual gods. With what I know now, there are some questions I need answered... 52nd of Kielat, At ten miles a day, this group being so big and unprepared, it will take us twenty five days to make it to Warton. They all act like a god is walking among them. I asked them to stop genuflecting. It didn''t work. I''m going to...I don''t know what I''m going to do. Vacation! A thousand years this time. That should be enough time for them to forget all this... bollocks. 55th of Kielat, Tonight is the night. I will sneak out of the camp, and make my case to the idiots and assholes. - - - Max rounded the last tent, and let out the breath he hadn''t known he had been holding. Freedom! Then he heard the soft sound of wing as Brandy landed on his shoulder. Heretic Land has gone silent. I asked the rock board operator from Bligh. Nothing since just after midwinter. I''ll add it to the bottom of the list of things people think I should deal with. Max replied. Anyway, not my business. I gave that place to what''s his name. He can...his...kid can deal with it. What if he can''t? Then when I visit sometime in the next millennia, I will have a look. Brandy gave him a sour look. Really? Yes. I have to ask the idiots a few questions. You can help. The ''Idiots''? Not the idiots in camp? Yup. Do you think they''ll listen? They better. Max stopped climbing, having reached a small piece of mostly flat ground. Otherwise things are going to get messy. He placed an old cookbook on the ground and went looking for a few ingredients. *-*-* Celestial Realm; Council chamber of the Twelve. He wants some of us to come down and talk to him? Aaroness, god of the Sea, complained to the seated council of twelve. I will be going. Narissa, goddess of Tranquility, replied. Good job you did with the crying when you showed yourself to him this last time. Trixie, goddess of Deception, said. It wasn''t an act. Narissa said, cold entering her voice. Whatever. Said Trixie. If you weren''t my half cousin twice removed, I would strike you down. Fire boiled in Narissa''s eyes. Bjorn looked up from his notes, That''s enough ladies. The goddesses in question looked at Bjorn''s sleep deprived form, and quieted their ongoing feud over some man from three thousand years back, that neither had been able to tempt away from his lover, and blamed each other''s interference for.* How do you think he is going to try and call us? Xames, god of ''Love'', asked. Do you think he''s stupid enough to try and use one of those stupid stones of his? Bjorn looked up, Um, actually...I do have one of his ''stupid stones''. Xames looked at Bjorn, Of course you do. I wouldn''t expect anything else from you, doting on that mortal so much. He''s better company than you lot. Bjorn retorted, At least he says what he means, and means what he says. Although I''m not looking forwards to the kick in the nuts. You would actually let him do that? Iladin, goddess of the Afterlife, asked. Seriously? How many times did you have to separate him from fighting your guards after told them not to do something, and they did it anyway? Maximilian, god of War, asked. Let''s not talk about that, okay? Iladin softly said. Exactly. Mil smiled. *-*-* Maxwell propped the old cookbook on a large rock he had manhandled into place at the edge of the flat spot on the mountainside. He began chanting the ritual at ten minutes past midnight, because screw the gods. The chant only lasted a few minutes. *-*-* The council of Twelve, rulers of the New Gods, felt a wind suck at their immortal souls. They looked at one another, and screamed as they vanished one by one. - In the public viewing gallery, the assembled gods didn''t have a chance to scream as they were ripped en-mass from the gallery, and scattered across the mortal realm like detritus in a storm. - Ghondish and Sarah looked at the ceiling in the barn''s common room, feeling a tug they hadn''t felt in millennia. What in the hells? They said at the same time, before they vanished. - The small gods, enjoying a light snack of popped corn, merrily watched the the chaos ensuing on the mortal plane. *-*-* Max sat down on a log (also manhandled into place) and waited for a response to the ritual. He didn''t expect it to work properly. He didn''t expect it to work at all. He''d read it to himself several times before speaking it aloud. He''d burned the herbs. He''d charred the meat. He...may have overdone it on the blood, but what can you do? The ritual''s instructions did say that mortals could only suggest that a god or two show up, so he was surprised when the 16 most powerful gods appeared on the small mountainside flat spot. * He had no interest in either of them because he was actually gay. 013 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Old Mountain Road The road between the destroyed city of Brigh and Warton. Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri. 15 minutes after midnight, the morning of the 56th of Kielat, First month of Summer. 2290 years since the new gods came. Maxwell looked at the assemblage of very surprised and angry gods, shook his head, and started speaking. Look you lot of Idiots! I don''t know why you all volunteered to come, but now that you''re here, you are bound to listen until I am done. Ghondish and Sarah felt the words attempt to hook their souls, but barely catch in their skin. They looked at each other, and shared a smile, This was going to be good! The rest of the gods screamed. The mountains shook. The sky split open and wailed. Rocks and trees for miles around were thrown from the mountains. Then there was silence. Are you ALL really that big of drama queens? Maxwell asked, staring at the assemblage. Brandy took that moment to poke her head above Max''s shoulder and whisper in his ear, You chose the wrong ritual, you used the one for mortals, not demigods. Max looked at the assemblage, and hissed, I''m NOT a demigod. Sure you aren''t. Better make this good. Brandy hissed back. Max faced the assemblage of gods, Alright, I know some of you, and don''t really care to know the rest. Now here is what I see from my little mortal perch: You lot haven''t been doing your jobs. Gasps and sounds of outrage sounded from the crowd, and several angry gods started to move forward. Stop your posturing, you idiots! Max yelled. There are demons all over! Where did they come from? Who didn''t notice the demon lord show up? Because you had to know one would show up eventually! Several gods looked around for Narissa, the goddess of Tranquility, who''s job it was to keep the demon threat at bay. She was standing in the back, looking a little sheepish. I looked! He went to ground somewhere, and then disappeared! You think any of you can find him? Be my guest! Several gods looked into the distance, casting forth to find the missing demon lord. After a few minutes, everyone turned back to Maxwell. What do you suggest, Mortal? Asked Thaeyr, god of Miracles. Do you have some grand scheme to fix the problem of demons? Is this the reason why you have so brashly summoned us here? Actually, I called for you to ask what in the hells is wrong with you? Max said. Why can''t Bjorn interfere with his church going to hell in a hand-basket? It''s his hells damned church! Why couldn''t Tranquility cure the injured people I asked her to help? He tried to keep the anger from his voice, and mostly succeeded. And what the hells is that Goat doing here? All eyes turned to Ghondish, who was chewing a can of tinned meat, and Sarah, who was in the midst of lighting a Llama cigarette. Ghondish spat out the can, What? I just wanted to see what all the yelling was all about. And Sarah thought it would be fun to watch. Max groaned. For the love of... Mortal Maxwell, We, the Gods of this realm, owe you No explanation for our actions or inaction. It is not for you to know, or understand. Aaroness of the Sea said. We owe you nothing. Not respect. Not love. Not attention. Not answers. We will give you no satis--- The revolvers, suddenly in Maxwell''s hands, discharged. Boom. Aaroness fell to the ground, whimpering in pain. Any more stupid comments? A hubbub of words and noise came from the gods, as they talked around and over one another. Finally, the voice of Esmeralda, goddess of Wisdom, was able to make herself heard over the angry crowd. Everyone! Shut up! Quiet soon followed. Max nodded to Esmeralda, Thank you Ma''am, I guess you''re forgiven for the book. Firstly, young man, a bit of decorum. Esmeralda took on a lecturing tone, and Maxwell wilted a little under her glare, Demigods are to ASK their elders for advice and wisdom, not summon them en-mass from their homes. I''m not a demigod. Yes you are. Suck it up. Esmeralda said, then returned to the topic at hand. An ancient contract set down by our ancestors blocks us from direct interference in the affairs of our followers, except in the most dire of circumstances. Second, it Also blocks us from directly interfering with each others followers. If you had actually studied the book I gave you, you would know all this, and wouldn''t waste your questions on simple to find answers. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Max''s jaw dropped. Third, as your worshiper in Demonia told you, the demon lord contact was, through no fault of her own, lost to sister Narissa. Protocols demand the Demon Lord be active on the field to summon Heroes from the other realm for assistance. Max picked his jaw off the ground, and nodded. Lastly, Ghondish answered you. You are out of questions. Now unless you have more to say, we will be leaving. Actually, there is one more thing I wanted to tell you. Max said, knees trembling, All of this, he waived to the mountains, is the fault of the demon lord. I smelled his kind in the mine of Brigh. They brought it down. I also fought a demon who had disguised himself as a dwarf. Pretending to be a cleric of Bjorn! Bjorn growled, raised his axe, and buried it in a nearby stone. For all that''s... Damn it all! Protocol and contract be damned! Maximilian ''Mil'', god of War, and Narissa, prudently stepped away from their cousin. I will cleanse that blight from my people! Bjorn disappeared in a puff of forge smoke. Maybe I won''t kick him it lefty after all... Max said to no one in particular. Okay. I''m done. Get lost the lot of you. Several flashes of light, bolts of lightning, and cracks of thunder later, Maxwell was mostly alone on the mountainside. Narissa, Mil, and Sarah stared hard at Maxwell. Sarah spoke first of the three, I know the demons dwell in the darkness under a western mountain. I suggest you start your search there. The shadows rose around her, and she was gone. Mil spoke second, There will be a war between men before this is done. I will not intercede on any sides behalf. Then he winked at Max, And I would avoid the sea for a few centuries, if I were you. The sounds of battle crashed across the gathering, and he was gone. Last to speak was Narissa, I will summon heroes three, for you to teach and lead. She disappeared in a burst of dazzling lights. ...well crap... Max said into the dark night. - - - 56th of Kielat, I''m on the lookout for three ''heroes'' from the other realm. I hate this. And the worst part? I brought this on myself. When will I learn not to mess with politics OR religion? That elf guy from Heretics hold showed up again. Turns out he had a marriage proposal for me. I''ll read it in the morning. I don''t care what that witch said, I''m NOT a demigod. 3rd of Amsiel, second month of Summer, I''m still worming my way through the marriage contract. Who in the hells writes 243 pages of contract? I think I''ll write my own, and see how they like it. My only real question is why does the name look so familiar?? 4th of Amsiel, The elf has taken my one page contract to his employer. I''m still looking for the ''heroes''. I''m getting impatient. We are experiencing small earthquakes on a daily basis, and have slowed our pace to a crawl of five miles a day. I still don''t care what that witch said, I''m NOT a demigod. At least the people here have stopped worshiping me. 5th of Amsiel, I dislike traveling in the rain. The first ''Hero'' has been found. She''s a dark beauty, and a handful of danger. *-*-* 1879, southern Africa... It had been thirteen springs since Nomvula had been born, and she was certain she would never see another day. The cursed English were at the gates. A tear ran down her cheek as she raised her grandfather''s shield and spear and marched to the front of the village. She raised the oval shield and readied the spear, as the English marched up the dusty road. She regretted that she would never participate in her own Umemulo and become a woman. She wished the rain would fall once more. She never saw the bullet that smashed through her shield. Never felt it as it pierced her heart. Never heard the screams of her fellows as they died. - She awoke, clothing soaked in blood. The first sensation she felt was the cold ground under her. The second was the rain on her face. She opened her eyes. The view before her was amazing, and terrifying. She saw the world stretched out in front of her. Tiny trees and rocks far away, and a road not far below. Above there were mountains, huge and majestic. The rain slowly died out, and the cold wind blew more harshly. *-*-* Curator V. L. of the ''Heretic Collection'' here again to impart some information to the reader. In the beginning of the troubles, before they left, the Old Gods made it possible for Heroes from other worlds to come to ours when help was needed. Originally the Heroes were just dumped and given the occasional sign from the gods to direct them forwards. The New Gods took the Old Gods designs and made up their own, ''new'' version, that allowed the Heroes to understand things a bit better. The current system integrates itself in the Hero''s mind, and is perceived in a fashion that most benefits the Hero. This works better in some situations than in others. *-*-* A piece of hide appeared in her vision, covered in black scratches resembling the marks a chicken left in the dirt. She ignored it. After a few moments it dissolved, and a friendly feminine voice spoke in her mind, What would you be? A warrior who fights, a thrower of lightning and fire, or one who prays to the gods and receives their power? Make your choice. She arrested her climb, and thought for a moment, What sort of magic is this? Am I losing my mind? Choose. The voice prompted again. Nomvula spoke aloud, Given the choice, strange voice in my head, I choose the way of the spear and shield. The path of violence. The world around her seemed to shimmer for a moment, then return to normal. Very well. The voice answered her. As she climbed down she found a spear and a shield, neither of her tribes making, but both functional in their own way. She collected them and continued down the slope. The road was a wonder. It lead along the mountainside, seemingly built out of it. She chose the left hand direction, and walked to keep herself warm. Several hours of walking had passed when she heard the sound of feet on the road, and around the nearest bend in front of her, she saw the conveyances of the English. Wagons. - Maxwell saw the girl standing in the road. Dark skinned like the northerners, and with the bones and sinew of a runner. He stopped the caravan, and walked forward. This. This is probably the first of the supposed heroes. Such is my life. As he approached, the young woman raised her shield, and pointed her spear at his chest. - As the dirty Englishman approached, Nomvula planted her feet and raised the shield and spear. I will kill you, English. I will pierce your heart, and throw your corpse from this road! The Englishman stopped, removed his shirt, and pointed to where his heart was, Lets just get this over with. Stab me here. Make it swift and powerful. I don''t have time to waste. Nomvula''s approach was rapid, just as she had been taught, her lunge was true. She speared the Englishman straight through the heart, then withdrew the spear. A perfect kill. Just then a curious thought came to her mind, I understood what he said. But that wasn''t My language. Nice stab kid. The man''s voice spoke from the ground. Should have been half a finger higher to avoid chipping the point on the rib, and two fingers to your left to get the center of the heart. The Englishman stood up. I give you a passing grade. You won''t be so lucky next time. Nomvula stared at the man, at his chest, which while covered in blood, had no wound. She looked up and stared into the deep pools of his blue gray eyes, eyes that seamed to say ''I have died more than you ever will, and seen more than any should.'' The stress of everything that had passed finally caught up to her, and she fainted. - Well, that could''ve been worse. Max said, as he picked the girl up and carried her to the wagon. Book 1 Teaser: The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – rewrite of Chapter 1 – The Immortal Blacksmith V.L. Xxx? I don''t know what day it is. I think it''s been a week since I left home and grabbed my chest. I miss my wife. [Puke stain] [Gibberish and spilled ink for three pages] ?? then I punched the idiot in the face. [Coffee stain?] I got drunk last night and threw myself in the river. Woke up sober on the shore. Wet and penniless. [water stains, ink splotches] Got stabbed to death last night at a bar. I don''t remember what one. Woke up in a garbage heap. ?? What day is it? Woke up with the biggest hangover yet. I''m going to the big temple today. - - - They have some nice stuff on display here! Max took a swig from his flask of rot-gut. Nice armor, high level craftsmanship. Several beautiful swords. I can''t wait to see the rest of the place. Max spent the next several hours admiring the temple''s architecture, relics, and wall hangings. As he walked the tour guide went on explaining each piece, and talking about how great Maximilian was to have as a god. The longer he walked, the more Max drank. The more he drank, the worse his mood got, until finally the tour was over. I''ve seen the entire thing. Burp. I wonder how hard it would be to sneak in and steal something? It''s not like the gods are going to notice that something is gone... Much later that evening, a very drunk Maxwell walked into the temple. ''scuse me, good sir, he said to a statue in the main room, where''s the alter thingy? The statue didn''t answer. He took a hammer out of his bag, and smacked the statue in the face. The statue''s head exploded into bits, and he ran in a random direction. Never had a head do that before... His random choice of directions carried him past worried priests and guards, as he yelled the bugger went that way! they ran past him towards the noise. When he stopped, panting, he looked up and saw a sword. This one hadn''t been on the tour. It was a dark crimson red, and looked to be covered in flowing blood. He smiled as he took it down from it''s stand, and made his way out a side door. ??? What the hell did I do last night? I have a sword sticking out of my leg. Stupid thing hurts like hell. Into the chest it goes. I apparently need more booze in my flask. This thing never ran out before...Better buy a keg. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. [several pages of puke stains] ??? Ugh. Pain. Sleep now. ??? My whole body hurts. Some lucky bastard stole the ''holy blade of war'' from the temple last week. Good on them! I might go look at the description. Meh. ?An addendum? Apparently I stole the blade. Who knew? Good on me. Maybe I should keep it up? Naw. That would be stupid. [random doodles of genitalia] ?? Whore house? Why the hell am I in a whore house? Did I cheat on my wife? ?Another addendum? Poison doesn''t do the trick. Talked to one of the whores. Apparently I was to drunk to participate last night. Thank the...no fuck them. [mud and dirt soiled most of the pages] travel. Driking too... ...horses are good company... ...kicked me. Asshole... ...three days before..?som place... ...bar is good. Good food, clean beds. I like it here, wherever here is. A good nights sleep, and touring the area in the morning. [Beer stains this time, 14 pages ruined] ...there''s a death cult in the next city over. I''m going to pay them a visit when I get there. Maybe they can cure my issue. I hope so. ?? The Circlet of Dysher, god of Healing is on display this week at his temple. I wonder if it would work? - - - Maxwell walked in with the rest of the morning crowd. He studied the building, the angle of the walls, the precise arch of the ceiling. Beautiful place. I like the glass work. He followed the tour guide, and listened to the speech. Eventually they made their way to the head alter, where the Circlet was on public display, under heavy guard. I can''t get to it today. I will have to wait a few nights for security to get lax, then try my hand. - - - ?? Still haven''t checked the date. Don''t care. Winter hasn''t come and gone yet, so meh. Going to stay sober until I can try the circlet. If it doesn''t work, then it''s off to see the death cult. ?? Dreams are weird when you''re sober. Really really weird. I dreampt about my wife. She was waving at me. Maybe telling me something? I don''t know. Grrrr... I''m drinking tonight. ?? I think it''s been two...three? days. I''m going tonight. - - - Maxwell slipped on his ring of stealth, and followed a worker into the temple. He lay down under a pew, and waited for night to fall. Hours passed, and the shakes started to set in. He flashed back to the fight with the demon that almost killed him. The smell of blood and fire. The smoke and screams as Lt. John went down, burned to a crisp by lightning. Pushing Tristan out of the way of the barbed tail, and it slamming through his chest, barely missing his heart. Living just long enough to see the thing die. He jerked from the memory, hitting the pew with his head. And that''s why I drink. He shook his head to try and clear it to no avail. The first moon was up, time to go. Max crawled from his hiding spot, and slowly walked towards the still displayed circlet. A few steps, then listen. A couple more, listen. Baby steps. Baby steps. Listen, look, listen again. No one around. He stepped up to the alter, and cast Magic Detection. The circlet glowed like a sun. He canceled the spell, lifted the circlet, and placed it upon his head. His body relaxed. And nothing else. Maxwell took off the circlet, and replaced it on the stand. He fished around in his pocket, removed some coins, and left them beside the stand. No one stopped him on his way out. Several minutes later, he walked into a bar, ordered three pitchers of beer, and got blindingly drunk. In the morning, he woke up in a ditch, severe stab woulds and blood stains on his clothing, his body was fine, and he was sober. 014 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Old Mountain Road too London England May 1879 Young master Chester Grants had several things to regret. The first being a failure to pass the final exams at the University of London for a Bachelors of Medicine. The second being drinking in a cheap pub near the docks, off of Ganford Street. The third being the footpad behind him with a cosh, and another in front with a wicked looking knife. He thought he was seeing things caused by bad drink when a hole in the universe opened under him, and he fell ''sideways'' through the world. Stars and strange creatures flew past him. Colors not found in the rainbow caressed his cheeks. Sounds unheard by the living traveled through him. Eventually he awoke on a stone road built into the side of a mountain. He staggered to his feet, vomited, and finally looked around, I think I have gone insane. *-*-* The road between the destroyed city of Brigh and Warton. Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri. 8th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2290 years since the new gods came. Camp setup and breakdown have become second nature to the refugees. We are down to just under an hour for both, as opposed to the three hours they each took before. Travel speed has also increased up to almost ten miles a day. A man in tweed clothing and spectacles has appeared in the road. Name of Chester something-or-other. Claims to be from Lun-din, Engrand. The name sounds familiar from somewhere... I will probably wake up and remember it just before sunrise in the next few days. - - - Chester Grants woke up. He looked at the stone road he had been walking down for the past day, and his stomach growled. There was a stupid book in his vision again. He tried to concentrate on it, but couldn''t read, as the world swam in front of him. He closed his eyes once more, resigned to his fate. - Brandy, is that a person lying across the road? Maxwell asked. Brandy looked up from where she was snuggled between Puff the kitten, and the dark woman of the spear. Probably? I''m too comfy to move just now. Nomvula of the Zulu looked up from the ''Children''s book of Words'' Max had given her, I will go and check. If it''s white, may I stab it? No. Brandy and Max said in unison. Very well, master Maxwell. Nomvula jumped from the wagon, and dashed towards the person shaped lump in the road. It is a white man. Please run him over. We don''t run over anyone who isn''t directly threatening us. Max yelled back. Carry them back here. Please. Nomvula made a ''harrumph'' sound, but easily picked up the unconscious man, slung him over a shoulder, and carried him back to the still moving wagon. Puff opened one blue eye at the disturbance, flexed her right paw (leaving a deep gouge on the wagon seat), and went back to sleep. - Chester woke up. He felt his body being jostled around. He felt something small on his chest, and something almost soft under his back. He opened one eye, and met the stare of a fluffy white cats blue eyes. Then he noticed the tiny woman sitting on the cats back. Have I awoken in a land of tiny people? Tiny people who ride cats? He said aloud. The small woman laughed, a high pitched and loud laugh, almost falling off of her mount. That was when Chester saw the wings. And teeth. He sat bolt upright, and screamed, The Fae! The Fae are here to eat me! Someone! Help me! He then passed out. - The Fae aren''t real. They can''t be real. Chester''s mind reeled. Where am I? He asked, eyes closed. In the back of a wagon, on the high road through the mountains. A mans voice answered him. I''m Maxwell, and you are apparently one of the heroes that I''m supposed to collect. A what now? Hero. Do you want me to spell it for you? The Maxwell person replied. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. No. I understand the word''s meaning just fine. Chester kept his eyes closed. I just question your use of it in regards to myself. Let me ask you a couple of simple questions, did you die and wake up here? No. Did a giant hand come down and pluck you into the air? No. Did a hole open under or next to you, and pull you through? Um...yes? There you go. Hero. Chester opened his eyes and sat up to look at ''Maxwell''. The first thing he saw were the eyes, blue, with a look of having seen death and come back, a look he had seen in some friends who had returned from war. The next was the dark hair, and tanned skin. Maybe a bit of Italian in his background? Last was the pixie sitting on his shoulder. So...the Fae are real. I did travel to another... place... bugger... Could I please have some food? - - - 9th of Amsiel, Chester and Nomvula are getting along not so well. He tried to treat her like a servant, and got himself stabbed for his trouble. She is very quick with that spear. Puff...fluff...whatever, the cat is flying on it''s own. I think Brandy has been feeding it pixie dust. 13th on Amsiel, About 18 days left. Chester is reading Everything he can get his hands on, even some of my sewing patterns. As a ''learn-ed man'' he has decided to take the route of the magician, and apply the ''scientific principles'' to the mastery of magic. When I tested his magical capabilities, he tested positive for all the schools that I have knowledge of, including ''soul'' and ''holy''. Both are usually reserved for the ''god touched'' followers of one religion or another. Weird. Anyway, I have started his basic training on basic spells the likes of which you can find at any decent sized adventurers guild. I even have some of the earlier versions of a few spells that aren''t taught anymore, like ''compress''*. 18th of Amsiel, Thirteen days left. No new heroes. No spontaneous god appearances. No dead dwarves on the road. I am enjoying the boredom. 19th of Amsiel, Bjorn walked into camp tonight. Covered in stinky demon blood and gore. Chester tried to burn him, and Nomvula tried to stab him. It went better than expected, all things considered... - - - Bjorn walked through the camp, blood and gore covered maul over one shoulder. Everyone in his path either ran or dropped to their knees. Until he made it to the center where Maxwell''s wagon was parked, and Chester and Nomvula were trading verbal barbs and punches (something about the white man''s clear mental superiority). Chester was winning the verbal portion of the argument, but was going to have a beautiful set of shiners in the morning. They saw the approach of the strange, overly large dwarf, and stopped they''re argument, staring. Chester struck a pose, hand outstretched; Nomvula plucked her spear from where it leaned against the wagon. Chester spoke first, Begone fowl thing, or I will burn you to ashes! Bjorn raised his maul from his shoulder, and Chester cast Flame Tongue. The magical lance of fire washed over Bjorn, slightly singing the accumulated filth, and his beard. Then Nomvula charged in with her spear, striking hard and fast. Bjorn just stood there, and rolled his eyes. Look you little shits, I''m here to talk to Max, not dance with you morons. He gently thumped the ground with the maul, and the two heroes flew back, impacting heavily against the wagon. Brandywine flew out of the wagon at that point, looked at the scene before her and giggled. Max! Max! Max! Come out and look at this! She giggled some more. The children have met Bjorn! Max stuck his head out of the wagon, let his head droop to his chest, and groaned. Bjorn. Take a bath. Then you can come in and drink my extra keg. - - - 20th of Amsiel, Never letting Chester cook again. Boiled vegetables are supposed to look like vegetables, not mush. Bjorn got really drunk and had to sleep outside last night. The hangover was...godly. He did seem to be in better spirits today. We no longer need to head to the capital. Once we reach Warton, the plan is to head east, and start looking for the Demon Lord. Bastard is going to pay for this. Could take weeks. Could take months. Could take years. But I have a score to settle with them. To quote Tristan, I''ll be their huckleberry.** 21st of Amsiel, Appaerntly Bjorn can make people move faster? We arrive at Warton tomorrow. Warton, Watesteria Provence, Hasandri. 22nd of Amsiel, Nice city. 12,000 people, mostly dwarves. Everyone seems to still be in shock from the revelation of the demons in their midst. The refugees have been taken in by the church. Something about their god being there made the question about ''money in exchange for assistance'' that most churches require not be asked. We will be here for about three days. 25th of Amsiel, The stupid cat dive bombed my plate at breakfast. Stole a whole slab of ham. I swear it gets bigger every day. Some idiot let it slip that I was going off to hunt the demons. I blame Brandy and Bjorn. I have an army now. 26th of Amsiel, 132 Dwarven militia, 15 acolytes of the church, 9 Demonia transplants, and...a pocket dragon with it''s pet goblin. What did I do in a past life to deserve this? 27th of Amsiel, Finally left today. The switchbacks on the old roads are a terror for man and beast. Got a call from Heretics Hold. Halflings***. Thrice cursed HALFLINGS! That was what left the prints in the snow. They swarmed the country, and swore fealty to king what''s his name. It apparently took this long for the Halflings crown to wake them from their slumber in the northern and southern ice caps. Damn. I thought they were extinct. I mean, Tristan and I saw the bones of Giants in a couple of the larger mountain caves we delved into, and just assumed the halflings were there too. Word to the (un)wise: The swords giants carried? Too big for dragons to wield, NOT to big for dragons to use for traps. 28th of Amsiel, Elves... Hell. Cursed. ELVES!!! *-*-* ''Heretic Collection'' Curator V. L. here for another explanation and history lesson for those unfamiliar with world history. * ''Compress'' is banned due to this thing called ''gravitic manipulation''. Apparently using gravity to compress someone/thing into a 1'' cube isn''t considered a good thing, since if the spell gets away from you it creates a small hole of pure gravity to appear for .7 seconds. (It makes a micro black hole.) ** After some annoying reading, both ''huckleberry'' and ''Huckle Bearer'' were historically used, and both can have the same meaning. Also, having spent a lot of time in the ''south'' huckleberry fits Tristan''s speaking profile better. This information was a PITA to gather from the other world. What are these ''inter-webs''? *** Halflings were the second creation of Elder God Vuharin (god of beauty and the plains). They were rejected by Vuharin for not being beautiful enough, and eventually lost their crown and kingdom when they allied with their human brethren in the War of Rejection against Vuharin. They have been long thought to be extinct. They got the name ''halfling'' by being roughly half the size of the giants, so about 14 to 25 feet tall. 015 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Elves The road down the mountain from Warton. Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri. 28th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2290 years since the new gods came. A magical gate opened on the side of the mountain, and a pair of individuals stepped through it. Max stared at the dark haired, milky skinned, petite young elven woman, then looked to her escort. Then the escort handed him a signed marriage contract. She''s the spitting image of someone I used to know... Anna! From school! I wonder how she''s doing? Probably married with children by...shit. Max took another look at the young woman, then down at the contract... I, Maxwell Smithson, Heretic, hereby agree to marry Ms. Brianna Silverloch Goldhue under the following provisions:
  1. There will be no Divorce, separation etc. This is ''Until final death do us part.
  2. We will Respect and Honor each other in all things. Even as things change in our lives.
  3. We will communicate. Not just by yelling at each other, actual talking and Listening.
  4. What is yours financially is yours after the wedding. What is mine financially is mine after the wedding. What we gain together after the wedding is shared in common. If we have children, they will inherit equally from our death(s), no playing favorites in this.
  5. Dowry is not required, as I will pay the expenses to set up a household.
  6. We will give each other space when requested.
  7. We will not hold grudges, and will forgive each other in a reasonable amount of time.
  8. I want NO PART in any titles, nobility, knighting, etc. None. Don''t try it.
  9. All Inheritance that would be due me, will instead pass to my wife. Even traditionally male roles and titles. I will start a war on my wife''s behalf.
If you screw around, you will find out. Groom Signature: Maxwell Smithson, Heretic Groom''s Witness: Brandywine, Daughter of Wine, Daughter of Spirits; Pixie Bride Signature: Brianna Silverloch Goldhue Bride''s Witness: Lady Evangeline Silverloch Goldhue Yup, that''s Anna''s signature alright. Well, I stepped in it this time. She caught me good. Good on her! He looked at his bride to be, So...tell me about yourself? - - - 29th of Amsiel, I''m getting married...I don''t know how I feel about this. My marriage contract was meant to be an insulting rebuttal to that horror of papers they sent me. Anna sure got me this time. I''m proud of her for getting to where she is today. Bri is a nice girl woman. She''s 53, has her head on fairly straight, and loves the idea of running around adventuring. Our engagement party will be held in Gurakzar on the kings road, in 85 days. Her grandfather will be in attendance. I hope he has pulled his head out of his ass. I have a lot of invitations to write myself, and I will have to have the mages guild send them Overnight Express so people have time to come... 31st of Amsiel, Back in Warton. Invitations for the party have been sent. Bjorn and Sarah were obviously on the list, as were a few other people. Thankfully elves have a long engagement period of some thirty years, so we will have a good while to get to know each other. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Brandy has been snickering about the whole thing for a while now. Hope she likes wearing a suit, as I plan on having her as a groomsman. wearing a ballgown as a bridesmaid. 38th of Amsiel, We are well on our way, 70 out of 820 miles. The road at this point is a little wider so that two wagons can pass each other. Some of the road passes through long tunnels, as opposed to hugging the mountainside. Most of a week has passed, and the response letters are coming in. Sarah''s came on a one foot stone cube, she is coming. Bjorn''s was on glowing paper. The rest are thankfully normal. Brandy got a letter. She won''t talk about it. *-*-* My lord, bad news. Vtev announced as he walked into the throne room. Bjorn has found the loophole in the plan, and has managed to kill almost all of our agents and collaborators. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. The gods do occasionally think before they act. The Demon Lord replied. How is our little friend the Heretic doing? Engaged to an elven Lady. Engaged? That and subsequent marriage were second to last on the list of expected actions, just before ''become a god''. Interesting. How does that effect your plans? Not much. It just gives us a chance at political and emotional ''leverage'' over him. The Demon Lord said. Although after reading the old reports that mention him, they may not have a good outcome, so we will keep said leverage as a last resort. Very good my lord. The demon lord cocked his head to one side then the other, Maybe I should attend this party...I will need a fine suit. *-*-* January 1899, Sponvika Norway Magni Larssen, disgraced cobbler, stumbled from the bar just after closing time. He was drunk, homeless, penniless, and wifeless. He walked to the end of the town''s longest pier. He walked out over the ice. He tried to walk on water. His wet clothes dragged him down to a watery grave. - Magni awoke in the sun. His clothes were dry and his folded jacket lay beneath his head. He stared at the blue sky and the puffy clouds that danced across it. He smiled. I must be in heaven. Even though I cheated on my wife, stole from the business, and was generally an ass, I Made It! Then he heard the screams. He sat up, and looked around. Just down the hillside that he hadn''t previously noticed, there were a group of wagons along a narrow mountain road being attacked by...trolls? No, Dwarves, the men under the mountain. He started skulking down the hill. At the bottom of the hillside, he lifted a dagger from one of the obvious bandits, and ran it through the dwarfs back at a slightly downwards angle. That was easier than I thought... He nodded to the dwarf that had almost died at the bandits hand, then threw the dagger into another bandits throat. This is too easy... By this time the rest of the bandits had noticed him. Kill the human! Magni took off at a run, heading around the back of the nearest wagon, and coming to a stop. When the first bandit came around, he kicked their leg out from under them, and bolted. The fallen dwarf caused a three dwarf pileup. Passing the lead wagon, Magni grabbed a convenient length of rope that was just hanging on a peg and begging to be taken. He rounded the oxen in front, and came to a stop in front of a very angry bandit. Drop the rope. The bandit ordered, so he did, right over the bandits head, and pulled. The bandit went down. Magni bent over, right foot on the bandits head, borrowed his dagger, and pithed him in the base of the skull. When the chasing bandits rounded the wagon, he had the newly acquired dagger at the bandit''s throat, Come any closer and this one gets it. The three chasers spread out, and one responded, Go ahead. It just means tha--- Magni threw the dagger, lodging it in the speakers throat. This is getting stranger and stranger. Shit, I''m out of weapons again! There was a twang from behind him, and then another, and the two remaining bandits dropped. Magni slowly stood to his full height, and raised his empty hands before turning around. - So, yer from another world, huh? Caravan Master Gull said more than asked. We get a few of you upon occasion. Magni sat on an uncomfortably small stool as one of several people around a fire pit at some sort of weigh station along the mountain road. Gull continued, Usually the gods are more convenient than this, but it was fortunate for us that you came by when you did. We might have lost more lives if not for you. Um...You''re welcome. Magni''s mind was ablaze with the wonders he had discovered, and a stupid piece of paper kept shoving it''s way into his vision, and he waved it away. What are you waving at? Gull began nervously looking around, Are there ghosts here? No. There is this phantom piece of paper floating in my vision. I''m trying to get rid of it. Oh, the gods gift. Gull returned his attention to the large human. I''ve been told it is the way the gods talk to the chosen ones. You may want to look at it. Magni did as he was told. *-*-* 43rd of Amsiel, Met a caravan on the road. The last Hero was on it. A beast of a man, makes me look like a dwarf in height, and he is built like the northern raiders of old. Strangely enough, he juggles and does sleight of hand tricks. Perhaps he will turn out like... No. I will not dredge up the past... 48th of Amsiel, Magni''s a thief and an acrobat. At least he gives stuff back, unlike some fairies pixies I know. Bri has been good company on this trip, and we seem to be becoming friends. I seem to have forgotten how nice female company can be. 49th of Amsiel, First argument. Campfire cooking. Meh. Magni is settling in nicely with the other two. He laughs easily, and holds his liquor well. He does seem a bit haunted, but that isn''t really my business, unless it becomes my business. 016 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Other Things Vast Listen here again. As opposed to covering more of the boring parts of the travels of Maxwell the Heretic, I feel the urge to extrapolate on the comings and goings of the other players on the world stage. Heretics Dell, Who''s this ''Maxwell Smithson'' our king is making preparations to visit? Genece inquired of his boss. Farmer Joe looked up at the halfling, and looked up farther. The kingdom is named after him. ...This Maxwell is one of our little brothers? And he still lives? If you believe the old stories or listen to the church folk, he is something like six or seven hundred years old. Joe replied. Even if you don''t believe them church folk, the Worgs have him pegged at over one hundred fifty. Then why didn''t he wear our crown, and wake us up? Oh, that''s easy. He died in the Heretics War. He came back last year. So he''s a god? Joe blanched, Best keep those words to yourself. He absolutely HATES the gods; he''s apparently killed several of them. Joe shook his head, He still thinks he''s mortal, and will die someday so that he can reunite with his wife on the other side. But the gods cannot die, only be banished from the world for a time. We discovered that the hard way. Genece spoke in a low voice. Yeah, so I''ve heard. Joe said. But still, I wouldn''t take his name in vein. He has opinions about the gods, and refuses to have anything to do with them. So he is a god and a man? Genece stared down at his little brother. Yes, and no? Joe tried to explain, He was mortal. He got ''cursed'' by the goddess of Tranquility to live forever. His wife died of old age, and he blamed the gods. Now he wanders around making trouble for the evil, and helping the good and the poor. So he''s been doing that for and average of six hundred years? Genece asked. That''s about it. You know Mechalia, across the field? The one with the horns? Genece blushed, Yes? Ask her about how Demonia came to be. Joe smiled at the smitten halfling, I bet she would love to tell you her homeland''s history of the Heretic. - - - My love, I don''t think you need to worry so much. Queen Dana said to her pacing husband. The invitation stated quite clearly that gifts weren''t wanted. And besides, what could we give the man? Our kingdom? True, my love. True. King Michael looked at his wife, then resumed pacing. Maybe our second born? He laughed almost immediately. He would kill us both for that! Brandywine on the other hand would find her a suitable gift. Maybe we could give her something? He didn''t see the teacup that bounced off of his head. You idiot! Dana yelled. Yes dear. Sorry dear. The words came immediately from his mouth. It''s just...I''m worried. You know Max. He''s not...clued in to how things work sometimes? True. That''s why Brandy is there. She wouldn''t let him do anything stu... You have a point. Dana looked up to the ceiling, then back to her husband, We need to find a gift that he will take. One that will give him some insight into people. *-*-* Gilip, Demonia''s Capital City; Citadel of Parliament; Department of Communications Office. Deacon Alexander, Head of the Stone Communications Division, looked at his supervisor, Um, boss? Yes Deacon Alexander? I have an engagement party to attend. I need some time off. Alex said. You know that can''t be allowed right now, what with the demons having gone to ground after Bjorn had his way with them. Maybe for a wedding, but probably not for that either. Alex handed his boss the invitation. You may want to read it.... Less than an hour after his boss woke up, Alex had orders to attend the party, and a gate was scheduled for his passage. *-*-* Newleigh, Unclaimed Territory. In a small bar, on a small road, a group of thugs sat around a table. A table with a permanently empty seat. The woman sitting next to the empty chair was speaking. Y''all remember Mr. Smithson? A round of nods was had by all the people in the bar, not just the ones at the table. I got an invitation to a ''engagement party'' he''s having. I''m going. I need to leave tomorrow. Ralph? As my second, you''re in charge while I''m gone. Ralph nodded. Anyone have questions? A hand was raised by a young boy, new to the ''family'', Is it true, what they say about him? That he''s ''The Heretic''? This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Ralph, the boys mentor, patted him on the head, Oh yes my boy. Yes it is. He then looked up at the boss, Maybe you should bring a ''plus one'' after all? - - - The Newleigh acting troupe was in an uproar. They had been invited to preform at an Elven engagement party. Anything but ''The Ballad of Tristan''. They dispatched a dozen of their best actors immediately, and put their seconds on the stage. *-*-* A Wagon rest between Warton and Gurakzar, Briana looked at the pile of correspondence on her portable writing desk and sighed. Taking the first letter off of the pile, she read it, and jotted down some notes, then went on to the next. She continued this pattern for almost an hour before standing and stretching. She was of two minds about her engagement. Firstly she was thrilled to be engaged at such an early age, as most girls her age were still in the midst of years long marriage negotiations. Secondly, she was a bit concerned about her future with Maxwell. Sure, he was not unattractive, and he was (very) financially stable. He seemed to have a good humor about him, and he was very well connected. In all circles he was a fine catch. But he was human. Could he actually carry out the duties of an Elven Lord? Could he father viable children? Most half elves were so weak in the magic of the woods that they died before their third century began. Could she love him? She sat back on the chair, and began a letter to her mother. Mother, I hope this finds you well. Our engagement thus far has only had a single argument, mostly about what spices to add to a rabbit stew. Who adds the all-of-spice to a stew? I will never understand human cooking. Maxwell is a wonderful and gracious man. I do enjoy his company, and am looking forwards to our time together. The adventure you sought and that I also seek is already upon me, and I am loving it. We have faced bandits, dire-bears, and hungry wolves! I have been receiving lessons in the sword and shield! I know father would not approve, but it is more than a little thrilling. You never mentioned how Maxwell''s muscles rippled when he is without a shirt. I feel a little faint thinking back on it... I have questions though. Will he be able to provide me with children as is my duty to king and country? Will we find love in each others arms? Will this be more than a political marriage? I...I just...worry. Your warnings about Brandywine were spot on. She is a strange and mischievous creature, very cute but with a strength that is beyond reasoning. We have come to an...arrangement of sorts, and she has agreed to be one of my bridesmaids for the wedding! She is also having some troubles of her own. Her mother has reached out to her, and wants to know when she will be visiting with her ''human slave''. Apparently she hasn''t been quite truthful with her mother about her relationship with Max. I wonder; if she and Max were the same size; if they would have been happily married by now and enjoying there many children? I think Maxwell may be a little too dense to have noticed her in that way. Speaking of Max being dense, did you know that he is the head of the ''Men (and women) of Repute''? He is also the defacto leader of two countries, and is held in almost godlike regard in both? Brandy warned me not to bring that bit of knowledge up, as it apparently makes him very uncomfortable. And he has ties to so many other kingdoms and holdings! The most important thing you never told me is that he is a full grown Elven Arborist! The evening candle runs low, so I must be done. Your loving daughter, Bri. Briana looked over the letter, then folded and sealed it, placing it in the mail bag for tomorrows courier to pick up. She glanced to her right and into the eyes of her betrothed, then they both looked away. - Vast Listen here, with a piece for those not well versed in the history of the Elven Kingdom of Heartglenia. What is now know as the Demon Wastes, was once the High Elven Kingdom. When the star fell to earth some ten thousand years ago and created a rift to the abyss, it devastated the kingdom, leaving a scant 1% of the population alive. The survivors were forced to relocate to their southern most holdings. Due to the lack of population, low birth rate, and complications in pregnancy, It has become a source of social pride (to both sexes) to be engaged or even married by the age of 100. - - - The three heroes looked at each other across the cooking fire. Do either of you remember how you got here? Magni asked. I walked off a pier in the middle of winter and drowned. Next thing I know, here I am. Nomvula looked up from her ''kabob'' the english had made, and attempted to stare down the spear and a half tall mass of meat Not much different for me. Just that english murdered me, and here I am. I was pulled through a portal. It was a strange sight that I don''t really remember all that well. Chester said. A truly strange experience. He looked at the young Zulu girl, And you bloody well know my name, Zulu girl. Please use it. She looked back down to the kabob, Meh. English thinking they own the world. *-*-* Garthia, The great old Pando stood in the middle of her clearing, and stretched, branches quivering in the sunlight. Her newest ''Forest Guardian'' had just finished reading the invitation from her creator inviting her to an ''engagement'' party. She rattled her branches, Place on of the young sprites in a pot, and send her as my representative. I have much to do here. The young man nodded. How goes the infestation on the eastern edge? Almost all eradicated. ma''am. I don''t believe the poachers will be back any time soon. That is good. Have we come to an understanding with the ''jacks come to as to where the thinning is to take place among the unawakened, and deadfall? Yes. They have agreed to the selective cutting and logging plan. Splendid. I don''t believe I will require your assistance any more today. Go and enjoy your family. Oh, and keep Timmy away from the well. I am tired of getting him out. Yes Ma''am. - - - Smithson School of Blacksmithing, El Gato, God king of all he surveyed, eyed the silly humans as they ran around the sprawling school complex. Apparently the Heretic was getting engaged. Good for him. He lazed in the large tree, and cleaned his whiskers. I believe I will attend this event as well. They are sure to have good cream and fresh fish. He jumped from his tree, landed easily on the wagon that was leaving the gate, and snuggled in for a long trip. His minion, the tree that defied the gardeners, waved its branches as a goodbye. - - - Garthax, Capital of Garthia Royal Palace Your Majesty, we have received an invitation for ''whomever is on the throne'' to attend an engagement party. Alejandro, the queens secretary said, laying the invitation on her desk. I would not bother you with such trivialities, but, please note the signature. Queen Asterlane looked at the plain invitation, almost dismissing it. Then the seal next to the signature caught her attention. Has the seal been verified? I''m afraid so, your Majesty. Damn. Double Damn. I thought we were rid of the man. We all had our hopes. Send someone from the diplomatic corps with a barrel of our finest liquor. The queen rolled her eyes. And have them make sure Maxwell accept his titles this time? Goldstran was part of the contract for the spying he did. Also the provinces of Ehelm and Rorevilia that Sir Tristan of Denvrr left for him after his departure. I''m tired of that piece of legislation popping up in the yearly reports. Four? Five? Centuries is more than long enough for the Dutchy of Golstran to be without their Duke. Alejandro nodded, Golstran has been five and a half centuries, your majesty. Although the three islands do take pride in the fact that their lord trusts them to rule themselves. On the other hand, the fact that they only pay their taxes in eels is more than a bit tiresome. Yes. And they don''t even catch the eel''s themselves! They purchase the whole catch from the fleets! The queen moaned. And then we have to sell the blasted things. True. But the markup we get is a nice bonus to the... Alejandro stopped, You don''t actually think that was their plan, do you? ...curse the Heretic. *-*-* Littlestar, Capital of the elven kingdom of Heartglenia, Hey cheater king of the elves! I''m supposed to invite you to my engagement party. Here''s your invitation. Maxwell Smithson Ps. If the old cheating bastard of a king is dead, then I hope this letter finds you in good health. And please consider yourself properly invited to my engagement party. Young King Silverhand of the elves looked up from the letter at his majordomo, Why is he referring to grandfather in such a fashion? And who is this ''Master Smithson''? Your majesty, your grandfather was banned for the use of magic in a rather backwards dwarven throwing competition in his youth. Elquin, majordomo of the kings household, replied. As for Master Smithson... Well, you remember the stories of the human who defied our god? The heretic? Yes Elquin. King Silverhand replied. He was featured prominently of the bedtime tales. ''Be good, or Maxwell the Heretic will come and steal your tree''. My hero, the one who stole our teachings, and blasphemed against our god? Yes, your majesty. Elquin swallowed hard, The name seal has been verified, and the rumors of his death were apparently exaggerated. So... You''re telling me that one of my childhood heroes is actually still alive? Unfortunately. Splendid! Pack Our bags, We are going on an outing! Majordomo Elquin rolled his eyes, and stifled a cry of frustration. Yes your majesty. 017 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Fatigue Gurakzar, Dwarven Kingdom of Hasandri. 49th of Kusha, The month of Harvest. 2290 years since the New Gods came. The 4th of Anael is the party. 11 days. I''m glad that I have a new suit to wear. Those tailors do a really good job, even at a distance! Anna is bringing Bri''s gown for the affair. One of Demonia''s ''World Famous'' transit gates was finished a few days ago in town. That pretty much cements Gurakzar on the map as far as trade and travel destinations go. I just shake my head at the expense of putting one here. Sure it''s ''The Kings Road'' and all, and it is the beginning of the north road, but still, with a population of 40k, it''s a little small to be awarded one. Rumor has it that it will be free to use until a week after the party! Talk about a bad financial decision. It does make it easier for the guests to arrive, so I guess I shouldn''t complain. Thanks to the gate about a third of the guests will be arriving a day or two before the party. About a third of the guests are already in town, and the remaining are in transit. *-*-* Deacon Alexander, Head of the Stone Communications Division, looked at the freshly completed rune code on the Prime Gate, and smiled, This is wonderful! So command decided to spend a third of the budget to install a new gate in a small trading town for this? Oliver, Rune Tech and lead Rune programmer asked. Did you fail history? Rune Tech second class Mashwitz countered. No, I just don''t get it. Now HE could just walk through. Tech Oliver replied. The members of the Command Staff in attendance looked at each other and hastily retreated from the room. *-*-* 51st of Kusha, Nine more days. There have been several ''pre-parties'' so far that we have been forced to attend due to political pressure. Brandy has received another letter, a large one this time. She is fuming angry, and has taken to drinking with gusto. My spleen is twisting with curiosity, but I will not interfere. *-*-* In the deep bowels of his fortress, Demon Lord Lancil admired his new outfit for the party. Pearl white tunic and hose, with crimson piping along the seams. Sapphire and ruby gemstones with accompanying embroidery thread tracing patterns of power and spells, just in case. All set off with a matching set of polished black boots and belt. He danced and twirled in front of a full length mirror, before snapping his fingers and placing the clothes in a storage space. This will be quite a fun evening. Only nine more days... *-*-* 52nd of Kusha, Bjorn and Sarah have arrived. Bjorn brought a ''Plus one''. Her name is ''Po Shard'', and is apparently a small god. She is quiet, nervous, and shy, so naturally Brandy dragged her out for a night of drinking when Bjorn wasn''t looking. She and Brandy came back giggling. GIGGLING! I don''t even want to know what they were up to, but I worry. At least the town isn''t on fire. Bjorn''s reaction was amazing. 53rd of Kusha, My family has arrived. So has the blasted cat. - - - El Gato, god king of all he surveyed, looked over the dwarven town from his comfortable perch on the family wagon, and recalled his trip. It had been fun. Mice, wolves, and wyverns to chase. Dogs to terrify. Ladies to court. And of course, make the wagon stop for him to take a walk, or bathe, or any other need he felt he had. This new city would be his next point of conquest, even though he would not have much time in which to do it. He jumped from the wagon, and ran directly into the annoying pixie. Move, you little piece of dust. Nice to see you too, furball. El Gato sat down, and began to clean himself, obviously in the way of the lesser people who were attempting to unload the wagon. And how is my little boy getting on? He finally asked. He has taken to flying quite well. In a few years he will be an amazing battle mount. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. That''s...good. El Gato stretched himself out in a suddenly appearing sunbeam, And how does your silly party progress? Brandywine''s mood immediately soured, There have been a few...issues. Family related. I plan on fixing them soon. El Gato raised the fluffy eyebrow over his missing eye, Really? I thought the Smith''s family was happy for him. They are. Brandy replied. There is another party that isn''t. - Maxwell smiled at his descendant, A pleasure to meet you. He appraised the man before him, short, wide, strong grip, traditional dark hair, markedly lighter skin, hazel eyes. I wish I had hazel eyes. How was your trip? It went well, even though the wagon would break down at unusual times. Replied Harry Smithson, master smith, and head of the Smithson School of Crafts. Maxwell looked around, walked over to a familiar looking one eyed cat, and picked it up by the scruff of it''s neck, You pull that kinda thing again, and I will beat you into your next life. He dropped the startled cat back into the pool of sunlight. The one eyed cat hissed at him, then bolted under the wagon. Max walked back to his descendant. When something like that happens, and That cat is around, blame the cat. 55th of Kusha, The elven king has arrived. Nice kid. Barely out of diapers as elves go. The head of his guards is a bit high-strung, but has his heart in the right spot. Only a few more days until the official party. An envoy from Queen Asterlane of Garthia has arrived. I gave him the slip for all of five minutes. I''m now stuck as the lord of two provences and a duchy. Stupid paperwork. There is a talking sapling, in a pot, talking to the elven king, Brandy, the stupid cat, and Asterlane''s envoy... Normalcy seems to have gone right out the window. Picked up Willa ''Repute'' and her charge at the town square this evening. Was nice to catch up. - Young King Silverhand of the elves looked at the Dwarven city of Gurakzar. Instead of towering trees there were towering mountains. Instead if winding wooded paths, there were wide cobbled roads. The occasional tree that was to be seen looked sickly, probably due to all of the smoke from the forges that hung in the air. He stifled a cough. He had left Al behind to keep the country running while he was on his first vacation and looked around for the head of his escort. Chase, find us a guide to lead us to our lodgings. Chase, head of the royal guard, nodded to his king, and was in the middle of giving the order when a young man of middling height and dark hair walked up to the king himself. Your Majesty! A pleasure to meet a non-cheating member of your family. Face red, and eyes bulging, Chase stepped between his king and the rude stranger, How dare you speak to your betters in such a manner? Step back from my king, or die. The man in question stared into Chase''s eyes, and Chase felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. Your majesty, this man...he is dangerous. He began to draw his sword, but a hand harder than steel grabbed his arm. I would think worse of you, if you didn''t try to protect your liege, but maybe think about who you are dealing with first? Chase looked around and noticed that the king was currently being distracted by a red haired pixie. A pixie who was buzzing around his head, and asking questions at a mile a minute. He looked back to the man holding his arm, Ah. Lord Blacksmith, I presume? - Peter, member of her majesty''s secret service, spotted his target as he left his lodgings. He followed at a reasonable distance, stepping through the shadows as needed, until his five minute count ended, then he advanced. In a loud voice he called out to the Heretic Master Maxwell, about that paperwork I have for you to sign about the Duchy and provinces? People, mostly dwarves, stopped and stared, Questions and comments began to fly, Duchy?, Thee titles?, I knew he was rich, but landed too? and many others. Stimied from moving on, Maxwell stalked back to Peter and held out his hand. Fine. I''ll sign. Just don''t expect me to be happy. Of course not, Lord Maxwell. Peter smiled, handing over, and receiving back the signed and stamped documents. Now I just need to survive long enough to file these... - The tender sapling I through whom the winds of morning whisper, and through me do the fall gales blow was at a loss. It had yet to come up with a name for itself. Bob was to simple, Floriana the bold and beautiful just didn''t feel right. One, maybe two ''words'' seemed to be appropriate. I could just use my real name, but mother doesn''t think that appropriate when there are Fae around... Balthazar? no. Gale, Gale Whisper? PERFECT!!!!! - The express coach from Louthfield arrived with the rise of the stars. A middle aged human woman and a boy of around ten, stepped down to the street in the town square. Ma''am, the driver asked, You here for the engagement thing? Yes coachman, we are. The woman turned a slightly scared face to the coachman. What concern is it to you? Well, Ma''am, I''ve heard some interesting rumors, The coachman looked at the woman''s small broach displayed above and to the left of her heart, but I suppose, what with your station in things, you know more than I. She nodded to the coachman, I actually met him. I owe my advancement to him. The coachman raised an eyebrow, the one not cut through with scars, You don''t say? She did say. Didn''t she? A voice came from the other side of the coach, as a well built, and well dressed man stepped up to the woman and put an arm around her shoulders. How have the boys been, Ms. Willa? If the statues in the square were willing to talk; which they aren''t; they would describe the look on the coachman''s face as something between terror and...terror. Statues aren''t much for comparisons. The young boy looked up at the ''big'' man, I''m Robert!. The man looked down at the boy, Nice to meet you Bob, I''m Max. 2nd of Anael, First month of Snow Two more days. Everyone is here. Politics have been flying around so thickly that you could cut it with a knife. At least it has been a pleasure to entertain Anna and her husband...Bruce? or something like that. She, Bri and Brandy have been inseparable since they gated in yesterday. The Actors have arrived. They plan on doing a simple play about love found and lost, called Roma and Jules. I''m told it also comes from the College of Rio. Dana and Michael have also been a treat to have around. So much like my old friends... [VL note: There is a tear stain on the original manuscript at this spot.] ...Po, Sarah, Bri, Anna, Brandy, Gale the potted tree, Dana, and Willa just came in... They smell like they fell into a brewery. I can just throw Brandy into her room, as for the rest, I''m going to have to get the appropriate people up to hold hair out of chamber pots. 3rd of Anael, The party is tomorrow. Thrice Cursed Gods, Brandywine! You could have warned me your family was coming. Shit. Flashback 001 – Love Letters (Mildly NSFW for suggestive themes) In a country long destroyed by a war, during the times when the young gods hadn''t realized that there parents had left for a war, there lived a pair of young men who were desperately in love. Below are a pair of letters they wrote, before their love was uncovered and they were put to the sword... - Dearest James, Of commons stock you may be, but you are royal in my eyes. My body burns with desire for you. Our last encounter was not nearly long enough. I ache for the feel of your arms around me, your breath on my neck, your legs entwined with mine as we lay exhausted on the beach. My mind calls for the conversations we have, your pointed views on the issues of the day. Your advice on the matters on hand. Your hand in mine, as we shirtless walk the shore of the bay, your tanned skin a contrast to the white sands beneath our feet. My love, you are the most blessed life giving cherry to the boredom of the shrubs. Come let me taste your sweet fruit again. In our cottage on the boughs so green, let us slake our love. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. You, most beautiful of men, let my eyes drink you like the cup of sweet wine you are. Kiss me with your honeyed lips. Let me know that I am yours forever. Elijah - My most beloved Elijah, Let us meet again on the shore once the moons are low again. Draw me to you in the night, and let us run. You are the finest of mare among the kings horses. Strong and willowy between my legs. A triumph of goodhood and due worship. Your lovely cheeks, reddened in the sand, your neck bedecked with jewels. I clutch you to my chest. Eyes more beautiful than the gems of the crown, long limbs in which to be entwined. In great delight do I sit in your shadow of all things; Your conversation feeds me like apples and peeled grapes, it fulfills me more than my wife ever will. To be with you is like a banquet of sweets and spiced meat, of which I never will grow tired. Son of this land, of you I will never tire, and will forever be filled. Your wine is the drink of the gods. Come let me touch your perfection once again. James Ps. Two whores have been along to tempt away from you. I wish them well upon their journey. 018 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Entanglement Vast Listen, Historical curator of the goddess of Knowledge and History''s Museum, Heretic Collection here again! As Brother Proof is still absent from his post, I have had to dig up the interviews with certain guests who were in attendance as opposed to Maxwell''s journal, as those several pages never survived. We believe there was meddling... Gurakzar, Dwarven Kingdom of Hasandri. 4th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. 5:30 pm. The sun was bright in the western sky as the first of the guests arrived at the cities central hall where the engagement ceremony and party was to take place. Brandywine was buzzing around the rafters, helping with the last minute decorations. Maxwell was touring the kitchen one last time, and Briana was speaking quietly with her mother about the finer points of the ceremony. Remember dear, you will have to preform almost the same ceremony in thirty years if you and Max decide to actually go through with the marriage contract. Yes mother. I know. All that needs to be changed is my last name, or his. And a couple of verbs. Bri responded. She glanced down at her dress for the night, soft green silk with blue highlights. Seed pearls sewn in swirling patterns. Sleeveless and backless, tight from the neck to the waist, but loose and flowing from there on down. She caught sight of Maxwell, in his midnight blue courtly shirt, with tight pants, that were belted at the waist with a wide length of black and red leather, and wearing polished black boots made from wyvern hide. With the small rubies accenting this collar and cuffs, he almost glimmered in the light of the glass chandeliers. Chandeliers that he was now investigating. I do see what you saw in him, mother. He is sweet and gentle. Yet he is also strong and powerful. She glanced at Max again from across the room, And he cleans up well. Anna giggled. 6:00 pm Brandywine watched the couple from her perch in the rafters, and giggled. Mortal races are silly. She looked at the kitten next to her. Yes. That''s correct. When you want a partner, you just wait for the right moment, and strike. She''s either in the mood or not. Very simple. Very strait forward. The kitten purred in response. She looked on from her perch as the pair dodged around each other on the floor, meeting guests, and sharing guilty glances, and blushing looks. It''s almost too funny! A voice purred in Brandy''s ear. She looked up to see El Gato cleaning a paw to her left. I can''t believe the lesser races do such silly things. The two cats and pixie laughed. 6:23 pm The dinner was to start at seven and most of the guests had arrived, Anna was making her rounds. Polite words, handshakes and the occasional hugs with people she already knew. Some of Bri''s friends from home had managed to sneak out to a gate and make the occasion, and she greeted them warmly. One of the girls was overwhelmed by the sight of Maxwell, and had flubbed her introduction. Most embarrassing. She stepped to the next guest, smiling while holding out her hand and froze. The guest in question was an attractive young man. Thin, with little muscle, thin mustache and well trimmed goatee, short horns atop his head. The man was wearing a pearl white tunic and hose, with crimson piping along the seams. Sapphire and ruby gemstones with accompanying embroidery thread tracing beautiful patterns across the fabric. The outfit was set off with a matching set of polished black boots and a belt with a rapier hanging from it. But...something of the man was off. His smile to wide. His walk, to perfect. His grace and elegance were beyond reproach... But something was off... His eyes. His eyes were what was wrong. They were missing, replaced with two cavernous holes of oblivion. She shuddered. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Ah, Miss Anna, mother of the eventual bride. The man took her hand, kissing her knuckles gently, A pleasure to finally meet you! He dropped her hand. I''m Prince Lancil. I am so pleased to be here. He gave a slight bow. But it seems that you may have seen too much. Not unexpected. Be at peace. I have no plans here, other than to attend the gathering, and to pay my respects to the happily betrothed couple. He smiled an ever so pretty smile, and Anna shuddered to her core. Very good, prince Lancil. Anna nodded and walked away, hugging herself on her way to Maxwell and the bar. Not in that order. 6:30 pm Maxwell walked a determined beeline for the Prince Lancil. Several guests attempted to intercept him on the way, took one look at his face, and thought better of it. The prince in question looked up from telling the king of the Elves the story of Tristan, the Hero from Denvr, when Maxwell approached. I''m sorry your majesty, perhaps I can continue the tail at a later moment? The man of the evening approaches. He stepped away from the King before assent was made. What. Are. You. Doing. Here? Maxwell demanded. I am merely here to wish you the best in your engagement. Lancil replied, giving a broad bow. I will abide by the ''Rules of Hospitality'', as they were intended, not as certain peoples Interpret them. He glanced up to the rafters where a certain pixie was still sitting. ...damn... Very well. You may sit in the back. Behind the Piano. Maxwell sighed. And don''t make trouble. Hospitality means that I may not. Lancil replied, a smile playing across his face. Until he locked eyes with Maxwell. The shudder that wracked his body was much different than the one he had received from The Lord of all demons. But, non the less just as disturbing. Ahem... I believe I will be taking my place at that table now. 6:58 pm Brandywine... That name has been bothering me for a time. Prince Lancil mumbled to himself. Brandywine...Brandy-wine...Brandy Wine... Oh. Oh My. He looked at the high table, directly at the small red haired pixie in the ballgown, and snickered. This should be fun. The large long haired cat in the eye-patch that was twining around his legs took a swipe at him, and he giggled again as he knelt down to pet the ''wee beast''. 7:01 pm All of the guests were seated at their well appointed tables. Elegant clothes on display. The three heroes sat at their own table to the left of the main, but still on the head table''s dais. Servers in the colors of the Dwarven King (who was also in attendance) glided between tables and guests, delivering salads or soup, and wine as needed. The main doors blew open with a wind usually reserved for the the depths of deep winter on the top of the mountains. Everyone stared, thereby missing Brandywine hiding her face in her hands. Skin as pale as snow, lips as red as blood, and dressed in gowns the colors of ice, three tall women stepped in to the hall. One was young, with hair of fire red. The second was of middle age, with hair the blue of flame. The last was old, hair the white of age. They slowly walked the red carpet from the door to the high table, leaving bleached fabric wherever their feet touched it. As they passed, people felt the bite of cold on their skin, and the food on the tables froze. When the three finally approached the front table, Brandywine arose on shaky legs, and spoke. Mother, Grandmother, and Great-Grandmother. I welcome you to this feast. I ask you to abide by the the terms of hospitality for the duration of your stay. The youngest looking of the three stared at the small pixie, Daughter, did you not think we would see your signature on that farcical document? That we would not ascertain your location from it and bring you home? Brandywine trembled. I didn''t think it would gain your notice, dearest mother--- ENOUGH Child. The youngest said, speaking over the pixie. We have come to take you home. Where you belong. Not here at some farcical pre-wedding wedding. That''s Enough. Maxwell said, rising from his seat, and drawing a revolver from behind his back. You will submit to the rules of hospitality, or be gone from this place. Forever. He cocked the hammer. The middle aged Fae stepped towards Max, Dearest Maxwell, do you not find me beautiful? She said in a voice that dripped of cream and honey. Would you not rather come and spend time with me, as opposed to that silly thing on your left? Maxwell stood there transfixed, mouth moving, but no sound coming out. Brandywine, distracted from her mother, threw herself in front of Maxwell. Grandma Spirits! Please! Stop! And why should I do that, you disappointment of a granddaughter? Spirits moved her gaze to Brandy. For an ungrateful sprite such as yourself? Meandering and flighty? Just as bad as a fairy. Maxwell pulled the trigger. 019 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Fae Gurakzar, Dwarven Kingdom of Hasandri. 4th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. 7:03 pm As the smoke dissipated from the shot, a ball of lead, cold iron, silver, and a special mix of herbs and spices hung spinning in mid-air, just inches from Grandmother Spirits face. Eyes wide and face even paler than before, Spirits stepped back from the deadly bullet. Brandy''s great-grandmother twitched her pinkie, and the ball flew above the ladies of the Fae, and into the roof. You vaguely impress me. Boy. She pushed her daughter to the side. And don''t think I don''t see you raising your hand, god of craft. She then looked farther to Maxwell''s right and bowed, Darkness. It is good to see you again, old friend. Sarah nodded slightly in return. Young Li-quor, a pleasure to be back, if for only a small while. Great-Grandmother Li-quor turned back to Maxwell, eyes locked onto his, We accept your offer of hospitality. Room was rapidly made at the high table. Mother Wine was sat next to her daughter, Grandma Spirit between the dwarven and elven kings, and Li-quor next to Sarah. - Deacon Alexander looked to his table mate, Willa ''Repute'', So, how have you been entangled into this? We work...worked...have dealings with the same organization? Maxwell...observed while I did my job... The middle aged woman was clearly uncomfortable sitting in a place with so many eyes upon her. Ah. At least you got to know him. Alexander replied, I just talked to him over the sending stone. Now I''m here as both a guest of his lordsh...Max, and as a representative of Demoia. He frowned. I just wanted to work with the stone network and become a Runemaster. Willa gave a small sigh, And I just wanted to run my guild. They looked at each other, and laughed. - At their table to the side of the main one, the three heroes watched the Fae. The three ladies of the Winter court. Chester Grants gasped out. This. This is more concerning than I thought. God above, save me from this nightmare. I don''t think god will save any of us. Magni Larssen said around a bite of properly steamed and seasoned fish. Even if he did, we would probably all end up in hell. Nomvula tore her eyes from the long eared English, and looked at her companions, You might go to this ''hell'' place, but I won''t. I believe in my gods, and they like me. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Magni laughed. Then you are a lucky, girl. I wish I had your faith. I could attempt to teach you, ape, but I don''t know that you would understand. Nomvula replied, laughing. Chester rolled his eyes towards the heavens, Lord, save me from these heathens. - Prince Lancil was speaking quietly into a sending stone. That''s right. Cancel Plans 1 through 4, as well as 6, 7, 9, and 14. He waited for a few moments. Yes I am sure. Remove the blackmail information in the Heretic file; It is worthless to us. He waited again, longer this time, then sighed. Do I need to remind you who I am? He muttered a few words under his breath, then crushed the stone in his hand. Glancing up to his table mates; a farming couple and a young dressed up street rat child; he said My apologies for that. Good help is hard to find. The farmer nodded, Yup. Now if you could continue with your explanation of the benefits of cow manure as opposed to horse or pigs? Lancil asked, genuine interest crossing his face, I have a few acres that need restoration... The young boy listened intently as well. - 7:30 pm Maxwell and Briana took a last drink of wine, and stood from the head table. Max walked to the right, and Bri to the left. They met each other on the other side and held hands. Sarah, having lost the rock/paper/sword match with Bjorn, stood facing the great hall and the several hundred guests. I present to you this evening, this couple who will be reciting their vows of engagement. Sarah announced. The hall quieted almost immediately. I Maxwell Smithson... A not sober Max read his vows. I Briana Smithson... A not sober Briana read her vows. I hereby announce you man and wife. Sarah read her bit aloud. The hall erupted with cheering and applause. Then it sank in. Anna stood up from the table, knocking her chair over in her haste, MAND AND WIFE?!? Sarah looked at her page, That''s what it says...Shit. Max and Bri looked at each other, then at the carefully scripted words on the page. ...Well... Max looked at Briana, Um... Through the open doors of the hall a warm breeze blew, carrying with it the smells of spring, and thunder storms. A pair of men walked in, and where they stepped, flowers and grass grew. One was light of skin, the other dark, and both were beautiful to behold. The pair approached the head table and bowed slightly. Then, in melodic voices, they spoke in unison, We have arrived for this grand occasion to bestow a gift, as it seems that our opposite number has given one as well. Maxwell and Briana stared at the beautiful men. We of the summer bless you, oh happy couple, with the knowledge that the fruits of your labor will be healthy, wise, and well versed in knowledge. The darker of the two then looked at Grandmother Spirit, Once lover of mine, your gift was ill timed, but we hope things will work out for the best. The pair of men turned around and departed in the following silence. Brandywine stared down the table at Grandmother Spirit, Grandmother! What have you done?!? - Prince Lancil laughed at the proceedings at the head table. Who slipped the wrong pages to the couple? He was in mid laugh when the summer kings entered the hall. He stopped laughing. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. Things just got real. He pulled a second sending stone from a pocket, and started talking almost immediately. Rescind plans 42-53. Do it now. The KINGS are actively on the table. He took a deep breath. Yes. Okay. Yes plan 19, 23, and 16 as well. Thanks for the reminder. A few more breaths as he listened. You what now? His face turned stormy. No. That idiot! A second wave? His eyes began to spark lightning. Yes it''s been more than a hundred years. So what? Who makes these stupid rules! They''re going to ruin everything! His left hand clenched, and small purple drops fell from it onto the table, making smoldering spots. No, not him. Please... Unholy hells. Alright. I will be back after the party is done. Oh, let the kitten rations free, and up the storage of the puppies, an...arrangement... was made earlier. A few deep breathes passed. Yes I know they are your favorite, and I don''t care about the ''environmental impact''. Just see to it. He placed the stone back in his pocket, and looked to his dinner companions, I''m sorry about that, but duty called. The farmer and his wife nodded. Yup. It happens. 020 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Kittens and War The Demon Wastes. 8pm In the back of the kitchen, Grut and Brut were carrying the last of the cages of kittens out the back door. They set the cages down, opened the doors and after a few moments, the mewling kittens crawled out, wide eyed and fluffy, looking for their mothers. It''s a shame to see so much food go to waste. Grut said. Well, Lord Lancil said to release them from cold storage, so here we are, Brut replied. It is too bad we couldn''t even have one for a little snack. Such is our lot in life, Grut said. They are kinda cute... Maybe we could take one and raise it? Brut raised a moist eyeball on its stalk, You know how dangerous they can be if left unattended. We don''t need another ''Killer Cat'' infestation. That only happens when you feed them normal rations. We would just need to feed them cow meat. Grut retorted, raising both his eyestalks in challenge. Grut. Do you see any cows around here? Brut asked, raising his second and third eyestalks (the third one being what made him the superior in the relationship). ...um...no? Grut lowered his eyes. I just want a pet. Well, I hope some god helps the little fluff-balls. Being so young, they probably won''t survive the night out here. Brut lowered his three eyes. I pray something takes care of them quickly. - 8:40pm Prince Lancil raised his stone again, and hissed into it, What? There is a fight scene going on! The Mondo and Caplet family brats are dueling! Oh...Oh no! The lead''s friend just got a sword through the heart. He listened. Well, that was three ahead of the Heretic getting married. Not unforeseen, but terrible. Get the loyalists out of there. I suppose we invade Demonia tonight. For several minutes, he listened further. Very good. Did Grut and Brut get the kittens out of there? Good. That will hurt that rastafat. - Standing in the kitchen, the right hand demon of ''Demon Lord Rastafaun the Gorged'' was yelling at the pair of lowly kitchen attendants. So help me, if you don''t hand over at least three cages of kittens, I will rip those ''stalks off of your slug bodies and feed them to you! Brut raised his three eyestalks in anger. We followed orders. You want kittens? They''re outside. Go catch your own! The large brute of a demon pushed Brut aside and threw open the back door. All that he could see was the quaint, and very empty valley that was behind the door. You will pay for lying to me! he screamed, slowly turning around. Then he smelled the pee and looked at the back of the door. There''s goat piss on the door. Did you free the goats too? If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Grut and Brut looked at each other, then at the big demon, and twitched their eyestalks in a shrug, We never had any goats? Lord Lancil said they were beneath his dignity. Well the door smells of it. The big demon looked down, spying a pile of goat droppings. He reached down, scooped some up, and popped it into his mouth. Yep. Goat. Then his lower jaw and neck melted. Grut and Brut exchanged another glance. Yup, I''m out! they announced in unison and oozed out the back door as quickly as their pseudopods would take them. - 10:28pm The play Romero & Julie, the star crossed lovers had just ended, with Romero having gutted himself after his bride-to-be had taken poison, when a sweating, pallid, and panting courier of the Dwarven Crown bolted into the great hall. My lords... The courier took a series of deep breaths. Lords and ladies, I apologize for the unseemly interruption... Several more deep breaths. But the Demon Lord ''Rastafaun the Gorged'' has declared war... Several more breaths. ...has declared war on the human lands, and on The Lord Heretic in particular... The courier fell over. The play''s applause stopped. Lords, ladies, nobles, and even peasants stood rapidly from their seats. Some clustered and clumped, while others fled. Prince Lancil just shook his head and sighed. This appears to be my cue to leave, Lancil said, but before I go, please take these. They will protect you on the road and in your home, if you hang them up there in. From demons, at least. He placed a set of three small pearls on silver chains on the table, nodded to his companions of the evening, and walked out of the hall. - 10:30pm A street rat dressed in fine clothing knelt over the courier while the adults in the hall were a hubbub of activity. He ran his fingers through the courier''s pockets, armpits, pelvic region, neck, hair, hose legs, socks and boots. He quickly transferred what he found to his own locations, then sat back at the table with the farmer and his wife. So, how did you two meet the ''Smith? The farmer gave him the side eye. He helped up with the planting this year, gave us a new plow. The wife joined in, And his little pixie was such wonderful company in the kitchen. Really? The boy looked at the pair. They look really scary to me. Son, you just robbed the corpse of a kings guardsman, and you spent the evening dining with the demon lord. The farmer stated. And you think Max and Brandy are scary? The wife asked. ...Demon...Lancil...Prince...Lord...? The boy pulled a small sending stone from his pocket and stared at it. Oh shi--- The stone started to buzz. - Maxwell, his bride, and in fact, the entirety of the head table (minus the Fae, who had absconded sometime after the second act of the play), plus numerous people from the ''lower'' tables were rearranging the dais and the tables for a council of war. The English, the Norse, and the Zulu found themselves bundled in next to a ''Willa Repute'' and a ''Deacon Alexander''. The five eyeballed each other for a few moments, before Willa made the first move. My dear, I love the shaved head! I wish I could pull off that kind of warrior look. Sadly, they don''t let me out on the street much anymore. Nomvula raised an eyebrow. Then just stab them lightly with your knife. Used to work for me back home. Oh, I do love you, girl. Willa smiled. If only I could take you home with me to show the other girls how to act. Magni piped up, You could take me home with you, and winked at Willa. Chester looked to Alexander. Please, tell me that you have better sense than these three? I don''t know? I''m just studying to be a Rune programmer, Alex replied. I''ve only just met Willa there this evening, and your group just now. He shrugged as someone started to hammer on a table. If I had known that it would lead to this, I probably would''ve become a farmer like dad wanted me to be. - The boy put on his best, most innocent face, and answered the stone. Prince Lancils, the demon lord extraordinaire, answering service! Master Grendel speaking!... Very well, mister...Rastafat was it? That kind of language is entirely unnecessary. Very well, ''Demon Lord Rastafaun'', I understand. Back as soon as possible; Return Kitten rations; Present self promptly for execution for treason. Very well. I will relay the message as soon as I am able. Pale faced, he placed the stone on the table, turned away from the farm couple, and puked. - In a palace on the far side of the world a small weak kitten lay on a fat pillow, lapping up cream from a beautifully painted saucer, while a princess cooed at it. - Heard by all in the hall, in the celestial realm, and in the bowels of the abyss, a silver bell range once. - Proud of the ongoing tapestry, The Weaver carefully went back over the threads and swore. There was a tangle in the weave. 021 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A State of War Gurakzar, Dwarven Kingdom of Hasandri. 5th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. Morning. War. Just the present that I didn''t want, and don''t need. So much for a honeymoon. I hate the Fae. Well, Brandy is mostly okay Wonderful! but the rest of them can just hang. Yup! Why did the newest Demon Lord, fat guy, declare war on me too? He can''t believe that I''m that much of a threat, can he? I''m just one guy...with three heroes...and a Fae who is the daughter of the youngest Fae queen... Shit. I''m the leader of a Heroes group. Shit, shit, shit. Now all I need is some cul...SHIT! Our impromptu war council of last night brought about not much progress, outside of drunken promises of help and mutual support. This afternoon will be an actual war council. Have I ever mentioned here how much I hate politics? 5th of Anael, Evening. Most everyone was hung over. Not a lot of shouting thanks to that. Willa''s apprentice, a nice kid, was arrested for looting the corpse of the kings messenger. A lot of cheek on that boy. He''ll be working for me until his ''debt to society'' is paid off. I figure that will be around the end of the war. Kids need to learn that rule number one of crime is ''Don''t get caught''. A mutual defense treaty was written up by the kings and ambassadors in attendance. A copy has been sent via the Demonia Gate to the kingdoms that may be impacted. I made sure a copy went to the Gnolls, and what remains of the Goblin and Orc kingdom. It has been decided that Demonia will be the jumping off point for our group of heroes. Bri has demanded to come along. More stubborn than her mother. I smile about that. Anna and the elvish king have departed for home. It is getting quiet around here, thank the...screw them. We depart for Demonia in a week. With the gate network we can afford to wait that long. Open some presents. Have some time to our selves... - What do you mean, arrested? The boy said. I haven''t nicked nothing from nobody! We have several witnesses saying that you were dallying around the courier''s corpse at the wedding. A very stern guard replied. That being the case, you are under arrest for stealing, molesting a corpse, and sneaking into a formal affair. What? I was invited by The Max himself! Your name doesn''t exist on the guest list. ...Did you look under...plus one? The boy whispered the last part. There are several dozen listings of plus one. I demand council! There is no council for street trash like you. The guard raised his voice, You are under arrest in the name of the king! Resist, and things will go poorly for you. - Willa Repute stood in the guard house''s main room, waiting her turn at the desk. The silly boy had gotten nicked. After robbing a corpse at the wedding. Cheeky bastard. We need to teach him how to make it look like you were trying to check for signs of life. Finally her turn came, and she stepped up to the sergeants desk, I''m here to bail out my nephew, Grendel Repute. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Oh the cheeky bastard who was caught stealing from a corpse at a state function? Not going to happen. The desk sergeant replied. He''s in for it. The magistrate is going to be throwing the scrolls at him for this. Willa swallowed. This is bad. I''m going to need some help breaking him out... She turned to leave, and almost ran into a dwarf wearing the robes of a magistrate. Apologies, my lord! The dwarf in question looked her up and down, Didn''t I see you at the wedding? Yes, my lord? Willa felt hope rise in her chest, I was six seats down from Lord Maxwell. He and I have worked together...on projects...in the past. So the little brat wasn''t lying about that...Hmm...Won''t due to have his lordship''s guest getting hung... The dwarf walked past the desk, and into the chambers beyond. Both Willa and the sergeant followed him with their eyes. Politics. They get in the way of everything. The desk sergeant finally stated, and Willa absently nodded in agreement. - Yes magistrate, I will take the rat and put him to work. And make him return what was stolen. Max sighed after shutting off the speaking stone. Stupid kids. - I swear that was the truth, Lordships. A very nervous Grendel sat down next to Willa at the large table the war council was using this afternoon. His nerves were making his hands and knees shake so badly that he had nearly peed himself during the questioning by the kings and generals present. That is until the thought rose in his head, How much could I get from these blokes if I picked their pockets right now? Then he smiled. 8th of Anael, Plans are being formulated. The documents have been returned, the only ones who didn''t sign were the children of Gobb. I am truly impressed with the Gnolls council, as apparently only three of the thirteen held out on the signing, and only came around after a long discussion with someone. If I ever meet that person, I will have to thank them quite a lot. The Order of the Kitten and Puppy; they were apparently unified after the war; as well as their worg mounts, are undergoing specialized ''anti-demon'' training. I expect that the ancient demons from the founding of the kingdom are behind that. A scary lot they will turn out to be. 9th of Anael, The gate doesn''t work. The system got shutdown sometime in the night. No word from Demonia. We leave in the morning. Something is pulling me to go there...I don''t know what it is. *-*-* Get the archers to the walls! General Wainright yelled. Don''t let the blighters have another inch! He shook hos head. Last night, around midnight an explosion had consumed the gate and stoneboard room. No travel, no communications in or out. The capital of Demonia was under siege. The former demon lord''s army had surrounded the city, and had managed to burn the outer town to the ground. No more refugees could make it inside the outer defensive walls, and with the gates out of commission, resupply would be nigh unto impossible. The flying corps was outnumbered more than forty to one, and the sheer number of troops on the ground were nearly uncountable. It would take a miracle to save the city, and so general Wainright did the only thing he could, he prayed that HE would come back. *-*-* 10th of Anael, The sky stretches out before us, and the road rises to meet it. Our entourage has foregone the usual wagons and opted for fast mounts. Worgs. We made more than twenty miles today. The pack is happy to be of help. I doubt we will see any bandits on the road. I will almost feel sorry for them if we do. - Far past the end of the city, Maxwell let out a low warbling whistle, and waited. Ten minutes later he repeated the call, and waited. Just before a third call was made he heard the response, a howl. He whistled again, and got several responses. He smiled. War called for war mounts, and they now had the best coming to greet them. - 13th of Anael, The stupid cat is with us. Nomvula is carrying him on her mount. Stupid lazy thing. - Tom Cat, El Gato god king of all he surveyes, watched the countryside stream by. If they had a truck, or even a bicycle, they could go so much faster. Stupid humans and their lack of technology. I should have words with that woman about throttling the technological level she allows. He stretched out on the warm fur of the worg, and slept. - Brianna''s Journal 13th of Anael, My...husband. I still can not believe I am married! A dream come true! Maxie said he found writing a journal relaxing, and a good way to order one''s mind. Then he gave me this one. Beautiful cream colored leather, with fine paper inside, and a lock with only one key. To keep it safe from prying eyes he said, while staring at Brandywine. Brandy has been a boon companion to me almost since I arrived. Sure, there were some tense moments in the beginning, but one day she seemed to just get over them. I believe she has some sort of designes on my husband, but...He is mine now. And the Fae live until they are killed or decide to fade away, so even after I am gone, she may find a way to fulfill her wishes. We played a prank on Maxie yesterday. Used dirt in place of his coffee grounds. It was terrific fun. He yelled obscenities that would make father''s guards blush, at Brandy until I started laughing. Then he said something along the lines of Great. Two of them now. It will bring a smile to my face for many years to come, I am sure. On to real world things. My dowry contains everything I need to set up a household, whenever we decide to settle down for a hundred years or so. I don''t believe Maxie will do so until the current crisis is over, and that may take several years to overcome. Accounts wise we are stable on my end. Then I spoke to Brandy, in confidence, about Maxie''s finances. She laughed. A full on unladylike belly laugh that lasted for almost two full minutes, before she got the hiccups. Poor girl. Apparently I am supposed to ask Maxie about what is in his old trunk. Come to think about it, while drinking one night, Brandy did mention something about a buried treasure ''hoard'' of Maxie''s that would make any four dragons jealous. I will ask tomorrow about family finances. Traveling by worg is so much more comfortable than by horse. I could get used to this. The miles and time just seem to flow by. Maxie has been very sweet since the wedding, but I fear he has mixed feelings about the whole affair. We are not in love, but I feel like we are getting there... 022 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Snow Ride Maxwell, The Road, Dwarven Kingdom of Hasandri. 14th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. Bri asked me about the family finances today... Finances...Money... I told her it wouldn''t be a problem. She told me that I snore (I do NOT snore. The hell you don''t!) and that if I didn''t want her to make an issue of it, I needed to come clean. I came clean this evening. I showed her some of the contents of the trunk. There will be a peaceful tent tonight. Brianna, 14th of Anael, I had a wonderful chat with Maxie today during our lunch break about the family finances. I explained about my dowry, and how it was meant to set up a proper household (and that I didn''t expect to use it for another fifty or so years), but also that I was concerned about how we were going to pay our expenses on this holiday trip. He looked at me like a mouse caught stealing the cheese, and said Don''t worry about it. We are good on that. I felt that I needed to press my case, as I have been properly taught to manage a household, and he hasn''t. Brandy and the god Bjorn (may he live forever) both told me in confidence that Maxie is a bit of a spendthrift at times. He is apparently an excellent businessman, but when between businesses he spends money like water over the waterfall. I pressed my case, and pointed out the occasional wasteful bits of spending here and there, and he laughed! I NEVER! He did eventually apologize, but still. I then threatened to publicly mock his snoring. He eventually caved and promised to lay it all out for me in the evening. He showed me his battered trunk this evening. I am...dumbstruck. It is an ancient chest of holding. For a simple box that is 2'' x 2'' x 3'' in size, it holds a rooms worth of goods. Mostly tools of his various trades; but also enough magical weapons and armor to outfit a platoon; potions of healing and mana recovery; gold enough to buy a royal palace; and an untold number of jewels and jewelry. Then there was the collection of more than a dozen items pilfered from the temples of various current and previous gods. I liked the little miniature statues of people in the strange, and brightly colored, clothing; they were painted in such a lifelike way. I believe we are more than good on the financial side of things. Did I mention the racks of clothing? They are worth more than a kings ransom. Maxie made them ALL himself. I don''t think we will need to hire a seamstress once we settle down. Maxwell 18th of Anael, Bri shot a stag today. Good clean heart shot. Good food tonight. Snow is getting thick. We have made it out of the mountains proper. Our speed should increase to around forty miles in a day tomorrow. Should only take us seven days to make the next trade city, Littledate. Maxwell, 22nd of Anael, Bandits. Idiots. At least some had the sense to run. Bri got two with her bow from worg-back, Then slaughtered several more with her curved saber. I will need to remember not to get into a real fight with her. I would win, eventually, but at what cost? English got one with a ball of flame, then cast several defensive spells on the rest of our group. I don''t know how many Magni got, but he had a fair amount of loot when he got back, and some horses. Nomvula was covered in blood and smiling about Putting it to the English. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. When you''re hungry horse is good eating. Brianna, 22nd of Anael, I agree with Maxie, I dislike bandits. - - - The bandits had blocked the road with a pair of large trees, and stood behind the barrier with crossbows displayed in a threatening manner. They balked slightly when the travelers they had sighted came up slowly on worgs, but they had faced a few smaller packs (what they thought were packs) and come out on top. Two shouldered their crossbows as their leader started to talk. If you value your liv--- The leader''s throat sprouted an arrow, and Bri loaded another arrow and fired. One of the prepared bowmen went down. The second bowman caught a ball of fire to the chest and fell, smoke billowing from the hole. Charge! Bri yelled, digging her heels into her worg, and the combat commenced in earnest. Chester ''The English'' Grants started chanting shielding spells, and directing their placement on his comrades, Nomvula jumped from her mount, rolled forward under a downed tree, and ran a bandit through with her spear, laughing all the way. Magni cartwheeled around the side of the blockade and threw a dagger into the eye of his nearest opponent. Some of the surprised bandits tried to route, dropping their gear and fleeing into the forest. Most stood and fought, and died for their trouble. Bri entered into the melee, swinging her saber down and across, cutting the bandits from above as her mount jumped from place to place savaging all around with it''s teeth. One of the bandits made a solid strike with his spear into her side. The spear broke on the magical shield Chester had cast. Brianna removed the shocked bandits head. Nomvula brought her shield to the front, and stood taunting the bandits, What''s wrong English? Scared of a little girl? A bandit brought a large sword down at her, and she blocked it with her shield, then ran him through with her spear. She cackled, Who''s next? She pointed at a random bandit with her spear, You? She lunged at the bandit next to the one she had pointed at, and planted the spear in his guts, then she twisted it before pulling it out. Next? Magni ducked, rolled, and cartwheeled his way through the bandits as they tried to flee the field of battle. Using a long bladed carving knife in each hand he targeted ankles, wrists, and more than once the inner thigh of the bandits. He occasionally giggled to himself as a form of battle madness settled over him. At one point he misjudged a strike and a knife got stuck in bone, so he grabbed a blade from a fallen bandit. A knife that oozed green fluid along the blade. When he had finished off the fleeing men, he stopped for a while to calm down, and then searched the bandits and their makeshift camp. - - - Maxwell, 24th of Anael, Around midday tomorrow we should reach Littledate. The lowlands are still green in spots, but mostly brown. At least the cold isn''t too bad as of yet. Brianna, 25th of Anael, The town guard balked at the worgs being allowed into the city. I had words with them, just as mother taught. We got in. Shopping for a group this small is relatively easy, as compared to the lords household I was placed in charge of in my thirties. We now have proper equipment for the snow; provisions for three weeks, including food for the worgs; proper updated maps; and other sundries, such as a wand of cleanse. Men. How do they survive their own smell? Maxwell, 26th of Anael, Brianna is a wonder, and terror, when she shops. I would hazard that ninety percent of what she purchased, she got at less than retail. We left the comparative safety of the city at dawn. Another forty miles under foot. About 2540 miles to Demonia; 63 days. I hope they can hold out that long. I feel myself being dragged that direction, and I don''t like that. Feels too much like being a Hero. I need to figure out how to go faster. Faster... Maxwell, 28th of Anael, Chester and I have been talking for the last couple days about the theory of magic, as it pertains to making us travel faster. This evening he told me that he found a spell in one of my tomes that might help. He said he will need a few days to learn and practice the spell. I have no choice but to trust him as my magic revolves around the forge, enchanting, and the woods. Brianna, 28th of Anael, Maxie is afraid. He worries at night, and doesn''t sleep enough. When he does sleep, he has nightmares. He refuses to talk about it, except in the most vague terms. Something about people burning and screaming his name. Brianna, 29th of Anael, Morning, Maxie has disappeared. He was in the tent with me last night. This morning everyone was awakened by him screaming. I tore down the sheet we hang between our cots, and he was gone. Brandywine is...very angry about this development, and is yelling at the one-eyed cat; it''s not like the poor creature can understand what she''s say--- Oh. Oh my. 023 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Demons and Shadow Somewhere... 29th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. Maxwell fell heavily on his back, with a thump that knocked the wind out of him. His body told him he was on a flat stone slab, surrounded by people. He wheezed for a few moments until his breath returned, then felt his himself for injuries and found none. He finally opened his eyes and looked around. Then looked around again. A church of some sort. People in vestments. Lots of people in the back praying. He sat up. What in the hells is going on? - - - For the third time the high priest of the Cult of the Heretic finished the ritual of summoning that the strange old gnome woman had given him. He was beginning to loose faith. The Heretic Had to come. His people needed him. With a heavy heart he started the ritual a fourth time. There was a loud pop above the alter and a man fell screaming from the ceiling, and crashed into the ancient stone slab. There was blood splatter everywhere, and the church fell silent. Then the figure on the slab sat up, saying What in the hells is going on? - - - Tom Cat, El Gato god king of all he surveyed stretched out on the top of his warm mount. It''s good to be the king. I hope that stupid fairy and her friends enjoy their trip through the shadow realm. If she had just asked; or begged would have been even better; I would have sent her through a nicer cat door to where the idiot smith went. But Nooo, she had to scream. Moron. He kneaded his paws into the warm fur of the worg. Mmm, Comfy. - - - Maxwell slid off from what he now recognized as an alter. What the hells do you think you''re doing?! He yelled at the mass of people kneeling in front of him. Where the hell am I? Lord Heretic, the kneeling head priest replied, You are in your church, The Church of the Heretic! ...bugger... The land needs your service and divine protection once more. The priest continued as he slowly stood, Is it not written in the holy scriptures that you said ''Don''t make me come back here''? Max smacked the palm of his hand into his face, muttering, I knew that would eventually bite me in the ass... A man dressed in a military uniform approached the alter, Lord Maxwell, the Kingdom of Demonia needs your help once more. Please, in our hour of need, please grant us your strength. The enemy is at the gates, and we don''t know how much longer we can hold out. Max looked at the almost familiar man, Do you have a brother named Alexander? No sir, that would be my first cousin. The soldier replied. My name is Shawn. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Close enough. Max shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, Lets get things started. He turned to glare at the priest, You and I will be having words after this is over... And get me my trunk! - - - The world was cold. Colder than cold, really. The air chilled the throat and lungs with every breath. Maybe I should have asked the stupid cat for help, as opposed to yelling at him? Brandywine thought as she fluttered through the almost living shadows that made up the shadow realm. She looked back at the three Heroes and Brianna. Poor dear, Bri shouldn''t need to deal with this kind of thing. She shrugged, and continued on in the direction Tom Cat had pointed her in. I hope he didn''t give me the wrong directions as a joke. Miserable bastard. - - - Out of nowhere, Tom Cat, El Gato, God King of Worgs and all that he surveyed, had a sneezing fit. And Maxwell''s trunk vanished. - - - The walk through the city took most of an hour due to the refugees. In the distance Max could see the smoke from the burning houses outside the walls. Why does everyone have to burn the houses? It''s such a waste of resources. He walked the streets, feelings of sadness and desperation all around him, and nearly wept. Shit''s getting old. When I get my hands on Lancil, I''m going to make him explode. - - - Frost clung to her hair, her eyelashes, and her clothes, as Brianna continued to trudge behind Brandy. Note to self, do NOT visit the realm of shadows ever again. Much to cold. - - - Your city, nay your entire country is an abomination to all of demon kind! Prince Lancil paused to take a breath. Why do you ''people'' insist you are in the right? Your ancestors betrayed the sacred trust and abandoned their own people! For what? This thing called ''love''? He paused, having spotted an unpleasant, but not unforeseen development. Damn. He got here well earlier than expected. Revise plans 3-9. 11 and 14 need to be removed. Time to use force. He sighed. Prepare the siege engines! - Maxwell looked over the city wall. Sure enough, there was the damnable ''Prince Lancil'', playing at being a demon lord. I wonder who actually crawled out of the ground to be the Lord? It sure wasn''t him. Maybe the one on his left?Large muscles, intelligent eyes...burns with power. Power he''s feeding into Lancil... If we kill him, Lancil may fall...But then we still have to deal with the army. The combat Orders will be taking high casualties in this war... He turned from the wall, and walked down the stairs, Shawn! Take me to the generals. We need to talk. He looked around for one of the priests who had followed him from the church, You. Yes you. He pointed at a random priest, or maybe acolyte? Where''s my box? The person in question, an acolyte named Nancy replied, It is on it''s way to you, my lordship. Good. Max turned back to Shawn. Let''s go. - - - Nomvula was surprised at the biting cold and the ethereal darkness of the road she found herself on. The cold bites my face and lungs. It slips in under my clothes. I can see the English shivering in his robes. The not-English English, Magni, seems fine. He''s whistling in the darkness. This is a place of dreams and horrors. I can see some of the shadows looking at us as we travel past the cities and towns. They are evil spirits waiting for us to falter so they can eat us. I don''t want to be here. - - - As rocks from the demon''s catapults impacted the cities walls, magical balls of fire arced over the battlements, starting buildings on fire. Max found himself stopping every few minutes as the residents and the guard stopped traffic so they had room to control the blazes and rescue trapped people. After the fourth stop, Max looked at Shawn, You have that many trained mages to do this work? Every block has a dedicated ''Fire Martial'' who is paid a stipend from the city to contain fires. Shawn replied. For was it not said, ''Every forge needs a way to extinguish it''s flame, so it may not spread to the neighborhood''? - - - The frost was blurring their vision when the finally reached the exit from the Realm of Shadows. The run had been long and hard, but was finally over. They fell to their knees on the snowy plain as the portal closed behind them. Thank the gods that''s over. Nomvula said, gasping in the comparatively warm air. I don''t know how much longer I could have lasted. Bri replied. Magni, kept whistling. 024 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Siege Gilip, Capital of Demonia. 29th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. Maxwell sat in a spartan room, with the three generals of Demonia. The only decorations being highly detailed maps hung on the walls. The conversation had been going for all of thirty minutes, and he was already bored to tears. So we have six hundred of the Order, the fifteen hundred city guards, and a thousand army troops. Did I miss anything? General Klouse, a larger than normal half-demon looked up from the supply records he had been reading from, Yes, lord Heretic. And we have three gates to cover, as well as keeping the peace? Max continued. Yes lord Heretic. General Sven, a human, replied. And the enemy has nearly eight thousand troops at their disposal? Max asked. Yes lord Heretic. The third general, an ancient man of determinant age, replied. In a full frontal assault we will all die. In a pincer style attack we all die. In a full defensive operation, we die of starvation in two months at the most. Then we evacuate the city. Max said. If all roads lead to death, you retreat. The three generals stared at Max, mouths agape. Then the eldest smiled. I knew I liked you. - - - Brianna stood up and looked around their location. Plenty of trees, light snow cover, slightly rolling land, smoke to the east, no demons within sight. I think we''ve taken enough time to rest. We need to proceed east, and scout the area. The three humans and the Pixie grumbled, but stood up, dusted themselves off, and followed her, as she started towards the distant smoke. - - - Planning an evacuation is never easy, and the more people you need to evacuate, the harder it gets. They would have restart at least one of the teleportation circles, and use the sewer tunnels. And make several raids on the enemy supplies to keep them from having time to notice the slow drain of people from the city. Diplomatic Priest of Communications, Alexander, was having a very not fun day. He had spent the last week scouring the archives and storage rooms looking for one of the original communications ''Stone Boards''. One that wasn''t connected to the newer spell lines, one that was connected to the old, or better yet ''original'' backbone of the communications network. As a novice he had written a paper warning of the dangers of failure if something ever happened to one of the five nodes in the modern system, and how the spell code wasn''t properly hardened so as to be able to handle the extra power draw if more than one node had to be shut down for emergency maintenance. He had even gotten help from the maths teacher on how much mana draw would cause an overload. His paper had been laughed at, and used as an example of What not to write a report on. He didn''t feel very vindicated at the moment. No, he was just sad. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. He was searching through the third sub floor storage room when his pocket started to vibrate. He stopped, and stuck his hand in the offending pocket to find out what was wrong when he remembered. That was where he had stuck the Heretic Stone. Shit. Now what? He answered the stone. What! Well a good day to you too, Alex. Max said into his stone. What do you know about the teleportation gate magic? L...Lord Heretic...My apologies--- Alex began. It''s Max. Maxwell if you must. Max said, Teleportation Gates?! I know some of the basics. But you would be better off with Acolyte Joseph. Alex replied, still searching through crates. If you can hold on for a moment, I can... No, I can''t connect you to him... Then he saw the ancient board, hanging out the side of a crate in the back of the room. I will call you right back. He turned the stone off, and hurried about his task. - Max looked across the table to the generals, That was weird. I wonder what the boy was looking for? - Alex almost flew through the hallways of the communications department, laughing all the way. I knew it was still here! No one around here ever throws anything away that ''might'' be useful! Just like in a junk/repair shop! Praise the Heretic''s words! He skidded through a doorway, and slammed (carefully) the archaic board down. He gathered the glyph ribbons, and pushed them into the various slits in the board. Then he hummed the activation hymn. The board burst into light, then faded to the proper background colors of blue, red, and yellow. He took the Heretic Stone from his pocket, and fitted it into the main slot. Then gathered the Nation Stones from the array of broken boards that littered the floor. He cackled, This should do it! And plugged the ancient board into the spell repeater. White light once again began to fill the room. - General Bashot, eldest of the generals, and third oldest full-blooded demon in the city at the moment, felt the pebble in his pocket grow warm, then vibrate for a moment and go still again. Gentlemen, I believe the Stone Network is back in action. Master Maxwell, if you would contact this Alexander person again? Max nodded, Sure. - - - The group hid in a thicket, and stared at the demon army in front of them. Thousands of demons, in all shapes and sizes were arrayed in clumps between them and the city of Gilip. They slowly crawled out of the thicket, and made their way back into the nearest clump of trees to talk. So what do we do now? Nomvula asked, once they were settled in the depths of the trees. We could go around. Chester suggested. We could sneak through the lines at night, and poison the food supplies. Magni said, a twinkle in his eyes. Brandywine stared at Magni, I would laugh at that, if I didn''t think you were serious. It''s a good idea. As long as you don''t get caught. Magni replied. Big ''if'' there for a big man. Bri said. I think we should head south around the army, and come at the city from the south east. Nobody argued. - - - Prince Lancil lay on a cot in his pavilion. They have fire suppression units in the city, and the walls are holding against the combined force of the catapults? Yes, my lord. Vtev replied. And you are sure the Heretic isn''t responsible for this turn of events? We are certain of it. Vtev said. It would appear that they are following ancient scripture that was codified into law. Something about not letting the fire out of the forge, and keeping the forge walls strong to avoid them failing. Curses. Void of the abyss take that man. Lancil almost shouted. He sat up on the cot. We need to breach the walls before that idiot brings his army to bear. I still can''t believe that moron declared war on one man! What the hells was he thinking? We both know that he is known for his strength of body and magic, not for his strength of mind. Lancil smiled, Yes. He is also well known for being incapable of building a tower out of building blocks. 024.1 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Intermission 024.1 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II C Intermission Brother Proof stared at First Auditor of the Heretic Archive, Vast Listen, the well used and abused work table. So the new compiling device arrived from the ''factory'' in a broken condition? Yup. The upper third of the rear end was bashed in more than a half inch in some places? Brother Proof asked. Yup. And on top of that, your esteemed self has both an ear infection And a Sinus infection? Don''t forget the allergies and the smokers cough. Bugger. Said Brother Proof after a long pause. So the next summary for her most high''s enjoyment is going to be delayed for how long? About a week. Vast sighed. I hope her ladyship''s ''insurance'' covers this ''urgent care'' visit thing you''re taking me to. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. - Brother Proof looked at Vast, So, the cleric looked you over and said it was a what now? A double sinus and ear infection. Vast sighed. Lucky me. And what have we learned? Proof asked. When you go to pop your ears, and one of them whistles and dribbles a little fluid out, you should go and get it looked at? And? Don''t forget to eat and sleep? And? And my personal health is more important than working on the Heretic Collection? Yes. Brother Proof shook his head. No go to your cell in the dungeon and sleep. But there is work to do! Brother Proof shook his head. Take Your Pills. Go To Bed. But? NOW!!! Vast slunk to his bed in the dungeon, pulled out his magic recording tablet, and started to type. From upstairs he heard Brother Proof yell, Put that thrice cursed thing away, and GO TO SLEEP! Vast sighed, and lay down. Maybe I won''t dream about this cursed archive tonight... Zzzzz... - Brother Proof stood in the Heretic Archive, and shook his head. If it wasn''t for me, that idiot would be working more on next weeks update for the Ladyship. Moron. - - - Yup. I''m sick. I''ve slept 30 of the last 36 hours, and won''t be able to make my Monday deadline. Sorry y''all. Went to urgent care, and got meds. I hate being sick. ...By the time you all are reading this, I will be asleep again... 025 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Resist! Ladies! Gentlemen! Maxwell stood in front of the combined forces of Demonia, As you know, we have started to evacuate the civilian population that is willing to leave. There were nods from the assembled soldiers. The war is no longer closing swiftly. The war is here. He stared across the parade field. We stand alone facing this foe, but I remind you, WE are soldiers. He picked out individuals in the formations. Be it eighty hours or eighty days, we will resist this invader until the city is emptied of our kin. We will keep fighting when the arrows are gone. His eyes wandered to the Calvary. When all are gone, THEN we will bite BACK! *-*-* Grendel Repute looked around the camp. The cat was washing itself on top of ''his'' worg''s head and the others of the group were pitching the tents. He decided to skip out on the chores, and explore the roadside. As a heave thick snow began to fall, the obscured light began to make strange shadows on the ground. He walked, lost in thought down the roadway, the giant evergreen trees barely moving in the slight breeze. After a while, he realized he had followed an unused fork of the road, and up ahead could see a wagon pulled off to the side of the narrow trail. Walking towards him was a tall, thin man dressed in a warm sheepskin coat. Hello, child. The man said, in a deep voice. Would you like some candy? I have some in my wagon. He gestured back the way he came. Grendel took a moment to survey the area. No wagon tracks. No horse or other animal sounds. No tracks behind the man. No shadow under the man... N...No thanks kind sir. It would ruin my dinner. The man took a step closer, But I must insist. There is plenty in the wagon for you to fill your tummy. Grendel took a deep breath, Mama Repute always told me to get the candy Before I got into the wagon! He bolted back the way he had come. From behind him, he could hear laughing. *-*-* Brianna looked around. Pine trees. No love in these things. Why isn''t there a good oak or willow around to give a girl some comfort? Are we ready? Everyone eaten? Used the potty? Washed their hands? It''s almost dark, so we should be able to move in a short while. The three heroes nodded, Magni looking a little dubious, after being told to wash up after only peeing. They waited for a few more minutes as dusk settled around them like an old familiar blanket, then set off at a slow pace, Bri and Brandy taking the lead. Mind the branch, Magni. Brandy said from her higher vantage point. English, take a step to your left to avoid an old stump. She looked around at the slowly thinning trees. We''ll be out of here in a short bit, then it will be a quick march to the gate. Any clue why the demons have abandoned it? Magni asked. Not stopping, or even slowing down, Bri replied, Not really. If I had to guess, they are preparing to swarm the main gate, as they are known to do. But I don''t think Lancil is that predictable. It may be a trap we''re wandering into. *-*-* If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Prince Lancil was not amused. What do you mean, they are less than a week out? My lord, the messenger gasped, torn wings shaking, I don''t know how, but I saw their scouts less than two days travel from our sentry lines. Damn. Lancil flung himself to a couch that had been pulled from someone''s home before the place had been put to the torch. Plan twenty two through forty eight are out of the question. Twenty two? The scout blinked. Our plans of retreat. Lancil answered. We can''t head south or east. North will bring us nothing but closer to the other blasted dwarven kingdom. West is, or was, the best action. Oh. Yes, ''oh''. Our best bet was to retreat back the way we had come, then turn south into the Heretic''s home Kingdom and make raids for supplies. Now we either have to implement plan Zed, or plan Omega. If we don''t, we will be smashed between the anvil and the hammer. Vtev stepped from the shadows near the back of the pavilion. My lord, the troops have been pulled from all but the main gate. You were, as usual, correct about the Heretic''s plan. He will be sending the evacuees out on the eastern planes somehow, and defending the city until they are safely away. Good. Then we will start the execution of plan Zed. Prepare the Gate Breakers to march at midnight. Lancil plastered a toothy smile on his face. We will open the city gates tonight, and feast like kings in the morning! Vtev guided the still shaking scout from the pavilion. Go and eat, then rest. You are of no use to the master in your current condition. Thank you my lord. The scout coughed into his clawed hand then looked up, What is plan ''Omega''? Bowing to the powers that be in the city, and begging for sanctuary. Vtev replied. The half million demons on our tail would mince us and put us in pies without that cities walls between them and us. Couldn''t we just flee and take another town? With the exception of Heretics Hold, there is no other city on this continent like this one. *-*-* Max was half asleep when the attack at the gates started. He rolled out of the borrowed bed, shoved his feet into his boots, and buckled on his gun belt as he ran out the door. The barracks hallway was crowded, but he managed to slip through to the gate wall. Below him lay thousands of demon troops, and several dozen of them were carrying a battering ram. As the defenders shot arrows at the ram bearers, magical shields caused the arrows to break. The ram arrived at the gate, and struck with a loud crash. Max drew his right hand revolver, cocked the hammer, aimed at the last demon in line on the ram, and squeezed the trigger. Boom. The shield over the demon shattered. The archers who were quick on the uptake fired a volley into the unprotected demon and started to make him into a pincushion. But the shield reappeared, and the arrows slowly started to fall out. Crap, Max swore. Nezra demons. Magic resistant, extra strong, and fast healing. He looked around for a runner, waved her over, and yelled over the noise of the ram striking the gate a second time, Poisoned Arrows! Those are Nezra demons. Poison is about the only thing that will hurt them at range! She nodded and ran. Wisdom''s thrice cursed panties, this is going to be bad. *-*-* Bri, Brandy, and the rest of the crew ran for the unwatched gate. Three hundred yards, two hundred, one hundred, fifty, twenty five. Then they were there. English and Magni huffing and puffing like chain smokers, Bri winded, and Nomvula barely breathing hard at all. Meanwhile Brandy was over the gate, and harassing the guards to open it for them to crawl through. What do you mean, NO? Brandy almost yelled. They ran across the open land for safety, and you won''t let them in? No means no, miss pixie. The corporal in charge said. By order of the Heretic, no civilians are allowed back inside the walls. Do you know who I am? Brandy said. No. And I don''t care. The corporal glared at her, Now take your non-combatants, and leave. Otherwise I''m going to have to call for reinforcements. Brandy placed her tiny fists on her hips, stared at the sky, and shrieked; a piercing cry that made the wall shudder. The now concerned corporal stared at her a moment, then snapped. Look you little shit. I don''t care who you are. You''re not Maxwell''s Pixie, Priestess of the Drunken Horde, so PISS OFF! Or I''m going to have to resort to the cage we use for the little ones who flit about and cause trouble. He reached down and grabbed a bird cage that would best be described as ''spikey''. Now GET LOST! Brandy''s eyes grew wide, he face pale, as the death cage came into view. She could feel the evil leaking off cage, the yearning for Fae blood to feed it, it''s want for her. She could also almost taste the finest of luxury booze from the smell it oozed. Where... where did you find that abomination? Standard issue for the gates. Been around for centuries. Works for even the most ferocious of creatures. A couple of hours in there and no one wants to repeat their offense. Leads to a 0.01% recidivism rate. Better than prison. The corporal grinned. Don''t make me open the door. Brandy fled. 026 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A dome So Mikaa, you failed to capture the Heretic''s child? The overweight demon stared daggers at the thin demon masquerading as a man. I''m sorry my lord. I did as I was bid, Mikaa swallowed hard, and tempted him with candy. He said something about ''get the candy first'', and fled before the minions could encircle him. Very well. You are dismissed. Mikaa fled from the cavern. How could the Demon King send such an idiot to the world? He can''t even tie his own shoes! He slowed down before turning a corner into his ''cave''. He even abandoned the fortress Lancil made for this dreadful old tunnel system! Sure, it was fun to kill the dwarves, but dwarf meat is so stringy! Not even the children are decent food. And slaves? IS HE INSANE?!? Mikaa slumped onto his cot. There needs to be something done. Something done soon, or we will be the laughing stock of this world and the next. He rolled over and fell asleep. *-*-* The ram smashed into the main gate over and over again. No matter how many of the demons they poisoned, more came forwards to take their place. Maxwell''s hands were covered in the dust of burned powder and cleaning solution. Gods cure this all. We''re already out of poison. Even those of Repute are out. The gate groaned, and he could hear splintering. Oh. Great. Now the bone shard is in the throat. Max slid down the ladder, Back to your holdout positions! Street to street fighting! Keep them out of the populated sections! - - - Deep in the bowels of the city, where only he remembered the location, the ancient demon general grabbed the spiked handle of a crank. The needle like spikes dug into his hands, sucking his blood as well as his life force from his body. For so I love this city, I give my life for it. Into the Heretics hands I commend me. With his first, and last now human breath, he pulled a lever. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. A silver bell quietly chimed, once. And the Weaver shook their head, Dammit. - - - Prince Lancil stared at the city. A city that was now, and probably forever, beyond his reach. A dome of multihued colors that that sparkled in the dawn early light. Vtev, we are doomed. He looked at his friend, Not even plan Omega will save us now. Vtev nodded, Our only hope is that the half million will wash upon this rock, and be torn apart like the waves of the ocean. Prince Lancil bowed his head, To heaven with the plans. Sound the retreat. We flee to the south. My lord? Vtev stared at the prince. If you can''t beat them, join them. Lancil smiled, Issue the order. We will assimilate into this ''fake'' society. Perhaps, one day, our children will conquer them all. - - - Maxwell gaped at the light. It had sprung up from nowhere, it infused the wall, and formed a dome that enclosed the city. The demons at the gate and flashed to dust, the demons behind them had exploded into paste, and those behind them had just fallen and not stood up again. What in the ever loving hells? Then something hit him, and he fainted. - - - Brandywine stared at the demon hoard from the cover of the trees. First there was attacking, then in the time between the seconds was a light, then the demons exploded. Now? Now there was a magical shield the likes of which she had never seen, encapsulating the city. It shone brightly in the dawns light, rainbow hues cascading across it''s surface. What in the hells did Maxwell do this time? - - - A long distance to the east, in a camp for the refugees, a child of seven years awoke screaming. Screaming from the sight of watching their oldest, greatest, uncle; dying. *-*-* Ochalz, greatest general of the demon hoard stared at the messenger in front of him. What do you mean, Lancil the Cursed is fleeing to the south? There was an explosion of light from the cities walls. It killed half his army. He gave the order to flee. The scout turned messenger quavered under the gaze of the general. They didn''t even pack, they just ran like a herd of scared deer. Interesting. Deliver the report to Lord Rastafaun the Gorged. Ochalz dismissed the messenger and sat heavily on his camp stool. That ignorant, brainless tub of fecal matter is going to force me to break the army on this insignificant city. He stood and paced the small tent. If only I knew someone strong enough to kill...Hmm... 026.1 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Humans and Highrises in addition Hey guys! Did you hear the Lich King got reelected for the 47th time? Pendleton asked as he walked into the gaming room under the barn. Maximilian Mil god of war, looked up from reviewing his freshly updated character sheet, Really? 47 out of 53 elections. Didnt he have his name permanently removed from the ballot a few hundred years ago? Yup, Pendleton answered, But they allow write in candidates, so he still wins by a landslide. Its amazing that he hasnt just run away. Mil said. Naw. He thinks of it as his civil responsibility, and has the intestinal fortitude to stand up and do it correctly. Pendleton smiled, So where are Sarah and Ghondish? Beer and snack run, they should be back in about twenty or so. Kocha said as he walked in, Mil, you read to face the HOA about working on your car in the driveway? Utter bullshit! Mil replied, face starting to turn red, There was nothing of the sort going on. Ice was taking pictures of the kids climbing in and out of the engine for the interweb thing she does. Ice? New pet name for the live-in girlfriend? Kocha smirked. Shut up Kocha. Mil hissed. Maybe your character should find some romance. Kocha chuckled at his friend, Nope! Plenty of gals at the bar like this guy. I dont need a ball and chain holding me back from my MeBolt career! I still cant believe you changed classes in the middle of the campaign. Pendleton said. Not so much a class change, as adding a Prestige Class. Kocha replied, Just added benefits without the extra fuss. With my Arcane skill giving me such a boost to the computer proficiency, it was just a matter of time before I took a new tech career. And having a good charisma score, I get lots more viewers every day. Soon I will be an Influencer! Influence this! Mil said, making a rude gesture. - So, Mil, how do you respond to the HOA board? Ghondish asked. I stand up from my chair, hold up the date stamped pictures Ice took of the kids, and say, Your accusations are unfounded. Here is photographic evidence of what was happening on the day in question. Do you want me to roll a persuasion check? Mil replied. Ghondish nodded, Sure, but roll at advantage. Dice clattered across the gaming table, A 12 and a 17. So, a 22 total. Mil said. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Gnondish smiled again, Okay. The board has heard your arguments, and says they will revoke the fines. Well done. What would have happened if I had botched the roll? Mil asked. As long as you got a total over 10 you would have won. A failure would have meant a recess, after which you would have had to make your case again, without advantage and with a higher DC. Ghondish took a drink of his Mt Doom soda, If that failed you would have needed to take it to court. Pendleton and Sarah snorted, Last time you went to court, didnt you get thirty days of community service? they blurted out together. Yeah, well that guy deserved to get punched. Mil retorted. Because we all know that I cant take care of myself. Sarah said. Mil laughed, Hey, if I had realized he was talking to you and not me, I would have just laughed at him instead. As I was getting out from between the two of you. Okay Penpen, your job at the Law Office of Green and Gray seems to have decided to keep you, as they have invited you to the company party this Friday night. Ghondish said, What are you going to do? What?!? But I have a date with that cute guy What was his name? Pendleton said, looking through his notes, Oh, Don. Don works at the MegaMega, right? Yes, he does. What does that have to do with anything? Ghondish asked. Pendleton frowned, Well, I was thinking I could bring him as my plus one to the party. Well, the invitation doesnt say anything about a plus one, but make me an insight check. Ghondish replied. A die bounced across the table, then bounced off of the H&H GM screen, and rolled to a stop, showing a 20. Nat 20! Insight is a class skill, so 26. A very happy Pendleton said. Then you know that several people at the office are planning to bring their significant others or dates, so you think your plan is sound. Ghondish said. Good to know. - Two hours later Alright, your date, Dale, has stalked off the restroom. Ghondish states. What are you going to do? For starters I give that bitch, Nancy, the stink eye. Pendleton snarled. Then I head across the room, and start the rumor that she is a furry in her spare time. The rest of the table gasps. You you wouldnt! Sarah says, eyes gone wide. All she did was spill a little wine on him! Yes I would. Well, my character would. Pendleton said. I would just laugh it off, and go help him. But Nancy. Nancy is a different story. She did that deliberately. My character wouldnt take that lying down! Kocha, recovered from his surprise, looked at Pendelton, Didnt you promise her that you wouldnt tell anyone about her secret? Shes the one who ruined my chance for romance. Replied Pendleton. For that she deserves the revenge. Break it up everyone. Ghondish said over the noise. So, how do you do this? I walk over to Joan from accounting, who you will remember is the biggest gossip in the office, and slip her a copy of the photo I took of Nancy at that furry convention. Okay, I know you printed it off a while ago. She looks at it, Ghondish replied. and giggles. She then looks over at you and asks Where did you get this? I reply On the interweb. I was looking through memes and saw this. Then I give her my best Innocent Smile. Do I need to make a roll. Ghondish thinks for a moment, Well, she isnt drunk enough yet to just take it at face value, but you can roll at double advantage. Dice are rolled. I got a 1, a 2, and a 19! Pendleton smirked. That would be a 15! Alright. She swallows it hook, line and sinker. Ghondish said. She heads off to tell all of her friends. By the time Dale comes back from the restroom, it seems that the whole office is giving Nancy looks. Pendleton nodded, Good. I will take Dale around to say goodbye to people, then we will head out. Okay. Well done everyone! Ghondish said. Let me calculate the experience points for the session, and we will be done. 027 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Otherwise In the depths of the abyss a quiet voice asked a question. How is the idiot doing in the overworld? A cold ball of light replied. He is an ass of the highest order. No one likes him. We are all grateful that you sent him and his minions to the overworld. Splendid. The quiet voice replied. *-*-* The Celestial Realm Kocha, god of Chaos, held his head in his hands. Gaa. The light hurts. I shouldnt have had so much to drink after game last night. Stupid Sarah. A passing small god stopped and looked at him. A little hung over, master Kocha? Yes. Kocha said. Please dont talk so loud. Did you do anything wrong? the small god asked. Maybe? Kocha groaned. I think I summoned a Hero on a bet, and gave him stupid amounts of power. Do you think that was wise? Another small god stopped and asked. Probably not. Kocha turned away from the pair and vomited. But I think I did better than Pendelton or Sarah on my summoning. The two small gods turned to each other; eyes wide. Oh no *-*-* Galip, Capital of Demonia. 34th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. Maxwell stared at the dome of force that rippled in the air above the half vacant city. What in the hells? II dont know sir. The soldier standing next to him replied. Well at least Lancil is on the run. Max randomly pointed to two soldiers, You and you, stand guard. The rest of you he waved at the rest of the soldiers on the wall, take five. Im going to go and sort this crap out. He took the stairs down the wall two at a time, and ran full tilt towards the capital building. - Alexander stared at the Rock Board in front of him. Moments ago, it had been acting normally, but now it was covered in an insane amount of complex runes. Runes that expedited switching, made connections automatically, and runes that twisted his eyes when he tried to look at them directly. What in all the hells and the abyss? What just happened? Then he heard a whining sound from the next room. Crap! The gate room! He bolted into the next room over and stared. The gate was powering up for the first time in weeks! As he watched, it went through its normal startup sequence, beeped twice, and went into standby mode. Crying, Alex sank to his knees. Were saved! Someone crashed through the security door at the end of the restricted hallway that the communications and gate rooms were attached to, and Alex heard a familiar voice. Alex! What did you do? Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Alex wiped his eyes, stood up, and entered the hallway to face the Heretic. I dont know boss, but things seem like they are going to be better than they were before. - Brianna, Nomvula, Chester, Magni, and Brandywine sat in a makeshift shelter on the edge of the woods and watched the demon army of Prince Lancil flee. The five looked at each other, eyes wide and mouths agape. Magni finally broke the silence as the demons crested the last hill and vanished out of sight. Okay. That was strange. Not as strange as the penguin I once saw a picture of, but still strange. Chester looked at him. Ever seen a platypus? A what what? Magni asked. Platypus. It''s a marsupial from Australia Yeah. No. Dont want to hear about that cursed place. My uncles cousin came back from there. Well, his body did. Apparently, a spider the size of a house cat bit him a dozen times in the legs. He screamed for five minutes before he died. Magni quietly replied. But it has the bill of a duck! Chester exclaimed. Shut it English, before I shut you. Magni growled. That place is evil. Spiders are evil. Nomvula smiled. If you cook them properly, spiders are tasty. Magni wretched. - It had been an hour since Max had found Alex, and they were investigating the gate room. Many magical instruments were scattered around the gate projector itself, with carts of other instruments left haphazardly around the room. As Max dropped another measuring device, this one with a pair of scales hanging from a corn cob, he asked Alex his next question. Isnt this thing supposed to be teal, not an icy blue? Well, it used to be. Alex replied. I think whatever happened to the local mana field caused some changes. The communications rocks are all weird now too. The Rock board changed too? Max squinted at Alex. Seriously? Alex looked up from the notebook he was using to record measurements. Yup. Now what was the measurement on the corn-o-graph? 16.39 Mancals of energy in the yellow range. There was a purple spike that went to 19.2 for a moment when I started the test, but it never showed up again. Max answered. Okay. Alex did some more writing in the notebook. Well, it looks like a demon sacrifice was used to overload and rewrite all the runes, sigils, and symbols on both the Gate and its controls. I am willing to bet the Rock Board had the same thing. He stared at Max for a moment. The question is who: A) Sacrificed an elder demon to get this much mana; B) Why did they actually do it, because what is here is only bleed over from the spell; and C) Why is there holy magic twisted into the spell form? Max returned the stare. All good questions. Maybe we should ask that old demon general? Ill trace his stones signal. That will find him faster than anything besides a divining stone. Alex said. Unless you have one on you? In my trunk. I dont usually carry things like that when Im on guard duty. Mores the pity. - A few hours had passed since the demons had fled, and Bri and friends found themselves in front of the western gate of Galip. Bri yelled up to the gate guards, Let us in! I demand to see my husband! No civilians allowed. Go back to your refugee camp. The guard replied. I am Lady Brianna Smithson, wife of The Heretic Maxwell Smithson! You will allow us entry, or there will be issues! Bri yelled back. The two guards looked at each other for a moment, then the one who had spoken before yelled down, We''re going to send someone to ask his Lordship if you are who you say you are. If you''re wasting our time, you will be flogged. Before Bri could respond, Brandy flew up to the guards height, Oi! I remember you from last night! You wouldnt let me in then either! Thats because you look nothing like the Lord Heretics sidekick. You, look like a fairy. The guard replied. Brandy punched the barrier, and was thrown back. The guard laughed. Oh. Laugh it up soldier boy. When I get in there, you are going to regret it! Brandy yelled. - A messenger found Maxwell and Alex crouched under the Rock Boards control console, tracing rune lines. He stopped for a moment, before clearing his throat, Lord Heretic? Sir? What? Im not down here for my health. Max replied. There is a party at the gate that is demanding your presence. Tell them to go back to the refugee camp. Max replied, running a figure along a particularly twisty line. They are claiming to be a party that includes your wife and Pixie. The messenger said. Max sat up, hitting his head on the cabinets frame. What?! Max slid out of the confined space. We better hurry. If its Brandy and Bri We may be in trouble. - When Max finally arrived at the gate he saw two things, a very angry pixie, and more concerningly, a disappointed looking wife. Crap. Were in for it now. 028 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Allies? Galip, Capital of Demonia. 34th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. Im sorry dear, I dont know how to let you through the barrier! Maxwell yelled down to his wife and the heroes. Sweetheart, how about you open the gate itself for a start? Brianna replied, smile on her face. Yes dear. Max replied, then turned to the guards. Open the gate and let them in. One of the guards looked up to Max, If it works, may I have the rest of the day off? Why? Max responded. I may have insulted your pixie? Run. Was barely out of Maxs mouth when the guard ran. Max climbed down the ladder to assist the other guard in cranking the windlass to open the massive three-story gates, then climbed the rest of the way down to greet his wife and company. Come in. Max bowed towards the group, gesturing them to enter. Nomvula was the only one to step forward and poked the dome with her spear. It went through the shield. Well now it works. She said, and walked through, the others following. Brandywine zipped through the gate and buzzed her way up to the wall. Where is that ass of a guard? Where is he? She yelled at the top of her lungs. The remaining guard shrugged. Dont know miss, he may have run to the latrine. He did scamper out of here pretty fast. Where is the latrine? Brandy asked. and the guard pointed. She bolted in the indicated direction. I hope that kid got away in time. Max mumbled. Husband of mine, Bri said, looking Max in the eyes, I think we need to have a discussion about who should and should not be allowed into a town? Especially during a siege? - 34th of Anael, I havent been chewed apart so politely, or thoroughly, as Bri did this evening. It was a masterwork of destruction. I still feel that I did the right thing concerning the No One In policy, but maybe I should have put in an exception? Plenty to think about for the next time this happens, because I know this will happen again. I am glad to know that everyone is safe and sound, but apparently the land of shadows is to be avoided at all costs? Something about cold and monsters in the dark. Magni seems to be the only one who thought it was just fine. I think hes soft in the head. We have discovered by trial and error that you need to be invited through the gates, and that invitations have to be made at ground level. Also, the gates are the ONLY way through the shield. Well, the gates and the portal network. Alexander and I have yet to find the old demon General. I think he might not be with us anymore. I hope hes still around; I liked him. This evenings scouts have reported that there is another army of demons on its way. That army is about three days out, and numbers in the hundreds of thousands. All demons. I wonder how they got so many through? Unless Lancil actually had that many, and lost them all when he went rogue. I may never know. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. *-*-* Elvin Capital 35th of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came Your Majesty? Yes? The gate has reopened. SPLENDID! Sent the troops through as soon as you are able. Highness? The council of regents hasnt approved your deal with the Heretic. Am I, or am I not, the king of the elves? You are the King. Then do it. My fathers idiot council has been trying to control me for years; about now is when I think I will oust the lot of them. Except Grant. He was always nice to me. Yes, my lord. *-*-* Alexander was checking the gate in the central square when one of the gems on the control board started flashing. He quickly walked to the board and tried to figure what the flashing gem meant. What is this thing. Its flashing, but theres no documentation. The gate began to hum and started to turn an increasingly blue color. Well at least I know that color means someone is coming through. He stepped farther to the side, and watched as several soldiers dressed in the livery of the elvish kingdom came through. All the while the gate grew more and more blue. What in the HELLS!?! he yelled, as the gate gave a mighty pulse, and suddenly the square was wall to wall elves. Meanwhile, with a quiet hum, the gate shut down. - Maxwell walked out into the square and stared at the assembled elven soldiers. Yup. Elves. He walked up to the nearest group and asked, Who is in charge here? General Skybound Silverheart is in charge of this regiment. The elven corporal replied, a sneer on his face. You may tell your commander we have arrived. Max laughed a low vicious laugh, the weight of the last several weeks finally getting lose. Okay knife ear, let me explain something to you. He reached out his left hand and grabbed the elfs throat. Ive had about enough of people. He started to squeeze. Ive had enough of war. He squeezed harder. Ive missed my engagement years under the sun. He squeezed harder, and the elf began to turn red. Ive gotten married and havent had my honeymoon. The pressure increased, and the elf became bright red. Ive been forcibly separated from my new bride. The elves face became purple. And now some jumped up wannabe is going to insult me? Max didnt notice the mix of people trying to get him to release the now unconscious elf. Max shook himself, and dropped the elf. WHERE IS THE SUPPOSED GENERAL? We, need to have words. - Bri was having tea with a nice older couple who had stayed behind. They were discussing the siege, and what had happened when the shield had appeared, when the commotion started in the square. I do apologize, but I hear my husband yelling at someone. I may need to intervein. The couple gave their goodbyes, and Bri departed their lovely home only to see Maxwell throw an elven soldier several feet. Oh my. My dear husband seems to be having a day. She muttered, before walking into the chaos that was starting. She only had to smack a few soldiers before gaining Maxs presence, where she promptly smacked him across the face. Dearest. That is no way to vent your annoyance. Even if he is an uncouth idiot. At the very least you should have challenged him to a duel. Then you could have just castrated him, instead of almost killing him. Maxwell turned to his wife, gulped, and said, Yes dear. Moments later General Silverheart appeared. What seems to be the Then he saw Maxwell. Oh. That would explain it. He crossed the few feet between the circle of elven soldiers and Max, Apologies Lord Heretic. I should have known Some of the troops didnt listen when you were described. Described? Max cocked an eyebrow at the overly large and well-tanned elf. Yes. The general gestured at Max. Human. Common clothing. High Mana field. Eyes that have seen the raven of death himself. Prone to fits of violence when not entirely needed. Believes Overkill is just a fancy word. An apt description if my soldiers used their gods given gifts, instead of just looking down on people. The general glared at the now milling soldiers, then looked back at Max. My apologies for my elves actions, Lord Heretic. Bri watched the pair walk away, and sighed. Well at least no one died today. *-*-* Wechel! Where are we with the scouts? Head General Ochalz of the demon army yelled to his spymaster. They are overdue, my lord. Wechel replied from across the command pavilion. I could send out a reconnaissance team to see what happened, but I doubt that would help. True. The Heretics forces probably killed them all. Ochalz responded. Damn that human. - Many miles to the south, and a few to the east, a group of scouting demons were having a fine dinner at restaurant located at a wayside rest. The leader of the patrol looked up from his delicious cat milk-based soup and at the rest of her patrol, So Abandon the army and become citizens? Or head back and eat dried dwarf stew. Again? The vote was immediate, and overwhelming. Soon they would be perfect members of their newly chosen society. The reluctant Lich Part 1 – A Not-Immortal Blacksmith spinoff John stood up from the floor of the kings dungeon. He looked around at the blood on the floor, the blood on his hands, and the elderly man who had been the Necromantic King. The Necromantic King with a dagger protruding from his chest. Well crap. - Before John had had a long day toiling in his small field. As the light of day began to fade, he trudged to his small two room home and prepared dinner for himself. He would have liked to have a meat and vegetable stew, but there was no meat in the larder, so he just made a vegetable stew. Tubers, two different root vegetables, a handful of grain, and two quarts of water. He watched as the pot started to simmer on the old wood stove, stirring the pot, and poking the coals as needed. It amazes me that some people think that you need to cook over the flames themselves. The coals of the fire are where the real heat comes from. After several minutes of simmering (timed by singing songs) he plopped some tied together dried herbs into the stew to add flavor. Several songs later he removed the herbs, slit the old pot away from the heat, and slowly added fresh cows milk to the stew, stirring slowly every so often so as to not separate it. Finally, he placed the pot on his roughhewn table, alongside a bowl, spoon, and half a loaf of bread from his breakfast. Finally done. Time to eat. He tucked in to the meal. That night he lay awake for a while, listing the things that needed doing in the morning. Need to milk the cow; feed the chickens; clean out the chicken coop; fix the front step; waterZzz. He didnt hear the two men enter his home, tie him up, and take him away. - John did wake up when someone cut his arm and started to drain his blood. His eyes flew open, and he stared at the man with the knife. The Necromantic King. A few moments of struggle showed that he was tied to a reclining bench of some sort, right arm outstretched and bleeding into something on the floor; left hand bound to the back of the bench, and being poked by a nail. He slowly moved his left arm out of the way, and began running the rope across the nail. My lord? He grunted in pain as the nail nicked his arm, perhaps a bit too close to his wrist. Why are you doing this? What have I done to offend? Nothing at all, my good man. I just needed an innocent soul to fulfill the spell to make me a Lich. The Necromancer drew another line across his right wrist. More crimson blood spurted out, and John was surprised at the lack of any real pain from the cut. As soon as you settled out there, the necromancer gestured in what John thought was a random direction, I started the preparations to turn you into the blood sacrifice I needed. John started to move his left hand faster, hoping the nail would cut the rope more quickly. Now John, dont worry. Soon you will lose enough blood and pass out. From there you wont feel anything Speaking of blood, its time for me to open up, as it were, and contribute my own so that the ritual will complete in a timely manner. The old man rolled up his sleeve and traced a pair of lines across his left wrist. Now, when you die, I will become a Litch, gain undead immortality, and be able to give that damn arse of a king James a good punch in his draconic face! He smiled a grandfatherly smile at John. Soon my boy. Very soon. Mind swimming, John felt the rope finally part enough to snap his hand free. So For revenge against the Dragon kings slight last year, you are sacrificing me? Just to punch him in the face? Yes, dear boy, yes. Being immortal, when he breathes his flame at me, I will just revive here, instead of suffering the injustice of a painful burning death. He will never be able to kill me! And if I get this right, if you die first, right here and now, I would become this Litch thing you are talking about? John asked, clenching and unclenching his now free left fist. Yes boy. Not that you could ever break free--- John snapped out his left arm, punching the old man in the face, knocking him down. The necromancer looked up from the floor, blood streaming from his now broken nose, How? How did you? He gestured wildly at John with the dagger still in his right hand John stood up, stumbled, and fell into the Necromancer. Both flailing for the dagger, they scuffled across the floor, spilling the container of blood on the strange symbols that had been exquisitely drawn on the floor. The struggle came to a sudden end when the Necromancer slipped on a piece of chalk, and fell. Onto the dagger. John lay there, back against the wall, and watched the last of his lifes blood flow from his veins until the darkness took him. - Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Now John felt himself up and down. No open wounds. No broken bones. Castle shaking. Arms working. Legs Castle shaking?!? He stared around the basement room, and felt more than saw the castle heave slightly. Crap! Time to run! Legs, dont fail me now! He ran from the room, and up a conveniently placed stairway. At the top of the stairway was a small barred window. Too small. Too many bars. He ran past it. Through another door. Guard room. No guards. Piles of bones on the floor all over. He kept running. The castle kept shaking. More than once he tripped on piles of bones that had been left in the most inconvenient places. Someone needs to hire a cleaning service to fix this place up! He ran for what seemed like hours, but was in reality only minutes, eventually arriving at the main hall of the castle. He collapsed, breathing hard. Then made the first of several discoveries. First of which was that he wasnt breathing. The second was that he wasnt actually tired. Third, and most distressing, was the wolf sized raven sitting in the doorway. The raven stepped forward, and spoke HAROLD, SON OF BALTHASAR, YOU HAVE STARTED ON A PATH OF YOU ARE NOT HAROLD. John took a slow step back, Um, no? The raven took a half step back and shook its head. You are John, son of John. You are not on todays list. Um Im sorry? I only stopped in to warn Harold that he was making a stupid mistake. Looks like I was a little late. Oh well. Enjoy your undeath. The raven turned away from John. My what? Oh, the raven started to fade as it turned back to John, you may want to reassure the castle that you will be a good master. You dont want it to have tantrums. And it disappeared. Okay. I will do that. John turned to address the castles throne at the end of the great hall, I will take care of you, so behave, Okay? He stopped for a second. Hey, wait a minute? - Three days had passed, and John had explored most of the castle. He was amazed at the treasures in the treasury, the weapons in the armory, and the state of the kingdoms finances. Mostly the finances, as the kingdom was in the red. What am I going to do about all this? I cant back out on the castle; it would become sad. He looked over the ledger again, maybe if I sell some of the treasures? Put some of the art pieces into a paid display building? - As he was thinking, people had started gathering outside the castle. One in particular was wearing expensive silks and bedecked with jewels, and surrounded by guards. If that idiot doesnt have his payment, Im going to have to foreclose on this place. Do you have any idea how bad we will look with the king living like a farmer in his own country? The well-dressed man asked his lackey. Lord Devon, one does not expect the crown to pay off its debt collectors. Nor does one evict the king from his castle. Said lacky replied. I know Johnson. I know. Im just so very tired of the situation. We are already the laughing stock of the area, what with that stupid drake yammering on last year at the festival. Devon said. Johnson nodded, then looked around, My lord, let us go and knock, as it seems the guards havent noticed us yet. Do you have any idea why there are so many piles of bone and rags around here? Devon asked as the traveled over the open drawbridge. Ive never seen such a thing! I have absolutely no idea, my lord. Johnson replied. - John looked up at the sound of someone knocking heavily at the main halls door. He closed the accounts book, and yelled Im coming! and jogged from the room behind the throne to the door. He almost took a breath, before remembering that he didnt breathe anymore. He threw the main door open, and stared. Lord Devon of Dis was on the other side. He slammed the door closed. Am I late on my taxes? Did dad die? Why is he here? Then it hit him, Shit! Hes here to see the king! Im so screwed! He opened the door. - Devon stared in shock as the door to the castle was slammed in his face. Well, I never! How dare he! My lord, I dont believe that was King Harold. He looked much to young, and very dead. I believe something may have happened. Johnson said. Then the door opened again. And the dead young man behind it waved them in. - John opened the door, and waved the pair of visitors in before speaking, Im sorry lord Devon, but I think Im up to date on my taxes. You arent King Harold, are you. Davon stated, more than asked. No, my lord, I am not. John replied. I am--- Devon drew his sword and pointed it at John, Have at the villain! Where is King Harold? John threw up his hands and leapt back from the blade. A blade he had seen decapitate an ogre several years before. Lord Devon! Its me! John son of John! Devon paused for a moment, John? What in the hells has happened to you? Why are you here? Why are you dead? Why are you still walking? UmI was kidnaped by the king? He tried to kill me as a sacrifice to turn into a Lich, but I accidently killed him trying to get away? I woke up as a Lich instead? Devon stopped and stared at the second-best farmer on his land. Since I know you are a terrible liar, Im going to believe you. But you need to back up and explain the whole story. John began to recount his tale, and explain what he had found since waking up. - So, the raven came to visit, told you to enjoy your un-life, and directed you to quell the castle? Devon asked after John had finished the story. That is the jist of it. John replied, now sitting on a chair that Johnson had found somewhere. I dont know what to do! I dont want to be executed for regicide! I dont want to become a lich. I certainly dont want to become king! Devon let out a sigh, Well, not much for it. King Harold didnt have any children. No close or distant cousins or siblings for that matter. I think you are stuck as king by rite of conquest. I didnt conquer anything! I just accidently killed him! In self-defense. Devon replied. Now you are king. Johnson! Go grab the crown from the dungeon! On it, sir. Johnson replied, already on his way to the dungeon. Here is what is going to happen. Devon gave a wan smile. Im going to crown you the conquering king, and you are going to rule the kingdom of Dis. He held out his hand, and Johnson placed the crown in it. Kneel. John knelt. In the name of all that is holy; I Lord Devon, ruler of the capital city of Dis; do solemnly declare that John, son of John, is King of the kingdom of Dis! He placed the crown on Johns head. And across the land of Dis was heard the tolling of a small silver bell. 029 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Fae and Calls In a place not quite out of space and time, three women sat around a nice table sipping tea. An elderly but spry lady, a middle-aged but quite attractive woman, and a young woman of immense beauty. They sat and sipped, and chatted lightly about things going on in the world. Finally, the youngest spoke up. Mother, Grandmother. I am disappointed in my daughter. She should have landed that fool by now. Instead? Instead, we handed him off to that welp of an elf. The eldest spoke, If not for that, I dont think the two of you would have survived the encounter. The middle one nodded. That and your friendship with the lady of shadow, mother. I doubt that made much difference. As I understand things, Sarah and Ghondish are the only old ones left on the world. The eldest took a sip of her tea, And even with the power of the three of us, there was very little chance of beating him. Is he really that powerful, grandmother? The youngest asked, draining her cup and pouring another. He is all but a god himself at this point. And that is just from the belief of those around him. If you count the power he has inadvertently drained from the gods themselves? Im surprised he isnt sprouting accidental miracles every other day. The younger two ladies stared at the eldest. You cant serious? The youngest finally asked. Quite. The eldest took another sip. This is quite excellent tea, by the by. Where ever did you find it? There is a bakery and bar in a small town not far from here. The place where those of Repute hang out? The youngest replied. They have an exceptional selection of tea and coffee, as well as the best bread in the realm. She stopped for a moment, Please dont distract from the conversation, grandmother. Very well. The eldest said with a small sigh. Have you not heard the silver bell? Yes? the younger pair replied without a pause. Do you know what it means? The eldest asked. After a moment and a glance at each other, the younger pair replied, No. It only chimes in times of great importance. The eldest said. And how many times has it chimed lately? The younger pair again looked at each other, eyes wide. OH. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! *-*-* Maxwell sat in the office of the well-appointed suite he shared with his wife and stared at the paperwork. Paperwork. Why does it have to be paperwork? He stared at the papers for a while longer. At least it isnt tax forms. From the living area Brianna called, Maxie! Time for dinner! There in a moment. He replied, then placed the papers on the desk and stepped out from the office. What are we having tonight? Fish, chips, and mixed veggies. Bri smiled as Max shuddered. You know they try their best. Dont sulk about the soggy vegetables. Max harumphed and sat at the table with his wife, and smiled at the comfortable silence. *-*-* Grendel Repute sat on the back of the wagon as it slowly trundled through the snow. He had seen the strange, and honestly scary, man several times since the first encounter. Each time he had fled, and this last time had actually told someone. Sadly, when they had gone to investigate, they had found nothing. So, he sat, and felt disturbed. In the midst of his nothing he felt the magic stone in his pocket vibrate. Oh, good. Someone to mess with! He smiled, retrieving the stone from his pocket, and slid his finger across the surface. Prince Lancils answering service! How may I help you? From the stone a deep inhuman voice sounded. You can tell me where all the snacks you had disappeared to, you insolent little puppy! Im sorry sir, but if you decide to be rude, then I will be forced to disconnect and block all further messages from your stone. Grendel smoothly replied, honey dripping from his voice. Fine. The other side grunted, Tell your boss that if he values his life, he will tell us where the puppy and kitten snacks are. I wont believe that he let them all go! Very well sir. Voice still dripping honey like venom, Grendel responded, But of course, I will need a name for the message? I am Demon Lord Rastafaun the Gorged! The stone yelled. You will deliver this message immediately! Demon lord Rastafaun the engorged? Got it. Grendel replied. Gorged! Rastafaun the G-O-R-G-E-D Rastafaun growled into the stone. And what is the message exactly? Grendel asked, ignoring the correction. THE MESSAGE IS--- Rastafaun yelled before being interrupted. SIR! If you yell, I will have to disconnect! Grendel said. Fine. Rastafaun grumbled. The message is: Tell me where the snacks are, or I will have you boiled alive in the lava pits! Are you sure, sir? Grendel asked. Lava pits sound more like a spa day than a punishment. Fine. I will have him stoned, then punted off a cliff. I believe he would enjoy the altered state of being stoned, Said Grendel, and I believe he enjoys flying? FINE! I will have him killed! Rastafaun nearly yelled. Very good sir. Grendel smiled at the stone. So, the message is: Tell me where the snacks are, or I will have you killed; Do you want an exclamation point at the end? Or just a simple period? I must warn you that the exclamation point is more expensive. But we do offer a complete grammar, spelling, and punctuation package, if you pay for a dozen or more messages up front! Um How much more? Rastafaun asked, eyes starting to glaze over. Half of an imperial gold crown. Grendel said, making up a currency and giving in to a wicked grin. But the package of twelve waives the extra costs and is a steal at just 23 crowns! Fine. I will take the package. Just get the message to him as soon as possible. Rastafaun said with a deep sigh. And thank you. Rastafaun ended the conversation, and teleported a small sack of gold to the location of the other rock. Grendel looked at the bag of gold that suddenly appeared next to him on the wagon, and laughed. 030 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith – Travels Maxwell stared out the small window in the war room while he waited for the generals and other officers to arrive. The dome had dimmed to the point that you could see through it, and he watched as the demonic army set up camp less than a mile from the city. When the last straggler entered and sat, the general in charge started the meeting. Why am I even here? I dont add anything besides my fighting and base knowledge of magic. Whatever. The meeting ended with the decision being made to defend at the wall, and only send out mounted troops when the enemy showed a weakness. Pretty standard fare for defending a city. He made his way out of the room, not stopping to chat with anyone and went for a walk in the now recovering city. He was sitting on a park bench, randomly tossing seeds to a small flock of birds when his messaging stone started to vibrate. He removed the stone from his pocket and swiped his finger across the smooth face, Hello? Ah, the heretic. Just who I wanted to speak too. The voice on the other end said. I am general xxx of the demon army--- Max ended the call, swiping across the stone again. Idiots. He grumbled. I wasnt born yesterday. The stone vibrated again. He answered. WHAT? The same voice as before spoke again. We need to talk. Make it fast. Max growled. Im busy. Very well. I want you to kill the demon lord. Ochalz said in a level voice. YouYou what? Max stuttered into the stone. He needs to die. Ochalz replied. He will force me to throw my troops into your void forsaken wall. The number of unneeded deaths will be high. I need him gone. Mas took a deep breath to calm his nerves, Whats in it for us? Upon his death, we will cease all hostilities for a total of ten years. Ochalz said. Twenty-five, no less, and you will retreat to the demon wastes. Max responded. Very well. Twenty-five years. Ochalz said, And we will move to the aptly named demon wastes. How do I know I can trust you? Max asked. You dont. But I give you my personal assurances, and all the information I have on that lard filled bastard. Ochalz responded. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Good enough. Max smiled. Tell me everything. *-*-* Grendel Repute sat on the back of the wagon as it progressed down the snow-covered road. What to do. What to do. He absentmindedly scratched the cat that Brandywine had left in his care when she and the others had left. So, cat, what should we do today? No one will dice with me anymore. Especially after they finally caught me cheating. The cat flopped onto its side and purred at him. Maybe we should No. Perhaps? No. What do you think? The cat gently captured his left hand in its paws and brought it closer to lick and nibble on. I suppose we could eat something, but lunch isnt for another hour or so. Grendel said in response to the nibbles. Maybe we could raid the sweets jar? *-*-* Max had gathered up his usual suspects in his rooms. Demon general Ochalz has asked that we assassinate the demon lord. The room went silent. Yeah. I was surprised too. Max said into the silence. I have a bunch of notes here, he waved to a stack of papers, with all of the information Ochalz could give me. The next several hours were spent going over the notes. *-*-* Cookies in hand, Grendel sat once again on the back of the wagon, cat purring on his lap. Okay. We have a communication stone from Prince Lancil. We have snow. We have cookies Now what? Meow said the cat. Exactly. Grendel replied. *-*-* Gilip, Capital of Demonia. 53rd of Anael, First month of Snow. 2290 years since the New Gods came. We have almost a thousand miles to travel to get to the demon lords lair. We will be traveling the demon wastes through ice and snow. While the demons will not be thick and heavy due to their army being here, they will still be around. Little else thrives out there. There is a breed of Horse that has been mostly tamed that will survive the travel, but with my track record with half demonic beasts, I worry there will be problems. Bri has refused to stay behind, claiming that the place of a wife is with her husband. Who am I to argue? The gangs all here, we leave tomorrow at dusk. 54th of Anael. Dusk. The wind is cold, blowing the powdery snow across the plain as we departed. The heroes, Brandywine and Bri are all well covered in winter traveling clothes. The trunk is tied to my back. 55th of Anael, We got five miles through the wind and snow last night. No demons were spotted. Today we should make about ten more. I keep forgetting how much I hate walking in snow, it gets everywhere. Plains of Demonia. 1st of Arah, Second month of Snow. 2291 years since the new gods came. Midwinter was last night, and we did not celebrate. Travel was more important. We made just over ten miles today, giving us a total of twenty-five miles. I believe it is around twenty points below freezing* as we set up camp tonight. We are all sharing one small tent to conserve heat. The wind is whipping across the gently rolling plain at speed. Tomorrow we may be snow blind. Our current path will bring us to Ghostward, another one hundred twenty miles or so. Twelve days. We will rest for a couple nights there, and hopefully be able to procure Horses that can deal with the weather. 3rd of Arah. The wind and snow were too much today, we made it three miles. It is a blizzard. I hope we arent snow bound for too long. Only 38 miles so far. 6th of Arah. We got nearly two feet of snow, but the wind has slowed. Tomorrow, we will dig ourselves out and continue on our way. - Magni stared at the snow, and smiled to himself. Its like home. Just without the mountains. He held back a tear as he thought back to his lost home, the people, his wife and children, and then let the tears loose. - 10th of Arah. We continue our march. I dont understand how Magni can smile and whistle through this. Maybe he really is part bear as Nomvula claims? I dont know, he kind of does look like one Around eighty miles, halfway there. Seventy left. 13th of Arah. Elk. A herd of elk. Being chased by a small pack of worgs. The worgs ate there fill and ignored us. Im an idiot gods forsaken MORON! We could have ridden worgs if I hadnt wanted to avoid the going away ceremony that would have been thrown for us. Too late now. 14th of Arah. We spotted a demon patrol today. They ignored us. *-*-* Grendel stared at the boring snow once again. Now what do we do, cat? Mrow? The cat replied. Me either. Grendel said. Maybe we can use Lancils stone and try to sell someone a bridge? *-*-* Demon General Ochalz sat on his camp chair, and smiled. The Heretic is well on his way now? Excellent. Once that worthless idiot is dead, we will make a place for ourselves in the wastes, and prepare. *That would be -20c, or -10f. 031 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – “Heroes” & "The reluctant Lich, Part 2!" Three mortal teenagers from earth, each equiped for a paintball tournament, looked around the medieval town they had found themselves in. One of the three, a boy named Sam was the first to speak. Guys? I dont think were in Kansas anymore. The female of the trio looked at Sam, Well duh. We left Kansas two weeks ago. Molly! Leave Sam alone. You know hes slow some days. The third member of their group said. Shut it Hesh, you furry reject! Sam and Molly said at the same time. Youre just pissed that I got to keep my cat ears for the tournament. Hesh responded with a grin. Sam looked around the street they were standing on. Do either of you think its strange that theres nobody on the street? Yeah. Where is everyone? Hesh replied. Youd think they would be happy to see their new Heroes in person. I was expecting a parade the way that super-hot goddess was talking. You thought she was super-hot too? Sam asked, shock apparent in his voice. Hesh stood to their full height. I may be an ace, but Ive got eyes. If she wasnt the posterchild for beauty, I dont know what is. Molly sighed. Boys! Hey! Sam said. Hesh is a TRAP! Not a boy! Hesh punched Sam in the shoulder, sending him flying through the wall he was standing next to. Hesh and Molly stared as Sam stood up coughing. What was that for? Sam asked once the coughing fit ended. Molly and Hesh continued to stare. - The trio of Heroes walked around the deserted town, looking for any signs of life. I see a couple of birds from up here, but no people. Hesh said from the roof of a row house. That makes three birds, two rats and a goat. Molly said. Too bad the goat ran away before we could try and kill it for food. Right? Sam replied. Maybe it was some sort of Magic goat that would give us even more power? Hesh and Molly looked at Sam, Shut up. What it would be fun! Sam looked down at the paintball magazine* on his belt. Hey! Ammo is full again! He dumped the magazine of balls into the hopper on his gun, and let loose a full auto burst. The shots went clean through the building, and exited the other side, then burst on the wall of the next building over. Hesh laughed, loading and spraying his balls across the roof of the row house until he fell through into the attic. I cant believe these do so much damage now! What do you think would happen if we raised the pressure to max on the guns? They yelled from inside the building as he shot his way down to the ground floor, and came out through the wall. Molly, eyes gleaming, said I want to find out! and made herself a spot to sit by breaking a nearby stone wall. After sitting down, she started to riffle through her pack for a tool kit. Hesh and Sam stood to the side, watching her work. *-*-* The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Part 2 Several months had passed and John the Lich King had been busy. Several of the items in the treasury had been sold on the international stage, and the kingdom was in the black again. Most of the art was on public display in the capital itself. And John was in the middle of writing a proclamation about Literacy, being tantamount to expanding the kingdoms workforce when a living guard (he had found out that the old king had used the undead for all of the jobs in the castle, hence all the bone piles when he had died) stuck his head into his office behind the throne. My Lord, Bolder the Drake has been sighted headed this way. John nodded, Thank you Robert. I can take it from here. He stood from his comfortable chair, Tell your wife I say hi. And good luck with your new lad, I hope he grows up big and strong. Thank you, my lord. Sir Robert bowed himself out of the office and returned to his position on the wall. I dont think I will ever get used to being called My Lord or King. John thought as he stepped out of the office and walked up to his throne. Why is this throne so uncomfortable? Maybe another cousin? He heard the sound of the dragon king land in the courtyard, and tried to get comfortable on the throne. Open the doors for the Dragon King. He called to the footmen at the far door. The men saluted, and swung open the massive double doors of the castle (as opposed to the normal person sized door set into the left-hand large door). The large, and somewhat portly, dragon king entered. Oh, so the farmer king has decided to meet with me at last? Bolder the Drakes voice almost shook the great room, and the footmen had to cover their ears. John was glad that death had made such things as noise not bother him as much. Well met, Drake. John glowered at the dragon. You know my proper title. If you will not show me the honor of my station, then I will deny you yours. Bolder glowered at the dead human. You will show me respect, or I will burn you from your throne, and conquer your pitiful kingdom! Or you could just be polite. John answered. Gods above, Im so glad I dont really feel fear anymore, otherwise I think I would have pissed myself by now! The dragon raised his head almost to the ceiling, pointing his muzzle down towards the throne. Bend your knee to me, and I will make you a vassal state. Ignore this gift, and I will destroy you. So Death or slavery? Those are my only options? John asked. Yes. The gloating dragon replied. Death it is. John smiled, Oh, wait, Im already dead. - War. War always changes. Sure, the basics of kill them before they kill you remains the same; but, for better or worse, the means and methods are constantly on the move. King John sat astride his new warhorse, heavy plate armor girding his body. The Lance of Dragon Slaying was in his right hand, and the Sword of Snicker-Snack belted at his waist. A squire handed him a large kite shield. Across the rolling hills, turned wasteland, of the battlefield, he could see Bolder the dragon lounging in the sun, being fed by one of his handmaidens. Or in this case, eating one of his handmaidens. John sighed. Alright, I have a plan. Just dont be surprised, okay? He looked to his left at Lord Devon. As you say, my lord. Devin replied. John rode his horse to the middle of the field. Dragon! I challenge you to a duel. A duel to the death! Bolder looked down at John, Oh, finally some spine from the dead man? Very well, I accept! He stood and shook himself; bits of the recently deceased handmaid flew about him; and walked to the field of battle. John spurred his mount to a trot, lowered the Lance of Dragon Slaying, and at ten yards spurred his mount again. For his part Bolder let John charge. He was certain the lance would bounce off of his scales. And he was mostly right, as when the attack struck it was off center by nearly a yard and skittered for a bit down his side. Then it dug in, and he roared. John left the lance behind as he wheeled his horse to the side and fled from the dragons claws as they reached for him. Sadly, for his horse, it took a claw across its rump and spilled. John rolled across the ground for a dozen feet before coming to a stop. John stood up, drew the Snicker-Snack, and yelled at the dragon, Is that all you can do? Kill innocent horses? Bolder sat up. Are you calling me a coward? Yes I am. John yelled up at the now annoyed dragon. I bet you couldnt even eat me in one bite, you worthless excuse for a worm. Ive met lizards braver than you! Bolder struck. Head swinging down, jaws open; he consumed John in one bite. Then realized his mistake as Johns sword pierced the side of his throat from the inside, and sliced through the veins in his neck. He choked and gasped, but as his lifes blood spilled onto the field, he knew he was dead. One last time, he tried to breath his flames, but they never came. He collapsed. A thoroughly blood-soaked King John crawled out of the gash in the dragon neck, stumbled forwards and collapsed to the ground. Im glad thats over. Now I need a bath. - The battle over and the dragon slain, John the Dragon Slaying Lich King advanced his forces into the dragons former kingdom and subsumed it into his own. 032 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II - Speculations The beautifully cut yellow orange diamond hung in space, shining its sunlight onto the first planet of the solar system. It wasnt actually just hanging, it was slowly circling the planet, spreading its rays across the world. It was happy with its new shape and job, not having to stay in one spot as the planets circled around it. The freedom of movement gave it a semblance of joy. Over the last few millennia, it had felt an occasional pull to become what it had once been, but it faded quickly into the background. *-*-* Demonia Countryside. 16th of Aura. 2290 years since the new gods came. Fifteen miles in two days. Ninety-Five in total. Slogging through the snow is getting old. At least everyone is good company. I cant believe Nomvula is still wearing her ridiculous traditional getup! It looks so cold. She claims she is Training her Cold resistance stat. Some sort of Hero thing, I assume. Anna snuck up on Magni this morning and used her Wand of Cleaning on him. His beard shed so many ticks and lice that I was more shocked than frightened. She then told him to strip, or she was going to bathe him in cold water to get rid of the smell. I guess I never noticed, but Brandy and Nomvula agreed with her, so he submitted. The wand itches when used, but its nice to be clean again. 20th of Aura, Another thirty miles; and we have crossed into the Deeplefalsian Dominion. We saw a small herd of Hera running across the snow, but the wild ones arent worth chasing, especially through the deep snow. I had to explain to the heroes what Hera were, that is to say, they are the offspring of horses and demons that thrive in the cold, and will eat anything from carrion, flesh, people, plants, desert scrub, etc. etc. Vicious beasts if not hand raised. If one likes you, you have a friend for life; if it doesnt like you, best stay away. I lost a hand to one once, but it was a wild one and I had beendrinking? I forget. Stolen story; please report. We have about twenty-five miles left until Ghostward. Cant wait for a proper bed. 22nd of Aura, Bandits? Really? We will arrive tomorrow around noon. *-*-* Grendel Repute sat in his customary spot on the end of the wagon, stroking the cat. Okay, Im going to call someone and offer an Extended Wagon Warrantee to cover any repairs on their wagon or coach, or whatever. Here goes! Why hello Lord Lackluster! We have been trying to reach you about your carriages extended warranty! As you know, carriage repairs can be expensive in this day and age And the calls started. *-*-* 23rd of Aura, Arrival and finding rooms went well. We pick up our Hera in the morning, then we will leave. Stupid animals are scared of me. Me! You would think that Brandywine would scare them, but no, just me. - The Hera was a strange beast, almost the size of a horse, but with more muscle, cloven hooves, a tail that more resembled a lizard''s than a horse, and sharp predatory teeth. They could eat any manner of plant, but preferred flesh, specifically rotted flesh; and they were also immune to poison and disease. Max stared at the beasts in front of him, and tried not to gag on the smell. Is there any way to get rid of the stink? He looked at the Hollister. Not unless you have a magic item that can clean them on an hourly basis. Was the reply, The smell serves to ward off all but the most determined predator, because the meat of a Hera is actually quite delicate and well flavored! Max barely held down his lunch at the thought. Alright. Well take six. Very good. The Hollister smiled. Try not to expose them to holy magic, it can make them spook. - 24th of Aura, A solid 18 miles today. The Hera are fast, if not for the snow we would have probably mad twice the distance. I still hate the smell, and climbing into the saddle is a pain, but they work. - The Hera trembled as Max approached. Even with Brandy holding the reigns, it was a struggle for him to climb up. Once he was settled, the Hera stopped trembling, but had to be coaxed into movement by the application of heel to flank. And then it wouldnt stop unless the reigns were pulled at a significant force. Max just sighed, and carried on. 033 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The reluctant Lich Part 3, and a bit more. Authors Note: The Reluctant Lich part of our story is a background piece that takes place some 600+ year ago in the Blacksmith timeline. In the current time ling, our poor Lich has been elected King for his 47th ten-year term in office. Poor guy. ? *-*-* Im not fit to rule a kingdom, how do I get out of this? John asked nobody. The kingdom is safe. We have gold aplenty, especially after the debacle at the textile mill made three hundred yards of one-sided invisible fabric*. For several years John pondered this question, until one day Lord Devon arrived for a visit. I tell you, the election for city council is a bear and a half! Devon said, pouring himself another glass of wine. If Donavan keeps making Martin look like a fool in the debates, Martin might have him assassinated on principle! John perked up at his friends words, Elections? Hmm What a wonderful Idea! What do you mean, John? You arent going to have people vote as to whether or not you allow yourself to be eaten by another dragon, are you? Devon asked. No. Im not doing that again. John chuckled, No, I was thinking that I could use some advisors to take some of the load off my shoulders. The kingdom has become large and unwieldy. Elected advisors? Devon stopped slouching in his chair, How do you mean? I was thinking that every county could send a pair of elected elders to court. Have them vote on laws on the peoples behalf. Then I could decide if they were good laws or not, and either sign them into law, or send them back with my thoughts on the matter. So, basically a city council, but for the entire kingdom? Exactly! John smiled. Who better to know what people need, than the people who live here? - Three years passed before the Peoples Council was completely established. Polling places needed to be erected, staffed, and funded. Then the whole balloting system had to be explained; usually more than once. Then finally came voting day. Voting day was a disaster. People went to the wrong place to vote, wrote in names of people who didnt exist (or worse yet C names of bards!), and at some places groups of armed thugs scared people away. It was a typical day for a democracy. Once the votes were counted, recounted, witnessed under magical oath, and rechecked one more time, John finally had a staff of political minds to do his bidding. It was horrible. He spent most of the first year stopping feuds, duels, and attempted assassinations. Once he even had to save an assassin from a council member. To say that the nobles were unhappy would be like saying that the oceans are moist. They decided that they wanted in on the action as well, and John was forced to enact another council, the Council of Lords. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. -20 years later- John, Lich king of Dis, stood on a platform in front of Castle Dis. It is my pleasure to see all of you in attendance this blustery day! he called out to the massive throng of people in attendance. As you know, the election has come to an end, and the ballots counted, and Pastor Jack, Son of William, has been elected to the next ten years of running the kingdom! The assembled cheered and shouted. Now, if King Elect Jack would step forward? John asked, and the afore mentioned man strode onto the platform, then knelt. Do you, Jack, Son of William, son of Francis, Son of Joseph, willingly take up the crown of our kingdom, and swear on the graves of your ancestors to uphold her, and keep her, in sickness, health, times of war and calamity? Your majesty, I do! Jack yelled above the cheers. Then I hereby grant you the crown, the scepter, and the title of KING! John said. He placed the crown on the poor mans head, and felt a weight lifted. A weight he had suffered under for most of a century. Turning to the crowd he yelled LONG LIVE THE KING! *-*-* 25th of Arah, 18 miles again today! The Hera are settling into our routine. Brianna is a little miffed at a book she was reading this evening. I will not be buying her any romance books for gifts, even though she seems to enjoy them. I may look through her collection at some point, and see what she likes, but probably not. - Maxwell looked up from his writing as a book impacted the side of the tent he shared with his wife. Whats wrong dearest? Brianna glared at the offending book, then answered, If I ever read another romance book where the female lead Boobily Breasted*** anywhere, Im going to burn the authors house down. Max raised one eyebrow, then slowly turned back to his writing. Note to self: Self, do NOT buy Bri any romance novels for birthday presents. Signed, Self. - 28th of Arah, Ice Zombies****? Really? Who thought it was a good idea to let them out? Idiots. You have to destroy the body almost completely, then remove the head, then burn the remnants to ash! You had best gather all of the pieces too, otherwise they may come back. Alternately, you could have a priest bless them, and they fall apart. About the only good use of clergy - Max looked at the three piles of ash in front of the party. What idiot awoke the Ice Zombies? He looked around his assembled group. Magni was a little shaken, as was Numvula, the English, Chester, on the other hand was white faced and shuddering. WhWhat the hell were those things? Chester managed to finally ask. Ice Zombies. Brandywine answered. They sometimes happen when someone dies the cold sleep. Numvula, leaning on her spear, and still not properly dressed for the cold, looked over towards Brandy, How do they awaken? Large amounts of magical power can wake them up, or call the already awoken to a location. Brianna said, pulling her nose from a battered book. Sometimes the sound of people passing by can do it too. The current thought is that the walking dead are trying to get help in passing on. But some scholars still stick with the idea that they are trying to eat the living in order to come back to life. There are stories from home that talk of the draugr; men who died, that guard their graves against those who would plunder them. Magni added. Could we have walked over a grave? Anything is possible in the demon wastes. Maxwell replied. Lets get moving, time waits for no one. *One of the problems with the kingdom of Dis, is that the capital city is cursed. No one knows when or how it happened, but things get weird there. Fabric made in the city, or traveling through has a tendency to gain (or lose) magical properties. So does most everything else. Magic users in the city have to be very careful with their spells because mana surges will occasionally happen that fundamentally alter the spells. Also, any mage born in the city has to work even harder because the magic seems to love them the best and the random surges follow them anywhere, they go, even overseas**. **Yes, ALL wild mages in the world either originated from Dis, or are descended from people who were born there. ***Look up r/menwritingwomen. ****This was a problem with large battlefields, if you didnt recover all the bodies, and properly bury them, the dead had a chance of standing back up after a few weeks (or days, and in a few cases the night after death) and causing problem. Not to mention the occasional necromancer. 034 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The “Heroes” Meanwhile on the Other Continent 28th of Arah Having finally destroyed all the buildings in the abandoned villag, the three heroes from another world headed south along the best road heading from the village. As the miles stretched on, their stomaches began to growl. Where are we supposed to find food? Sam asked his companions. I dont see any restaurants on the road. Molly rolled her eyes, Havent you ever read an adventure story? You hunt for food and gather plants and stuff! Hesh stopped and looked between the two, Do you have anything to cook with? Matches for a fire? Molly and Sam shook their heads. I guess its a good thing I came along then. Hesh whistled and started walking again. Wait. You brought your mini camp with you to a PaintBall tournament? a somewhat incredulous Molly asked. Of course they did. Sam responded for Hesh. You think they would leave there scout supplies behind? But thats, like, twenty pounds of stuff! Molly snapped back. Hesh stopped again, looking over their shoulder, Its twelve pounds. I have cooking supplies, minor first aid bits, a bit of light fishing stuff, and a blanket for myself. We are going to have to all snuggle under one blanket? Together? Sam asked. No. I wont share my blanket. Hesh smirked. Just the other stuff. - Several more miles had passed as had most of the day. The group of friends has beded down next to a creek for the evening, and Molly and Sam have begun to gather wood from the dry forest, while Hesh began fishing. Fire is ready for you, Hesh! Sam yelled out. Hesh just shrugged as he pulled another trout looking fish from the stream. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Looks like my line doesnt break here. Hesh held up the stick with almost invisible low test fishing line attached to it. Its only six pound test, and this guy, he pointed to a large fish on the bank next to another three, should have snapped it right off when he ran under a log. This place just gets stranger and stranger. Molly replied, setting a broken log next to the prepaired fire pit. How do we clean those things? Hesh ripped a different log in half along the grain, and pulled a knife from his pack. Like this. He deftly gutted an prepared the fish for the fire. My dad taught me a bunch of stuff before Anyway, lets cook! - A tasty meal of pan seared fish later, the group huddled under Heshs blanket as a cold wind blew the embers of the fire around in a swirl. Maybe we should put that out? Sam asked, eyeing the embers. Naw. It will die on its own. Molly said, Right Hesh. Hesh responded with nothing but a snore. - Embers in the night, Drifting on the wind. A fires delight, The dry forest floor. A crackle of life, The trees explode. - Hesh jumped from under the blanket, smoke and fire in the trees. GET UP AND RUN! They screamed, hicking their companions awake. The sleepy companions roused slightly, then smelled the smoke. I told you so! Sam almost screamed to Molly as he started running down the road, and away from the fire. *-*-* Fire! Fire had come to the village of Nezbit at last. Kahill, the pyromancer of Nezbit did his best not to smile as he helped the people evacuate. He had spent the last several years keeping the justified fires of fate from the village, but here it was. Too large to contain. To mighty to fall to his magic. He smiled finally, and it began to lick the edge of the village. He looked to the sky, Took you long enough. *-*-* 29th of Arah, 2290 years since the new gods came, Maxwell. Twenty miles today. Brandywine started talking about summer, and how the other continent was warm during the winter months. I dont believe her, but she swears her grandmother said it, and her grandma never lies. I think it messes with the natural order of things. No more undead. We must have passed their area of activity. Glad for that. I dont like bashing the poor things on the head to make them rest. When I was younger, with Tristan, it was a great challenge. Now? Now it just makes me sad. Brianna burned her romance book at the fire tonight. Something about breasts with diamonds cutting a bodice? I dont get it. Women still surprise me. Magni is getting back in the swing of bathing. Good that he has finally lost his lingeringscent. He cut a hole in the ice tonight to bathe In the refreshingly natural water. Then he clawed his way out of the hole covered in winter leaches. I tried to warn himkinda tried anyway. It was fun to watch the huge man running around the fire in the buff screaming Get them off! Get them off! 035 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – More “Heroes” The other continent The three heroes ran for hours, never stopping for more than a few minutes break. After the second, and slightly wider and much deeper, river was crossed and they had dropped the large, heavily traveled, wooden bridge leading from one cliff face to the other, they finally took a proper rest. Well, that sucked. Hesh said, dropping to their knees. What the hell started the fire? Sam and Molly looked at each other, but said nothing. I have no idea? Sam finally replied. Well, damn. I hope there werent any villages back that way. Hesh said before pulling their companions up. Weve had a rest, lets find a better place to sleep before something else bad happens. - The last 24 members of the village of Nesbit stood on the shore of the Yarl river and stared at the wooden bridge. Well, more properly, where the bridge should have been. It was obvious to even the most casual observer that someone or something had destroyed it. They turned their backs to the river, and watched the all-consuming flames flow through the trees, and screamed as it engulfed them all Well, all but Kahill, the pyromancer and the two children he was able to cover with his magic. He cursed his inability to hold onto enough magic to save all of the survivors, and held the children close. But eventually even his powers faded, and he screamed curses and revenge into the night. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. - Hesh looked up from the darkened road, Did either of you hear that? Molly and Sam shared a questioning look, No? They answered in unison. Huh. I guess Im hearing things. The group walked on through the deep night until the morning. - On the banks of the Yari river a large black bird gathered the souls of the recently deceased. Then it noticed the pile of scorched cloth. The cloth moved. It walk/flew over to the pile and began picking it apart with its beak until it uncovered two children and an older man. All of the alive, if barely. The gods did it this time. Now they need to pay the price. The bird waved a wing over the three, then flew off to gather the rest of the denizens of the forest fire. Idiots. *-*-* 30th of Arah, 2290 years since the new gods came, Maxwell. Talked to Grendel today while riding. The kid seems to be doing well, getting himself a nest egg of sorts. I cant coddle him though; he is going to have to learn the lesson of FAFO on his own. I just hope it doesnt kill him. Twenty-three miles closer today. Im thinking we might see some demons tomorrow, I kind of feel it in my spleen. - Maxwell answered his stone when it vibrated, Yes? As you know, the price of carriage repairs in this day and age--- Grendel, what are you doing? Ohum Hi boss? Grendel Repute replied from the stone. Um...nothing? Sir? Im old, not senile. Maxwell replied. What are you doing? Im running a scam? Explain. Well, I call out to people at random on the stone network and offer a limited insurance policy on carriages, Grendel gulped, Then I take them for all they are worth? Who are you scamming? UmRich people? Dont cause a problem for the normal people, Max replied. it wont go well for you. Shaking his head, he ended the call. Kids 34th of Arah, Fifteen miles today. We ran across the tracks of a small demon patrol, but judging from the snow cover they were fairly old. 036 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – More Maxwell and Co. The western Demon Wastes. 35th of Arah, The Second Month of Snow. 2290 Years since the New Gods came. We caught up to a demon patrol today. I just wanted to ask a few questions, but the scouting leader decided to make a last stand instead. Chester learned one of the Forbidden spells. The man is a FOOL! If he had done it wrong, we all, and part of the surrounding countryside, would have been destroyed. I cant even cast it. Moron. At least he used it for a good reason. Only fourteen miles today. - Maxwell swung his sword, bisection the frost demon from left shoulder to right thigh. He instinctively moved his feet, and countered a swift lunge from a hook armed demon with grey skin, stepped in and backhanded the thing with his buckler. The demon staggered back and Max finished it off with a thrust through its gaping tooth filled mouth. Magni darted from demon to demon, a slice through a vulnerable wing membrane here, a slash through a tendon there, a short stab in the armor chink into the flesh with the poisoned blade there. He giggled quietly as his dance of pain and eventual death continued. Nomvula openly laughed from behind her long thin shield, spear dancing out, piercing throats. Then a stab under the arm that was ignored turning into an upward slash removing the arm. She tumbled across the fight laughing and taunting the demons. Some of them had the smarts to back away when she approached. Standing back from the rest, and to the left side of Brianna, Chester the British cast spells. Fire Bolt! Fire Bolt! Fire Bolt! burning holes through demon after demon, as sweat dripped from his pale brow. Surveying the field as Bri peppered the field with expert shots through eye slits. Turning his head to take in the entire field, Chester saw a flicker that resolved itself into one of the largest demons on the field. It was decked out in blood red plate armor, and moved with such swiftness that it was able to bat Brandywine away with a backhand as it stepped up behind Nomvula, raising its meat cleaver style sword. Chester gasped as the sword came down, then pointed his staff at the thing and screamed, Compress! Then watched as a soap bubble exploded around the demon and began to shrink. To Chesters eyes it moved slowly while to everyone else it happened in a blink of an eye. The bubble shrunk, the demon inside struggled for a few moments then screamed in pain, then the bubble shrank more and more, crushing the hulk down to the size of a marble, then popped. The outrush of energy and noise knocked everyone on the field off their feet, and out of the air. Globs of demon goo splattered across several hundred feet, and Brandy was plastered againstmost of the way through a tree. The remaining demons that could fled, while the rest of Chesters companions slowly came to their feet and stared at him. Chester slowly sank to his knees and wretched. - 39th of Arah, The monotony or riding through snow is having a poor effect on almost all of us. Magni is the only one who seems to be okay with things. He has talked about some of the things from his home that only come out in the darkness of the winter. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. - The Nokken named Iss would sit fishing on the ice and call out to other fishers, but when they approached the young man, they would fall through the thin ice and drown. Magni continued his story. So, it is oft said to avoid lone men fishing on the ice. Nomvula stared at him, Why would you even want to be out on the ice fishing? She shuddered, finally giving in a bit to the cold, You could just take your great boats south and live in the sun! Trust me, my dear, Chester said through chattering teeth, You dont want a bunch of bored Norsemen, or women for that matter, showing up on your shore line. It always ends up badly. Max and Bri exchanged looks, then Magni laughed. True, my friend. Very true. A Boatload of Vikings was usually a bad thing for most peoples of the world. Didnt the Vikings reach down to Northern Africa at one point? Chester asked. My grandfather read stories to us children from our ancestors about the dark-skinned warriors of the south, and of the thralls they took from there, so it is possible I suppose. Magni replied. I believe there were some dark-skinned people in a couple of the fishing villages near my homebut I was usually too drunk to notice what color someones skin was when I was fighting them What is a Thrall? Nomvula asked. It is the old Norse word for slave. Chester replied. So, your people kept slaves too? Nomvula stated more than asked. I believe that most peoples had slaves at one point in time or another. Magni sighed. Even the good book mentions how you are to care for your slaves. - 44th of Arah, We have about three days left in our journey. The weather is starting to warm up during the day. The month of planting for the rest of the world will start soon, but here, the temperature on the hottest of days will never get above Fifteen points above freezing*. Not great for growing any sort of crops. That and the growing season is short, barely a month long. I remember Tristan and I following an old cave once, the temperature didnt increase above freezing until we were over three hundred feet below the surface. I compare that to the frost line back home where it never goes past seven feet, even in the worst winter I can remember. Thats a lot of winters. 45th of Arah, A fast-rushing stream today. Highly unusual for the wastes. This one smelled of rotten egg and was very warm. We stayed up wind of it for as long as possible so as to not get poisoned. We did eventually find a bridge, and English was able to reinforce it, so the crossing was safe. Still, I saw things swimming in that water. I shudder to think what it would take to survive there in. We have started to dodge demon patrols, so our travels are slowing to a crawl. I swear I saw a cat lounging in a scraggly tree, but when I looked again, it was gone. Better not have been that stupid cat. 46th of Arah, Small patrols are an annoyance. Especially when they surrender immediately. Got some more updated information and a more precise location. - Magni stared up at the demon from the back of his Hera, What do you mean, you surrender? Ixill the Frost Demon looked at the small, but not as small as the others small, human. I said we surrender. Do you not speak the common tongue of this world, hero from another place? I do. Magni replied while looking at the demon and those who were cowering behind it, But I want to know why. There are a dozen of you, and just one of me. And you caught me with my pants down. Literally! Because we see what you do not. A spiked demon said, slowly peeking a glance from behind the Frost Demon. We can feel your power. And we can see Him upon you. The rest of the demos shook at the last sentence. You are with him, and we wish to not be sent back to the abyss, or worse yet, destroyed. Fine. Magni shrugged, Follow me. - So, let me get this straight, you were peeing from the back of your hera when the big one there demanded that you accept his, and there, surrender? Chester laughed at his friend. And you started so badly that you peed yourself? Shut. Up. English. Magni grumbled back. Chester looked around into the dying light of the day, Brandy? Did you hear that Magni peed him--- Magni punched the Englishman in the back of the head. - 47th of Arah, Our target is in sight. Brandy is scouting the ruin as of now, and we will make a plan once she gets back. The gods owe me for this, and I will get my pound of flesh out of each of them. * 15 C or 59 F. 037 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The end of an era of pain Maxwell found himself standing at the back of a large wood paneled room looking across three generations of people surrounding an ancient bed. The first thing he noticed was the clothing, well made, solid colors, some brightly died, others dark. The second was the old man in the bed, a man who while much older, was familiar. He watched as a man dressed in flowing clerical style clothing, but not his worlds clothes, bent over the bed and said words in a language he didnt know, then fed the bed ridden man a small wafer followed by a small amount of what was probably wine from an ornate chalice. The bed ridden man looked up at Maxwell, and spoke in a voice he immediately recognized, Maxwell, old friend, I knew you would make it at the end. Good bye old friend. There was a flash of golden light, and Maxwell sat up in his cot, shaking. - The morning of Arah 47th, 2290 years since the new gods came. In front of the ruins of a grand old demon castle. - Maxwell stared at the ruin. He closed his eyes, shook his head to clear it, and opened them again. Im sorry to have wasted your time last night, Brandy. I know this place. I know it all too well. Brandywine gave Max a hard look, What do you mean? You havent been off to kill demon lords for centuries! Why would you know this piece of garbage? Maxwell closed his eyes once more before speaking. The tall alabaster tower on the left sent a flight of arrows so large that even Marissa the Master of Dance and Swords couldnt evade them all. Blinded by the assault, she fell to a swarm of Lichter demons. The front gate of blue obsidian was cracked by Gerant the brave and his great club; only to have his unannounced broken ankle give way under him. An oversized Gretch Hound leapt upon him before help could make it through the withering fire of magic. The pits that ring the castle were filled with acid the likes of which even the goddesses power couldnt stop; they swallowed so many of the charging army. Only when they were filled by the bodies of the dead could they finally be crossed. Ten thousand men were lost in the first day of the battle. Maxwell let the tears in his eyes run. We didnt wait for the next day. Tristan and I did what we and the others should have done the first night, we snuck in over the wall under the cover of twilight. Orders were left to wait it out, to hold back and defend the lines. The generals didnt listen. As we slipped farther and farther into the castle, we heard the charge being sounded. Yells of Once more into the breach! and For the Heroes Lost! The died. All of them died. From the cooks and ladies of the night, all the way up to General Hanaclus Rex Maxwell shook as more tears came. That was the first time I doubted the goddess. From that point on we were on our own. Our friends and companions dead. Eaten by the enemy. We fought our way to the throne room. Tristan dispatched the demon. And I almost died. Maxwell took several shuddering breaths to try and calm himself. And I found the secret exit from the throne room. An exit that I hid when I left here for the last time, so many years ago. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. - It didnt take long for the party to sneak a mile through the woods to a small pile of worn and weathered rocks on the side of the mountain. It only took a word from Max to move the pile of apparently fake stones. Then they walked. And walked. And walked in deafening silence as Max slowly lead the way through twisting tunnels, and shining caverns, around pools of deep dark water, and bubbling pots of mud. Through clouds of brimstone. Along high narrow paths traversing above marvels of nature not meant to be seen by mortal eyes. At last Maxwell spoke, We will rest here for the night. Brianna, always at his side, asked the question on everyones mind, Why did you call this a short cut? Because the castle was built on an ancient dwarven fortress town. It took Tristan and I four days of constant travel to make our way to the throne room. This path only takes one. The party looked at each other in shock. - They crept through the hidden doorway and into the chamber behind the throne. The reek of rotten flesh and spoiled food assaulted their noses immediately. Nomvula was the first of the party to wretch, with Brianna and Chester to shortly follow behind. Magni covered his face with a scarf, and Brandywine just shrugged. For his part, Maxwell just wrinkled his nose and stepped towards the door to the throne room itself; when he stepped into a puddle of something disgusting, he cussed under his breath. After listening at the door for a few minutes, Max waived the party over, and started to talk, Alright, just follow the plan, and we should be fine. I hear someone sleeping in there, but no other noises. If luck is on our side, its the idiot demon; if not we kill it and move on with our search. Remember to mind the twin pillars of flame and lightning; keep close to them so they wont strike you. The last time I was here I disabled the force bolt defenses above the throne, but we dont know if they have been reactivated. The central pit trap was spiked, and the control handle removed; it hasnt received any maintenance in centuries, so it may crumble under you if you step on it. The party nodded. Brandy? Max said. Got it boss. Brandy replied, and slipped through a momentary crack Max made opening and closing the door partly. They waited. And waited. And waited. A slight knocking was finally heard from the door. Max pulled the revolver from his left hip, and slid the door open. Brandy hung in the air before him, then laughed. You moron! Brandy announced in a very loud voice. This place is so covered in dust that it isnt funny! No one has been back here for centuries! Magni looked at the rotted meat and other food stuffs, But what about that? He pointed back at the garbage. Brandy grinned and pointed to a scuffed line of runes at ceiling height, See the preservation runes? Max slapped himself in the face. The emergency snack larder. Thats what this place used to be. Son of a motherless goat. They stepped out of the feted room, and stared at the once ornate throne room. There were remains of dwarven statues around the edge, that if not for being in pieces, would have been worth a fortune due to the craftmanship. Silver chains that once were attached to chandeliers hung from unseen hooks in the vaulted ceiling far above. Bas-relief carvings of the creation of the dwarves started at the doors and carried themselves around the room. The last piece of interest was the gigantic stone throne. A throne that had been cut in half and was peppered with many small holes and pock marks. A throne that once held hundreds of generations of dwarves, before being corrupted by a demon. Max shook his head, then spoke, Okay. The demons said the chunk of flesh we are after was in the Throne Room. I guess the bastard couldnt be bothered to even head to the real one, and stayed at the decoy in the castle. And you thought the lazy oaf would actually travel four days to this place? Chester asked. Hey! Im not infallible, Im not a god. Max shot back. How was I supposed to know where the idiot was? You could have sent me into the castle proper, instead of just scouting the outside. Brandy snarked. After one last look at the throne room, and perhaps a couple of tears, Max lead the party back through the secret passage and into the cold outdoor air. 038 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Once more unto the Breach The night had passed, and once again Maxwell and friends sat at camp as Brandywine scouted the castle. When she returned, she was smiling. You were right on, Max! The gelatinous idiot is in the throne room, eating to his hearts content. How do the troops look? And the guards? Maxwell asked. Let me make my official report! Brandy said, before striking a pose, and adopting a nasal voice. The outer guards are mostly sticking to the old acid traps, and directing traffic around them. The wall guards barely leave the tower rooms to patrol; I saw one guard on patrol, and it seemed likely that he was in disgrace. The guards at the gate are little better, but they do seem to be making some sort of effort to search anything or anyone entering, or more importantly exiting the castle. The internal passages are mostly devoid of life, with the only real traffic running from the kitchen to the throne and back. This guy eats things like you wouldnt believe. He has been in a shouting match with someone on the other side of his talking stone for the better part of an hour, something about a wagon breaking and a warranty not being forthcoming? Max groaned. Alright everyone, we all heard Brandys report. What do you think for an entrance? Nomvula was first, In through the gate. They are more interested in things leaving than coming in. We can get close before we attack, and the numbers there are small to insignificant. Chester snickered, Insignificant? Where did you learn such a big word? Yeah. Big word. Me dumb native. Know nothing. Nomvula replied, smiling. The word is both bigger than your little thing, and describes your thing very well. Magni laughed; Brianna covered her face with both hands; Brandy laughed so hard that she fell out of the air; and Chester just sat there making fish faces as he gasped. Once he recovered, Chester mumbled something about Nomvula smelling like elder berries. Alright, weve heard Nomvulas take on the situation. Magni? Maxwell asked. Well, I think an infiltration at night over the wall is our best bet. Less guards, and almost no chance of being seen. Magni stated. It also seems that the demons sleep at night much as we do, so actually making it to the throne room would more than likely be easier as well. Chester, do you have anything to input? Max looked at the mage. Disregarding the attack on my person, I am actually in favor of Nomvulas idea of a frontal assault on the gate. Chester said, dropping into a lecturing mode, There is more certainty as to the numbers involved, and when we are inevitably attacked, we dont have to worry about being flanked on the ramparts, or falling to our doom. There is also the fact that we wont have to worry about the acid pits on our approach. Hmm, a well-reasoned approach. Max replied with a hint of a smile. Bri? I dont like either one. Bri said, standing to pace. Either one puts us in danger of having the whole garrison of demons being called down upon us at our weakest. She stopped in her pacing and looked at the castle through the trees. Perhaps there is a way to tunnel under, or around, the wall? That would get us safely past the guards, and make our entry much quieter. Everyone stared at Bri. Max especially so, a smile crossing his face. Son of a Chester said. I found a spell in The Farmers guide to Field Preparations to turn stone to earth, its intent was to clear large stones from new fields. I also found a spell in A Guide to being stranded in the Dark Lands to turn dirt and sand into air! It was meant to be used to clear the impure air that is sometimes found in deep caves. It sounds like we have a plan. Max said. Chester, you have until sundown to learn those spells. Chester frowned, The mana required to cast those spells is quite high; even with my reserves, I doubt I could cast each more than twice. There are potions for mana recovery. Brandy said, causing Chester to relax. There are, yes. Max replied as his smile turned to a frown. But we used the last one on you, when you went on a drinking bender at the wedding. Brandy stared at the ground, well crap Bri looked at the group, and smiled. I have every faith that Chester will have the stamina to withstand the mana drain. We all know that he is stronger than his frame would imply. - As dusk approached, Chester put down A Guide to being stranded in the Dark Lands. Ive got both memorized as best as I can. He announced. Max nodded, and whistled softly for everyone to gather around. Alright, part one is ready to go. By comparison part two is pretty easy: Make our way to the demon lord, killing anyone we see on our way. Everyone nodded. Part three is going to be the hardest one: Killing the corpulent moron on the throne. Im going to be suffering from severe mana drain, I may be able to cast one or two force bolts, but that will be all. Chester reminded everyone. So, count magical support out. That leaves ranged support up to Bri. Max said. With Magni on the left flank, Nomvula on the right, I can take the front and center position. Remember that we dont know what this guy has for powers, his combat style, or his weaknesses. Brandy giggled, His weakness is food. Thanks Brandy. Chester said, a small growl in his throat, Ill just conjure up a poisoned pie for him to enjoy. Magni squinted at Chester, You can do that? And you didnt tell me? Of course, I cant! Chester growled. If I could, do you think we would be eating salted chunks of meat in a thin grave for the last week? - Despite, or maybe because of, the pale glow of the twin moons, Max and his friends were able to slip from shadow to shadow until they reached the left corner where wall met mountain. Chester set out his components for the spells, and once he had reviewed the Stone to Earth spell one more time, he began the several minute incantations. As he finished the spell, there was a faint crunching sound from the mountainside, followed by the sound of dirt falling, as hole some six feet across formed in the rock. Chester took a couple of deep breaths, and began the Earth to Air spell. Soon a fizzing sound, much like the sound made from a freshly poured beer, filled the air, and the touch of an earthy breeze issued from the freshly made caves mouth. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Chester collapsed to his knees. ThatThat took more out of me than expected. He said, panting. Water. Please. Nomvula handed him a water skin, and he drank most of it. Better. If only I had some tea He strode into the cave, following the gentle right-hand curve he had guided the magic in forming. Alright, here is where I start again. He began the Stone to Earth spell once more, his back to those he had begun to call friends. Halfway through the spell, he wiped blood from his nose, and kept going. Soon enough the sound of cracking came from the stone, and dirt trickled from the freshly created tunnel. He finished the rest of the waterskin, throwing it over his shoulder when done. He started the Earth to Air spell without any hesitation. He wheezed like a twenty year, three pack a day, smoker. He kept chanting. When the blood started to come from his eyes, ears and nose, he wiped his eyes clear, and kept chanting. When the blood was coughed from his lungs, he kept chanting, swallowing the blood between words. There was a pop and a fizz, and another bout of fresh air breezed past the group. Chester collapsed to the caves floor, hiding the blood with his body. He managed, through strangled breathing, Get going. Im going to lay here and recover for a while. I will find you when Ive recovered. The party passed him in the dark cave, Nomvula pausing long enough to pat him on his head and say Good job English. - Chester watched his friends walk away; a real tear mixed with the blood as it ran down his face. Well, he coughed out, At least I did something to help for once. He lay still for a while. Then a while longer. - The corridors of the castle were easy to navigate with both Brandys ability to scout ahead, and Maxwells memory from the last time he had been here. The two groups of guards they had found had been easy to ambush, and gone down before they had the ability to raise an alarm. As they closed the distance to the throne room, Bri spoke up, I dont think Chester will be able to follow us. Magni looked at her, Judging by the blood on the floor, I doubt he will be following anyone anymore. The comment hung in the air like a rancid fart, as the group digested the information. I should have done it. Max finally said, anger suffusing his voice. Bri clutched his arm, He is an adult. It was his decision to make. Dont belittle his sacrifice by taking things out on yourself, save it for the Bastard on the throne. They continued on their way to the throne, determination on their faces, and a mix of sadness and anger in their hearts. - The intricately carved double doors to the throne room stood closed in front of them, and as the blood of the previous guards pooled on the granite floor around them, they examined the work of art. Lets give it a push? Magni suggest/asked. Works for me. Max replied, stepping to the door, and slammed each of his hands against the double doors. With a loud crack both doors shattered inward. With the exception of thething on the throne, the room was immaculate. Murals of happy dwarves covered the walls, beautiful chandeliers of spun glass hung from the ceiling, and a table of food that smelled like the gods themselves had created it lay in front of the throne. The food was beautiful, until you began to recognize the shapes of body parts from humanoid creatures. The corpulent thing on the throne screamed, I told you I wasnt to be disturbed while I was eating! Then it looked up at the assembled heroes. Bah. What do you peons think you are doing here? Go to the kitchen and get turned into f--- An arrow sprouted from the demons throat. He coughed, and the arrow melted into goo only to be absorbed into the things body. Do you think that is actually going to hurt me? The great Demon Lord Rastafaun the Gorged? I will consume all of you! Just as I will eventually consume the world! Rastafaun bellowed. The party spread out, Nomvula on the right, Magni on the left, and Bri in the doorway. The prepared to charge when Rastafaun extended his many jointed arms from his body, and swung ham sized fists at Nomvula and Magni. Magni tumbled under the fist, but mis stepped when the fist turned in midair and struck him full force in the back. Nomvula caught the fist on her shield, and as the skin of the thing tried to wriggle its way through and around the shield, she dropped it and stabbed the fist with her spear. The spear tip burst into flames upon contact with the demon flesh, and the hand was wrenched back the way it had come. Bri loosed a salvo of arrows from the door. They struck true, but were quickly consumed by the demons body. Dropping her bow, she drew her short sword, and started to advance. Having drawn his sword, Maxwell strode to the demon and began to hack into its body. He swung it closer to a woodsman with a felling axe, than a trained swordsman, but every chunk he removed just slurped back into the hulking form. Foolish creatures! Rastafaun bellowed with glee, Do you think your puny weapons can do mor than tickle me? He drove a foot into Maxwells gut, knocking him back to almost the door. The little shadow girl is the only one who even vaguely concerns me! Magni, dodging another blow from the fist, managed to stab his poisoned dagger into the wrist, earning him a backhand that sent him sprawling to the floor. Then the hand fell off the arm. Rastafaun screamed, What have you done to my beautiful Arm?!? Followed by laughing as the arm grew the hand back. I love that trick! But where did you find such a useful dagger? So full of tasty poison? Faen deg! Magni shouted back, rolling away from another strike. Using her spear to block a barrage of strikes from the demon, Nomvula shifted her hands on the shaft, and began whirling the spear in front of her. She shifted to the side after batting away another attack and brought the burning blade down mid arm, severing it. Curse you girl! Rastafaun bellowed with real pain. I will eat you raw for that! Ignoring Magni and Maxwell, he lunged up from the throne, and began striking rapidly at Nomvula with both arms and the occasional kick. So intent on her death and consumption, he didnt even notice when Magni jumped up to the center of his back and planted both of his daggers into him. Magni kicked of the demon, landing easily on the floor, and looked at his weapons. The normal steel blade had been reduced to flakes of rust, while the magical one smoked, but was otherwise unharmed. With a bone breaking back kick, Rastafaun launched him into the wall. He slumped to the ground and lay still. Brandy flew past Rastafauns head, peppering his face with punches that could fell a horse, but was ignored. She rounded the room, picking up speed, and kicked him in the side of the head. He turned one eye to her, and laughed. A little fairy? Really? You are too precious to eat. I will put you in an iron cage, and let your screams of pain sing me to sleep. Nomvula sped up. She pushed her anger and hatred to the front of her mind, and let it flow into the spear. Her English was dead in a cave. Her friend Magni lay on the floor dying from internal bleeding. Her master of the combat arts was only just now regaining his feet. She stabbed with her spear, faster and faster. Every hit, no matter how light, caused damage that didnt seem to heal. Or at least not heal as fast. Maxwell got up. Not dying makes the healing take too long. Ugh. He removed his revolvers from their holsters, aimed at Rastafauns head, and unloaded on him. Gods damn you! You worthless sack of putrescent flesh! He screamed. The six-guns spoke as they always did, loudly, and with malice-a-forethought. All twelve bullets hit their mark, and the demon started to slump to the floor. Max ran to the fallen Magni, laying him flat, and casting healing spells one after another. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, he watched as Magnis chest rebuilt itself, then the mans lungs heaved, and he coughed up blood. Magni looked up at Max, diddid we win? He asked in a shaky voice. Then Maxs head exploded off his torso. - Chesters thought, or maybe his soul, followed his friends through the castle. He witnessed their triumphs against the guards. Saw the door explode into the throne room. Then watched in horror as the demon kept coming back. Strikes and blows that would have felled even the strongest of heroes, and perhaps some gods, did almost nothing. When Max fired his revolvers, and the thing fell to the floor. He smiled. Good job Max! And then he saw it reform, a good chunk of it bubbling and hissing on the floor, but still it rose. A reflexive backhand broke Nomvulas spear and arms, as well as knocking Brandy into the stone wall behind her. His other arm shot out, and smashed Maxwells head like a sledge hammer hitting a pumpkin. His stomach, if he had had one, would have emptied itself. Something cawed next to him, CHESTER. IT IS TIME TO GO. Chester looked at the large bird, its glossy black feathers, its expressive beak, its softly glowing blue eyes, and he punched it. Chester shook his head, No. IT IS TIME. The bird responded There is time to go when Im DEAD, you stupid bird. Chester shouted. The bird cocked its head, YOU ARE DEAD. Tough shit. Chester shifted his focus. He saw the look on Briannas face, as the demon lumbered towards the slowly recovering Max, saw Magni scream, and Nomvula''s shuddering breath. Chester tensed. He stared. He poured all of his remaining thoughts and emotions into one last word COMPRESS! And finally, Death took him. 039 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Aftermath CHESTER. IT IS TIME TO GO. Something cawed next to him. Chester looked at the large bird, its glossy black feathers, its expressive beak, its softly glowing blue eyes, and he punched it. Chester shook his head, No. IT IS TIME. The bird responded There is time to go when Im DEAD, you stupid bird. Chester shouted. The bird cocked its head, YOU ARE DEAD. Tough shit. Chester shifted his focus. He saw the look on Briannas face, as the demon lumbered towards the slowly recovering Max, saw Magni scream. Chester tensed. He stared. He poured all of his remaining thoughts and emotions into one last word COMPRESS! - Maxwell opened his eyes where he lay on the floor, just outside the doorway to the throne room. Wha? Under him lay Brianna, chest slowly, hesitantly moving. The air was clear, and sunlight shone upon his feet. He finally raised his head and looked behind him. Where once had been a beautifully ornate throne room, there was a perfect sphere of nothing. Sunshine poured through a perfect three-foot circle where part of the ceiling had been. There was no one there. He sat up and cast a healing spell on his wife, and then broke down in tears. That idiot! How did he do it? He was dead! Max sobbed to himself. Brandy is gone. Hes gone. Nomvula and Magni are gone! He shook. Why are Bri and I the only ones left? *-*-* Maxamilian Mil god of war, Sarah goddess of small shadows, Bjorn the Dwarven god of Crafting, Narissa the goddess of Tranquility, and several other gods looked at the scrying crystal. The action had been intense. Then at the end, the ghostly form of Chester The English casting the final spell, they were agog. I cant believe he actually did that! Narissa all but shouted. For a mortal, even a hero to master such a spell and cast it from beyond the grave! A hero till the end. Mil quietly replied. More should follow his example. Sarah glanced around the gathered gods, Someone needs to write this epic tragedy. And do it justice. Bjorn nodded his head in response, then stood. I have a marker to call in. I will see all of you later. He departed the crowd of onlookers. *-*-* Bri sat next to her husband, wrapping her arms around him, and he about her. The trial was over, and she shared his loss. They sat like that until the sun began to fade from the sky. We need to eat something, dear husband. Bri stood and began to rummage through the chest. Max, for his part, just stared blankly at her, trying to figure out how she had managed to get into the stupid thing in the first place. Then something punched him in the left butt cheek. *-*-* How in the void did that thing live?!? Narissa screamed in horror. *-*-* Max jumped (more accurately, he was helped) about six feet into the air, and landed in a pile. He scampered to his feet, and stared. Brandywine? In the flesh. Brandy smiled a toothy grin. Did ya miss me? Max fell to his knees, and clutched the little pixie to his chest, openly weeping. Dont do that again, you stupid little fairy! Hey! Lay off the tears! Youre going to get salt all over my Did you just call me a fairy?! she giggled. Max let her go, and wiped the tears and snot from his face. Diddid you see what happened? yes What? What did you see? Max gently pressed. I could only see a bit from the hole in the stone wallThere was his ghostly voice screaming Compress then thethe world moved so slowthe thing started to shrink, and you threw your crippled ass into Bri, knocking you and her out the doorway. Brandy took a deep breath. Then there was complete darkness, darker than the bottom of a cave dark, and a tiny pinprick of black so deep that it seemed to just suck all of the light from the room. Then the air was gone, and the pinprick grew. And grew. And grew to the size of the room. Then it was just gone. And everything was just gone. You can see for yourself. Its all gone! A single tear fell from her face, landing with a soft plop on the floor. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Max shook his head, mouth agape. A perfect casting The Englishpulled offa perfect casting - The trio eat a quick meal of meat, bread, and cheese, then started their trek for the castles exit. They met no one, and nothing on their way out. *-*-* Date unknown The former demon lords castle Probably the same year. This trip has been hell. Its over. The demon lord is dead. Magni, Nomvula, and Chester are gone. We didnt even find Chesters body when we left, just a dark bloody pool of mud where he bled out. If I ever find what ate that man, I will slowly kill it several times over. Strangely enough, all of Chesters possessions were gone too. That would point to demons. I will look into it. We spent last night in our old camp where we had loosely tied the Hera up. While they had freed themselves, they were still in the area. I am still surprised by that. Today we rested and tried to recuperate. Stories have been told, songs have been sung, and more than a few tears have been shed. Even without the bodies, we made a funeral pyre for even the gods to see. Screw them all. I think that if I ever make it to the celestial realm, Im going to kill most of them for the suffering they have put us mortals through. I will even beat Bjorn and Sarah for not stopping all this crap. Arent they supposed to help shield us from this? Find comfort in your prayers. BS. We worship, they provide. They arent keeping their side of the deal. Well, maybe that healing godMeh. Whatever. - Maxwell slept the sleep of the overly tired, which is to say that he tossed and turned throughout the night. Flashes of memory, long forgotten passed through his mind; friends made and lost; enemies killed; random smiles of strangers; customers of his many shops, both good and bad. Fitfully, deep sleep finally came and calmed his body, and then strange dreams came. Max stared across an open field covered by lush grasses and wild flowers. In the near distance he could make out a pair of people walking; one tall and wide and of pale skin, the other thin and lithe with skin that could rival shadows. As he watched them, they turned to look over their shoulders, catching his eyes with theirs, and gave a simple wave, before continuing on their way. - Max woke with a start, tears running down his face. He wiped his eyes in the darkness of the night, and rolled to his other side to sleep once more. - London England May 1879 Young master Chester Grants had several things to regret. The first being a failure to pass the final exams at the University of London for a Bachelors of Medicine. The second being drinking in a cheap pub near the docks, off of Ganford Street. The third being the footpad behind him with a cosh, and another in front with a wicked looking blade Wait a minute, Ive been here before IIm back home. Chester The English Grants, Mage, smiled at the footpad in front of him. Oh, just what I needed today! He rammed the back of his staff into the gut of the attacker behind him, then brought the top of it down on the knife in front. Oi, wait a min, whore you? A very startled footpad asked, eyes going wide at the sight of the well-muscled and robed man in front of him. What happened to meater who were just here? Oh, little rat, its still me. Chester brought the head of the staff down on top of the thiefs head. He smiled as he started walking towards his flat, a spring in his step, a whistle on his lips, and his staff over his shoulder. A staff, the head of which started to faintly glow blue in the smokey night air. Meanwhile, Maxwell, a fly on the wall for the entire scene, gave a wry satisfied smile. *-*-* Prince Lancil sat at the council table of the small town of Ulthar, Demonia, arguing policy with the other council members. The meeting had dragged on into the night and the talk of tariffs, livestock, and planting regulations were making his headache worse. Next year. Next year he would run for mayor. The groundwork was already laid, and once he was in office, he would spring a trap and have these fools thrown from office and lead the town to greater heights! He smiled until one piece of discussion entered his ears. The last bit on the agenda is the number of stray cats that have been arriving in town for the last week or so. The secretary said. While they havent caused any damage, and truth be told, the rodent problems have all but disappeared, people are claiming they arent natural! All they seem to do is sit around and watch people, like they are waiting for something. Lancil took a quick look around the room, and sure enough, a small cat was sitting on the open window ledge near the door to the chamber. Odd. Why are there so many cats here? They dont usually like demons The council decided to put off doing anything about cats until next month, taking the wait and see approach of most governments. - Im home! Lancil said to his small home, a home that was more a one room cabin, than a house. It was predictably empty. He sighed, and took care of his evening routine before going to bed. In the morning he stepped onto the small front porch, and stared at what surrounded him. There were cats. Lots of cats. In the trees? Cats. On and in the open sided wood shed? Cats. The lawn? Cats. Stepping to the edge of the porch, he glanced at the roof of his home. Cats. As he stared at the Glaring, his inner self shuddered, thinking of all the kittens he had eaten over the years. He felt for his powers, unused for months at this point, and found them blocked. Like a pencil on the floor, just brushed by your fingertips, but now out of reach. Then one of the cats; an old one with matted fur, only one eye and a badly scarred ear; coughed up a hairball of sorts and spoke. Prince Lancil? Um, yes? Lancil found himself saying, even though his instincts screamed for him to flee. Someone has called in aMarker. The cats whiskers drooped for a moment. Wait! El Gato? Seriously? Lancil looked at the old cat. But we had a deal! You cant do this! Sadly, I must. The marker is older than your presence on this world. El Gato let out a sigh. I didnt even give it out, I just inherited it from its previous owner. Who called it in? Lancil asked, starting to see what was in store for him. Bjorn, Dwarven god of crafting. El Gato replied. He sends his regards. Lancil, former demon lord, council member and mayoral hopeful of the town of Ulthar, knowing a fear no demon had ever known, felt his body go slack. He didnt even flinch when El Gato gave the order. Humans and Highrises – Again - Plus additional content! Ghondish looked at the players around the table in the barn. So, are you sure you want to do this? Sarah, goddess of small shadows, smiled, Yes. Alright. I''ll put in the application for the convention. Ghondish grumbled. The table erupted in cheers. - The Lich King is celebrating the 705th anniversary of the public education reforms he signed into law. Pendleton said during a break. I think it''s a good thing to celebrate. Why do you keep bringing that guy up? Sarah asked. He''s not nearly as fun as the blacksmith. Well, he is doing great things without the interference of the gods. Pendleton replied. Also, I''m getting tired of the whole ''Immortal Blacksmith must be tamed'' thing. There are other things in the world that are important. Maximilian, ''Mil'', god of war, looked through hooded eyes towards Pendleton, This wouldn''t have anything to do with how Dis got corrupted, would it? Hey! That was before my, or even Our, time. Pendleton''s face went pale. You can blame that on the elder gods. They did do that, didn''t they. Mil let out a long sigh. The first incursion. They blasted it with so much energy that the whole place was a magical disaster zone once it was over. Sarah gave an almost unnoticeable twitch, Yup. Then they all left, well, almost all. They left a guardian of sorts behind. Really? Pendleton perked up. Who? It isn''t Tranquility is it? You couldn''t be farther from the truth there, Pen-Pen. Sarah chuckled. I can tell you that they are still around, still as powerful as ever, and still annoyed at being left behind as the last line of defence of the world. Who is it? Pendleton repeated his question, as Ghondish walked back in. The last survivor of the gods? Ghondish said more than asked. Someone you don''t want to be on the wrong side of. Now, let''s get back to the game! This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. - Alright Mil, you and the girlfriend are out at Ricks having a drink when you see a familiar bike pull up out front. Ghondish gave an evil grin. Behind him several more pull up. Mil groaned, Shit. I pull out my phone and call the rest of the party. The bikers enter the bar, and head strait to the counter to order several shots of Smaltz each. They don''t seem to have seen you yet. Ghondish continued. I let the party know, what just rolled into the area, and ask for help. Mil said. Pendleton smiled. I have just the thing for these ass-hats! I grab my special hose, and head out across the backyard, jump the fence, and jog across the street to the bar. Wait...You mean that hose? Sarah, eyes going wide, asked. Yup! Pendleton replied, smiling. What do the rest of you do? Ghondish asked. Sarah shook her head, I''m across town, getting my hair done. I can''t do anything! Ghondish smiled, Okay. Pen, you walk in the door. No one seems to pay you any mind. I walk up to the bar proper, slam my hose into it, and ask for a seltzer. Pen said. The bikers hear your order, and turn to wards you. They stop when they see your ''hose'', and take a step back. I leer at them, and ask if they need anything. Almost laughing, Ghondish said, They look at you, then the hose, then back at you. They mumble something, one of them throws a roll of cash on the bar, and they leave rather quickly. What. In the hell. Is your ''hose''? Mil all but yells. You walk up to the bar, and see in front of Pen, a two foot length of garden hose. It has a motorcycle chain threaded through it, and the chain is held in place by several large spiked nails. Ghondish replied. It is a traditional bikers weapon. Generally only wielded by the older generation. And the one in front of Pen looks to be ancient, and covered in brownish spots. Mil gasped. Where did you get that? Well, by background is ''gang member'' and the backstory, that you were never interested in before this, was that I was raised in a biker gang. The hose belonged to my grandfather, then my father, then me. Pen smiled. That''s why you have that old Gerry motorcycle in your garage? Mil asked. Yup! That was grandpa''s ride. Good old shaft drive. I had to sell mine to afford the down payment on the shitty duplex. Magic in the Blacksmith''s World First off, magic requires mana.? Mana is in everything; rocks, trees, people, etc. While everyone has an amount of mana, it requires a large amount of either: Training, or talent (wild mage) to use. Mana can be sensed with training, or a talent in that direction. Most who can dont bother since everything has it. The exception being when a mage is looking at a possible apprentice. More mana = better results. Spell casting requires words, concentration, gestures, and for more powerful spells, components. But the better you know the spell, the less of these things you need to do. Spells build on one another. So if you wanted to throw a ball of fire, you would first learn the spell to start a fire, then manipulate fire, then finally to throw a ball of fire. Think of it along the lines of math, you have to learn to do addition before you can do multiplication. Divine magic is granted by the gods, but relies mostly on your own ability to channel magic. And how much mana you can hold. Too much divine, and your body burns up. Literally. The continent where Max lives, each country has their own mage college, and some have several. Internationally a ''council of mages'' gathers every twelve years to discuss new spells, and determine what should and should not be taught. (Max''s spell book collection that spans 700+ years could make him a target for people seeking ''hidden'' or banned spells, and that''s just the books in his trunk. His bunker of treasure has several book shelves of spell books that are several thousand years old...Tristan wouldn''t sell books.) Anyway, you can blame u/DrwaingTofu for me hashing out this post on magic. Later today will have our regularly scheduled Heretic episode! 040 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II - Home The Celestial Realm Mr. Clucks, the small god of Poultry, sat in the fenced Farmyard, and looked at the collection of the other small gods of animals. Alright, what do we know about that damn cat? Squeal, the small god of Rats, piped up, He acts like any other cat. Hunts mercilessly. Plays with his food. Trips people. Chases whatever he likes, then falls over to lick himself. Any other observations? Mr. Clucks asked. Ms. Fluffles, the small god of Rabbits, perked up her ears, It is my opinion that he is just a normal housecat that somehow ascended to being a god. Ralph, the small god of good Boys, wagged his tails, I believe he will be fun to chase, and play with! Then he stopped his tails, and became more serious, Because he IS a normal housecat. We listened to the masters, and followed his trail. Ralph? Peonie, the small god of nut-hatches, cocked an eye, You can be serious? Im not just a good boy. I am also a god. Ralph replied. El Gato, self-proclaimed god of all he surveys is just a jumped-up house cat. He came from the other world, through a portal someone left open. He looked at a clump of the other gods watching a scrying stone near the center of town, before continuing in a lecturing tone. He came across Mouse and Dove, ate them, and drank from the Holy Fountain. That is how he became an actual god, not the god all cats see themselves as. Alright. Mr. Clucks said, scratching at the ground for a bug, What do we do about him? We could eat him back. Fennis, the wolf god, replied, walking up to the assembled group. Fennis, you are not welcome in The Farmyard. Mr. Clucks said. He tried to keep his voice steady, while eyeing the beast. I have less interest for you lot than I do in that blasted cat. Fennis said. I would not risk my hide in The Goats farm otherwise. Then what would you suggest? Ralph growled, tails low and hackles half raised. There is no need for that today, Cousin. Fennis shook his head. I suggest a Hunt. Not just of the wild, but of all of us, no matter how big or small we be. Mr. Clucks threw back his head and crowed. An excellent idea! He looked around the gathering again. All in favor? All but one raised a claw/wing/hoof/or other appendage. Opposed? Mr. Clucks asked. Only Ralph raised a paw. Peonie looked at ralph, Its been over a thousand years, Ralph. You need to let it go, just this once! One thousand years, three months, eighteen days, three hours, and forty-three minutes. Ralph snarled. She was to be my mate! And you never marked her! Fennis responded. I have apologized over a hundred times! Im sorry! fine. Just this once. Ralph sighed. Planning began - Meanwhile, from the back door of the barn, Ghondish, the small god of eating stuff, laughed quietly. This. This I might watch. They have NO idea what they are about to unleash on themselves. There was a Reason We left cats out of the pantheon. He walked back to the basement to finish planning the next adventure of Humans and Highrises. Hmm Maybe a union strike? *-*-* Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Wildreach, Sorina Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 6th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer. 2290Years since the New gods came. It has been a while since Ive written in this journal. The truth be told, I was half tempted to just throw the damn thing out and burn it. Bad dreams haunt me still. Sometimes they run together, mixing my new friends with the old. I miss them all very much. Brianna and I decided to return to my old home, and visit my family. We will arrive tomorrow. As always, I have my misgivings about returning Home. The loss of my wife first wife permeates the place. We will see what transpires. 7th of Amsiel, Everything went surprisingly well. The cat was missing, but his progeny are all over the place. The tree in the front is growing nicely; I have concerns that it is more than just a living thing, but that is something for a later time. Marcus is the newest head of the family, and he tells me that the business is growing. He had some concerns about the recipe for steel that I gave out at that college presentation. I told him that if the family hasnt come up with a better one, then they should be ashamed of themselves. The recipe issix hundred years old? He scampered off at that point. Either to cry or to start some new research. Maybe if he read some of my old shop notes, he would find some better alloys to make. The kids are a joy to see. They all call me Grandpa, and Bri Gran. Brandywine has various names from the adults, but the kids call her the Sparkly Princess. She loves it. 8th of Amsiel, Had another conversation with Marcus today, after dinner. Progress seems to have been made. Tomorrow I am opening up my forge and putting hammer to metal again. - Grand Master? one of the young apprentices approached Max, The Forge Master wishes for you to join him the study, if you would? Please? Max smiled at the young woman, Of course, apprentice? Apprentice Mayble, Grand Master. She hesitantly replied. Eyes twinkling, Max replied, Well then Mayble, call me Max, and lead the way. The study was the same, oversized chairs, large beefy shelves, books and papers strewn all over the place, high ceiling, swords and bows all over (mostly being used as paperweights). Max sat in his favorite chair, and waited for Marcus to speak. Progenitor Maxwell, I apologize for my earlier rudeness. You are correct. We have failed to keep up the family legacy of constant improvement. Marcus hung his head. Please forgive us. Meh. Max smiled. Everyone has their off years. I havent done much smithing since I came back, so dont worry about it. YouYou dont mind? Marcus raised his head and stared. Oh, I mind. I mind quite a bit. Max took a breath, and let it out slowly. But with fighting a religious war, finding out that I have a religious sect, and getting married? I havent had the time to put hammer to metal. Marcus eyes glazed over. Once he recovered, he spoke, About us failing to improve. You arent upset by that? Im not upset. Max replied. Im just disappointed. - 9th of Amsiel, Oh, how I have missed my forge. Had to clean it out a bit, and it smelled a bit like cat pee. They use it on a yearly basis for the journeyman test6 to become a master. But they only use it for the last item of their test. For some reason. They are using one of my original swords to measure skill levels against. And a kettle. And a spear. And a chain shirt that I didnt make, but bought because I liked the designIm not telling them. I made a dagger today. Tomorrow it will be a pot, then onwards and upwards until I Graduate the program. Brandy will be judging me, that way there will be no nepotism getting in the way. The dagger passed by flying colors. Dont know why it came out Holy. 10th of Amsiel, Kettle and spear head done today. Both passed. Even if I didnt quite like the spout on the kettle. I will fix it tomorrow before I make the frying pan. Bri is settling in nicely with the ladyfolk. The keep looking at me as I work and giggling amongst themselves. Usually, Brandy is in and amongst them. Stupid fairy PIXIE!!!, stirring up trouble. 17th of Amsiel, It has been a bit more than a week since we arrived, and I havent felt this stress free since the farmstead. The work seems to help with the dreams too. None of the Idiots have showed up; this makes me happy. All of the household goods and weapons have been made, and passed the tests. Tomorrow starts the second part of the test: fixing broken items! 18th of Amsiel, They didnt tell me that the items I would be fixing were the ones I made. They have found a problem with the testing though; they have been unable to break the items. I have decided to have Mayble make items for the test for me. She is an average student of average skill. Her work should make a fine test bed for my skills. - Mayble screamed into her pillow in the apprentice dorms. I cant believe he asked ME! She sat up and took a deep breath. Alicia? What do I do? If I give him some piece of rubbish, hes going to be angry! Youre the one on a first name basis with the Grand Master, not me. Alicia replied. Its just so unfair! Mayble whimpered. How could he put me in such a spot? Alicia contemplated things for a few moments, Maybe ask him to choose someone else? I cant do that! Mayble almost yelled, What will Forge Master Marcus say? I might be thrown out on my ear! 041 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Smith again Our three Heroes The Eastern Continent. 18th of Amsiel. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Sam, Molly, and Hesh walked, and walked, and walked. The road was slowly growing wider, and the sides were dotted with farms. Some of the farms were bustling, with people of all sorts waving to them as they passed. But more often than not, the farms were barren, buildings in disrepair, and the people on them looking angry or defeated. Some of the farms were so far gone that all that could be seen from the road was the skeletons of broken and rotted buildings. The three kept walking and eventually Hesh spoke up, We need supplies. Food, water, camping stuff. Sam looked at them, And where will we buy that stuff? And with what money? We could tradenothing for it. A dejected Molly said. We can trade labor. Hesh replied, then pointed to the next farm. A farm that seemed to be prospering. All we need to do is walk up to them and offer work in trade for food and equipment. Sam nodded in agreement. Its just farm work. How hard could it be? - An afternoon of backbreaking labor of picking rocks, hauling and splitting wood, and chasing escaped goats later, the three adventurers sat at a large table with the other farm hands. Eventually they followed the senior farm hand to the barn to sleep for the night. As they lay down for the night, the head man spoke up, While we all really do appreciate your help today, and I do mean that, we would have taken weeks to get those boulders out of the new field, if you stick around too long, we will lose our jobs. So please, leave tomorrow. Then the man turned and left. The three sat and stared at each other for a bit, then Molly spoke, I dont want to steal someones job. Sam and Hesh looked long and hard at each other. Neither do I. Hesh finally said. Sam, looking between the two, added his two cents to the discussion, We could leave in the morning, then stop by farms on our way and offer a boulder/tree/heavy item removal service? Molly brightened, Finally, Sam has a good idea! And with that they settled down for the night. - 19th of Amsiel, Just passed sun up, and scarcely a mile down the road, the three were waived to the side of the road by a farmer. Are you the tree adventurers that cleared that boulder from McBungers field? Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Hesh raised an eyebrow, Yes. That would be us. Ive got a pair of spare blankets and a home cooked meal I can trade you for moving a smaller one. The farmer replied. The trio looked at each other, and nodded. They needed the blankets, and a home cooked breakfast sounded amazing. Hesh smiled at the farmer, Breakfast first, and we will have that rock moved before lunch. The farmer nodded, and a short while later they were eating with his large family. Eggs, ham, bacon, bread, jelly, hashbrowns from some sort of not-potato tuber, and other types of food. The trio thanked the family for the food, and headed to the field and the boulder. Yup. Thats a rock. Sam said, looking at the large granite protuberance. Probably a ton or so. How do we want to do this? Molly asked. We could pummel it to gravel. I dont want to move gravel. Hesh stated flatly. Even with a cart, it would take too long to move the pile. Sam stepped up to the rock, Alright, pull it out of the ground it is. He grabbed the rock and lifted. The rock made the dirt shudder, then Sams foot started sinking into the soil. I think this thing may be bigger underground. Molly? Please go up to the house and ask for a pair of shovels. Hesh asked. Sam, lets try to wiggle the thing free while shes gone. Molly smiled as she jogged to the farmhouse. Upon arriving, she knocked on the door and waited. How goes the boulder miss? The farmer aske once he opened the door. It looks like it may be bigger under the ground than we all thought it was. Molly sighed. Could we get a pair of shovels? The farmer nodded, Yup, I was afraid of that. Follow me to the shed, we will get you some shovels. - An hour of wobbling and digging later, a twenty-foot spike of rock was laying in the farmers field, and the trio were panting. Thatthat was big. Sam looked down the hole they had pulled the rock from. Hey! Theres water down here! The farmer, who had been staring in shock for the last half hour or so, jumped from the ground, Water? Where? Sam pointed down the hole. Its seeping in from the sides and bottom. - Who knew that wells were so uncommon around here? Hesh asked the air, as the group walked down the road, staring at the new pot he carried in one hand, and the shovel in his other one. Not me. Molly replied, the new pack on her shoulders filled to the brim with dried foods and blankets. Sam smiled to the sky, Too bad we lost all our paintball gear in the fire. We could have just blown that stone to atoms. Mood destroyed, Hesh and Mollys heads drooped. Thanks for reminding us. *-*-* Many, many miles away, an old man and a child searched the burned path of the fire that had taken their village and families from them. They finally came upon a camp. A camp covered in soot, but with everything in it intact. Three strange crossbows, a waterproof crinkling fabric tarp, a spool of indestructible line, and a set of three packs. They looked at the magical treasures with awe, then started to gather them up. *-*-* Maxwell Wildreach, Sorina Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 20th of Amsiel. 2290 Years since the New gods came. The last several days have been a wonder. Mayble has given me many things to repair. Im proud of her for raising to the occasion. She does seem stressed for some reason. Im sure it will sort itself out. I still havent seen that blasted cat. That is a blessing. The tree out front is still weird, but I cant quite put my finger on it. I swear its talking to one of the children You know, It reminds me of the potted tree that came to the wedding. I wonder if it is somehow related? Probably not. The cat probably just peed on it one too many times. I need to check in on Grendle, tell him to meet us here. I wonder how his money-making scheme is do--- In the midst of writing, Maxwells stone started to buzz. He slid his finger across the polished face of the stone. What? Um, boss? Grendle Repute, said. I seem to be in some trouble. Could you, um, possibly help? Max slumped in his chair, Tell me what happened. 042 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – And Children… Maxwell Wildreach, Sorina Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 20th of Amsiel. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Addendum - Grendel IS in trouble. He seems to have swindled the wrong person, in the form of an angry bandit leader. Thus far, all he has received is death threats. But 100 gold is a fairly large sum to swindle from someone. I gave him my best advice: Refund the money, or kill the guy. He said he will think about it. While I dont approve of swindling people, I think Grendel needs to learn this lesson the hard way. I wish him luck. 23rd of Amsiel, Grendel is now in actual trouble. The bandit had his friends have a word with him. Im surprised they actually found him. I will see if I can find someone in his area to lend him a hand, and bring him here. 24th of Amsiel, Found someone. Hahahahaha *-*-* Grendel ran down the alley, hooked a left, and climbed the convenient rope to the top of the roof. Once he had pulled the rope up, he started running the ridgeline and jumping from roof to roof. Below him he could hear the sounds of pursuit fading into the distance. A few more minutes of running and jumping found him in his temporary loft. He sighed, and let the air properly refill his lungs. Then he looked up as a shadow fell over him. Huh? What? I didn do nothin! He all but yelled before turning to stare at the shadows cause. As smoke drifted around Grendel, the dark shape spoke, Little boy, you have done plenty. *-*-* 25th of Amsiel, Grendel should be here in a week or less. So should Brandywines stupid cat, Fluffles or whatever its name was. Im surprised it stuck with Grendel as long as it did. I will need to warn the school about Grendel, as he likes to randomly appropriate things. 29th of Amsiel, Grendel isinteresting. He hasnt even been here a day, and he is on a first name basis with all of the apprentices and kitchen staff. I hope things work out well for him here. Not that Im going to leave him behind when we leave, but I think it will be good for him to have friends his own age. *-*-* El Gato, God King of Cats, Doves, Mice, and All that he surveys, was wandering down a forest path as he was want to do. He could hear, faintly, the sound of animals following him in the distance, but paid it no mind. Animals are someone elses problem, he thought. He wandered into a small clearing and lay down in a perfectly placed sunbeam to take a nap. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. If he had stayed awake, he would have heard the following conversation: Voice 1: Rat! What do your scouts report? Voice 2: Yes Wolf! The target is laying in a sunbeam a hundred yards ahead. Appears to be sleeping. Voice 3: Raptor reports that target hasnt moved for twenty minutes. Voice 1: Very good. Inform Mr. Clucks! A few minutes later an assemblage of small gods arrived in their Mortal forms, and slunk towards the sleeping target. As they approached, some of the smaller ones jumped when the targets tail began to lash. The more stout hearted didnt even breathe harder. Finally, Mr. Clucks approached the sleeping target. El Gato! You are hereby charged with the murder and consumption of two gods! How do you plead? Mr. Clucks crowed. El Gato raised his head towards the noise, and slowly opened his good eye before answering, Meh. Then he closed his eye again and dropped his head back to his paws. You will answer to us, Or you will face our divine retribution! Mr. Clucks crowed even louder, even scratching the dirt for emphases. El Gato raised his head again and stared at the rooster. Look, birb; as I see it, You have two choices. 1) Go away and I will keep ignoring you. 2) F around and find out. Mr. Clucks threw his head back and laugh/clucked to the rest of the gods in attendance. I see we have a scaredy cat on our claws! Too afraid to face judgment! El Gato slowly stood to his full height of a scant foot at the shoulder, and stretched his sinewy body, along with a yawn. Then he turned to the group and smiled a big toothy smile. (At this point, knowing what might happen next, the smallest of the gods and their followers slowly crept from the assemblage.) Look you ignorant dolts. Do you know WHY cats were not allowed in the celestial realm? Not even a god? El Gato asked, then started to clean his left paw. Because we would out compete all of you for followers. We would also EAT all of you. Blasphemy! Several members of the assemblage roared to the sky. Now, I will give you the choice a second time. Either leave well enough alone, or FIND OUT. I dont think you are taking this seriously, cat. Mr. Clucks cackled. There are dozens of us, and only one of you. We WILL win. El Gato looked at the bird through his one slitted eye, I would suggest asking Rat what happens when you corner a rat, but it looks like he, at least, is off the menu today. The gods looked behind them, only to see that the smaller gods had seemed to vanish along with their followers. Aside from Raccoon and Opossum, who were sitting in a tree, sharing a large tub of what seemed to be some sort of puffed grain that was covered in salt and butter. Each one was wearing a strange shirt and waiving a small flag with a C on it. Wolf stepped forward to the right of Mr. Clucks, We may have lost the least of us, but we will prevail. Last chance. El Gato stated, as he started to groom his right paw. Leave or find out. Snake, the longest of the present gods, slithered up to Mr. Clucks left. We will ssseee you eaten, cat! El Gato let out a deep sigh, a sigh that parents the world over know all too well, Thrice asked, and thrice denied. He looked up to the heavens. I warned them! I really tried! He looked back to the gods in front of him. Where I am from, He started to grow, We werent formed whole from the cloth of the universe, or at the hands of gods. His legs lengthened. We had to evolve from lesser things to greater things. His tail grew longer and more sleek. We grew and changed with the environment. His body gained length and mass. Adapt or die. His head grew to the proper proportions for his body, except for his teeth, which kept growing, becoming serrated like a shark, and the K9s, which became like daggers. And because we domesticated ourselves, all of our history is still in our bones. He formed a magnificent mane around his neck. With the two gods I have, accidentally I will add, eaten come more benefits. His front paws changed to each have almost figures ending in razor sharp claws. And then there are these. A pair of white wings unfurled from his back. As they say in the world I am from, You F-ed around, now you Find Out. In the still silence of the clearing, a leaf slowly made its way to the ground. When it impacted with a nearly silent crunch, El Gato pounced. *-*-* Ghondish pointed at the viewing stone, This. This is why we had a NO CAT rule up here! The council looked on with fascinated horror as the small gods of animals were, in a word, slaughtered. Not just slaughtered, destroyed, by the 21 hand, 1600+ pound, modified Smilodon. *-*-* Raccoon and Possum waved their little flags in victory as El Gato, back to his normal size, fastidiously cleaned his paws. He looked around the blood-stained clearing, shook his head, and sighed. I warned them. I tried. I really did. 043 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Vacation I Maxwell Wildreach, Sorina Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 49th of Amsiel. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Its been three weeks since Grendel came back. Hes a troublesome lad, and has been running a mostly clean gambling den in town. He was only here for three days when he decided to break his message stone and buy a new one. Someone was trying to sell him Life Insurance, whatever that is. The stupid cat is back, and has been doting on his child (the one he gave Brandywine). It is kinda sweet to see, but I will never admit that to his face. I also caught the bastard using MY forge as a litter box. We had words. Loud words. He is lucky he can dodge so well. I had to patch a few holes in the forge. Asshole. As I have finished my masterwork test, we will be leaving in a few days to visit my islands. I dont want to go, but Brianna has hinted a few times that she would like to visit them, and I will not deny my wife what she wants. Oh, and Brandy took Bri to see the Vault. She apparently had a good swoon when she stepped into the second room. She landed softly on one of the antique rugs that was on an unsorted pile of coin. - Brianna It has taken a while, but Maxie has finally decided to take us to visit his provinces! Three island provinces! I cant imagine! It will be a fun trip, and I will enjoy the sea travel to get there, as they have steadfastly refused to build teleportation circles on the two islands. They have claimed the circles will bring too much Governmental Interference to the islands. Maxie has decided not to warn them that we are coming so that we can see what the places are like without any interference! This will be so much fun! I have everything packed. Three days until we Circle to the nearest port town, Trarebreak, and take to the regular trade ship that runs the islands. Have I mentioned that I am excited to see my husbands lands? - Maxwell Trarebreak, Crogaria Province, Garthia 52nd of Amsiel. We have arrived in Trarebreak, and will be taking passage on the Windswept to Necallhill, the capital city of Ehelm, one of three provinces that I now rule. I only remember having two provincesbut in correspondence the crown has assured me that it is indeed three. There seemed to be an offer of Crogaria as well, but I ended the conversation before anything could be set in stone I must admit that the circles are a wonderful system for moving freight and people (who can pay) from location to location. There are several places that the system doesnt reach, so the trade caravans are still in operation, and delivery services still operate. Apparently, most of the system is operated and paid for by the crowns Postal System. I remember Tristan talking about such a thing long ago Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. - Brianna Maxie is so cute, the way he tries to duck into the crowd and mix in. He doesnt seem to understand what a Vacation is, sadly. We are supposed to gawk at the sights! Enjoy the street venders hawking their wares! Maybe even buy a couple of overpriced trinkets to ensure their goodwill. Poor man has been on the run from himself for so long. It is sad to see. Grendel has proved his worth several times today. Three cutpurses warned off before I had to do anything. One undeserved beating called off, and a quiet introduction to the local Repute. Very helpful indeed. I would suggest to Max that we adopt him, but he seems to like his name. We board the Windswept tomorrow at two bells after dawn. I look forward to the adventure of the high sea. I just hope I dont have the sickness that Uncle Roger has, as that would ruin the journey. - Grendel waived off a fourth pickpocket before the Lady could notice. Truth be told, he was more than a little concerned as to what she would do when, not if, she caught one of them. The kids? Probably a slap on the wrist and a candy; The adults? A split stomach with the straight razor she carried in her baggy sleeve. Or the sharpened fan she carried in the other sleeve? He stole off from the group and wandered the alleys for a while, locating the local guilds, and warning them off from the family (which he now counted himself part of, not that he would admit it outside of severe distress). A godling, a lady of station, a pixie, and me? Who woulda thunk it? He sighed before entering another rundown bar. What you want, kid? We dont serve your kind here! The dwarf behind the counter snarked at him. Sorry barman, Im just looking for a certain type, let them know about stuff? Grendel replied in kind. Oh? Really? Trash like you bringing messages? The dwarf guffawed. The next thing I know is you be telling me that Lord Maxwell the Heretic is in town! Grendel gave the dwarf a hard stare. The dwarf raised an eyebrow. Seriously? If you be lying, there will be hell to pay. Not lying. Grendel replied, a slight smile on his lips. Gods honest truth, may they all be shot! May they all be shot. The dwarf replied. Where they staying, so I can give a warning? The High Mast. Grendel replied. Good place, nice folks. The dwarf gave a real smile. Same family has owned the place for four hundred years. They even have a room named Heretics Roost - Maxwell Open Ocean 53rd of Amsiel. The town of Trarebreak was as lively as ever. Grendel did a good job with the mugging and the thieves. Glad we didnt have to handle it ourselves, that gets bloody quickly. Met with a nice dwarf at The High Mast. Good fellow. Very pleasant. Nice conversation. He did let drop that there have been a couple of pirates in the area. Good to know. Its been a while since Ive burned out a ship. I have missed sailing. Almost as much as I do smithing and farming. Only fifty years till we can settle down and have a quiet place to ourselves! It will be nice to have a farm and children again. Perhaps someplace where people (and gods) wont bother me as much? - Brianna Its nice to know that I dont have my uncles problem with boats ships. I must remember there is a difference! Sea folk dont like when you confuse the two. The difference is size and number of masts, also where they are sailed. Its all very interesting! I didnt know this before, but women werent allowed on any ship but passenger ships until almost a thousand years ago! I cant imagine how they were able to eat properly! Unless they had someone like Maxie on board to cook. My man is an excellent cook, and his bread is truly divine! Sadly, one of the sailors has been looking a little shady. I may have to put a knife in him. I hope it doesnt come to that. - But Boss! Why cant I dice with the crew? Grendel grouched at Max. Because they have more years of fleecing customers than you have lived. Max rolled his eyes as he replied to the young mans grumbling. Then, if you cant pay, they run a line under the ship, tie it to your leg, and drag you across the bottom of the hull. Its called Keel Hauling. Whats so bad about that? You just need to hold your breath. Grendel snarked. There are barnacles on the hull of the ship. Max smiled at a memory, You remember those sharp mollusks on the pier? Grendels eyes grew very wide, Oh... Never mind then. No dice for me. - Maxwell Early morning, On the Ocean, We will be in port soon. I miss port cities. I love standing on the deck, facing into the wind when the port comes into view. 044 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Vacation II Maxwell Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 54th of Amsiel. 2290 Years since the New gods came. We came into port a bit after dawn this morning. The unloading was fast and easy, since everything was in my trunk. The crew is missing a member, but no one knows what happened to him since we never found him on the ship. The town is some seven thousand in population. The major industry is fishing; I was told that all three island provinces were based on fishing. I like it here. I could probably retire here. We are getting a few odd looks from the town folk, but no more than the rest of the arrivals. Finding an inn was easy, finding a clean inn was a bit more difficult, but Bri managed just fine. Tomorrow we will do the sightseeing thing in town and the surroundings, before announcing ourselves at the city hall, which doubles as the capital building. 55th of Amsiel, We found out (via the local notice board) that the town is hosting a Heretics day next week. I will make my presence known at that point. Less chance of needing to make a speech of some sort. The architecture of the city is that of many similar coastal towns. There are three large piers for deep sea vessels, and fourteen smaller docks for the local fleets of fishing and pleasure boats. There are several shrines to patron saints, and two actual churches, one church is dedicated solely to Aaroness, god of the Sea. The other is dedicated to the other eleven gods of the big twelve. We stopped in to visit Aaroness, and skipped the other one entirely. I dont have a problem with Aaroness, just most of the others. Around half of the local boats are single masted with shallow drafts for coastal fishing and trapping. Two thirds of the remainder are deep draft sea going fishing vessels, with the remaining third being day sailing pleasure craft. There are a couple almost military vessels to interdict smuggling, but the island and population are so small that they are hardly worth plundering, even by the most desperate of pirates. Two interesting points of note on how they handle the dead: First, the symbol for death here is a White Gull in a nest of seaweed while perching on a bleached skull Second, there isnt a graveyard per say; They burn the bodies of the dead on a small seaside cliff; then in the morning, they shovel the ashes over the edge into the crashing waves below. I like it. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. When I asked the reasoning behind it, I was told by the Head of Burial Rights (an elected position!) that airable land on the island made this the best choice for the people, to keep them from coming back as the undead. Brianna, Instead of going sightseeing with my husband, I decided to find out why he had been gifted a third island. I have the documents; this one ISNT on the list. To this end, I made haste to the capital building and looked into the records department. The older woman behind the desk, a Mrs. Johnsdaugh, was very bored and was immediately willing to answer my questions on the subject! We had tea while her young assistant, Jeb, fetched the relevant records. As a side note, they keep the records on thin sheets of almost see-through waxed paper of some sort. Apparently, the area is prone to flooding from the winter storms that hit the area; and due to that and only being about seven feet above high tide, nontreated paper gets ruined. Over the course of a quite enjoyable three-hour visit, I discovered that forty-three years ago, the original province of Ehelm was in a territorial dispute with not one, not two, but all three of its mainland neighbors. It went, as expected by anyone with common sense, very poorly. With the demise of the entire ruling family of the province, the Crown was forced to take charge of the island province. When My Maxie reared his head again, they made the decision to offload the island on him. Sadly, the paperwork was forgotten in the rush to the engagement party turned wedding. Now that we are here, I will have to remind him to sign the paperwork. It is nice to see that his influence in the world is expanding. I wonder if he will combine all three provinces into one province, or leave them all separate and jut hold them under one banner? Speaking of banners, I need to have one designed for him, as I know he will never do it himself; or even think of doing it for that matter. Maxwell 56th of Amsiel, Thanks to my wife; I dont think I will ever get used to saying that; I now know why I have three provinces. She does excellent work! She also has a point about needing a banner of my own. She did ask for my input I think a four-square style in a diamond pattern, with my personal seal on the top, with each islands banner filling the other diamonds would work. Brianna seems to think that that may cause diplomatic issues based on where the other banners are placed in regards to mine. Bah! Politics. I will let her have her head on deciding such things in the future. At least she liked the idea of including all of the seals with mine prominently placed. I dont actually care that much Okay, I actually do, Im just being a bit bitter about not knowing how to balance things politically. Im glad she is so good at it. It is part of what makes us a well couple. Brianna Maxie had a wonderful idea on the banner. I like having his personal seal on it, as well as the other provinces. It will make a good show of both unity and independence that seem to be his hallmark; he just needs to work a bit more on how to balance the politics between the provinces, as no-one wants to be seen as lesser by being placed at the bottom or on the left, as the right side is the right hand of the ruler, and the bottom and left are underused support places. I will be talking to my old political tutor about it on the morrow. Maxwell Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 1st of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 years since the new gods came. Three days until the Heretic Festival. I found out today that the festival originally was to celebrate the islands severance from the old regime on the mainland fourty-three years ago, and the name was changed from Independence Festival to The Heretics Festival to celebrate their recent freedom from the crown. Quite the poke in the eye, if the crown was watching! I approve. The festival is also being celebrated on the other two islands of mydomain? Apparently the three islands have been friendly to each other for centuries. That will make the politics easier, I hope 045 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Vacation III – Problems on the High Sea Maxwell Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 2nd of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Maxwell The deep-sea fleet came back this morning. Minus five ships. One ship was barely floating, and most had some structural damage. Its bad. - Max sat at a little caf overlooking the bay sipping his coffee with his wife and the young rascal. Brandywine was flitting back and forth, almost vibrating, after drinking something called X-Press-O. In the distance they could all see the deep-sea fleet returning to port. The closer the ships got, the more could be seen, especially the way they were arrayed in a curved defensive pattern around several ships. As the flotilla came closer, they could make out the reason why. The ships in the center were badly damaged, and one in particular was barely floating. Fleets coming in. Brianna said, not really paying attention. Theyre damaged. Max said, throwing back the remains of his coffee in one gulp. Im heading down to take stalk of the situation. If it was pirates, I will be heading out immediately to have a word with them. Enjoy yourself! And try to be home before dinner, if you can help it. Bri replied, a small smile playing across her face. If there are pirates, let me know. I want to have a word with them as well. Grendel looked back and forth between the two adults, and shuddered. He had heard what kinds of ends come to bandits, even seen it himself once or twice, but still, the thoughts made him shudder down to his little soul. Pirates? Here? They bloody well know better! They got warned that He was about, and that the islands were off the list, probably forever! What moron is out there now? - Max walked the quaint narrow street down to the stone piers the deep-sea fleet used, and began to survey the damage as the ships docked. No ballista holes on the heavily damaged ones. No fire damage, outside of the one over there that had its galley crushed. Crushed? The most heavily damaged ship began to list in the water as it approached the pier. Cries went up from the dock workers and crew as a loud crack sounded and the ship started to sink. Lines were thrown, seamen jumped from the ship, and in less than two minutes all that was left was a slowly dispersing pool of flotsam in the water. Maxwell looked at the quickly healing rope burns on his hands as he took a quick breather with the rest of the dock workers. Hey friend. Someone said from behind Max. Glad you stepped up while most of this lot was just staring. Max turned around to see a dwarf, if a dwarf could be six feet tall, standing behind him, a big hearty grin spread across his face under his beard. No problem. Its what you do. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. I see you are humble as well as good at the job. The dwarf chuckled. You seem to have some experience with ships, you want a job? Yes and no? Max replied, glancing longingly back at the open sea. My wife would string me up if I took a crew spot. Even for only a few days. Were on our honeymoon. Ah. Far be it for me to interrupt a couples nuptials. The dwarf winked at Max. If you want a spot once youre done, come down to the pub and ask for Captain Jack. Ill put you in the right place. Then the captain walked past Max and started yelling orders to any and everyone on the piers. Maxwell, of course, stayed around helping unload, so as to hear about the attack; not because he wanted to play at being at sea. - Maxwells Journal C continued A Leviathan of some sort has started to make the area its home - Maxwell looked at Bri and Grendel over the table at the local fishermans bar on the edge of the docks. According to the captains, it was a large leviathan from the depths. He took a swig of the local, mild beer and continued. Apparently they arent uncommon in the area, but mostly leave the fishing fleet alone. What kind of leviathan is it? Bri asked, fork full of tasty fish halfway to her mouth. Frown on his face, Max replied, The serpent kind. Grendels eyes grew wide, and he placed his bread on his plate, You mean the kind that the gods are supposed to slay at the end of the world? Yes, and when did you start studying the old religions? Max asked, one eyebrow raised. Well, there was this one time I got left behind in a wagon with a cat, and nothing to do but read. Grendel responded. It was either that, or listen to old people talk about how their joints hurt in the cold. So, what is the fleet going to do about it? Bri asked Max. - Maxwells Journal C continued Tomorrow, we set out on a scouting expedition with three smaller, but deep sea rated ships. The small enclave of mages has agreed to send wind specialists along to add extra speed so we can hopefully escape if things get too rough. I hope our hunt goes well. - Brianna My husband is either very brave or very stupid. The deep fleet (as the locals call it) came back this morning with a lot of damaged ships. One was lost, all hands on deck, when a great Leviathan attacked the fleet. It was a serpent of enormous size, and wrapped itself around the Holy Order, crushing it in its grip and dragging it under. At that point the fleet cut its nets free and made for home with all haste. Unfortunately, the beast attacked again, throwing coils of itself over the slower ships and breaking masts, cracking hulls, and snapping rudders. One ship had its galley destroyed and even caught fire! Most of the ships are going to be in dry-dock for weeks, and others will be decommissioned and used for repair material. The faster ships will be out patrolling the harbor and a bit beyond. Most of the fishermen I spoke with personally are afraid to return to the sea for the time being. As one sailor put it, I can fight pirates. Ive done that a time or two. Im not afraid of the sharks, or the big whales; unlike that Haba idiot who kept chasing that big one. But I will be damned if I will go out there with a serpent on the loose. We got off pretty lucky, as some of the damnable things can breathe fire! The economic damage this will cause will have the islands in poverty for most of a decade. The material costs to replace the nets. The need for more lumber to replace the damaged boats ships, lumber that will need to be logged off in the center of the isle, slabbed out, and cured for at least two years. Also, the taxes that the crown requires, even if there is an emergency. And of course, the island is so fiercely independent and proud, that they would never ask the crown for anything. They might be willing to ask the other islands to trade wood for wood, or maybe sheep for wood, but I doubt it. My other concern is the outlying communities. I hope the beast doesnt lay waste to any of the small villages along the coast. They are built almost on the water itself, and if anything attacked, they would be wiped out before anyone could sound an alarm. 046 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Vacation IV – The High Sea Maxwell Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 3rd of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. The wee hours of the morning were a happy time for Maxwell. He crawled from his bed, and poured a cup of coffee from the magic pot Bri had found somewhere. He glanced around their rooms, but saw nothing of his wife, and assumed she was still sleeping. She has been doing a lot of legwork on this whole banner thing. And a lot of research on the history of all three islands. Im impressed. He dressed in his best sailors wear, and quietly left the rooms for the docks, intending on buying breakfast on the way to the ship, when a soft arm grabbed him from the shadows. Dont forget your breakfast, husband. Brianna said, handing him a waxed bag. Take the coffee with you. I can live without for the day. She handed him the sealed pot as well, then kissed him on the cheek. Good hunting! Bri then disappeared into the rooms. Well, Ill be Max walked down the stairs and out of the inn, a stupid grin plastered to his face. How did this happen? - The docks were unusually quiet this morning, as Max stepped onto the foggy pier from which he would be boarding the Harmory of Light, a light scoop of a shipHhhh that would be a part of the scout fleet. Well, if you could call a group of six a fleet. He made his way down the pier until he found the correct ship. Ahoy! Permission to come aboard? He yelled up the ramp. Sate your name! a voice called from above. Max. I volunteered for todays trip! Max yelled back. Welcome Max. Permission granted! Welcome aboard! The voice replied. And with that, Max climbed the boarding ramp. When he reached the top, he was greeted by a sailor in heavy wool clothes, sturdy boots, and a fine fleece hat. Mornin to you, Max. Welcome to the Harmony of Light. If you will follow me, I will show you to your station. The man said. Im mate Johnson, and Im in charge of the lubbers who volunteered for this trip. Well met, mate Johnson. Max replied with a grin. I was hoping to serve as a second set of eyes in the nest, if you dont mind? You dont even have your sea legs, and you are askin for a lofty position. Mate Johnson gave a bark of laughter, Well you got stones, Ill give you that. If you can climb the riggin to get to the nest, you can help. If you fall, Ill throw you off the ship, and see if you can swim. Maxs grin got even wider. Then Ill take you up on that. And he took off up the rigging like a squirrel up an oak. About halfway up, he wrapped a leg in the rigging for support, poured and drank a cup of coffee, then continued up to the crows nest. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Down on the deck, Mate Johnson just stared at Maxs shenanigans before muttering Must be half squirrel, that one. - The voyage started just before the early light of dawn; Max secured in the nest with a John no last name. They spoke no more than was needed for the job at hand, but shared a conversation about the ship none the less. After dawn broke [there was no duct tape to fix it] [I should never write at this hour of the morning] the fog started to dissipate, and the pair could see a vast distance to the horizon. The hours passed with nothing from any of the ships. Lunch came and went, and darkness was finally approaching when the ship farthest to the port reported something breaking the waters surface. Max read the flags through his glass as they waved franticly to the rest of the fleet; Leviathan sighted. Whale type. Bleeding. Max and John sighed a breath of relief, which was interrupted by the form of a serpents coil wrapping around the wale, a coil larger than most dragons (that Max had met) were thick, and dragged it under. The two men stared at the scene as bits and pieces of whale floated to the surface along with a bloom of blood. Well, that aint right. John stated in a quiet voice. Them things are supposed to ignore each other, not prey on each other. Max nodded in agreement. That is strange. What would drive it to such extremes? He looked to John, who only shrugged. that blood is going to attract all the curious sharks Another coil appeared near the stern of the aforementioned ship. Then another. As Max and John watched in growing horror, they swept across the ships stern, and wrapped tighter and tighter, until the ship was sundered in half. Men jumped from the ship, not even bothering to launch the lifeboats, and swam as fast as they could. Then another tragedy occurred as sharks rose from the depths, and began to take interested, but not really committed bites of the Strang thrashing things. Few sailors made it more than a dozen yards. Max stared, feelings of horror mixed with anger and fear churned in his chest. And then it was over, the sharks and serpent gone, and not but wreckage floating in the water. The remaining ships soon converged on the wreck, and pulled what people and bodies they could from the water. Then a sailors prayer was said of the dispersing wreckage, and the fleet, minus one, sailed for home. - Finally on the dock, Max looked at mate Johnson; and Captain Liam, whom he had met over lunch; and stated in a very flat voice We will need a bigger boat. And bigger guns. The two seamen gave Max a hard look, but nodded in agreement. *-*-* Brianna Bri smiled as she watched her husband leave the rooms, well apartments, actually, that they were currently occupying. She had been up later than expected, and had been awoken early by the little sweety Grendel when he had finally come home. She smiled as she thought of how much fun it would be later to awake him before noon with a pitcher of iced salt water over the head to return the favor. She walked to the sitting room, and lay out her project of the day, a paper layout of Maxwells future banner. After a conversation with her old teacher, she had learned that while straight lines and circles were frowned upon when trying to show equality, irregular shapes such as triangles, pentagons, and hexagons; while uncommon; were an accepted equalizer, as long at the individual representations were placed in the corners as opposed to on the line itself. In order to show leadership over the others in the grouping, it was common practice to place the head above the rest; not in the top center of the shape at a corner, but above the shape entirely. She had rejected that immediately, already having the gut reaction that her Maxie would not approve. So, she had moved his family seal to the center of the shape. A shape that she decided would be a Triangle. She took the finished sketch, made a sewing pattern from it, and began the next project of the day: Sewing. But not before dumping the aforementioned bucket on a very surprised and now very wet Grendel. 047 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Vacation V – Bigger Boat, Bigger Gun Maxwell Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 3rd of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Evening I have taken the initiative to find a bigger boat on the island. The biggest I can actually find is still too small, as its a medium sized shipping galley. Also, the captain of the ship refused to have it used to hunt the Leviathan. So, I have decided to take drastic measures. I have grown my own boat. Im glad I still remember my training from the elves on quick growth houses; I just turned the sapling sideways in the ocean, and grew the important parts. Now I just need to find a bigger gun. Ivan and the Greenman once told me of a gun made of steel that had a 12 borethere is no way to make such a beast on the island. What I have on me isnt near big enough to take down a behemoth of the size we saw today, and there is no way I would go searching for their cave of wonders where they got their tools of destruction. I will have to think on it while I sleep - 4th of Kusha Maxs dreams were unhappy throughout the night. Thoughts of giant ballista mounted on the deck, but nothing and no one strong enough to pull it back. Hand launched harpoons that wouldnt be able to penetrate the beasts scales. His ship and crew being drowned, with him the only survivor. He awoke covered in a cold sweat, and went down to the public bath to soak. While steaming himself in the bath, a young man walked in, covered head to toe with tattoos of the sea. Beautifully illustrated pictures of sea life that appeared to move as he walked to the large tub, and lay down in it. You seem to be having a problem. The man spoke with the voice of a seasoned sailor. I am. Max replied, Ive got a ship. Ive got a crew. I lack the armament. Oh, really? The man asked. What are you hunting? The giant water snake that has driven the fishing fleet to the docks. Max said. I cant think of a way to drive it off, let alone kill it. That is an interesting conundrum. The man spoke after a pause. Have you tried asking it to leave? I doubt that would work, but it would be nice if it did. Max sighed. But if, or more likely when, it refuses, I will need Something to get rid of it. The young man smiled a bright smile. Not all creatures of the sea are as stupid as most people think. The man got up, not bothering to dry off, or even cover himself with a towel. I wish you luck, Heretic. The man patted Max on the head, and was gone. It took a few moments for things to sink into Maxs sleepy brain, then, abandoning his towel and clothing, he ran full tilt for the harbor. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! - The small boat, really more like a dingy with a mast, sped over the waves. Max adjusted the sail and rudder on the fly to squeeze every drop of wind from the sky. Several hours, and swells that would normally swamp such a small boat, later, he reached his destination: the last sighting of the Leviathan. He furled the sail, and slowed his breathing for a bit, then yelled. AHOY DOWN THERE! Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He repeated the call twice more, with no result. He sighed, Well, it was worth a try. Then the ocean under him started to bubble and froth, as a dark form rose from the depths. Whatsss isss it that thou wantsss, godling? A voice from behind him hissed. Max whirled in his seat, only to find himself staring into the slit pupil of an eye as big as a wagon wheel. First off, I am NOT a godling! How would you like it if I called you a Silly Snake? The head that held the giant eye reared back, and now both eyes stared at Max. The mouth of the Leviathan opened, revealing row after row of giant teeth, and the creature laughed. Me? A Silly Snake? The head, and body behind it, shook with laughter. Old gods on high! You have the intestines! They must be made of Star Metal! Max just gaped. Little godling, if you werent one, I would never have heard your shout. The serpent chuckled again, nearly swamping the small boat. Nore would you be able to Talk to me! That is of the power of gods. Even lesser ones such as yourself. The serpent dropped its head so its nostrils were almost touching max. Yetyet you smell like othersmany others, and perhapssomething else? You have been touched. Max took several deep breathes, and immediately regretted it, as the smell from the beasts nostrils made him almost gag. SoSo what? He finally gasped out. Ive talked with, and shaken hands with several of thebetter young gods. Well, that would explain it, wouldnt it? The serpent laughed again. Now, what do you want? I have whales to catch, and fishing nets to destroy. Max finally recovered. Well, thats it, actually. The nets and the ships. Could I possibly persuade you to steer clear of them? And maybe this whole chain of islands? And why would I do that, godling? The serpent replied. Why should I give up my new found favorite hunting spot? Because there are people around here that depend on the sea to live? Max suggested. So what? The serpent responded. I also need to eat. Max stopped talking, Okay, dont appeal to his (her? its?) humanity, he has none. Maybe a better place to hunt? How about adifferent place to hunt? Someplace with Interesting things to eat? The head, which had been tracking something on the horizon, snapped back to Max. Interesting to eat? Yes. Well, they may not be there any more, a lot of them got eaten by other things from the depthsbut there might be some left, hiding near the shoreline? What kind of things? A now rather curious serpent asked, body going still in the water. About a hundred and a half years ago, there was an infestation on the northwest of the continent. Max replied, trying to wind up for his sales pitch. The area has been abandoned by boats and people ever since. Yes, yes. Ive heard of the place. The serpent said, starting to lose interest. They call it The Isle of Glass now. Eyes twinkling, Max asked, Did you ever hear what the infestation was? No. The serpent replied. I never looked into it. Creatures from across the veil of reality. Max said. The same ones the Old gods are fighting. The gigantic serpent stopped, hanging motionless in the ocean. You dont sssay. Its eyes grew slightly larger as it pondered his words. You arent lying to me. It cocked its head to one side, then the other. II havent had their flesh for so long The serpent licked its lips. Sssooo looong Max looked at the Leviathan. Is that good enough to get you to leave, and not come back? It may be. The leviathan shook itself. If they are still there in numbers, I will owe you a boon. If not, well, I will call on you at some point in your short little life, godling. The Leviathan gave a very snake like smile, What is your name? So, I know to, or from, whom a dept is owed? My name is Maxwell. Max replied, Maxwell Smithson. But most simply call me The Heretic. HmmThe HereticOh, the one who shots the avatars of the little gods? The serpent chuckled again. I remember when most of them were suckling at their mothers teats It sighed. Those were the good old days So, we have a deal then? Max asked, interrupting the reminiscing serpent. Yes. Very well, Maxwell The Heretic. The Leviathan said, some sort of power in its voice. We have an accord. A Boon for a Boon. And the serpent sank below the water. And somewhere in the aether, a silver bell rang. - Several hours later, an exhausted and still naked Max arrived at the docks of Necallhill. As he climbed from the small boat, letting his legs uncramp, a group of sailors and other individuals gathered around him, asking questions all at once. Above the noise from the crowd, one dock hand yelled. What happened? The fish have returned! Well I I had a chat with the Leviathan? Max said, the entirety of the conversation echoing through his head. He, he agreed to leave the area? The questions continued, but Max was finally able to escape when Brianna, carrying a pair of breaches, cut through the crowd with sharp elbows, and an even sharper tongue. 048 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Vacation VI Heretics Day Maxwell Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia. 4th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. [Vast Listen, Curator of the Heretic Collection here! The following entry from the Heretics journal was heavily inked over, and took actual days to recover. Enjoy] Due to all the kerfuffle about the Leviathan, the Heretics Day celebration has been postponed until tomorrow. Thanks to the stupid serpent, I now have a lot to think about that I decidedly do NOT want to think about. I am not a god. I am not a godling. I am not a demi-god. All of these things are descended from gods, either from the normal way, or from direct creation. Last I checked, I have no gods in my family history. It does disturb me that the snake made mention about being touched by the gods. Is there something about shaking hands with the gods? If thats the caseIve been touched byseveneightgods? Maybe moreIve lost track. Does being touched by the Fae count too? Ive touched/killed a lot more of them. I dont understand any of this. Dont I need to be worshipedShite. I am being worshiped. Shite. Shite. Shite. - The early morning of the Heretics Day celebration was cold and still. A fog filled the streets of Necallhill causing the lights of the city glow softly. Early risers began their trek to shops and wharfs in the early light. By the time the city properly awoke, the fog had burned off, and the air had warmed to a reasonable temperature. Maxwell rolled out of bed with the sun barley poking above the horizon, yawned and stretched. He quietly stalked to where Grendel lay next to the fireplace, and nudged him just below the ribs with his foot. Get up, street rat. We need to hit the baths before Brianna gets up. For his part, Grendel just grunted, haserfab, and rolled over. Alright, pitcher of salt water it is. Max replied quietly. Grendel shot to his feet. Im awake! he all but shouted. Max slumped into a nearby chair. If you cant wake up from being startled without all the noise, how are you going to survive on your own? sorry sir Grendel replied, face going pink. The main door to the apartments opened, and Bri strode in wearing a loose dress and with a towel wrapped around her head, Good morning boys! she said smiling, You had best head to the baths before the rush. Its Heretics Day, and people want to be clean before the celebrations start. Max and Grendel left. - The town square was already bustling with people as Max, Grendel, and Bri exited their lodgings. Stalls, large and small lined the perimeter of the square, selling all sorts of treats, wares, and games. After a short while Grendel left for his own adventures, leaving Max and Bri to their own devices. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Holding hands, Max and Bri walked the rows of stalls, stopping occasionally to admire an interesting shop, or just a piece of finely crafted jewelry that was on display. Max was surprised to find himself smiling after the first few uncomfortable minutes of getting used to holding hands with someone after so long. The smile continued to grow as the pair stopped at the occasional food stall for a treat. The happy mood came to a sudden end when a resounding crash came from the harbor. Max shuddered when a familiar voice bellowed from the harbor, Maxwell the Heretic! I summon you! The Leviathan had returned. Max bolted for the harbor. - What took you so long, godling? The leviathan asked as Max raced out onto the pier the beast had decided to coil part of itself on. The harbor was crowded with people fleeing to and fro, and Max panted as he looked up into the wagon wheel sized eyes. I got here as fast as my legs could carry me. Snake. The people stopped moving, and stared at the man who spoke to the Leviathan in such a manner. The Leviathan laughed, a deep horse chuckle. So amusing, godling. What do you want? Max asked, lungs having recovered. I thought you were off to see if those treats of yours were still there? I have been and gone. The Leviathan stretched. They are still there, barely. Then why are you here? Max asked. Because I wanted to thank you. It smiled down at him. And to inform you that I have decided to fulfill my debt by becoming the guardian of Your Islands. Max gulped. The islanders stared. umOkay? Max finally replied. As long as the ships of the fleet fly your colors, they will be safe. The Leviathan continued. Woe be unto those who attack them. And the gigantic beast slipped off of the pier, and was gone. Max looked behind him at the mass of people staring, and gulped. - Maxwell looked out from the stage that had been set up in the center of the square early in the morning for the festival, shook his head, and looked to Brianna, Do I really have to do this? Its going to ruin our vacation. He stared at the throngs of people who sat or stood in the afternoon light. Yes, you do, and no it wont. Bri replied. I have the new flag right here she patted a plain brown package next to her chair, and you know how to talk to people. She gave him a big smile. I know you can do this. When you get to the part about the flag, I will have it run up the pole right there. She pointed to a large flagpole, currently unadorned with a flag. You will do fine. Max grumbled to himself, but when the Mayor gave his announcement that Max was here, he stood up and stepped out of the shadows to stand at the podium. Good afternoon, ladies and gentle He was interrupted by an almost defining mixture of cheers and booing. He let noise continue for a ten count, before raising his hands and Shouting. Enough of that! I know some of you would be hard pressed to care any less about me, the government, or the kingdom Im supposed to represent. And thats fine! Im not much for government, of kingdoms either! The crowd quieted almost instantly, and then the whispering started. No, we are not going to rebel against the crown. Ive seen that. It isnt pretty. Its also not worth the time or effort! Anyway, my name is Maxwell Smithson, known to some as The Heretic. I want you all to know that I have no intention to alter any of the laws or traditions of this island, or your neighbors to the south. Thats too much politics for me to care about. From what I have seen and experienced so far, I like this place and the people here. Now, the only thing that I have to change, thats right, have to change! Is the flag. Apparently, I need to have one, stupid that it is. Anyway, my wife, Brianna has the new one. Max gestured to the flagpole where the new flag was rising. As the flag was slowly raising on the pole, a soft wind began to whisper through the square. It tugged at the flag, fluttering it. The higher the flag went, the more the wind stretched it out, until finally the whole of it could be seen. A blue banner with the Smithson family crest in the middle, above the crest was the crest of Ehelm, below and to the left and right of Maxs crest were the crests of Rorevilia and Golstran respectively. Now, so you know, the flags for the other provinces will be similar, but with their provincial crests at the top; that way you know which province someone is from. Max nodded at the crowd. Now go and have some fun! He walked back into the darkness in the back of the stage. 049 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Heroes! Vast-Listen here again. There arent any written records for this portion, so all we have to go off of isnever you mind. Justyou better enjoy it, becausefeetughIm going to have nightmares 2290 Years since the New gods came. Sam, Molly and Hesh walked down the steadily growing road. On one side a lush and well-maintained forest grew, the other was well cared for farmland as far as the eye could see. The trio talked quietly as they walked. What do you think we should do when we reach town? Molly asked. Food, bed, and bath. Hesh replied. In that order. Shouldnt we resupply? Sam tried to argue. We are out all of our weapons and stuff. Do you want to spend more money than we have? Hesh countered. We look like shit. We smell like shit. And we are dead tired. Molly looked too Sam, I think theyre right. If we look good and are well rested, we make a better impression, and make better decisions. Point. Sam said, a bit of weariness settling in his voice. I think a bath, then food would be better. That way we dont get charged more for looking like vagrants. Point. Hesh responded. I wish my dad could see this. He always liked fantasy stories. Molly and Sam just nodded, not wanting to stir any more memories in Heshs head. - The small town of Heartfogue was a new scene for the trio. They took in the rustic atmosphere, the sounds, and the smell. Does this place have to smell this bad? Molly asked after her first whiff of the town air. Its like a barnyard. But worse. Sam added. The outskirts of cities of this type are always worse than the inner areas. Hesh said, looking at the road in order to avoid the piles of manure. The history books always say that period towns were a cesspool. Molly retorted. And they are wrong. Hesh said, and started going into lecture mode. In 1371 the city council in York forbid butchers from discarding waste products in the river. In Norway, In 1284, King Eirik Magnusson prohibited people from throwing their garbage and dung from the quays in Bergen. In Trondheim they were banned from tossing waste into the River Nidelva. Alright, Mr. Know it All. Molly and Sam said in near unison. As foretold by Hesh, the inner part of town was much cleaner than the outskirts. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. - A bath and food later, the trio checked into the only Inn in town. Sadly, the only accommodations were either a large communal bed, or the common room. Molly demanded the bed, and Sam and Hesh opted for the common room. Around midnight, Molly came down and bedded down between the two, claiming something about bug bites and handsy people. Otherwise, the night passed easily. After a breakfast of eggs, salted pork, and country fried bread, the trio departed the Inn and made their way to the general store. Where they ran into a strange cat relaxing in a sunbeam. That cat is wearing an eyepatch. Molly noted loud enough for the other two to hear. And that ear is badly notched. Sam said, slightly louder. But he sure is a puffy boy! Hesh added in their normal volume. At which, the cat stood up, gave the trio an obvious stink eye glare and trotted off. Well, that was rude. Molly said, sticking her tongue out at the departing cat. Sam snorted. Typical cat, always thinking they are better than real people. Hesh just smiled about the cat as they entered the store, and approached the counter. Good day, sir! Gday. The man at the counter replied, What can I do for you children? We are in need of camping supplies and weapons, as we, as young as we look, are adventurers! Hesh replied. The storekeeper looked over the three youths, A tent, four blankets, three packs, soap, six water skins, a shovel, an axe, flint and steal, pry bar, hard rations, a pot and a skillet. I dont sell weapons; you will have to see the smith Johan on the west side. The three kids stared at the man. How did you know all that? Sam asked after a few moments. You have nothing but the cloths on your back, and what that youngun, He pointed at Hesh, is carrying. Hesh nodded. Good eye you have there. How much of a discount can we get, since were just a small group of kids? None. The man replied. I dont like sending kids out to their doom. Its dangerous out there, what with the arsonists burning down the Grey Forest, and driving all those monstrous beasts out into proper peoples lands. Three sets of eyes stared at each other for a moment before Hesh spoke up again, How about if we help out hauling something heave for you? Maybe a big rock? Or a dozen trees? Oh, are you the three-man demolition crew Ive heard so much about? The counter man asked. That would be us! Sam enthusiastically responded. The three strongest kids in the world! Well, too bad. I got nothing that needs moving. He replied. Eight silver, three copper, and two iron. Hesh dropped his head, We are short the two iron coins. They said as they pulled the coin purse out from Mollys pocket. Meh. Thats fine. The counterman said, holding out a hand. Just pass over what you got. They packed up the supplies and left the store. What a grumpy old man! Molly said. I aint old! They heard from behind them, Im just well-seasoned! No money, and no jobs in town, the three left Heartfogue and followed the road west, eventually finding a large farm hold that offered food and sleeping space in exchange for moving several large boulders and a fallen great pine out of a field. Jobs that they easily managed. They left in the morning. So, do we keep heading east? Hesh asked, Or do we set off, off road, and see where our feet take us? Looking at the continuing forest to the north, and farms to the south, Sam replied, Ive spent more than enough time in the woods. Lets just follow the road. He looked to Molly, What do you think? Road. Was Mollys simple reply. - Several hours, and a rest stop later, the trio heard the sound of horse hooves thundering towards them from the way they had come. Soon a tall thin man, wearing a plethora of colors on his cloths pulled up next to them. Excuse me, are you the strong adventurers and do-gooders Ive heard so much about? The thin man asked. Yes? Hesh tentatively answered. We haul and move things that most people cant lift. Excellent! The man replied. Im count Irving, and I hale from a distant country to the southwest of here, and I have been scouring the continent for someone, anyone really, who would be strong enough to overthrow the evil ruler of my home. A poor, despoiled, rotted land, ruined by thatthat thing, the Lich King of Dys. 050 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Celestial Shenanigans Smithson School of Blacksmithing 7th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. A middle-aged man wearing a dazzling white robe walked in the front gate of the school, and Mara stared at him. The old cat with the eyepatch that always took a nap in what was undoubtably His sunbeam, opened his good eye, blinked once and went back to sleep. As she watched, the yearly pounce of kittens scampered over to, and climbed the mans robe, seemingly demanding skritches. The more she looked, the more of the man she noted; beard, mostly shot through with white; long dark blond hair; a little paunch in the gut; and a rich laugh as he played with the kittens and watched their antics. He was obviously a scholar, as when he moved his arms, faint ink and coffee stains were visible on the fabric. Most interestingly though, was that he was wearing boots, not sandals. Boots that were not covered in dust and road grime. After the kittens finally wandered off, except for one on the mans head, he looked at her. Excuse me, young lady, Im looking for the bear. He has a blue ribbon on his head. Mara gulped, UmThere are no bears here, sir? Oh. Darn. The man replied, then turned, nodded to the tree in the center of the courtyard, and departed. As he passed the old cat, he reached up and scratched it behind the ears, eliciting a deep rumbling purr. Mara gasped. No one gets away with petting him! Not unless he wants to be pet! He almost took the Master Smiths eye out last time! For some reason, she could swear she heard the tree laugh. - The Celestial Realm Brother Proof? Esmerelda, the gnomish goddess of Knowledge called out. Where are you Brother Proof? Are you cataloging the second attic again? She opened a door at random that lead to a long flight of stairs. BROTHER PROOF!! Get down here! There is work to do! She wandered around for a few more minutes, then sighed. Blasted man. Never around when theres work to be done. - In a small boat on a lake, a man accompanied by a bear wearing a bow, were relaxing, a pair of fishing poles in hand, lines in the water. Both had bottles of some kind of beverage on hand as the bear excitedly gestured at the ever-growing dell, while telling a story. - Celestial Realm Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Ghondish opened the smaller barn door and looked down. El Gato was back. Why the blasted cat didnt stay away was beyond him, but these things happened. What do you want, cat? I have some information that you may be interested in. Goat. El Gato, god of all he surveyed, replied, as he daintily cleaned his left forepaw. May I come in? Hes asking permission? Ghondish stared at the cat for a moment, then gestured for him to enter. Once inside and the door closed Ghondish asked, What is so important that you would risk one of your precious lives to come here? There are three Unsanctioned heroes on the western continent of Ishta. El Gato said, changing paws to clean. They have already burned down a forest and killed just under two hundred innocents. Unsanctioned Heroes happen occasionally. Ghondish replied. The death of innocents is regrettable. But the question remains, why are you Here? El Gato smiled, showing all of his teeth, Because the three heroes smell like your stupid players. Oh. Ghondish said, Oh shit. - Bjorn stood in his smithy, staring at his apprentice. What do you mean by Diggy Diggy Hole?!? He shook his head. Where do the young ones come up with this kinda crap? Im not a miner. You want to learn how to mine, go and talk to my cousin Doran, the god of Mines. Sorry master. The apprentice, Sparns, small god of metal bits, said. It was a catchy tune I heard down below. The College of Rio was having a music festival Bjorn looked up to the ceiling, Im starting to understand why Max calls us all idiots. - Narissa, head goddess of the Celestial realm stared at her half dozen subordinates. And why did none of you bring to my attention the presence of three OVERPOWERED unsanctioned HEROES? She took a deep breath, AND WHY DID I HAVE TO LEARN OF THEM FROM THAT STUPID CAT?!? The six gods stared at each other, then locked eyes on El Gato, who was splayed out on Narissas desk, cleaning his unmentionables. Tthe cat said One of them started. I said nothing to you. El Gato stated, looking up from his cleaning. You six are better at politicking around the office, than actually doing your jobs. I spoke to her he nodded his head towards Narissa, janitor. He at least; aside from being smarter than you lot; knows how to pass along an important message. The janitor in question, one Jeremiah Jerry Johnson, a mortal, nodded at the gods as he pulled a garbage bag from his cart and replaced the full one in the trashcan. Just doing my job here. Dont pull me into your little arguments. He spritzed the can with some air freshener, and turned away from the group. And dont try any of your crap, Wendy. I DO know what you did last weekend. Wendy, goddess of office paperwork, shuddered, gulped, and shrank back from Jerry. Nope. No problems for you. Accounting will have all the forms. In triplicate this time. - Ghondish stared at his three players. So, you got drunk after the last game. Summoned three TEENAGERS. And gave them OVERPOWERED ABILITIES? Pendleton gulped, Yes? Ghondish drooped. I can expect this kind of foolishness from these two, He gestured at Mil and Pen, But Sarah? You too? sorry Sarah replied, head hung low. Taking a long breath, Ghondish looked to the ceiling, Well, you all stepped in it this time. I do not say this lightly: You all Fucked Around; now its time to Find Out. The three gods looked at each other in confusion, and shrugged. Whats that mean? Pen finally asked. It means that you three have to suffer the consequences of your actions. Ghondish replied, raising a hoof towards the three. Sarah, knowing what was coming, screamed. - What in the ever-loving ME was that?!? Narissa shouted, as the entire celestial realm rang like a bell. El Gato, fluffed for battle, stared through slitted eyes towards the barnyard that a suddenly crumbled wall revealed. I think the Goat just got annoyed. 051 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Celestial Shenanigans II Somewhere 7th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Maxamilian, Pendleton, and Sarah looked around. An open field with knee high grass, a few scrub oak trees, and a blue sky. A cold wind blew across the field, and they shuddered. Then they looked at each other, and noticed they were all naked. Pendleton covered himself by dropping to his knees so only his head was visible from above the grass. What in the hells happened to us? He all but screamed. Sarah collapsed into the grass, and broke into sobs. Maxamilian grabbed for his clothing from the aether in order to get dressed. Well, he tried too anyway. He looked at his empty hand and tried again. What the? Why isnt this working? Sarah looked up, and between sobs, answered him. Wewe have been stripped of our powersand banishedto the mortal world. She curled into a ball and continued to sob. Soso what does that mean? Exactly? Pendleton asked from his crouching position. It means that you are all mortal now. A voice echoed from above. Well as mortal as you can be made, anyway. Maxamilian looked up. We know its you, Ghondish! Why dont you come down here? Because I have work to do, thanks to you lot! Ghondish replied. I need to clean up your mess. Butbut its just three heroes! Pendleton whined. Its not like its a hoard of demons we summoned for giggles! Three. Overpowered. Heroes. Ghondish replied. Just three overpowered heroes. Unsupervised, with no clear instructions. No clear imperative. No guidance. So, now what? Maxamilian asked. Now? Ghondish asked. Now you fix your problem! We have a game coming up. I dont know about you, but I am looking forward to the wedding you lot are supposed to attend! And Kocha cant do it all by himself! There was a small pop, and Ghondishs presence was gone. Pendleton looked over to Maxamilian, then over to Sarahs shaking form. How do we fix it? I dont- Maxamilian started to say when a stone tablet fell from the sky nearly missing him. Um, maybe the tablet has something to say? - 8th of Kusha Celestial Temple of Knowledge Brother Proof, could you show this gentleman the Music section? An acolyte asked. Sure. Brother Proof turned towards the patron; a Dwarf dressed in full forge gear. Its Three Doors Down that hallway. Turn left at the French Armored Boot. The Doors you want are lit by the Limelight. If you reach the Large and Aggressive Jellyfish, you have gone too far. The dwarf nodded, mumbling something about dwarves digging holes, and walked off. Brother Proof nodded, and returned to the book he was reading about fishing knots. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. - Do you know why shes crying? Maxamilian asked Pendleton. Well, Mil, I have no idea. Pendleton replied. Maybe because her brother stripped her of all of her powers and sent her here with NOTHING?!? well, yeah, but besides that? Mil asked. Pendleton sighed. Mil? You really are an asshole. You know that, right? Ive been called worse. Mil replied. Sowhat do we do now? All the tablet said was Go fix your mistake, then you may return. I guess we find out where we are, get some stuff together, and go fix the problem. Pendleton said. Why does it have to be so cold here? - Sarah stared at the ground, trying to stifle the sobs. The caves. Not cold. No power. Im dying. No power. Im dying. Why did he do this? Not cold The memories of the years after her fall, when she could do nothing by lay on the stone, powerless, and waiting for her body to recover; when anything could have killed her; filled her mind. She felt something on her back. Something warm. She looked up, and saw the sun. The cursed sun. Its trying to burn me. Burn me out of my caves! I will kill it! I will extinguish it! Remove it from existence! She took a deep breath, and screamed. - In the bowels of the world, something raised its head and started to move. - Penpen? Did she just scream like a berserk halfling, or was that just me making noises in my brain? Mil asked Pendleton. Pendleton looked across the field at Sarah, then back at Mil. First, I Hate that nickname. Second, I think that was her. The pair walked over to where Sarah lay, curled into a ball. Sarah? Pendleton asked in his most soothing voice, Are you going to be alright? Sarah turned her head to look at Pendleton, Maybe? She coughed up a lump of flem, and spat it into the grass. Maybe. She slowly stood up, and smiled a wide, almost manic grin. No, actually, I think I will be good. All of THEM are going to pay. Then the sun. The sun will be mine. - Hesh looked at their traveling companions, a very worried look on their face. I just got chills up and down my spine. Sam and Molly shared a glance, then looked over to Hesh. Molly spoke up, No? But then again, you have always been the Sensitive one. Hesh laughed at the underhanded compliment, then shivered. You mean sensible one. But seriously, I feel like someone just walked overno, stabbed me through, my grave. Sam and Molly exchanged another look. Maybe youre developing a new power? Sam suggested. Like a danger sense or something? If only we had some sort of character sheet, like in video games. Molly said. Then we would all know what we could do! Yeah, like that would work. Sam replied. Like waiving my hand he waived his hand, and yelling STATUS would do anything. He looked around expectantly. Nope. Nothing. They all jumped when a text box opened up in midair. A box that simply read: Error. Support Terminated. Have a Nice Day! The three friends looked at the box, then at each other, then back at the box. Well, Ill be Sam said. If I had known earlier The box closed. Molly looked at her hands, then the nearest tree, then back at her hands. Does this mean that we have lost our gifts? Heshs eyes went wide, and Sam gasped. Molly bolted for the tree she was staring at, and punched it. - Standing in the almost pristine nature of the field, the three gods looked at each other. Currently, they were all wearing crudely woven grass skirts, and grass cloaks, that Pendleton had made. I told you my underwater basket weaving class would come in handy someday. He said. Well, this sucks. Mil muttered. I guess now we do get to find out. Sarah cocked her head to the left and looked at Mil, Find out what? That my brother is a bigger asshole than you? No. Mil replied, a slight edge in his voice. Find out that our actions DO indeed have consequences. Sarah threw her head back, and laughed. If only that ass could see this. She cackled. Maybe if he hadnt gotten himself killed in the war against the ancient enemy, he could look down here and giggle at me. Wait. The what now? Pendleton said. Never mind. Water over the bridge now. Sarah shook her head and sighed. I just wish I had been the one who killed him, not Them. Mil and Pendleton exchanged confused looks, mouthing WTF at each other. Sarah stretched. Now that we are Acceptable to the locals, what do we do now? Mil smiled. Now we explore the area for a short bit and see if we can find any easily accessible food, then we make a shelter, then we search for others. Pendleton cocked an eyebrow, You dont think there are any more fallen gods down here, do you? Mil stopped for a moment. I hope not - Molly screamed. God damn it! Are you okay? Sam yelled as he and Hesh ran to her side. Im fine. Molly replied, a scowl on her face. I just got my arm stuck in this stupid tree. 052 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Celestial Shenanigans III Somewhere 8th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Ghondish stepped into his barn, and immediately noticed something was wrong. Not only were the magic lights out. Not only did the air smell different. Not only was the barn silent as a grave. Not only was there a gentle fog rolling across the floor. There was someone here. As he looked around more thoroughly in the dark, on the far side of the barn from him, a free-standing candelabra burst to light casting light that illuminated from behind, a figure sitting at a desk. A desk that did NOT belong anywhere in the celestial realm. The desk was a large, some would say executive style, affair. Light sucking black in color, with chrome highlights that assaulted the eyes. Cast in shadow, between the desk and the candelabra sat a cloaked figure. A figure, that when looked at directly, sent electric shivers down Ghondishs spine that made his fur stand on end. The figure gestured for Ghondish to approach. When Ghondish finally crossed the barn; an act that should have taken seconds, but felt like minutes; the figure spoke. I have just received a Memo. At the sound of the voice, the blood in Ghondishs veins began to freeze. We, Need to talk. The figure continued. Ghondishs stomach froze. - Maximilian, Mil to his friends, looked at Pendleton and Sarah. Did the two of you feel that? Pendleton and Sarah answered in unison, Yes? What was that? Mil asked. I have a guess Sarah replied, the blood having drained from her face. But I will not speak it aloud. Pendleton cocked his head to his right, and looked at Sarah, Why not? BecauseBecause such things arent spoken about. Sarah responded in a shaky voice. Not EVER. - In the darkness of the depths, something moved. It looked. It smelled. Eventually, it smiled a wide grin, showing teeth that should not have fit its mouth. Gotcha. It chuckled. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. A great distance away, Sarahs children shuddered. - As the lights returned, and the fog slowly drained from the room, Ghondish was finally able to breath. In anger, I Fucked Around. And now I have Found Out. He shivered again, and headed for the door. - 9th of Kusha Hesh looked at their companions. It looks like a pair of skeletons in the old graveyard up ahead. Sam and Molly nodded. Since we lack our old weapons, Hesh glared at the pair, We will need to do this with our fists and feet. Sam and Molly nodded again. Alright. Hesh said. Go! Molly and Sam charged into the graveyard. Sam bodychecked the skeleton on the right, and Molly backhanded the skull off the one on the left. Both formerly animate skeletons crumbled to dust. That was pretty easy. Hesh commented from the rear. Now, where do we go next? We follow the road west. Sam said. West until we finally make it to Dys. I know that. Hesh said. Whats our next stop on the map? Molly brushed bone dust from her shirt, then pulled a folded chunk of paper from a pocket, and unfolded it. The map says the next problem spot in north and a bit west of here. Sam smiled, Lets go. They traveled for an uneventful day, and slept in a copse of pines that night. In the morning, under a clear blue sky they continued their journey. - Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia. Maxwell awoke in the apartments he shared with his wife and Grendel. He yawned, stretched, and got dressed for the day. They were leaving on a cargo ship bound for Pondge, the capital of the province of Rorevilia, in a few hours and he wanted to make sure the last pieces of equipment were properly stored in his chest. Breakfast was a fast affair of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and thick cut bacon. He lingered for a bit longer than needed, enjoying the flavor of the smoked meat as it mixed with the egg and potatoes on the plate, then went to work packing up the last bits and pieces of their portable homestead. Grendel assisted by placing pieces of apartment into the chest (silverware, candlesticks and the like), while Brianna assisted by removing the pilfered items and putting them back where they belonged. An hour of packing and cleaning later, the trio returned the keys, settled their bill (much to the consternation of the landlord), and departed for the docks. The docks were somewhat quiet, seagulls flying about and pelicans making a racket as several small fishing boats were unloading. The large ship they approached looked like a tree. A tree that had somehow been grown to look and act like a boat. The root bulb looked like the stern of a ship; the three visible branches looked like masts; and the rudder was a long trailing affair, that while functional, was disturbing to look at. When they neared the ship, a section of what appeared to be the hull, separated itself and swung down to meet them, the bark transforming to an almost sandpaper like consistency to provide traction. Maxwell smiled and patted the ship. I hope you like your new job as a cargo hauler. Now remember to obey your new captain, I dont want to hear about you causing problems. The ship gave a gentle shake under his hands. Captain! Maxwell yelled, We have arrived! The captain, an older looking woman, white hair in braids down her back, stepped from the rear cabin, Welcome aboard the Sea Traveler. Now that you have arrived, and our belly is packed with goods, we can depart at any time. Max smiled a wide smile, Then lets be off. The Sea Traveler seemed to shake itself for a moment, then the rudder began to move back and forth in the water. Branches detached themselves from the sides of the ship and swung down into the water and began to row. The masts grew leaves that caught the barest hint of a breeze, and the ship set out on its maiden voyage. 053 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – More Travels The High Sea 9th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Traveling on the water never grows old for me. The rocking of the waves. The wind in my face. The vast expanse of water around me. I love it. Having been born and raised in a landlocked town, I find it kinda funny that I love the water so much. The water. And fishing. Speaking of fishing, the fishing today has been surprisingly good. Plenty of fish for supper, and a lot to sell when we make port. Who knew that this ship could catch fish on its own? Truly amazing. I did feel something weird around noon, though. No one else seemed to have felt it. A kind of sense of foreboding, like something that wasnt supposed to be there, was. It was only there for a fraction of a second, but it was unnerving to me. 10th of Kusha, We made port on Rorevilia, at the capital city of Pondge. There was a large delegation awaiting us. We did the flag unveiling ceremony right there. There were a few dissenters in the crowd, and I agreed with most of what they had to say. It was kind of fun to see their resolve crumble, even if they had some points that were worth considering. Pondge is a large city of some forty thousand souls with a lot of culture going on. Apparently before the mainlanders came over, there was a small population of people already here. Surprisingly, the mainlanders were integrated into the population instead of the mainlanders conquering the land. The temple of that stupid gnome has quite a large museum that stretches back to the early days of conquest. Turns out the early settlers (the mainlanders) were religious refugees from the city of Trarebreak, the capital of Crowgria province. About 1500 years ago there was a religious purge, and the refugees fled by whatever boat they could beg, borrow, or steal. They traveled the seventy some miles from the mainland to the island, and settled in a small fishing village on the western shore. Supposedly, the gnome guided their way, and gave them safe passage (according to them, I think the sea god just decided to let them go as they had the intestinal fortitude to try and cross during one of his storms) to the shore. Only one rowboat was sunk on the voyage. From there it was history. I really enjoyed the museum, even if I did try and start an argument with the gnomes statue and was mostly ignored. I saw the statues mouth move a few times, and its eyes roll! And I wasnt even drunk yet. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. You look at the nautical maps and see islands, and think, Meh, their just islands. Then, when you see them, or you set foot on them, you realize just how big they actually are. Its amazing. According to the official records that are kept here, (in the temple, of course) the island is 3200 square miles [1]. Its truly amazing. *-*-* Southern plains of Cambroles; The Western Continent. Hesh, Molly, and Sam looked across the gently rolling plains of southern Cambroles, admiring the beauty. Sam broke the silence, I bet this is what the great plains looked like before the settlers and urban sprawl took over. I mean, look at the giant buffalo herd over there! He pointed to a herd of probably a thousand brown furred beasts that stood something over six feet at the shoulder. A herd that was slowly approaching them as it grazed on the rich knee-high grass. Molly stared at the beasts for a few seconds. And look at the large horns jutting from their foreheads. A long one in the center, and a shorter one on each side. All pointing forwards. Hesh piped in, And they are slowly heading in our direction. - Several hours of travel later the three had found a copse of trees, and set up on its edge for the night. The pair of tents were set up, and supper was cooking over a small fire hole that Hesh had dug in the ground. Do you think the buffalo will knock over our tents tonight? Molly asked the other two. Maybe? Hesh replied, stirring the pot of stew that had been simmering for almost an hour. Maybe they will go around? Mosh herd animals go around large obstacles like trees and buildings. Sam said. Unless they have been panicked by something like a predator. If that happens, then everything goes out the window. Molly stared at Sam, When did you learn anything like that? Sam smiled, The same place I learned to ride a horse, and to rope cattle. At my uncles ranch in Texas. Oh, that uncle. Hesh said from the fire. I liked him. Molly frowned, The only time I got to meet him was at his funeral. A tear ran down her cheek, What happened to the ranch? His ex-wife and her new husband ran it into the ground, sold off the cattle, and then sold the land to a developer. Sam said in a flat tone. The family will never forgive her. Or that asshat of a husband. Hesh frowned, Well, on that happy note, food is done. And theres some Bannock left from breakfast. The trio spent the rest of the evening eating, and thinking sad thought to themselves. When morning came, they were awakened by the sound of large creatures surrounding the tents. Hesh stuck their head out of the tent shared with Sam, Looks like the Wildabeef have surrounded us. Wildabeef? Molly yelled from the other tent. Thats what were calling them now? Well, they arent cattle, and they arent buffalo, so Wildabeef sounds good to me. Hesh yelled back. I wonder if I could ride one? Sam muttered before stepping from the tent. The nearest Wildabeef snorted at him, but otherwise did nothing but go back to eating. In plain sight of the beast, Sam slowly approached it. Upon finally reaching arms length, he painstakingly reached out his open hand towards the beasts nose, and held it there to be sniffed, and the exceedingly large creature obliged. Sam held his breath. The creature snorted, then went back to eating the grass just outside Mollys tent. [1] Slightly smaller than the US territory of Puerto Rico. The other provinces that Maxwell controls are also roughly the same size. 054 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Grendel’s problems Rorevilia, capital of Pondge. 11th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Grendel Repute was not having a good day in port. He had found the local thug hideout. He had had a drink. He had had a fight. The fight hadnt gone well. He sat in the alley nursing his bruises, and thought back on what had happened. The evening had started well, he had approached the dilapidated building, given the code to the guard on the inside of the iron door, and gone inside. Inside, the bar was in better condition than the outside suggested, still run down and dirty, but sturdy. The ceiling was low and covered in soot, the floor was covered in straw that wasnt too musty and soiled. The smell of unwashed bodies wasnt even that bad. The clientele was as expected, rough and tumble people with scars, sores, and poorly kept clothes. Typical thugs. He had nodded politely to the obvious heads of the different groups as he saw them, as he headed to the bar itself and ordered an ale. That was where the trouble had started. He had paid for the drink, swill as was usual for this kind of place, taken a pull at the mug, and yawned while stretching. His left hand had slightly touched someone who was, deliberately, standing to close. He turned immediately to apologize, and caught a fist to the face. A moment later he was looking up from the floor, into the bloodshot eyes of a bearded man. What you think youre doin? Little scrub like you should be suckling at yer mamas teet, not sitting here like you belongs! Grendel had slowly sat up, and attempted to make amends, Im sorry, sir. I didnt notice you there on account of having my eyes closed as I enjoyed my drink. Can I buy you a drink as an apology? The man had replied by picking him up by the front of his shirt, and headbutting him, breaking his nose. He called me sir! Can yall believe this shite? He then threw Grendel into the crowd, Ive alf a mind to beat you thin an inch o your life, little twatwaddle! Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Having known the kind of beating that was coming next, Grendel had curled into a ball. The next few minutes had been tough to endure, the kicks and clubs impacting his arms, legs, and back. He was then unceremoniously thrown out the door. From the street, he had crawled his way to the alley next door. As he sat in the alley, he was glad that there werent any broken bones. He slowly stood, and shuffled his way down the filthy alley to where he had stashed his bag behind a pile of rather noxious refuse, and removed a potion from it. He pinched his nose and took a swig of the red tinged liquid, feeling the burning as the liquid permeated his flesh healing the damage from the rather one-sided bar fight. Now it was time to plan. And get revenge. - Two nights and sixteen gold pieces later, Grendels plan was ready to be put into action. A few items pilfered from Max, a couple of toys from town, a stout wooden cudgel on hand, and he approached the bar again. He knocked on the door, and when the iron grating opened, smashed toy number one into the guards face. The guard collapsed, screaming on the other side of the door, and Grendel bolted for the alley across the street. A minute later he started to giggle from his vantage point in the alley as thick, dark smoke began to billow from the doorway. Then openly laughed as the patrons fled the building, some of whom puked in the street as they ran. He didnt see the man he was after, so he waited. Half an hour later the man in question, the man who had started the beating, stumbled from the door, covered in a red rash, and scratching himself all over. Grendel smiled, and approached the man from behind. Ya know. I coulda handled a few hits, maybe even a little smack-down, but throwing me to the wolves like that? That was too much. He pulled the cudgel from its loop at his side. The man, still sporting red bloodshot eyes, slowly turned at the sound of Grendels voice. His eyes widened at the sight of Grendel wielding the cudgel. Now you get to find out. Grendel snarled at the man as he swung the cudgel into the mans right knee with a sickening, but satisfying, crunch. The man fell to the ground, screaming. Thats one. You have sixteen more to go. Grendel growled as he set to work. - Maxwell slowly reread the broad sheet in front of him. A strange rash has spread through the criminal element of the city. The rash causes mild stinging and constant itching reports say. The first headline stated. The next headline read, Strange rash is communicable to others! Beware! And still another read, Lesions in the lungs worry city doctors! Max shook his head. GRENDEL!!!!! 055 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crime, punishment, and a letter Rorevilia, capital of Pondge. 14th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. In the suite of rooms on the top floor of the Inn, Grendel sat across the table from Maxwell and Brianna, bullets of sweat dripping down his back. Yes sir. So, after he beat you, you spent the next two days planning your revenge? Max asked. Yes sir. You obtained a pest control smoke bomb, with goblin powder in it. Max continued, ignoring Grendels reply. Yes sir. Smashed it into the face of the door guard. Then you waited for the man to exit? Max asked. Yes sir. Brianna, who had been giving Grendel what could only be called a Piercing Stare got up from the table and went to her room. Grendel gulped. Then, when the man came out, you waylaid him. Beating him to within an inch of his life? Max asked, as Brianna came back to the table with her needlepoint. Not quite, sir. Grendel said. Really? Brianna asked, starting to work on her project. I only broke both of his kneecaps and both arms. Grendel replied, shuffling his feet under the table. Max shook his head, At least you showed some restraint at that point. You are grounded to your room for the rest of the day. Max pointed to the room Grendel had been assigned. And dont go sneaking out the window this time. Grendel hung his head, mumbling yes sir. As he walked the walk of the dead to his room. Once the door had closed, and they heard him climb out the window, Max and Bri laughed. At, at least he didnt kill anyone! Bri said between laughs. Right? Max said. - If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Grendel walked the city streets, borrowed some money purses and then returned them a little heavier than they had been. What the hell am I doing? He asked the sky at the edge of town. Have I lost my touch? I should have killed that guy, not maimed him. He shook his head. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and whirled around. The woman in front of him smiled, then faster than he could react, poked him in the chest. And that, young Repute, is as quickly as you can die. She smiled. But I have decided to let you live. Grendel stared at the nondescript woman. Wait, what? Then he noticed the small broach above her left breast, and bowed slightly. Hello Maam. How may I serve you today? Dont bother with the formalities. Im here to give you a piece of advice: Dont do something that will spread to the populace at large. She smiled a smile that didnt reach her eyes. That, isnt our way. Grendel nodded enthusiastically. Yes Maam. Good. The woman walked away, and stepped into a doorway. Grendel didnt bother following the woman, he knew she would be gone by the time he made it to the door. Great. Now Im in trouble with the family too Why am I more worried about Max and Bri? -*- 14th of Kusha Dearest Mother, Sweet little Grendel is a handful! Aside from the varmint bomb, he had the proper reaction to being beaten up in a bar fight that he neither caused nor deserved. The instigator of the beatdown only had his limbs broken, as opposed to being stabbed on his way home from the bar. Little Grendel is growing into a better man. I am a little disappointed that Brandy didnt help out, but then again, Grendel does need to learn on his own. Maxie still hasnt made a move. I dont know how I feel about this. On the one hand, the excitement is filling me with joy. On the other, I desperately want to feel him in my bead. What to do, what to do That is a rhetorical question, mother. I do NOT want your advice; I just feel like sharing my thoughts with you. The revealing of the new flags has gone better than I had imagined. The people have been satisfied with results, and seem to be accepting him fairly well. Maxie does have a way with people It is fun to watch him agree with the dissenters, and bash the king and queen for thrusting this responsibility upon him. It does a wonderful job of quelling the crowd. So does meeting with them in the various bars in the evenings and buying the house a round or two of the good stuff. Never underestimate the working peoples appreciation for free food and drink. Or how much they like having actual interaction with the people in charge as Maxie calls them. He really is a man among men. My needlepoint is going well, and I thank you for suggesting the hobby. I do wish I had more friends on this journey, as I do feel lonely since I dont drink that often, and that does seem to be Brandys favorite hobby, aside from fighting...and causing trouble. Last week she got Maxie involved in a bar fight not of his choosing. It was amusing to watch, and no one was hurt too badly. I wish you well mother, and I love you. Brianna Smithson. Ps. Will I ever tire of calling myself that? Pps. Dont answer that, for I know that I will not. - Brianna looked over the letter she had written, then folded it and placed it into an envelope. Such an interesting thing, these self-sealing envelopes! They make things so much easier! She added a dollop of wax anyway, and used her ring to mark it. Then she took the letter and a few miscellaneous packages down to the lobby to be sent out on the next delivery ship. She stepped into the bar, ordered a glass of wine (the good stuff, as she had taste), and played darts for a few hours. She won almost every game. 056 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Rorevilia, capital of Pondge. 15th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Brandywine, daughter of the Fae, flew over the island of Pondge. Her rainbow hued dragonfly wings beating through the gail force winds and rain. She ducked and rolled, zigged and zagged, and finally dove through the large door of a barn. Landing on the railing of a horse stall, she shook herself free of the rain, then looked around her. Huddled in the barn were a small number of horses, a pair of pigs, and a handful of sheep. She sniffed the air. Under the smell of fresh country air, she could smell blood. Old blood. Human blood. I guess I dont have time to get warm. She stretched, shook herself one more time, then launched herself to the ceiling. She spent a while flitting around the ceiling, smelling the air, before hovering over the left rear corner of the barn. Darting down to the stale hay, and digging through it for a short while, she found what she assumed she would, a hatchway. It was old, and partly rotted, when she found the old iron ring she growled. Stupid Iron. She spent a short while looking for the farmers hay rake, then used the handle to pry open the hatch. It was dark in the now revealed hole, dark enough that Brandy did something she hated to do. She lit her internal light. She slowly descended into the blood smelling abyss below her. - Maxwells Journal 15th of Kusha Brandy returned this evening with a story of murder and butchery in the highlands. After all this time, it still amazes me how fast she can fly. The farm in question is almost a day away by horse, but it took her less than an hour to fly from there to here. I have contacted the local authorities, and we will be heading out in the early morning. All of us. Grendel has been informed that he will be joining us, and he agreed. By the sounds of it, I am probably going to be angry at what we will find. - The morning dawned bright and cold. Six officers of the law, Grendel, Max, Bri, and Brandywine stood in front of the inn. After a short discussion as to whether a Lady should see such things as they were going to investigate today, the officers shut up when Bri looked at them and said, Look you lot. Ive fought demons. Ive killed bandits. Ive gutted criminals. Several tortured corpses shouldnt stress me too much. It wasnt the words themselves that shut down the protests, it was how they were said. A fashion of speech that reminded them of grizzled veterans fresh from the battlefield. It was late afternoon when they arrived at the farmstead and announced themselves. A young couple with an obvious child on the way greeted them at the door. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Good afternoon officers? The young man all but stuttered out. What can we do for you? We have a credible report of corpses under your barn. Officer Sgt Blake Smith replied, giving the couple a good eyeballing. You will be staying in your home, under guard, until our investigation is finished. What!?! The young pregnant woman asked in a shrieking voice. Youre city cops! You have no right to do this! Constable Grinkins should be the one here! Blake smiled at the woman, Lord Maxwell the Heretic has come personally to oversee this investigation. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Maxwell. If you have a problem, you can talk to him about it. Max watched as the couples eyes widened to the point where he was worried that their eyes would pop out of their heads. The man, eyes still popping, introduced himself, IIm John Johnsson. This is my wife, Betty. Dont worry folks, we dont suspect the two of you of anything. Max said, hiding his grin at their reaction. We are just here to find the bodies. Once we are done, well take them to town for a cremation and burial. The young couple seemed to relax a bit at that. Then John spoke up, I want to come with you. If, as you say, they are under the barn, I think I know where they are buried. Smith looked into Johns eyes, And how, pray tell, would you know that? The backback corner. Sir. John stumbled over his words. Its always growing rancid mushrooms. Every time I go to dig it up, and add fresh soil, they are back the next day. Max raised an eyebrow, Interesting. A few moments the group was entering the barn, following Brandy and John. Brandy almost immediately started asking questions, How long have you lived here? The farmer looked at her, Um, about five years? We bought the place after old Mr. McKinney died. His wife had died before I was born, and they had no kids. So, mans wife dies and he doesnt remarry? Brandy asked. Then the man kills a bunch of people in the barns secret basement? She glanced over her shoulder to the rest of the group. Gods above, I hope not! John said, horror in his voice. Mr. McKinney was a wonderful person! He gave generously at the church. He paid for the orphanage, almost single handedly. One of the junior cops spoke up, I grew up on a farm like this. There was never enough to donate to the local charities. How did Mr. McKinney afford all that? John looked over his farm. Well, Betty knows the stories better than I do since she grew up in town, but rumor has it that when McKinney moved to town, he had a giant sea chest that was full of treasures. He took a breath, Supposedly, before he came here, he was the last survivor of a ship that went down in an awful storm some seventy years ago. As they conversed about the dead farmer they entered the barn, and came to the back corner. This is the spot. John pointed to a patch of disturbed earth, that sure enough was growing what looked to be rotted mushrooms. The cops pulled several shovels from a bag the youngest of them had been carrying and began to dig. As the time past, and the hole got bigger, nothing was found. Brandy eventually got Maxs attention and gestured to him to follow her out. It was here. I swear to my Grandmother, it was here! She whispered to Max. I know better than to call you a liar. Max responded. The cops? Not so much. From inside, they heard the sound of shovels hitting wood and metal. They went back in to find the cops pulling a massive chest from the hole. Well, looks like we found the old sea chest. Smith said. Anybody have a key? Everyone shook their heads. Then lets do this the old-fashioned way. Smith raised a shovel to bash the padlock. NO! Brandy shouted, and Smith stopped just before he hit the lock. What? Smith glared at Brandy. You have a better idea? Look at the lock. Brandy said. Its glowing. The cops looked between Brandy and the lock. The youngest said, No. It isnt. You cant see it? Brandy asked, one eyebrow cocked. Max? Do you see it? Or am I going crazy? From the back of the group, someone muttered Crazy. Max stared at the lock, quietly spoke a spell, and forced his vision to change. As his vision changed, so did the lock. It went from a mundane iron shackle lock to a hunk of iron spun through with glowing red stripes. To his eyes, it also took on the appearance of a Wyrm. Aw shit. Dragons. 057 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Part 2 057 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II C Crimes against the Kingdom Part 2 The hills of Pondge. 16th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Aw shit. Dragons. Maxwell mumbled. What now? Officer Sgt Blake Smith asked. This is a Dragon chest. Max said, swearing under his breath. By the shape, its a Sea Dragons chest. The cops all swore several different oaths. The young one in the back spoke up, So? The farmer, John Johnsson, looked at the lad. You really are young. Even Ive heard of those things. They control the weather around their lairs. So, it wasnt a freak storm that sank Mr. McKinney ship. It was a dragon. Smith said. Brandy spoke up. That doesnt explain the bodies. What bodies? Smith asked, his voice becoming soft. There are no bodies. Just a cursed chest! But I saw BODIES! Brandy yelled, voice going high. I saw the gods damned things! Dismembered things! Dried blood and viscera all over the room! Smiths face clouded over, Then show me where they are, Fairy. Max stepped between the pair, holding his hands out towards each one. Thats enough. He calmly said. He looked at Smith, First of all, Brandy is a Pixie, not a Fairy. Calling her that can carry a death sentence. Second, I believe her, therefore there are bodies here. Somewhere. Smith fumed for a few moments, then spoke again. Apologies, lady Pixie. I didnt mean to insult you. That much. He took a deep breath, Men, pull that cursed chest out of here. Ms. Brandy, please go through the motions of what you did before you found the bodies. The cops dragged the oversized Sea chest out of the barn, and shivered as the wind blew what could only be another storm in from the sea. Meanwhile Brandy went over what had happened, even mimicking the shaking off of the rain. And thats what I did. Brandy said, while hovering in the air. See outside? Thats even what the weather was like! Max looked down at the hole and pile of dirt. A hole and dirt pile that were not there, having been replaced with a rotted trapdoor surrounded by rotted hay. He pointed at the spot, You mean like that? Everyone gathered around and stared. Smith looked critically at the trapdoor, then outside. Okay. Magically concealed door, only visible when the weather becomes stormy. He looked over to farmer John. That would explain why you never found it. No one searches corners of barns when its pissing rain like this. You work on getting the animals in and comfortable. Jonh didnt look up from the floor, Speaking of, I need to get them in from the weather. He stepped away from the group and headed out. And to think, I could have been rich if I had kept digging. Betty is just going to love this. Was heard by the group. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Max leaned over and pried up the hatch. Whos going down first? Smith scowled, then spoke, I will. Its my job, after all. He slowly down the half-rotted ladder. Someone pass me a lantern? Lantern shortly retrieved and handed down; Smith returned to climbing. The ladder is still good, for the most part. Fourteenth rung is broken. Smith yelled up a bit later. It is about thirty feet deep. There is a ten foot long, hand carved tunnel leading to a large chamber. Two of you keep watch up there, everyone else, climb down slowly, one person at a time on the ladder. A few minutes later everyone was gathered in the small chamber at the base of the ladder. Some of the cops wondered how Lady Brianna had descended without any dirt getting on her dress, but no one commented. Brandywine lit her internal light, and flew ahead of them, scouting the next chamber again, looking for anything that had changed. It all looks the same as yesterday. She announced to those following. Although, I dont remember seeing the door here in the back! When the rest made it to the chamber, most wretched on the floor, while Max and Bri looked impassively at the scene. The walls were covered in decaying partial corpses, dried pools of blood beneath each one. The size range of the corpses varied from newborn, to hunch-backed adults. The several tables scattered around the room were covered with viscera and severed, and in more than one case dissected. Body parts. One smaller table held several small organs that had been dissected and pinned to the table. Thankfully none of it was fresh. The youngest officer began to hyperventilate. Thatthat one. Its the size of my little cousin! he wretched again, nothing but bile coming up. II need to leave. Another bile filled wretch happened, and he ran from the chamber. Smith looked around, There is no shame in leaving. If you think you cant stand this sight any more, I dont blame you. Get out. Write some notes about what you saw, it will help. All but one of the remaining officers departed. Smith looked over to the last remaining man, Well Joe, what do you think of all this? Looks like a serial butcher to me. Joe replied. We will need to go over everything and see if any organs are missing. See if we can match the parts to the proper bodies. Bri looked at the previously unnamed cop. You act like youve seen this kind of thing before. I have. Joe replied. About ten years ago. The rotting smell got me called out to the edge of town. Found a fresh, and smaller, version of this. He waived his hand at the scene before him. Never found who did it. - Several hours and a dozen lit lamps later, Brandy was sent back to Rorevilias police department to summon more officers, a pair of battle-hardened surgeons, and a cleric. A guard was set on the barn, and the rest of the group sat in the Johnssons parlor. Meanwhile Bri and Betty sat in the kitchen, quietly talking while the men went over for the fourth time what they knew. Do you have any idea how many people have gone missing since McKinney came to town? Bri gently asked Betty while sipping at an incredibly good cup of tea. I dont honestly know. Betty said in response. Every year someone gets it in their head to climb the high cliff. Most come back, but some never do. Bri nodded, Some people like to take irresponsible risks. She stared through the open doorway into the parlor, eyes resting on the back of Maxs head. Does anyone search for bodies from those trips? Yes. Betty said, both to Bris question and statement. John did it when he was fifteen, as a test of courage. He almost died falling down. Luckily, he just broke an arm and a leg. She sighed. The council send out a search party after a few days pass. Sometimes they find a body, sometimes they dont. Bri raised an eyebrow, Is falling off that often of an occurrence? Yes. Most of the boys do, actually. Bety said, twirling a lock of hair around a finger. Most of the boys, and some of the girls, do try to climb the stupid thing. Everyone falls at least once. Did you ever do it? Bri asked. Umyes? Betty said, a light blush touching her cheeks. I actually was slipping when John caught hold of me, and slipped himself. If not for me falling on his arm, it wouldnt have broken. She smiled at the memory. That was when I knew he was the one. Bri cocked her head to the left, and spoke her thoughts aloud, Bodies that should have been found at a common climbing spot, but werent. Okay. She looked back to Betty and gestured for more tea. This is excellent tea, by the way. Betty beamed, I made the mix myself! Have there been any other disappearances of note? Bri asked after taking another sip of tea. Not that I can Wait! Miss Alice disappeared around five years ago while looking for a lost sheep. Betty responded, eyes narrowing as she thought. We never found her, or the sheep. Where did that happen? Bri took another sip of the tea. I dont remember. I was tending to Johns wounds at the time. Betty blushed a deep red. It was a interesting time in our lives. 058 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Heroes 058 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II C Heroes Sam, Molly and Hesh were on the road again. Walking and walking and walking. They followed the old country road forever in a westward direction. The next stop on their ever-growing list was another graveyard, abandoned and ravaged by time. They could see it on a hill to the south of the road, its mausoleums raking the sky. As a cloud passed the sun, a shiver ran through the group, and they stopped. Well, there it is. Hesh remarked, as they stared up to the graveyard. Looks a lot bigger than the last one. Sam said, as he rinsed the road dust from his mouth, and spat. Molly removed a homemade clipboard from her pack, According to the last village, the undead seem to come pouring out from the graveyard every Gielik evening, that would be the second day of the local eight-day week. -- When is that? Sam interrupted. I was getting to that! Molly said, a growl in her voice. They poor out of the graveyard every Gielik evening, which would be tonight. Hesh began to climb an overgrown path they had found leading up to the graveyard. Come on you two! I found the old graveyard path. Molly and Sam glared at each other for a moment before following. A few minutes later found the trio standing at the shattered iron gate of the graveyard, and taking in the view of the road below. This would be an excellent place for a gun emplacement! Sam ventured, an attempt to clear the air with Molly. You would be correct Molly replied, giving the hill and graveyard a critical eye. And I think I spy the reason the graveyard is here, and probably why it has been acting up. Sam and Hesh turned and stared at Molly and Hesh asked, What do you mean? If you will direct your gaze to the mausoleums, you will note that they are at the four corners of the graveyard. Molly started to get a lecturing tone to her voice. You will note that the chapel in the center isnt shaped correctly for your standard local chapel. In addition, the iron gate isnt as old as the rest of the fence, and is several feet lower than the rest of the iron fence and walls. She continued. If you look at the grave stones, I think you will find they are all of the same stone, as opposed to other graveyards where the family buys the best stone they can afford. Hesh held up a hand, I see what you are talking about. Put all of that together with the placement of the graveyard on the best hill to defend against attackers, and this used to be a small defensive outpost, before it became a graveyard. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Molly smiled. Ding! Got it in one, Hesh! Sam frowned, ran a critical eye across the scene, and walked to one of the corner mausoleums. The problems, then, would be the graves beyond the walls. And the attempted conversion of the corner towers into family mausoleums for the locals, which seems to be recent. Hesh and Molly moved to look at what he was looking at. As they came to him, they saw what he did: old, but not ancient, scaffolding adorning the old tower. Sam scratched at the small amount of peach-fuzz that was growing on his chin, So, it would seem that at some point in the past, the local villagers decided to make this place their graveyard, messed with the towers, and probably opened up an even older grave site below one of the towers they had, or were, converting to a mausoleum. I believe you are correct. Hesh replied. Sam dropped his pack on the ground next to the old stone tower. Time to get set up, and do some exploring. Hesh and molly agreed, and did the same. *-*-* The thing in the darkness slowly oozed its way closer to its target. It ate the occasional thing here and there. Some of the things screamed, most did not. Im getting closer. It occasionally thought, and the things mouth would smile. *-*-* Sarah, former small goddess of small shadows, kicked a tuft of grass as her homemade pack bit into her skin again. Pen? Are you sure you cant make a better pack? Pendleton, former small god of Gnomes, grouched. Yes. For the umpteenth time, I am sure. To make better packs, I would need better supplies. Maybe if Mil could hunt up something with a bigger hide? Shut up Pen-Pen. Maximilian, Mil to his friends, god of war, said. We just need to find a town, then things will start to work in our favor. Just find a town, he says. Pendleton said in a mocking tone. Weve been walking for three weeks, and we havent found shit! Maybe if you could follow a compass as well as you can follow a seam? Mil replied. Sarah stepped in to head off the argument. Again. Look! Up ahead! Theres an old fort on a hill! Mil and Pendleton stopped their budding squabble. So there is. Pendleton said. Mil smiled suddenly, a memory hitting him. The battle of Hunters hill, 1842. There should be a road just on the other side! He let out a sigh, Oh, and lets avoid the old fort. Some idiot turned it into a graveyard and disturbed the dead who were buried there. The three gods passed to the east of the fort on the hill, met the road on the other side, and traveled east. Mil? Pendleton asked, What was the name of that place? And what happened there? What happened was a brilliant military defeat! Thousands killed on both sides. Then the invader, one King Brant, dumped a poisonous gas spell on top of the fort on one Gielik evening. Mil smiled at the memory. It sank into the underground chambers where the troops dwelt, killing them. It also sank down across the fields at the bottom of the hill, killing King Brant and his army. What was the name of the fort? Sarah asked, finding herself interested in the local history. Fort - Bradley. Hesh read off an uncovered chunk of stone from where the three were digging. Fort Bradley. Huh. Dont we have one of those back home? Just the IFV, I think Sam replied. At least I dont know of one. He looked to Molly, Do you know? Molly thought for a minute, then replied, There was no fort named after General Bradley in our world, sadly. The man was an excellent leader, led over a million troops in world war two, and was in command of the army during the invasion of Normandy. All he got for his troubles was an Infantry Fighting Vehicle named after him. Wow. Chorused Hesh and Sam. 059 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Part 3 The hills of Pondge. Evening of the 16th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Maxwell and Brianna sat at the small kitchen table, lit by a single small candle, and stared into each others eyes. Finally Max broke eye contact, Did you find out anything interesting? I didnt. I learned how the two got together, and that the last disappearance happened around five years ago. Bri answered. Also, Betty makes an amazing cup of tea. Thats good to know. Max chuckled, Maybe I will avail myself of some tomorrow. Do you have any clue where the boy has run off to? I havent seen him since dinner. Bri asked, then yawned. If I know him, then hes trying to pick the Dragon Chest. Max answered, then yawned himself. Good luck with that. To bed with us, husband. Im heading to town in the morning to look through the town records. Bri said as she stood from the table. Yes, my dear. 17th of Kusha The sun was coloring the sky of the early morning as Grendel threw up his hands in despair and kicked the chest. He had tried dumping normal water in the lock, then salt water, then sand mixed with salt water, then everything else he could think of. Finally, he had cleaned the lock with salt water again. He kicked the chest again. Stupid thing. You should have popped the first time I hit your pins with my picks. He threw up his arms and sat down on the chest. CLICK - Max, Bri, and the constables were enjoying a country breakfast when the screaming started outside. Food was variously placed or dropped, as the entire group ran for the door. From the front lawn, the group stood and stared as Grendel threw coins and other things in the air and started laughing manically. Bri looked at Max and smiled. Make sure he cleans it all up while Im in town, dear husband. She winked, and walked away. Son of aGrendel! Stop that! Max yelled at the young man. - The officers, Max and a thoroughly chastised Grendel stood at the top of the ladder, and stared down into the abyss. Any clue when the reinforcements will be here? Grendel asked. Not for several more hours, son Sgt. Smith replied. Should we go down and explore? Grendel asked, a bit of excitement in his voice. No, son. We already have an overabundance of vomit on the crime scene already. Sgt. Smith replied. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Then why are we standing here staring at a ladder in a hole? Grendel asked, mild confusion flitting across his face. Good question lad. Sgt. Smith stood up strait. All right you lot! Lets have a look see around the area! If anything piques your interest, have a poke at it. He took a breath, Constables Went and Griegs! Put the coins from the chest back, and dont go pinching things like the cloths line. Two of the constables, one more than a little overweight and balding from age, the other short and thin with askin condition, sighed and put back the coins they had gathered earlier. The thin one looked at the other, Them was just lying around. No bother to just pick them up. Most of them got into the chest. Just a little bit for the widows and orphans fund. I know Griegs, I know. Constable Went replied. Maybe we should find a place to watch from, guard the area, see? Good place to have a smoke, out of the wind. The pair wandered off, looking to find a place to have a smoke that was out of the wind, and any possible rain. Grendel looked up at Sgt Smith, Why do you keep those two around? Because they are about as folksy as folks get. Smith answered shaking his head, All departments have constables like them. They are in touch with the people, and people talk to them. But their cops! Grendel said. No, theyre not. Smith said. Their Tom and Rob. You buy them a pint at the bar, and tell them your woes. Or who hit who. Or who robbed old Mrs. Ogliev. but Grendel started and stopped. Its not like your talking to the cops. Smith said with a smile. Youre just talking to old Tom and his young, has a condition friend, Rob. Grendel stopped and thought on that for a while. - As lunch passed and reports rolled in from the searchers; with nothing more interesting than a rams skull found; the group waited for the reinforcements to arrive in the evening. Thus, they were surprised by a group of seven constables and a cleric of Narissa, the goddess of Tranquility, showing up. Short of breath and glancing offer their shoulders at a not very amused pixie with what could only be described as a riding crop in hand. Alright you lot, you can rest now. Brandywine announced to the group she had been sheparding. Lord Maxwell! I have delivered the reinforcements as you have requested! She gave Max a salute, which he returned with military precision. Gentlemen, and lady cleric, welcome to your new temporary posting! Max announced to the haggard group. First, take a load off and eat something while you rest. Second, in an hour Sgt Smith and I will brief you on the current situation that we are facing. He took a deep breath for the last announcement, Last, lady cleric, I would like to know why you were selected for this job, as opposed to the Sea cleric? Bec--- gasp, Because the Sea cleric Andromeda, gasp, was busy with funeral rights. The lady cleric replied. A perfectly reasonable reason. Max grumped in response. Dismissed. We will see you in an hour. The new group sat down, and ate the food provided by the others. Max walked several dozen yards away, while waiving Brandy over. What in the hells were you doing, driving them like cattle? Brandy frowned, They were standing around grumbling and talking about taking a carriage to get here. It would have taken until tomorrow to do that. So, I decided to thwack a few backsides and scare the heck out of them. Then she smiled, It worked very well. Now we have a disgruntled, tired, and bitter group of people that we will have to convince to help us. Max grumbled back. I did give them some energy to survive the trip; Im not that cruel. Brandy replied, Usually. An unremarkable hour passed, and Max was standing in front of the combined group of constables and others. Alright, cutting to the chase; we have dozens of bodies down below us that need to be reassembled You know what? He waved his hand and stone benches raised from the earth, Sit. After the shock lifted from the assembled people, they sat. As I was saying, Max continued, We have bodies that need to be assembled, he pointed to the medics, carried up from the torture chamber, he waiver towards the constables, identified, and interred. He pointed to the cleric. Any questions thus far? The cleric raised her hand, and Max nodded at her, Lady Chelsa, priestess of Narissa, Goddess of Tranquility. She introduced herself. How do you expect me to identify the victims? I would ask your goddess for help in that. Max replied. Or you could look over this list of disappearances from the last 100 years and see what pops up from the descriptions. Bri said from behind Max. For his part, Maxs eyes went wide, and he spun around. How long have you been here, my dearest? Only long enough to hear what you wanted the priestess, second class, to do. Bri answered. Max turned back to the cleric, Second class huh? Damn. Guess we lucked out with you. Chelsa smiled at Bri, Lady Brianna, your list will be most helpful to me. And the party set to work. And now for something a little different... Isekai Isekaid. Chapter 1 I looked at the bright light. It hurt my eyes. My eyes that werent there, I discovered when I went to cover them with hands that my hands also didnt exist. Okay, I guess that accident where I flipped my jeep in the ditch after hitting the black ice on the road was fatal? I thought as I looked around. Im dead. Now what? The obnoxiously bright light dimmed, and took the shape of a man, then it spoke, Im sorry about what happened to you back there. One of the agents made a mistake. I turned my complete attention to the man, A mistake that cost me my life. I replied, voice hard. Yes, yes. These things happen. The man replied. Now, according to protocols, I can offer you two options. The first is to put you on your path to whichever afterlife you deserve; Or to place you on a new world in perfect health, with three powers of your choosing. The mans words caught my full attention and I began to think. Where I deserve to goDont want that one, I havent exactly led my best life My mind wandered to some of the things I had done as a youth and as a young man. Ill take the second option! I nearly shouted. I mean, I would like to go to a new world. Very well. What powers would you like? The man asked, as he stretched and yawned. I need some information, real quick, before I make my choices. I replied, thinking I have too many questions to ask! Magic? Tech Level? Cultures? Slavery? The man sighed, Make it quick, I have dimensions to run, and yourpowers that be dont like me being here. Tick tock. Okay. Is magic a thing? How powerful is it? I asked before rambling on, What level of technology is there? What are the cultures like? Is slavery a thing? The man rolled his eyes, Yes; Mid to high; Renaissance levels with occasional extra bits; Too many to list; Occasionally. Thanks I want to be able to speak and understand any language I run across. I said, and the man nodded. Second, I want perfect recollection of anything my six senses have ever encountered in the past and going forward. I continued, and the man nodded again tapping his foot on the ground. I took a deep breath, And I want to be able to Isekai anything I can think of into existenceup to say ten tons in weight. The man stopped tapping his foot for a moment. Five tons. Not alive. And no more than three times a day. I smiled, Done. The man let out a long sigh, Good. Now get going. He waved his hand, and I found myself plummeting towards a blue and green world, currently being illuminated by a bright yellow sun and circled by two moons, one moon was green and the other gray. - I thought humans here only had five senses the man mumbled to himself. Oh well Wait, Isekai? That the F- - When I awoke once more, I was lying face down on something hard, kind of like concrete, but lumpier, and perhaps a bit softer. I lifted my head and took in my surroundings. Dirt, trees, rocks, cliff face going up to my left. I mentally noted. I stood up, and staggered a bit. Ouch! I exclaimed as I stepped on a sharp rock with a bare foot. Im naked?!? That [grumble] hole didnt even give me clothes! Looking to the sky, I shake my fist. Ill make you walk this naked one day, [grunt] hole! I got no response. Okay, so Im naked and alone. I spoke to the empty air. I need food, water, and shelter I closed my eyes and concentrated hard, bringing to mind a pair of full five-gallon water jugs that my family had used camping when I was a kid. Isekai! I shouted, and opened my eyes. On the forest floor Infront of me sat the jugs, just as I had pictured them. Sweet! It worked! Then I felt woozy, as though a bunch of energy had left my body. Well poop. that teaching gig has killed my swearing vocabularyCrap. Again, I spoke out loud. And Im talking to myself too! Oh well, Itll be some of the best conversations I will ever have. I shake my head to clear it, and look more closely at my surroundings. The trees nearest me are deciduous, have dark green leaves in an arrowhead shape, and the trunks brownish with rough bark. Some of the trees more distant, have a more smooth and silvery bark, and lighter colored leaves. The dirt under my bare feet is dark brown to black, with a bit of light green grass here and there. Being at the bottom of the cliff, there are a large number of rocks ranging from pebbles to full size boulders that my six-foot frame cant see over. Alright, sticks and rocks. Grass and trees. Undergrowth. I say. I can deal with this. My stomach growls. I need food. Now. I close my eyes and bring forth from memory a twenty-four-pack case of MREs. Isekai. I say, then open my eyes. To my delight, a case of MREs is sitting next to the water jugs. Walking to then, I bend over- Wait a minuteI dont hurt when I bend over! The thought screams through my mind. I kneel down in front of the MREs, rejoicing at the lack of joint pain, then curse under my breath after reading the packaging: Chili-Mac. Darn it all to heck! I should have isekaid fresh C-Rations instead of Meals Rejected by Everyone. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Now I needcamping equipment, survival equipment, transport My mouth shut off, as the whole situation crashed down on me. Im in the middle of nowhere, with no pain in my body, my dentures are gone because I have teeth again, and Im in perfect health! Then my brain spun again. Im in the middle of nowhere. I have no survival gear. I have limited resources. I have no support structure. I know almost nothing about this world. My lack of pre-planning has wasted my second Isekai on something that I hate. I need to think on my last one for the day. I sat my naked butt on the ground, swiped a patch of dirt clean, and with a stick, began writing things down.
  1. Water.
  2. Food.
  3. Shelter.
I began to think, Camping gear is a good thing to have. It would include things like a tent, sleeping bag, backpack, clothing, cook wear, ditty bag of personal care items. I began to write it down, but ran out of room at the second item. To heck with this. I said, continuing my trend of thinking out loud. I brought up the memory of my last camping trip into the mountains to hunt elk twenty years ago, last fall. I focused in on the pack I was carrying, with the backpackers tent, and mountaineers sleeping bag. The pile of warm clothing inside. The cook kit, and portable stove. Isekai! I all but yelled again. I opened my eyes, and saw a big red X in front of my face. It then faded away. Well Poop. I stared at the empty spot in front of me, and gritted my teeth. Okay. Fine. I want a tent. I want a sleeping bag. I want an air mattress, with one of those fill bags that act like a mini bellows. I picture the items together like a RainForestTM advertisement. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I concentrate on the picture as hard as I can, and say Isekai. When I open my eyes a few moments later, my vision is fuzzy, but as it clears, I see what I had just pictured. Just in boxes. From MartMartTM. I looked to the sky, again, Really? MartMartTM?? I think I hate you. A half an hour, several sharp rocks and pointed sticks later, I had a tent set up with a summer weight sleeping bag. The air mattress had popped. Stupid MartMart? poop. I guess thats what you get when you make your wish too generic. Or too wide reaching. A green circle appeared in my prereferral vision. Wow. Something helpful happened. The circle disappeared in wat I can only think of as a huff. For the next hour I cleaned up my immediate surroundings, made a fire ring, and attempted to light a fire by making sparks with different rocks. Come on! QuarryJob? makes this easy! I took a deep breath. Okay, that survival guy used friction to make heat to light his fire. Come on Sam, you can do this. I used a sharp rock, and a largeish piece of wood to split a chunk of dry broken wood. Then I used a smaller sharp rock to whittle a point onto another, but smaller, piece of dry wood. Finally, I used a rock to make a hole in the first piece to put the pointy wood in. Then I used the flat of my hands in a rubbing motion to spin the pointy piece of wood in the hole. Fifteen grueling minutes later, I had an ember. Which I immediately over fed and killed. I need a fire-starting kit. And a survival kit even if it is a MartMart? kit. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The second time it only took ten minutes to make the fire. Im glad thats over with. I spoke to the nearest tree, a tree I had named John. John, what do you think of Chili-Mac for dinner? I asked. Im not a real fan, but I need to eat, and hunger is the best sauce. John did not reply, nor give any indication that he had heard me. I sighed internally. Apparently trees here cant speak. I said aloud as I started to open the case of MREs. I really hate Chili-Mac. Lots of real cussing, a couple of bruised knuckles, and a burn later, I was eating a Chili-mac MRE. I blame the hunger for this tasting good. I grumbled, eating the food as quickly as I could, then placing the empty container into the fire. I retired for the day. The sleeping bag felt good, even if the air mattress had popped. I slept well for the first time in years. - In a cemetery on a hill that overlooked a placid river, a fresh gravestone was surrounded by students young and old. Samuel Smith. 53 years old. Beloved Teacher. Chapter 2 I awoke with a start in the tent. Something was rustling outside, not far from the tent; I was thankful as it dragged me out of a nightmare. I opened the flap after struggling with the zipper, only to see some sort of rodents fleeing from the now torn open box of MREs. Poop! I forgot to put those away in the tent! I yelled to the world. I scrambled outside, and immediately noticed two things. The first was that the wind this morning was cold on my bare flesh. The second was that nature was calling, number one and number two. I waddled to the thicket I had used last night, and relieved myself. On the way back to camp, I heard another noise, a loud one. Something big was heading through the thicket I had just vacated! I ran towards camp, but the noise got louder. Along with the sound of movement, I could also hear the noise of jaws clacking together. I hope that isnt some sort of undead clacking its jaws! I thought as I ran. There was suddenly quiet behind me, and a whistling sound in the air. Then a monstrous six-legged purplish spider thing landed before me. It had the normal fused head and thorax of a spider, but ten eyes, and no pedipalps. It was also several shades of purple, not a Purplish color. From what I could see of its opisthosoma, there were no spinnerets; no wonder it traveled on the ground. Its six legs were covered with finger length barbs that oozed an off-putting green liquid, and ended in barbed claws. Definably not a jumping spider. On instinct I reached out my hand thinking of a huge shotgun, and screamed Isekai! What appeared in my hand was heavy, and as I brought it to my shoulder, I pulled the trigger. Twice. The first shot hit the ground in front of the thing, and made my arm go numb. The second caught is square in the face (if you could call such a thing a face), and I dropped the shotgun. I looked at the creature in horror, expecting it to keep charging, but it had fallen in its tracks, very dead. The shotgun round had obliterated its face, and upon inspection seemed to have penetrated all the way into the opisthosoma, destroying its book lung. Then I collapsed. Several minutes later, after the adrenalin faded and I had caught my breath, I became aware of the pain in my right shoulder. I crawled to the nearest tree, grabbed a branch with my right hand, and pulled. There was a loud pop and my shoulder was back in place. Then I screamed. Several more minutes later I returned to where I had dropped the shotgun. It was huge. It weighed in around twenty poundsor nine kilos as I would tell my students. The barrel was a side by side (SXS in gun terms) with a length of around twenty-eight inches71cm Why am I converting things for children who arent here? Habit, I assume. I thought as I read the information stamped into the barrels and receiver. OGRE Arms Inc.; 2 (5cm) to 4 (10cm) Magnum; Proof Tested; 12 gauge. I read aloud. Who the heck makes a four-inch Magnum round for a shotgun? I looked around, then broke open the action and a pair of pale-yellow shells flew out of the gun. Stooping over I retrieved the shells. Shure enough, four inches, and labeled 00000. Quintuple ought buck shot?!? I spoke in a hushed voice. Who in the heck Then it came to me, OGRE Arms Inc. I bet thats NOT a human company. Then I continued the thought. First, this must be a hunting gun for young adult Ogre sized people. Second, I can isekai technology. Third, I need to focus more clearly on what I want in order to get exactly what I want. And fourth, I need more ammunition. I saw a small green circle in the corner of my vision. Heading back to camp, I noticed that the spider thing was slowly dissolving from the wounds outward. The thing was obviously not edible. I passed it by. Upon arriving back in camp, I restarted the fire from last night from the coals. It was much easier than the manual method I had used yesterdayyes, a Fire Bow, just without the bow I stared at the now crackling fire, and the flashback began. - SMITH! Get The Hummer moving! Gunner Jeb yelled from up top. I smacked the speed control full forward, and turned the wheel sharply to the left and the electric beast of a vehicle took off. I loved this thing. A combined 200 hp, 50 hp from each electric wheel motor. Battery cell that gave full power for 24 hours; longer if you didnt run full speed all day. Up armored to stop heavy machinegun fire, and low-end rockets. Dual Ma-dues mounted in a manual turret above the rear axle. NBC sealed and EMP proofed. Carried up to a ton and a half of gear, and/or up to eight service men. Off road shocks, and run-flat tires. And we were getting our asses kicked by insurgents backed by Brazil. I swerved again as a rockets firing flash from the left alerted me to its presence. I jinked twice more before it nosed up, and came down on my roof. FUCK! Johnson? You still their buddy? I screamed over the internal speaker. No reply. I took my eyes off the front screen to look back. The sight of a pair of legs oozing blood were all that was left of my gunner of the last 72 hours. Fuck me. I cussed under my breath. I turned around and backtracked to firebase six-alpha to reload and get another gunner. - I sat up with a gasp, body shaking. I jerkily checked around me, empty shotgun in hand, pointing down the firing lines I had subconsciously noted the day before. Poop. The personality cap seems to have loosened since I arrived here. Ill need to get that adjusted. I was thinking when it hit me. I cant get it adjusted. It isnt there anymore. Its gone, just like my battle scars, and track lines... POOP! I shook for what felt like hours. POOP! - I cooked a Chili-Mac MRE, and ate it while listening to the sounds of the forest. The local wildlife seemed to have accepted me, as I now occasionally saw birds fly by, and those rodents come snuffling past. The birds werebirds. Varying colors and beak styles. Most looked similar to chickadees, but more white feathers. The Rodentia were somewhat like red squirrels back home, just smaller and with twin tails. I would like to examine those rodents up close. Maybe record my findings so I could demonstrate it to the Bio class I was pulled from my thoughts again by the realization that there would be no more classes. No more Mr. Smith the GOAT! from the mid and high-grade classes. No more Miss Maggie giving me a covered grin. No more Mrs. Ericson grabbing my ass with her old and bony fingersOkay that is a plus. I sighed and finished my food. I burned the trash from my meal, threw the remaining MREs into the tent, and sat cross legged (what was historically called Indian Style almost a century ago according to the History of Teaching book I had been reading back home) on the ground. I closed my eyes and brought forth the memory of my first, 4 box case, of long-range turkey loads. I held both of my hands out in front of me, and whispered Isekai into the world. A moment later a familiar weight settled into my hands, and I opened my eyes. In my hands was a full, 100 round case of turkey loads for a 12ga shotgun! I pulled the Ogre Arms SXS to me, opened the action, and loaded the shells. Perfect fit. Then I remembered why I stopped buying the Long Range shells any moreThey kicked like a mule. Poop. - The day has been long, and Im not looking forward to sleeping tonight. Im sure there will be more nightmares tonight. Im cuddled up with my shotgun, and a belly full of Chili-Mac. I hate chili. I hate mac and cheese. Im starting to hate this life already. Still, I think its better than combat. - The needle in the arm feels so good. I pull it out and let the euphoria overtake me. Im flying high. Who needs school, with all the stupid adults who know nothing about the modern world. Stupid kids who dont know anything either. Kids who tease you about your lack of name brand clothes. The high lasts just long enough to let me fall asleep in my box in the back alley I call home. Morning comes, and Im up. Time to make some money, and get my next fix. Some people like my thin body, and will pay for it. The money is good, but the filth isnt. The john was good this time, and he wasnt too rough. The tip he left will more than make up for the cut the pimp takes. I approach the building Geeves works from, and enter from the service door. The place is quiet. Too quiet, but my needs make me throw caution to the wind. I bolt up the back stairs, and burst into Geeves office. There is blood everywhere. And bodies. There is a dead Sigma on the floor, but all of Geeves guards are down too, most have already bled out. Geeves is on his throne, his head hanging by a thread of muscle and skin. I almost puke; due to the blood and gore, or the withdrawals, I dont know. I open his lower left drawer, only to find it empty of his stash and money. I sit on the floor next to the desk, and sleep. Im awoken by the pigs charging into the room. They always wait until the danger is gone before entering a place. Assholes. They might have been able to save someone if they had showed up earlier. Im cuffed, not even read my rights, and stuffed into the back of a squad car. Im sunk. - It''s been six months. Im off the drugs. I still want a fix. Ive testified about what I did for Geeves group. His lieutenants have been rounded up. Ive been given a choice, Military service, or prison. Boys like me dont do well in prison. Im in the army now. Im still trying to remember why I had a bloody butcher knife in my hand when I woke up, just before the cops came in. Im glad I rolled it in blood before they saw me. - I woke up hard, and rolled out of my sleeping bag, shotgun in hand. I dont know what did it, the dreams about recovery? Geeves head looking at me as I rolled the knife in the blood? Ill probably never know. I listen intently to the sounds outside my tent. I hear birds singing, small rodents rustling through the grass, and something smaller than that spider thing rubbing itself against a tree. I unzip the flap, and chance a look. Four legs ending in hooves. Brown furry body. One slightly curved horn on top of an equine head. The horn is closer to a Rinos horn than anything else I can think of. Its tail, which I see as it walks away from me, is short, resembling a black tailed deer. Im betting the creature is similar in ecological niche to deer from home, just with one horn as opposed to antlers. Today, I think Im going to try my biggest Isekai yet. A vehicle. 060 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Part 4 The hills of Pondge. 17th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Late Afternoon. Constables Went and Griegs were standing in the lee of the outhouse sharing a rollup when the esteemed Lady Brianna strolled into the farm. They watched her pass by and shook their heads. You know Griegs, That is a Lady. You know she is, just from how she walks. A lady like that could launch a thousand ships, she could. That she is, Went, that she is. Griegs nodded. Im thinking the local pub could need some guarding. Constable Went, what do you think? I think it probably could. Went replied. Lets go put ourselves on wandering duty. And the pair wandered off into the late afternoon sun. - Brianna drew Maxwell away from the gathering of officers with some difficulty, I have interesting things to report, husband. As they stepped away, Bri started talking, I arrived in the village fairly early, as such things go, and found myself talking to several of the older women. Apparently, the disappearances run back more than a hundred years. Max stopped resisting his wifes pull. You have my undivided attention. Good. Bri smiled, and Max smiled in return. I was able to sweet talk the ladies into bringing me strait to the village hall, and they bullied the mayor into letting us into the deep archives dating back to the founding of the village several hundred years ago; by the way, remind me never to get on the bad side of a group of old ladies who like to gossip. Anyway, we spent several hours down there going over all the ancient records, reigniting some old feuds, and putting others to rest as we read the actual history of the village! The important bits we recovered were that the missing persons started around one hundred twenty years ago, much earlier than Mr. McKinneys arrival in town. In fact, Mr. McKinney was reported dead at one point, before showing up again a day later. That is when I started making the list of who had disappeared, and when, in order to help with corpse identification by approximate time of death. The more interesting thing I found was several years ago. Bri finally stopped and took a long breath. Remember me telling you about the lost shepherdess who disappeared following a missing sheep? Max nodded. Turns out she was found after all. Bri frowned, Dead; and in the company of a dead Mr. McKinney, and an unconscious young miss Betty Johnsson. Was this before, or after, her time nursing young John back to health? Max asked. Well after. Bri responded. Mr. McKinney had already died and been cremated by that point. At least by the time I uncovered that part the old ladies had departed for lunch. I dont know who buried that report, but it took most of my skills to find it in the lock box. You opened the village lockbox? Max asked, incredulity plastered across his face. Bri smiled as she responded, It was childs play compared to my fathers safe, dear husband. She shook her head to order her thoughts, then continued, Since that event there havent been any disappearances. This has gone from disturbing to downright terrifying, you know that, right? Max said after a few moments of thought. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The dead bodies, or the safe? Bri asked innocently. Honestly? Both. Max said. But I was mostly thinking of the bodies. I have one more question for you, then I think we need to read Sgt Smith and constable Joe in on what you found out. What is your question, dear husband? Bri asked. After the disappearances, was there any note about someone acting strange, or different afterwards? - Bri and Max sat at a hastily made (by Maxs magic) table next to the barn. Joining them at the table were Sgt. Smith and Joseph Joe Alvarez. Smith was there because he was nominally in charge, and good at this sort of thing; Joe was there because he had seen it before. Joe, when you saw this in the capital, what did you find out during your investigation? Max asked. We got called in due to the smell emanating from the building. It took a long time for someone to complain because the building was in the wrong side of town. Joe said. When we finally got there, the place was rotted worse that if you mixed the tanners and the butchers refuse, then put it under the sun for a day. He shuddered at the memory. There were only four bodies, but three of them were children under ten. Joe took a deep breath, Our mage at the time, Sgt. Withers, said they had set wards to preserve the place, but the wards hadnt been very good, and had failed within the last half year. The timeline for what we are looking atlooks like this, Max unfolded a large piece of paper and laid it out on the table. The names and ages of the missing; and assumed deceased; were listed by gone Missing date in bright blue ink. The timeline of McKinneys arrival, the capital mess, and Miss Alices death, were inserted written in black ink. It would appear that the missing were taken in a six-month period, once every five years or so. The younger the group was, the less often people disappeared. Max said after a few moments of looking at the paper. Does anyone else see anything? The four looked at the timeline, and contemplated the names and numbers. - Lady Chelsa stood in the underground abattoir with medics Logan and Case, and thought hard on her life choices. Sure, she was descended from some great hero in the distant past, and sure she had heard the call of the goddess at the age of sixteen and turned towards the clergy. Now she was almost thirty, and had reached 2nd class in the priesthood*, a High Priest, and an exceptionally fast ascension of the ranks. After all that work, it was infuriating that the little pest had insisted she be called by her class as opposed to her actual title, but the goddess had warned her of the danger of insulting the wee beast. And now that she knew who she was working with, she understood Why she was being called by class, The Heretic was here, and her goddess didnt want the annoyance of dealing with that mess. She looked at the sprawl of bodies, then back to the medics, sighed, and began casting the Holy Rite of Communication on the eldest skull she could find. It would be several long weeks before this assignment was over. - Evening had come to the farmstead, and a camp was being erected. Bri, Max, and Priestess Chelsa were being housed in the old farmhouse, and the rest were put into tents. Tents that the newcomers had had to carry. Bri was in the middle of helping with the dishes as Max and farmer John were discussing the recent innovations in farm equipment that were coming from the province of Coxnia on the continent; when she had a revelation. Oh, Maxie dearest, I need to go back to the village in the morning. I have an idea, but I need to do more research. Max sighed at the nickname, and John tried to stifle a laugh, Have a good time in town. - * The clergy ranks (I use the Christion ones due to familiarity) for the goddess of Tranquility run (Class number, followed by Title): Arc-Bishop, 1st Bishop, 2nd High Priest, 3rd Priest, 4th Sub-Priest, 5th High-Deacon, 6th Deacon, 7th Sub-Deacon, 8th lector, 9th High Acolyte, 10th acolyte, Initiate. Other gods/goddesses use different names, but the classes are mostly the same**. ** Demonia is, of course, different. They use Bishop (1st-3rd class), Priest (1st-3rd class), Deacon (1st-4th class), acolyte (1st-5th class). Demonia also has a Seeker of Knowledge designation***. *** Seekers of Knowledge (aka Seekers) are a strange group of scholars that study the Demonia state religion, and provide technical support as a type of auxiliary to the church****. A Seeker of Knowledge designation runs from 1 to 10, with 1 (one) being the highest rank. **** At some point in the olden days of the church, the seekers split off due to a schism over worshiping of the Heretic. At this point they are re-integrating into the clergy due to pay scale and cross promotions becoming more common. The official reason is to Bring tech support back under the churchs official control. ***** ***** This will cause some problems in the newly developed International business world, as a religious institution owning several companies is seen by many as a bad idea. 061 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Part 5 The hills of Pondge. 18th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Late Afternoon. Bri was in the middle of helping with the dishes as Max and farmer John were discussing the recent innovations in farm equipment that were coming from the province of Coxnia on the continent; when she had a revelation. Oh, Maxie dearest, I need to go back to the village in the morning. I have an idea, but I need to do more research. Max sighed at the nickname, and John tried (and failed) to stifle a laugh, Have a good time in town. - In the early morning light, Brianna walked the dirt road from the remote farm to the village. Lost in thought though she was, she did notice, and waive to, the young boys hiding in the bushes, pretending to be bandits. The children boiled out of the bushes behind her, and stared. - Maxwell descended into the charnel house via the Dead Well (as the constables were now calling it). The freshest of the corpses had been put back together, named, blessed, and removed yesterday. That had gotten rid of the most unpleasant of the smells. Max stepped into the first chamber, and looked around. There were dozens of corpses lying on tables, slowly being stitched back together by the surgeons, and being assisted by the priestess. As he watched, they finished the last stitch, and the body became whole again. The priestess slumped, took a deep breath, and looked around, Do either of you know what time it is? I think we may have missed dinner. Max stared at the three, cursed under his breath, and spoke, And you will miss breakfast if you dont get up there now. - The late morning found Bri sitting behind the desk in the mayors office, stacks of farm reports all around her, and a sweaty, red faced, mayor sitting across the desk from her. A red faced, mayor who was growing angrier and angrier as he read through census and political records. Eventually the mayor slammed a large, well-muscled fist, on the desk, What in the unholy hells is going wrong in this village!? That, Mayor Linden, is what we are here to find out. Bri answered in a voice so cold, you could easily imagine frost forming in the air in front of her. - Grendel was bored again. The chest was off limits, and there was no way in the hells that he was going anywhere near the Dead Well any time soon, so he wandered off towards the village. He beat back the bandit hoard fairly easily; the children were several years his junior; and went in search of the climbing cliff. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. When he found it, he looked up the thirty-foot cliff, with all of its natural cracks, and manmade climbing holds, and began his ascent. Had anyone been around to watch him, they would have seen the giant grin that was plastered across his face. - The evening on the farm was cold, with a feeling of tension in the air as the priestess, Max, and Bri sat in the kitchen and discussed what they had found. The bodies that we have been able to reconstruct had been ritually butchered, note that I do not say sacrificed, and small bits of each organ consumed. Lady Chelsa stated. Above and beyond that, the remnants of the corpses soul that were still attached to the pieces were almost too tattered to reassemble, and had huge parts missing. Would that mean that whoever did this was eating parts of the soul with the ritual? Bri asked. You would be correct, Lady Brianna. Lady Chelsa replied. The ritual used was very powerful, but aimed at the self, as opposed to one of the gods. Ive never felt its like, and hope to never feel it again. Max cocked an eyebrow, and asked Aimed at the self? Yes. Lady Chelsa stated. Usually, rituals of are used to supply the gods with an offering of energy to get their attention, to ask for help or whatnot. Sometimes they are used to power great magical feats. The goddess has informed me that there are some ancient rituals that send the power into the rituals caster, giving the caster large amounts of power for a period of time. Let me guess, the ritual used here was the latter type. Max stated. Lady Chelsa nodded, Yes. Do you have any idea what the ritual was intended to do? Bri asked. I have asked the goddess for guidance, but she has remained silent on the topic. Lady Chelsa said. I am of the opinion that she wants me to figure it out on mt own, as opposed to just being told. Max mumbled something under his breath, then spoke up. Maybe you could ask the Crow for assistance? Lady Chelsa dropped her tea cup on the floor, and with a loud crack it exploded into fragments. II would Never! Max laughed. Sure, She can be kinda a jerk, but Ive seen Her around a few timesand Him too. Youyou have seen both incarnations?!? Lady Chelsa all but screeched. There are three, actually, and I havent seen the Raven. Max replied, a troubled look on his face. But Ive seen those two several times. Lady Chelsa stared at Max. Yyou have seen the face ofThem and lived Heretic, remember? I dont die. Max said in exasperation. The last time I saw skull head, he just sighed and walked away, shaking his scythe at the sky! Lady Chelsa began to shake. And you want me to summonHim? Just to ask a question? Sure. Why not? Max asked. Lady Chelsa lost her cool, BECAUSE HE WILL TAKE MY SOUL!!!! Max took a long sigh. Fine. Ill call for the lazy bones. - A raven sat on the dining room table, an irritated look upon its face. First off, you pathetic man, I am not a lazy bones. Second, you dont have a normal glass so I cant take youfor long. Third, if you call me that way again, I will hurt you beyond your comp--- A storm fell across Maxs face, and he reached a hand out faster than anyone could blink, grabbing the ravens head with crushing force. Listen. Bird. You cant hurt Me any more than I have already been. NO. NO I CAN NOT. A voice sounded from behind Max. BROTHERME, ANSWER THE HERETICS QUESTIONS. And a cold that no one had noticed before, disappeared from the room. Max gently removed his hand from the bird. The raven shook itself. I hate it when I do that. It looked at the priestess, ignoring Max, What do you want to know? 062 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Part 6 062 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II C Crimes against the Kingdom Part 6 The hills of Pondge. 20th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Morning My dearest husband, Brianna said over breakfast, I need to return to the mayors office and continue my research. The man it too lucky to have your presence. Maxwell replied around a mouthful of scrambled eggs with bacon, cheese and onion mixed in. Good luck on your paper pushing. Bri smiled as she departed for the day. As she walked the road to the village, she came across a disheveled Grendel slowly making his way back to the farm. As she approached, he looked up and smiled. Maam! You aint gonna believe this! Grendel all but yelled before grabbing Bris hand and yanking her onto a small path that led to the large cliff easily seen from the road. Grendel all but ran to the cliff, and started climbing at a rapid pace. Cmon! I know you can climb! He yelled. After a quick look around, Bri gathered in her dress and ascended the cliff with Grendel, and they soon could themselves at the top. Look at that! Grendel pointed straight out from the cliff face. Bri turned from surveying the top of the cliff, and looked. She was looking straight at the farmstead. What she could also see was that the farmstead was surrounded by a giant circle of standing stones. But not exactly stonesbut trees. Trees that had been grown in such a way as to resemble, no be, standing stones. Bri looked at Grendel, Is this why you have been gone all night? Grendel frowned, Well, that and by the time I figured I had watched the stones long enough, the light had faded to the point that I wasnt going to risk climbing down without a rope. A rope that I forgot to bring up here. So, I slept in the little grotto over there. Its dry, and has seen a lot of use, I think. Bri looked over to the small cave, and nodded. Thank you for showing me this. She waived her hand towards the farm and stones. I will be heading to the mayors office for the day. I suggest you go and clean up, then help out for an hour or two before you disappear for the rest of the day. She winked at Grendel. Might I add, there seems to be a deep stream a half mile south and west of the farm? It seems to have a glut of fish in it. Grendel smiled like the child he still was. - Maxwell, Lady Chelsa, and the surgeons Mac and Greg, stood around the largest table in the Dead Well. Max looked at the neatly lined up body parts. So, according to the bird, we need to magically observe each piece, he waived at the body parts, And assemble like to like? He looked to Lady Chelsa, Did I get that right? Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! It is a little more complicated than that, Lady Chelsa replied, But that is the gist of it. Now remember, not too much magic, or you will separate the last vestiges of a soul from the parts, and send them into the void. Max nodded, and they started the grisly task. - Grendel relaxed in the mid-day sun next to a wide and deep stream, fishing pole to his side (leaning on a forked branch he had pounded into the ground with a rock). He sighed in contentment as he watched the occasional leaf float by. When a fish took his bait, he fought the beast and landed himself a fat trout with a rainbow hue to its scales. A small fire, some cleaning of the fish, and a sharp stick later, he had a fabulous snack. On a whim he went through the fishs stomach, and found something of interest. The thing of interest was so interesting that he ran back to the farm, grabbed a large, deep plate, and ran back to the stream. - Brianna slowly walked down the winding road from the town to the farmstead, her mind whirling from the days events. After finishing her research with the mayor, she had been invited by his wife to join them for an entirely delicious homemade meal. The three of them had talked and gossiped deep into the evening before she had excused herself and taken to the road. Now, as he walked, she stopped to observe the midnight rose slowly spread its petals in the dim moonlight. When the beautiful display ended, she finished her walk to the farm. Upon entering the farmhouse, she was greeted by the sight of Max, the surgeons, and Lady Chelsa sitting at the table drowning their sorrows. That last onethere was almost nothing left of the babe! One of the surgeons was saying. Certainly nothing that we could stitch together! We will putit? Her? Him? In a small blessed box and give it a proper funeral at first light. Lady Chelsa said, then looked to Bri, Ah, lady Bri. Welcome to this disheartening affair. Bri took a seat at the table. What have I missed that has led to this? She waived an arm, encompassing the entire table. Max spoke up, The last few victims have beenchildren. Bri blanched. Oh. Then she shook her head. I have somepossible better news? The table nodded at her to continue. It would seem from the records the mayor and I have been sorting through, that the previous mayors have been mostly responsible for the disappearances, and subsequent sacrifices. The listeners snapped to attention. There was an old ledger hidden in the bottom of the mayors desk that was written in code that Mayor Linden couldnt decipher. Bri said. An old elven battle code. We deciphered it today. It is a list of all the disappearances, murders, sacrifices, and next intended targets. The people listed as Targets were almost always the next mayor. So, is Mayor Linden? Max asked. No. The ledger is always in the same script, and Lindens writing is very much different. Bri said. I should have noticed sooner that most of the old records were written by the same hand, but I blame the light in the storage room. What now? Lady Chelsa asked. We could have all the villagers submit a writing sample. Max suggested. Bri smiled at her husband, Except that the pool of people who are illiterate in the village is quite large, and if the perpetrator is smart, they would just fake it. Max shrugged, I guess well have to keep an eye out for that writing style. Yes. Bri matched her husbands shrug. Oh, and another thing, thanks to Grendel, I found out why the farm was targeted. Again, the table of people looked at her expectantly. Bri nodded at them, There is a ring of standing stones surrounding the house and barn. Or should I say, a ring of standing-stone shaped trees. Max cursed under his breath, So thats what Ive been feeling today. Bri cocked an eyebrow at him, Husband? There has been something gently knocking at the back of my head all day. It started just after we put together the first body. Max shook his head. Thanks to you I can feel the shape of it properly; its the trees. Im going to need to speak to them in the morning. The table of drinkers broke up for the night, and Bri peacefully slept while dreaming of the beautiful midnight rose. 063 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Part 7 The hills of Pondge. 21st of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Early Morning Brianna awoke to the cold early morning air being blown over her face by pixie wings. She slowly opened one eye to see Brandywine squinting down at her. As she sat up in bed, Brandy flew to her ear and quietly whispered something into it. Bri jumped from the bed with the grace and reflexes of a cat, and padded to the kitchen on quiet toes. The kitchen was dark and quiet, with the notable exception of Mrs. Johnsson sitting at the table, glowing a dim green. Mrs. Johnsson was mumbling to herself, and Bri padded over on silent feet to listen. No. No! You will not take my husband! You cant! Betty was saying. Then in the same mumbled, but different sounding voice, But I shall. You cannot stop me, you silly little girl. I shall stab myself through the heart! Bettys hand settled on a long, thin carving knife laid next to her on the table. The other voice laughed. And I will stop you before it sinks into your flesh. You are my puppet, and I only left you alive as an experiment. An experiment that will come to an end when I sacrifice your husband in this place I created, and consume both of your souls. Betty gasped, then slumped forward onto the table, snoring. Bri slunk back to her bed, before speaking to Brandy. Thank you for telling me about that. Brandy smiled, Ive been watching her act like that in the early morning almost since we got here. Bri raised an eyebrow, Why? I mean how did you find yourself in that situation? I was up early one morning to see to the lily, and flew past her sitting at the table like that. Brandy grinned. I flew right in front of her and she didnt even notice, so I banked back around behind her head, and listened. Bri nodded along, What were they, and I assume it is a they at this point, saying? They were talking about the discovery of the Well. Brandy shook herself, And how He deserved to be destroyed for his deeds. Why didnt you bring this up earlier? Bri asked. It would have saved us so much time! But princess! You were having so much fun, that I thought it could stay with me for a while longer. Brandy giggled. I am about to become very cross with you. Bri glared at the pixie. Peh, mortals. Brandy muttered. I would have kept the secret longer, but the other one was talking about how he was going to poison the watchmen today at breakfast along with you and Max. Bris eyes widened, but before she could speak, Brandy continued. I obviously took offence at MY mortals dying before Im done with them, so I decided to show you what I happened to find. That way, no one will doubt me. This time. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Bri shook her head at the pixies word usage, then began to speak in earnest with Brandy. - Grendel looked at his bag, one of his older socks, and smiled. At some point yesterday he had swapped his plate for a pie pan. The fact that the pan had had most of a pie still in it had just been a bonus. Following a hunch, he had followed his quarry upstream a few feet an hour, and was now sitting in the cold water on an inside bend, looking down and smiling the smile of a boy having the best time of his life. Then he heard the yelling from the farmhouse. Aw crap. Guess I best be going, before they start searching for me. He muttered before gathering his things and heading to the farm. Fifteen minutes of walking brought him to the farmyard where he saw half a dozen constables laid out on the lawn sleepingno, bleeding. Several of the visible limbs were not in the right positions, and at least one constable was missing his arm from the elbow down. He dropped his things and raced in to help. As he ran, he heard the sound of fighting from inside the farmhouse, and saw Bri and Brandy fly out the wide glass window of the front parlor. Bri landed heavily, but was struggling to get up, but he lost sight of Brandy. With the smallest of his knives, he cut the shirt from the man with the missing arm, and used it to tie off the stump. He then hurried over to Bri and helped her stand up. Whats going on? The thing that has been preying on the village is in Betty. Were trying to get it out! Bri ran back into the house. Grendel stood there in shock. Betty had been nice. She was sweet. She had given him cookies with a wink and a laugh! And she was possessed by the thing that had done all of that? He ran into the house, pulling the heavily laden sock from his pocket. The room was a mess, blood was randomly splattered across the walls, with bits of viscera adding accents to the tableau of destruction. Maxwell was on the floor next to the front wall, a foot long piece of broomstick jutting from his throat. As Grendel watched, the broomstick oozed its way from the wound and fell to the floor, a second later Max sat up as the neck wound stitched itself back together. Then he stood up, and ran for the kitchen. so thats why the assassins guild wont take a contract on him. Grendel muttered, then stalked after Max. The kitchen was a disaster. A pie pan, that now contained more blood than meat, was lodged in the throat of an unlucky constable. A pair of heavy cleavers were buried in the head of one of the surgeons. Lady Chelsa lay on the floor, blood oozing from the gap in herGrendel vomited, it wasnt a gap, Lady Chelsas bottom half was across the room. The back kitchen door was missing, smoke still rising from the scorched doorframe. Grendel walked to the door, shaking, but certain. Even if I cant help, I will at least witness what happens here today. Betty, or what had been Betty, stood in the backyard. A strange green glow shot through with red streaks covered her skin. Skin that was cracked and bleeding, and where the blood fell, the ground smoked. She was waiving tentacles of magic towards Max and Bri while two other tentacles were wrapped around the throats of constables Went and Griegs. The pair that had bought him a beer just the other night. Grendel stepped closer to Betty, and as he watched Max for any sort of sign, he could almost see the fight going on in the mans mind. As he kept creeping up behind Betty, he saw Maxs eyes start to glow red. Crap! He threw caution to the wind, raised the heavy sock above his head, and charged Betty from behind. Maxwells eyes flashed like a too close thunderbolt, and in a well-practiced move, Grendel brought the heavy sock down on Bettys skull. - Maxwell watched Grendels stealthy approach. It was just one of a dozen things he was paying attention to as he fought with himself over to kill or not to kill the abomination before him. On the one hand, the girl was innocent. On the other, she contained an abomination. An abomination, that if not ended, would eventually become a danger to the entire world. His anger at the gall of the thing was causing his eyes to glow. He could see the stupid crow, as well as his brothers circled around the fight. He could see the lifeforce draining from both Went and Griegs, and see it flow down the tentacles into the abomination. As his anger reached its peak, he saw Grendel dash forward and forced the anger in his eyes to flash as bright as lightning. The thing in front of him shook for just a moment, blinded, then the heavysock?!? fell upon Bettys still human skull with a dull thwack. - Grendel watched the impact as his sock meet Bettys skull. Felt the thwack. And watched as the gold nuggets, flakes, and small gems he had found in the stream scatter as the old sock exploded. Betty fell, and as she did so, the tentacles and unholy glow dissipated. Grendel cussed and bent down, trying to retrieve his lost fortune. 064 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Part 8 The hills of Pondge. 21st of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Morning Lady Chelsa stood next to the black cloaked figure, and watched the battle. She could now see the two souls fighting each other inside Bettys body, and Betty had all but lost. The other soul was just too big, and too powerful; even though it was mostly infected soul rot at this point. She watched as the battle played out, and witnessed the young boy use a gold-filled sock as a blackjack upon the back of Bettys head in a well-practiced manner. Watching professionals work is always a treat! She smiled as Crow and Raven cawed their congratulations to the young man. A young man who she thought probably couldnt understand them. (As a matter of fact, he couldnt usually understand them, but having seen each of the three aspects of death several times at this point in his life, he did get their meaning.) - If you had been there, or anywhere near that dimension, And had been listening quite intently, you would have heard the single, soft chime of a silver bell in the distance. Chelsa had been in the right place, and had been listening. She spent several seconds looking for the bell, before looking to her black cloaked neighbor, What was chime? What was it for? Then there was a blinding flash of white light, and the noise of an incoherent scream. - The Celestial Realm Morning Narrissa, the goddess of Tranquility, sat at her polished dark marble breakfast table. Her new sending stone had a high gloss polish on the face and a less polished backside. The entire thing was lightweight and fit into the small pocket she had had sewn into the hem of her elegant official dress. A dress that she was wearing for her breakfast date with the god of News. While she waited, she sent a written message to her new favorite priestess, Lady Chelsa. At present she had LC on the fast track to be the next Archbishop of her church on the Eastern continent. When the priestess didn''t message back after a few minutes, Narrisa used the voice feature of the stone. There was no answering voice on the other end. She cocked one beautifully manicured eyebrow, and waved her left hand over the table, turning the polished surface into a scrying glass. One glance and she screamed in outrage, then after a second look, she screamed in a burning cold rage. She didnt even leave a note for her lover, she snapped her fingers and disappeared with a crack, and an angry scream. Joe, the god of News stood outside his lovers door, about to knock when her heard the scream and the crack of a planar teleportation spell. He dropped his hand to his side, turned to face the freshly paved road, and walked back to his news stand. I wonder what kind of News this will bring us? Stolen novel; please report. - Narissa appeared in her most godly of forms, hair a billowing halo. Her pale blue eyes were flinty cold as they surveyed the scene spread before her. YOU! she hissed at the farmers wife. You did this, and I will take my price. Frost drifted from her mouth as she spoke. She turned to the black cloaked form of death, I claim this as my blood price; you will not interfere. Death nodded and stepped back. She again faced the woman on the ground, and pointed a finger, and gave a vicious smile. You will suffer an eternal torment for what you have done. Narissa bent over the unconscious woman, crooked her finger into a claw, raked it mostly through the body, and yanked. What she pulled up was plainly visible to all. A soul. A soul so covered in filth and dark green rot, that you could almost smell the infection. She sneered at the thing and gave it a single shake causing a snap that would make any child with a damp towel giggle. The rot fell away, leaving a soul full of holes and leaking essence. You wont enjoy this. A hard lipped smile crossed her face. You wont enjoy this at all. Taking a quick look around she saw the small boy who had inflicted the last strike; she smiled at him, Child, you have done a fine job. I shall remember you. Then she snapped her fingers, and in a crash of thunder was gone. - Maxwell watched with something almost bordering awe as Narissa ripped the infected soul from Bettys body, then released a breath he didnt know he had been holding. Damn, didnt know she could do that. For her part, Bri just stood there, eyes bulging out as fear and awe fought for control of her face. Lady Chelsa just smiled the smile that only a true believer could have. Grendel was the worst off of the lot, laying on unconscious on the ground with a wet spot growing in his pants. Maxwell stood to his best height and faced death, staring into the bottomless blue depths. You will do nothing here, not yet. Death just stared back. Okay then. Max turned to face Bri, Get it together, we have time to panic when were done! At this point Brandy crested the old farmhouse, Im not d... done yet! You worthless She dropped in elevation several feet, crashing into the rooftop, and rolling down it, and falling to the ground. She picked herself up after a few moments and took two shaky steps forward, then fell over again. Im not don She fell unconscious. Bri and Max ran for the kitchen, Max pointing at things seemingly at random, and Bri grabbing them. Things selected; a set of candles, heavy string for tying birds for roasting, a silvered pie pan containing burning coals from the wood stove, and a glass of water; Max grabbed the two halves of Ladt Chelsas body and carried them to the pile of now dead constables in the front yard. Help me lay them all out, any separated body parts need to be lain next to their point of origin. Max demonstrated by picking up a hand from nearby, and placing it the right side up next to the appropriate arm. Im going to get the rest of this ready. Bri set about the grisly task, meanwhile Max began running the string around the hastily spread-out bodies; it only made it around one and a half times, and Max grunted something to the effect of Good enough for god work. He then placed the candles, six and a half in total; evenly around the circle. He laid the pie tin of coals in the center of the rough circle, dribbled water on each corpse, and stepped out of the string boundary as Bri finished her part of the job and joined him. - Went and Griegs looked at each other over their corpses as they were dragged around by the noble woman. Well, shes a good one, that Lady Brianna. Went said at last. Fine figure of a woman. Did you know she even bought me a beer at the tavern last night? Were dead now, right? Griegs asked. Went nodded, That we are Griegs, that we are. Then wheres the Raven? Griegs asked. Id even settle for the crow at this point. Huh. I wonder. Went responded, then, Hey Griegs? Do you have a smoke? - I doubt this will do anything for the ugly guy or his fat and balding friend, but we can hope. Max said as he stretched. Husband, Constables Went and Griegs are wonderful men, and sweet as pie. Bri admonished. Yes dear. Max replied with a sigh, then he started to pull. Not with his muscles, but with his mind and soul. Slowly the power started to come, from the ground, rich with life; from the scrub trees that heal themselves, and even come back from near death; from the sky; and even from the darkness of shadows. He pulled it all in, forming it into a blanket of sorts in his minds eye. Then he threw it over the corpses. HEAL. HEAL AND LIVE. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and added, And none of that stupid undead servant bullshit. I mean actual life, you stupid magic! The ethereal magic settled over the dead, and at first nothing seemed to happen. Then flesh reached for flesh, and bone for bone. Then they knitted together, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until the bodies were whole once more. Max nodded, and spoke, NEXT! A small crackle of lightning fell from the clear sky, gently tapping an officer on the spot where Max had sprinkled water, then it jumped to another man and another, until they were all connected by arcs of electricity. Three! Two! ONE! Max yelled over the buzzing coming from the electricity. GO! 065 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom – End The hills of Pondge. 21st of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Noon Max nodded, and spoke, NEXT! A small crackle of lightning fell from the clear sky, gently tapping an officer on the spot where Max had sprinkled water, then it jumped to another man and another, until they were all connected by arcs of electricity. Three! Two! ONE! Max yelled over the buzzing coming from the electricity. GO! The lightning arced and spat. The bodies twitched, and shook, the spines arching almost in half. The lightning bolt from the sky began to pulse like a heartbeat. Ka-Boom!! the lightning bold exploded, throwing Maxwell, Brianna, and next to the farmhouse Grendel, to the ground. Moments seemed to stretch into minutes as Max slowly climbed to his feet. As his hearing came back, he heard the sounds of coughing and wheezing coming from where the dead had lain. He wiped dirt from his eyes, and wept when he saw the constables and the priestess slowly climb their way to their feet. - The party had started many hours ago with a bonfire and food, and Grendel had had his fill. The food was good, the beer; which no one had chased him away from; was better, but he had had enough. And this was of course when he found the letter. Well, an envelope anyway. He held the envelope up in the firelight to give it a good once over. In size it was a good four by six inches, was a rich ivory white in color, and when he had picked it up from the ground, all the dirt and mud fell from it, leaving it pristine so he could see the gold embossed filigree decorations winding themselves around the thing. Truly it was a thing of beauty and elegance. It was addressed to: Grand-Master Smith, Maxwell Smithson; Heretic; Lord of Three Islands; Friend of Bjorn; Patron Saint of Demonia and The Dell; Founder of The Repute; Small God of the retired who just want People to stay off MY lawn; Etc. Etc. Grendel blinked at the Founder of The Repute portion of the titles, then without a second thought, started to break the plain wax seal on the envelopes back. It was at this point that his brain caught up with him This is an envelope. It was probably delivered by the International Service Post (ISP). The ISP was known to string thieves up by their intestines while they were still alive. The last group of bandits that had attacked an ISP transport coach had taken weeks to die, as they had been fed and watered while they hung from their innards Good thing Im not a thief or bandit. I am, at worst, his manservant. He broke the seal on the envelope, removed the letter, and read it. Then he read it a second time. And a third. He looked across the bonfire, at a happy Maxwell and Brianna, a group of recently dead constables, a very drunk pixie, and a farm couple that had been caught up in something they still couldnt quite believe. He looked back down at the letter. Finally shrugging, he surreptitiously wandered past the fire, and tossed the letter and envelope to its warm embrace. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Whistling a happy tune, he grabbed some more meat, and wandered back to the stream to pan for more of that lovely yellow gold. - Maxwells Journal 22nd of Kusha, the month of Harvest. We will be staying for the next week or two in order to finish the job with the corpses. Resurrection magic should not be practiced on an empty stomach. I think I let Brandywine talk me into doing shots of something last night. I feel like ten pounds of poo stuffed into a five-pound sack. Most of the village showed up at some point last night, and I can see some of them sleeping off what they drank just outside the window. Im glad this is over with. I must admit to myself that the idiot goddess actually did the right thing this time. Thats almost a first. I just hope she stays away for the foreseeable future. I also hope bones, caw, and caw stay away too. - The Celestial Realm Brother Proof sat in his small cramped office, drinking another oversized mug of coffee. He had yet to receive a Certification of Delivery on his new polished stone tablet from the ISP, but was sure that it would show up eventually. Even if he had to wait a while. He had nothing but time on his hands after all. Thinking of time, he decided to wander off to a small town to visit a bear, and maybe have a picnic. *-* [Vast Listen here! Now some of you may have been wondering how things have been going with our wonderful Heroes. Well, so have I! So now dear readers, we jump back in time a short while to check in on our Heroes. Heroes who are in the midst of an attack of dead men who really didnt want people camping on their lawn.] The Heroes A Graveyard, formerly Fort Bradley. The Western Continent. Having retired for the evening after clearing up some graves, Molly, Hesh, and Sam sat around a small cooking fire, and ate. The meal of the evening was a soup of tubers, root vegetables, and rabbit. The sun was low in the cloudless sky, and a warm breeze blew from the west. What I dont get, is how all of the soldiers here died. Sam said around a bite of chewy meat. The ones we have uncovered so far have no sign of wounds at all. Even the intact bits of clothing dont have any cuts. Molly nodded. It really doesnt make a lot of since. Unless there was some sort of inst-death magic used across the whole fort. Hesh shrugged. Im more interested in finding out what sort of idiot took an ancient battleground and turned it into a cemetery. They looked at their companions, I doubt that the undead became a problem before that. Sam cocked an eyebrow, You sure about that? I would think a mass extinction event would leave a lot of upset people behind. I dont know. Most soldiers seem to understand that they are going to die in battle and have accepted that. Hesh replied. Those that dont accept it either die early or become some sort of hero. Where did you learn that kernel of truth? Sam asked, sarcasm dripping from his mouth. Its my own personal theory, based on talking to my dadand the rest of his unit after they got back from deployment. Hesh wiped a tear from an eye. Beforethat happened. Molly smacked Sam in the back of the head, forcing his head into his unfinished soup. Moron. She hissed in his ear. The rest of the meal came and went with no other conversation being had. As they stood to clean things up, a low rumble sounded from across the fort turned graveyard. Sam looked up in the midst of washing his bowl and spoon, Was that the sound of stone grating on stone? Or is it just me? Moments later, in the fading light, they could all see a wave of undead charging towards across the open land. 066 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Fort Graveyard Pt. 1 A Graveyard, formerly Fort Bradley. The Western Continent. Night Sam looked up in the midst of washing his bowl and spoon, Was that the sound of stone grating on stone? Or is it just me? Moments later, in the fading light, they could all see a wave of undead charging towards them across the open land. Hesh stood immediately and raised a looted war spear (the kind with a cross guard so the enemy cant run up the shaft) into a low ready position. Sam and Molly reached for their weapons as well; a sword of almost thirty inches for Sam and a war hammer with a two-foot haft for Molly. The three stood in a line with Hesh taking the middle. The word charge was a large overstatement, as the undead were actually doing more of a controlled fast stumble, than an actual run. The three stood their ground, batting away attacks with their off hands, before hammering the mix of very rotten animated corpses and skeletons to bits. A few minutes of heavy fighting later, the walking corpses were dead again. Alright, now that Im warmed up, shall we see where this lot came from? Sam asked, looking to his companions. Companions who were covered with bits and pieces of rotten zombie. No. Fine. Sam replied. How about we clean ourselves up down at the stream on the west side, then check out where the things came from? - The stream was cold, but clean with a smooth sandy bottom. Sand that Hesh mixed with some soap to make a good scrubbing compound. Remind me not to stand next to Molly any more Hesh said. That way I dont get covered in zombie splatter from the hammer again. Sam chortled, and Molly blushed. Look, I didnt know the things were going to explode like that! Weve never fought zombies before! - Leaving behind a now well polluted stream, the three climbed back to the fort, and began to lay out their plan. First we need to find where those things came out from, and close it off. Sam began, Then we will need to post a guard so it doesnt happen again. Why dont we move our camp, such as it is, over to the exit and set up shop there? Molly asked. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Sam nodded, Good idea. It took the party half an hour to find a large grave that had had its stone cap slid aside. In the bottom was an old ladder leading to the bowels of the fort. Using their combined strength, and what had been learned from previous moving of heavy objects, the re-laid the cap across the grave, then carted the camp to be next to it. Camp reassembled; a tent, cooking grill, three packs and attached bedrolls moved; the group settled into their standard watch cycle of Sam, Hesh, then Molly, Each taking a three-hour shift. - Morning dawned cool and cloudy, with a faint smell of damp in the air. Molly had mixed up a bit of plain oatmeal in the one pot they had, and woke up the sleeping two, and after eating and cleaning, the three prepared to enter The Dungeon. Hesh scavenged what looked to be a decent, if rusty, sword from last nights slaughter, Sam grabbed a large knife, and Molly grabbed what she called a throwing hatchet. [VL here with a piece of (fun?) trivia: Technically speaking what Molly grabbed is called a Hand-Axe, not a hatchet due to it not having a hammer on the opposite side from the blade, but she didnt know any better, so she calls it a hatchet] Thus equipped, the trio removed the cap from the grave. And found nothing but dirt and bone. What in the ever loving? Sam almost screamed, looking down into the grave. It was there last night. Molly said, also gawking into the hole. Hesh shrugged, It is what it is. then looked around. Maybe we should check the base of the old towers for an opening of some sort? Last night could have been a onetime thing. They headed to the nearest tower, some hundred yards away, and began poking around the old and broken structure. The ruined tower was around twenty feet per side, roughly square, and made of stone, unlike the wall that had accompanied it, that had been a wooden palisade. The tower had once stood a proud thirty feet in the air, but the top half had been damaged at some point in the past, and had collapsed outside of the walled area. Over an hour of searching found the group exhausted, but with a door that had been bolted from the inside and wouldnt budge. Finally, Sam took the initiative and climbed the tower too look inside. I know why we cant open the door! He called down. The entire base of the tower is covered in rubble and dead bodies! Hesh and Molly looked at each other and groaned. Hesh swore under their breath, then said Lets us look for the most intact tower, instead of the closest one this time? Sam jumped down and nodded, Sounds good. Lead the way, McDuff! - It took most of an hour to circumnavigate the old fort and survey all nine of the remaining towers, and much discussion before making a decision on which one to tackle first. They finally decided to try the center, eastern most tower as it was the most intact of the nine. Using Mollys hatchet, they cleared all of the brush from the towers base, and on the last cleared wall (the one that faced into the fort) found a half-buried door. They used their hands and their (only) shovel to clear the dirt away from the door, and finally, after several hours of hard labor, had an entrance. Lets take a rest before we try to open the door. Hesh announced. I want something in my tummy before I charge into a small confined space that will probably be reeking of the undead. Butbut door! Sam said, somewhat sarcastically. Molly threw a dirt clod at him. Re-locate camp, then food, then door. Hesh and Sam sighed dramatically, then complied. Camp was moved for the second time, and lunch was a simple affair of grilled ham, bread, and water. Some grumbling was had over a lack of mustard and mayonnaise, but mostly it was a quiet affair. At its end, the trio stood at the door to the tower, and as a group, pushed. 067 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Fort Graveyard Pt. 2 Under a Graveyard, formerly Fort Bradley. The Western Continent. Night The door, a simple iron banded oak slab affair, stood in front of the party. On the count of three, they pushed. The rusted hinges screamed and broke, the door falling inward. The smell of ancient decay flooded out, almost chocking the three heroes. Light from the torch Hesh carried illuminated the interior, a collection of broken benches and a table. The remains of a ladder that would have led to the next floor lay on the left side of the space. What really caught everyones attention was the armored knight who had been laid out on the table. As they watched, the armored figure slowly sat up, and spoke. Who disturbs the slumber of this place? The deep voice of the knight almost echoed in the space. Um, what should we do? Molly asked. Weve never had a conversation with a corpse before. I am a Draugr, a type of Revenant, Not a corpse. The night replied. Why have you invaded my barrow? Youre a Barrow-Wight? Sam asked. The self-proclaimed Draugr shook its head slowly, Where do children get such nonsense? Draugr. Wights are a type of spirit, no flesh. It took off its helmet, showing a bearded face with flesh the color of a dark bruise. Now, back to my question. Why. Are. You. Here? Hesh stood straight and stepped forward, We are here to cleanse the undead from this place; to send them on to the next world! HA! The Draugr exhaled a barking laugh, and the putrid smell of rotting flesh and death spewed forth from his mouth. Well said, male child from another world. But, how do the three of you children think you will do that when the power of the gods is slowly leaking from your very souls? The children froze, Molly bent over post puke and Sam in mid puke. Hesh the only one still standing tall. Hesh growled at the Draugr, I am HESHE. I am neither a male child, or a female one. Do not lump me in either category! Molly spat out the remains of what was in her mouth, grabbed Sam, and bolted from the door. Crap. Its just like school last year. Hesh is going to blow. God only knows what will happen in this world; its not going to be just broken lockers and jock bodies on the floor today. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. - Mil looked at Sarah and Pendelton, Did you two feel that just now? That tug on your soul? Sarah and Pendleton nodded. Run. The tree coursed. - Hesh grabbed the lines of magic they felt; no, that they could finally see; running throughout the fort below and graveyard above. They grabbed them, and pulled. The Draugr staggered back, eyes wide and mouth agape. I. Will pull. The power. From your CORPSE! Hesh hissed. The magical lines they could see supporting the Draugr snapped, and it dissolved into a puddle of goo on the floor. Hesh moved their hands around in the winding pattern used to make a ball of string, then shoved the ball into their chest, and collapsed. - Morning had broken when Hesh finally awoke, and sat up. Around them Molly and Sam were busy making breakfast. What happened? they asked, head throbbing to the beat of a very inconsistent drum. Molly looked over, Took you long enough. She brought over a bowl of oatmeal that smelled like heaven. After youis ate the right word? Anyway, after you ate the magic that was fueling that thing down there, the map weve been following went crazy, then pointed us in another direction. I think you killed the graveyard here. Or at least the magic that was keeping it going? So, like last year at school, just worse? Hesh asked. No one died last year, so I guess? Molly looked around. I mean, instead of broken lockers, we have broken towers everywhere, and the ground has caved in in several spots? Hesh nodded, You two okay? Sam snorted, Yeah, were fine. He gave a wry smile, I think your dad would have been proud of you last night, standing up for yourself and all that. Hesh nodded, a single tear running down their cheek. Thanks Sam. - Three days had passed since the forts collapse, and the party was now heading northeast. Hesh had recovered the Draugrs armor and sword; Molly had found a small chest that contained some gold and a few empty potion vials as well as a small, but powerful crossbow; and Sam had decided to pick up a spear and shield. As they walked, Hesh was in the middle of teaching the other two how to feel the magic around them when it happened. Drop your weapons! A voice called out from behind some underbrush. The three stopped, and Molly shouted, No! A group of men; most wearing coats of small metal plates badly stitched to layered cloth and a few just wearing layered cloth, but all carrying weapons; stepped from the brush in front, and behind, them. One of the group, the voice being the same as before, said, Drop your weapons and all of your gear, or we will kill you and take it! Sam threw his spear at the speaker, hitting him center of mass, and dropped him. Molly raised her crossbow and fired at one of the two behind the party. The quarrel hit the man in the throat, dropping him instantly. Hesh pointed a finger at the second one behind them and muttered a word. The man was then shrouded in a cloak of dark green mist, and began to scream as his clothing and flesh began to dissolve. Sam smiled at the remaining three in front of him. Run. The bandits looked at each other, and fled back into the underbrush, screaming about demons on the road. Molly looked a Hesh, That wasan interesting spell? Hesh shook their head, It just came to me in the moment. No words, just a sudden impression, an insight maybe? Say this word while designating your target and they will be engulfed in a cloud of lethal acid. Sam turned around and looked at the still melting pile of flesh that used to be a man, Thatlooks like it hurt. 068 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Elsewhere and Otherwise [Vast Listen, head curator of the Heretic Collection here! Today, while our Heroes and Maxwell are doing their thing, and currently its just boring travel, I thought we would take a look at the goings-on of the rest of the world.] Heretics Dell Bear, looking dapper in his new straw fishing hat, was looking out at the ever-expanding lake, while gesticulating at his fishing partner. He was currently retelling a story about some kids getting lost in the woods so he could rescue them. He almost hadnt since they had gotten trapped in a ditch by a very annoyed skunk. Then his fishing partner, an old man wearing a coffee-stained robe, pulled a big pike from the lake, and they started discussing the bait and new-fangled fishing-reel he had gotten in the little mom and pop bait and tackle store in town. - Pando In a very large park bordered by a larger city sits a stand of trees. A very large stand of trees. In the very center of the stand; surrounded by old trunks, some of whom were more rot than wood; stands a single tree. A tree than has outlived all but one of its grandchildren. The trees leaves were out, shaking happily in the wind, as a little girl played in the branches. As she danced from branch to branch, she talked to a chickadee. Do you think father will ever come to visit? Chirp Hes visited my granddaughter several times; but she says that he has never really talked to her. Chirp chirp. True. She cocked her head. I know hes a busy man, I just wish he would come visit. Just once would be fine. On the ground, the only park ranger that could make her way to the tree stared up the hundred-foot trunk and shook her head at the childs antics. Heretics balls, I wish that kid would climb down. - Gilip, Capital city of Demonia; In the chamber of the high-council, twelve people sat around a large table; a table that maintained fourteen seats, even though one seat was, until not long ago, never used. Some had horns, others had tusks, some long claws, and some were plain human. They all sat shoulder to shoulder, and talked. We need to fill General Garblexs* seat. The Communications Director said. Indeed, we do. One of the other councilors said. But who can fill the great generals hooves? Why dont we elevate that boy? One woman asked, clicking her cold iron shod hoof on the tile floor. The cousin of your underling thathe who should not be named... is so fond of? Well, the boy has merit, and He did say the boy was adequate Another said. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I call for a vote. The director of people resources said from under her light-proof coat. All in favor of the cousin taking up General Garblexs seat, raise your hands? Hands were raised, and so, a poor young man was thrust into another uncomfortable situation due to his cousins friend. - The Celestial Realm Esmerelda, goddess of wisdom was wandering through the hall of wisdom looking for someone. A particular Brother of the order who was never where he was supposed to be. She finally gave up, and walked to the front door; not the front door that led to one of the various temples on the world, but the Front door, the one that lead to the celestial world. As she stepped out into the sundrenched air, Narrissa, the goddess of Tranquility approached. Esmeralda! Just who I wanted to see! What can I do for you. Frost dripped with each word as Esmerelda locked eyes with the other goddess. I actuallyneed your help? Esmereldas jaw almost fell off. You? You need MY help? Yes. As much as it pains me to admit, I need to find a way to speedily heal a soul. Narissa replied. Esmerelda squinted at Narissa, What are you going to do with it after its been healed? Rip it to shreds again. Over and over and over Esmerelda laughed. That sounds about right. Follow me. Meanwhile, in a nearby barn Ghondish grunted, then let out a bleat of annoyance. Stupid idiots. Morons. Nincompoops. He kicked a table, nearly collapsing the thing. Summon heroes untethered to a task. Stick me with the job of punishing you. Then thatthat thing shows up in my home. Now I have to find a way to break the Geass so you can come back! And we had just been selected to beta-test the new Humans and HighrisesTM system! I am sooo going to hurt your characters for this! - The Abyss The unnamed horror of the Abyss sat on its throne, listening to the petitioners as they raised one plea or another. Finally; after a number of pesky questions that were almost always answered with Are you stupid? Go do X!; it let out a might sigh, Im tired of all your stupidity. Does anyone have anything that Actually need my attention? No one spoke for a while, until near the back of the line, a minor demon spoke. Your lordship? If I may? Yes Zander? Um Do you remember that one device? The one that brought people here from the heroes world? Zander asked. Yes. What of it? Zander coughed, Well, it looks like someone turned it on. On the other side, I mean. And? Zander bit his reptilian lip, Well, I mean, that means there is still some sort of connection, right? AND? W-well, youryour highness, Zander stammered and stuttered, S-someone could have nefarious intentions with it. Like making a new one? Or worse yet, making a Game with it? The whole assemblage gasped at the horror they had just heard. An-and they m.m.might even use Zander choked on his tongue, MightevenuseMicro-transactions! Half the hall of demons fainted. - Dis, Capital of Dis John, son of John sat on his throne. Being the king of a country was a pain. Being a Lich was a pain. Being both at the same time was the worst kind of pain. He sat all day listening to complaints, and he stood at a tall desk all night doing paperwork. Today, he was re-reading his notes for the state of the state address he needed to deliver in a few hours. I hope something interesting comes up so I can miss the address. And as all things wished for, the worst possible thing happened. A courier, one Mr. Smartt, ran into the great hall. Your Highness! I bring grave tidings! How grave? Jonh asked, hope leaking into his voice. No, my lord, Grave. As in Graves in the Graveyard, Grave. Mr. Smartt replied. Oh. John slumped back onto the throne, not realizing that he had risen. Go ahead. And no gallows humor from you today. Yes, my lord. Mr. Smartt said. The Grave news is that a band of heroes has appeared on the continental shore, and is killing off the undead! Oh. OH! That is excellent news! John perked up. Send them a thousand gold coins to help them on their quest! My lord? Mr. Smartt stopped dead. You heard me. John tried to smile, but stopped after remembering that he couldnt anymore. Send them money to help them on their quest. Mr. Smartt blinked, ButSireYoure undead too? Bah. Dont care. John said. Now dont Hang around. Take them the money! * General Garblex Commander of the armies of Demonia. First mentioned in book one, 33 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 10 C Demonia. Most recently, he sacrificed himself to raise the shield around Gilip, the Capital city of Demonia, during the demon invasion. 069 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Elsewhere and Otherwise II [Vast Listen, head curator of the Heretic Collection here! Today, while our Heroes and Maxwell are doing their thing, and currently its just boring travel, I thought we would take a look at the goings-on of the rest of the world.] Smithsons Family Forge El Gato, god king of all he surveyed, sat on his favorite spot and watched the newest kittens play under the old Pando tree that had grown in the courtyard. He had watered the tree yesterday, and it now had a new branch growing that he could hardly wait to lounge on in a few weeks when it had grown strong enough. He smiled slightly, then yawned and repositioned himself for his midmorning nap. The spirit of the tree climbed up next to him and lay back, giving him scritches behind the ears, This really is the best place to catch the sun when Im not home. Of course it is. El Gato replied, It is my spot after all. The pair watched the newest batch of students as they came and went. Especially one student who hadnt gotten the announcement that you didnt mess with the cats. The student had had to learn the hard way what FAFO means, and would have scars on his left cheek for the rest of his life. El Gato and the tree curled up on the sundrenched statue of The Heretic, the ever-living patron saint of the school, and dozed. - The Elven Kingdom The young king stood on the throne yelling at his servants. No! Thats not how that happened! He sighed. The Heretic gave his big speech, then the shield came up; not the other way around! Armatures! I will have to send to the School of Rio for the full play. Alright, set the scene and try again! - This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. The Undermountain Dwarven Kingdoms Bjorn sat on the Throne of Stone in the great cathedral as his bishops, priests, and the rest sat in orderly rows before him. No, Bishop Glod, songs about digging holes in the mine are NOT acceptable hymns to me; they are hymns to my grandfather! The bishop shrank back. I dont mind the hymns being sung in my temples, but they are for him, not me, and I dont want to take what is his domain. Bjorn tried to explain. I am the god of crafting, not of mining and stone and such. Please dont confuse the two of us. The assembled clergy began speaking in hushed tones that became louder and louder. Eventually the noise reached such a crescendo that Bjorn had to use his god voice to silence the thousands in attendance. I know, I know. The Heretic. Look, Maxwell is by Friend; nothing more, nothing less! He is not my disciple; not my next of kin; not my prophet; and decidedly NOT my lover! The crowd became silent again, And on that note, allow me to introduce my Actual lover, the small goddess - Fates The three sides of fate sat at their tapestry. The Crone sat cross-legged on the ground of the cave, building a small tower of stones. The Mother sat on a comfortable chair, nursing a forgotten child. The Maiden was running another thread across the tapestry of life when she opened her mouth to end the silence. Dont you dare. The Crone snapped, pulling her eyes from the tower she was constructing. We dont want to stir that pot again, not for another thousand years. But The Maiden started. Were you not listening when that man stopped by for a chat last century? The Mother asked as she placed the baby over her shoulder and gave it a pat on the back, causing it to burp. He had a very stern warning for us not to interfere with the Heretic. He even threatened US with a stern letter. The Crone added. That is the last thing we need. The Maiden harumphed. I still want to know who allowed the potion to work on him. That makes three of us. The Crone replied. If I ever find out who was responsible for that, I will stick a finger in their ribs, and twist their soul. Meanwhile, in the celestial realm, Kocha, god of chaos, felt a spike of ice drive itself through his soul. He looked around, then went back to reading the Beta Material for the Humans and High-rises game. - The Celestial Realm, again Esmeralda, the goddess of Wisdom, sat at her desk, writing a stern letter to Brother Proof for going missing in the stacks; again; when she felt an uncomfortable twinge. Oh my, it seems that one of my clerics has been killed. I wonder where? She looked at a ball sitting on a tall stand next to her desk, and it rolled around until a chain of three islands was facing her. Oh, the southern most of theHeretic Isles The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II - The End of a Tail On a boat traveling between two Islands, Maxwell stood at the bow of the ship and stared into the distance. Something had shifted in this world of his, he didnt know what, only that it was a sense of loss felt at the deepest level. In the Celestial realm, all of the gods and goddesses stepped from their homes and temples, and knelt in silence. Bjorn, in front of his forge, raised a mug to the sky. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. At the Smithson School of Blacksmithing, El Gato, god king of all that he surveyed, stood from his perch and stared at the sky. The kittens, silent, rose up as-one and bowed their heads, as the Tree silently wept. The World was, for but a moment, motionless. And in a certain place that is not for men to see, a bearded man, not young, but not old, adorned in a faded white robe stained with old coffee and new tears, stood at the edge of a fading rainbow, watching a small distant shadow as he waved a Final Goodbye. From the Annals of Brother Proof, for Clyce, in Memoriam 070 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Isle of Golstran 44th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Maxwells Journal We have arrived on the Isle of Golstran. It is a lovely, if cold, island. Just after we disembarked, I made my speech, got heckled, and went drinking. And I got stabbed in the bar. When I got back to the Inn, Bri was Very displeased. Tomorrow I will be putting the gentleman responsible in charge of something. Anyone with that amount of courage and intestinal fortitude is worth their weight in gold. 45th of Kusha But lord Smithson! That man tried to murder you in cold blood! Mayor Geraldon all but yelled. The older man, with a bald head and thickly muscled body, had his bald hands in the air and was shaking them at Max. And that, dear mayor, is why I want him to work for me. Max said, a smile barely showing on his lips. Showing the courage of your conviction is an excellent standard upon which to judge a person. I had heard rumors, but I didnt want to believe them. You are insane! Mayor Geraldon said, letting his arms drop to his sides. Completely insane. Max laughed. I can assure you that I am only partly insane. Nearly eight centuries will do that to a man. Now if you would have the sheriff open the cell? The mayor grunted in capitulation. John? Open the cell for the idiot lord. A fairly non-descript man wearing a watchmans uniform stepped forward and unlocked the holding cell. Okay, pal, the Heretic will see you now. Thanks John. A mellow voice from deep inside the dimly lit cell answered. Can you unchain me from the wall too? Nope. John called back. You might try to assault any of us. Fair enough. The voice responded. Alright, abomination against the gods, come on in. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Max raised an eyebrow, lit his hand with a bit of mage fire, and stepped into the cell. By the lights flickering flames he could see around a dozen men sitting on the floor in the far-left corner of the cell, while the right corner only contained one person, who was wearing a collar that was chained to the wall. Heretic. The chained man stated flatly. Prisoner. Max replied. Would you mind telling me why you decided to stab me? I do mind. The prisoner stated. Max smiled, I think you did it for the glory of striking down one of the enemies of a god or goddess. Nope. You did it because my politics werent to your liking. Nope. The prisoner smiled. You did it because you ran out of cookies. Naw. Still have some. A woman? Nope. Money? No. A job offer? Yup. The prisoner smiled. You are well known to look favorably on those who defy you, or those brazen enough to impress you. I am, arent I. Max squinted at the man. Yes, yes you are. 46th of Kusha I have hired Aaron Fish as an accountant. He will be in charge of dealing with fraud accusations across my holdings. He was banished from the City State Dominion after he found evidence of the now ousted ruler taking personal and religious bribes against the nations charter. He calls himself a Forensic Accountant; I am unsure exactly what that means. I have a feeling he is one of the summoned, but as he hasnt brought it up, I will not pry. I have given him full authority, after a few testing spells to assure honesty, to audit any governmental institution that piques his interest. He also has authority to look into the books of any employer etc. etc. I also want him to look into any sort of Labor disputes and violations. He will be busy for the rest of his life. Hehehehe. - Grendel Repute sat in a chair in the suite thehouseholdcurrently occupied, and stared at an envelope. A very familiar looking envelope. In size it was a good four by six inches and was a rich ivory white in color, but unlike the last of its kind he had picked up, this one was not covered in mud; this one was completely pristine and the gold embossed filigree decorations winding themselves around the thing were perfect in every way. The envelope smelled of lilacs in full bloom; not of the perfume made from such plants, but the plants themselves. Also, unlike the last one, this one was addressed to: Sir Grendel Repute, Lord Mayor of Gilip Demonia; Knight of the order of Kittens; High Preacher of the Way of the Heretic. Grendel slowly opened the envelope and remover the folded piece of pure white paper inside. He read the letter. He read it again. He read it a third time, and felt ill. The message inside contained but a few simple words It is impolite to read other peoples mail. He slowly walked to the stove of the suites kitchen, and with shaky hands fed the letter; envelope and all; to the flames. Lady Brianna stepped from her bedroom, clothed in a plain brown peasant outfit, sniffed the air, and asked, Grendel, are you burning incense? 071 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Money Problem Isle of Golstran 47th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. Maxwells Journal Mr. Aaron Fish has brought an interesting bit to my attention. He was asked by the local temple to the goddess of Wisdom to look into a monetary issue for them. You would think that Wisdom would have better accountants. I believe it will be an interesting way to test his mettle, and told him to dig deep, and damn the consequences. I hope the old bat goddess likes the kick to her teeth. I did tell Aaron to keep a written record of what he found. He looked at me like I was an idiot and said something along the lines of Well Duh!. I wonder if he iswhatever. From the Journal of Aaron Fish 47th of Kusha, 2290. Lord Smithson must be used to dealing with idiots. Telling me, a forensic accountant, to keep a journal! Ha. I have a meeting today with the head Deacon of the temple of Wisdom; some of the records I have looked at also call the goddess The goddess of Knowledge. -I have questions as to why god/goddess isnt capitalized, but the sphere of influence is. It is an oddity. - This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The meeting is at ten in the morning, so I will need to hurry. - The meeting went long, but the jist of it was that the person in charge of finances, one Deacon Gregory (her last name), has disappeared and the financial records for the temple arenot correct. Credit and Debit statements in the ledger do not follow any sort of book keeping I am familiar with. In fact, they arent even dated. They have two columns, one listed as Income and the other as Outcome. It makes my head hurt. The Outcome column is written in small letters, and Income is written in large ones; but not so that you would notice on first glance, only upon detailed inspection. For every ten Income, there are between eleven and thirteen Outcomes. This only goes back for four months of records; I know this because I have the last two years of records. I will be going over the numbers for the next few days and adding them all together. 49th of Kusha, The tally is in. The average income for each month comes to three hundred forty-three silvers (S.343) and twelve coppers (C.12). That is a compilation from the last two years of records and has shown not to vary much from month to month, except as the season changes. This is a combination of tithes, support monies from the head temple, and payments from the public to use the temple for reading and research. Until the last four months, the outgoing monies were three hundred seventeen silvers (S.317) and eight coppers (C.8) on average. This is a combination of pay to the employees, fuel, food and other sundries. This leaves an average profit of twenty-six silvers (S.26) and four coppers (C.4) per month; for a projected total of five hundred twenty silver (S.520) and eighty copper (C.80) in the last two years. The last four months show an average of twenty-four additional sundries purchased per month. While each of these purchases is small (averaged to one silver (S.1) and thirteen coppers (C.13) each), the total amount per month is twenty-seven silvers (S.27) and twelve coppers (C.12). This is obviously more than the temples average profit. I shall show my findings to the Head Deacon in the morning. 072 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Money Problem II Isle of Golstran 50th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. From the Journal of Aaron Fish I have reported in to the Deacon of Wisdom. He was very impressed with my findings in the records. I was surprised to find out that here on the island the cost of living is such that Two Silvers is pay for a week, not for a day! Then again, fish are plentiful, and the sea provides more than enough of the local food. I was being robbed of my coin at the tavern due to being a foreigner. On the other hand, traditional grain crops are more expensive than on the mainland. The local grain is called Mize; it is a saltwater grass that strikes me as a combination of corn and rice; rice like in that it is a grass, corn like in that its grains are yellow and the size of kernels of corn. We were able to open the actual treasury, with help, and what we found inside wasunfortunate. - Aaron stood in front of the solid wooden door of the temples treasury, and looked at the iron bands that reinforced it. He sighed, and waited for the Deacon to return with the key. As the minutes passed he noted his surroundings: a mathematically correct spiral on the wall next to the door, inlaid with a silver colored metal; a rich red carpet with actual silver threads that depicted the mathematical formula for understanding surface area and volume for many different shapes, as well as the ballistic coefficients of several projectiles; bright yellow light stones recessed into the ceiling that provided the exact amount of light for proper reading; and three blueprints for farming machines were displayed on the wall across from the door. All said and done, he considered it tasteful. As Aaron waited, an acolyte approached him, Are you Mr. Fish? Yes, young man, I am he. Aaron replied. The Head Deacon has said to inform you that the only key is missing, and he is unable to open the treasury. The acolyte said, voice breaking in the way they do at puberty. Very well. Aaron said, What are we to do about it? I believe the Deacon is going to try and find a locksmith as the old one who installed the door and lock died several years back. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. How long will this take? Aaron inquired, quirking an eyebrow. Several days, Im afraid. Aaron smiled, I have a better idea. He removed his new communication stone from his pocket; wonderful inventions, pockets; and called Lord Smithson. My lord? I am sorry to interrupt you, but the temple is having a problem with the treasury doors lock. Is there anything you could do to open it? He listened for a moment, then smiled again. Thank you, sir. I will be waiting. He looked to the acolyte, Please take me to the entrance, we are to meet someone. - Twenty minutes of waiting at the front steps of the temple Aaron saw who he was waiting for: a short boy of twelve or so, previously malnourished, with the standard tanned skin of the lands and a face that could almost be described as rat like, one Mr. Grendel Repute. Mr. Repute, I presume? Aaron asked. Yeah, thats me. The boy replied. Now, whats this Im breaking into? A short five minutes later Aaron stared as Grendel moved a small piece of metal in the lock and it clicked. Doors open! Grendel said with a wide smile. Is that the best one the temple could afford? Granny Gurt has a better one on her jewelry box. Granny Gurt? ...Never mind. Aaron said as he pushed the heavy door open. Well, he tried to, but the door only opened six inches. Um, Grendel? Do you think--- Grendel slipped through the crack, Way ahead of you boss! Then he stopped, You may want to call The Boss, and that Deacon guy too. We have a body. - Half an hour and much bustling later Aaron, Maxwell, constable John, and Head Deacon McHenry stood over the body of Deacon Gregory. Aaron was looking over the scene with a discerning eye, and dictating what he saw in his mind. There are no signs of a struggle, which points to her either being surprised Or knowing her killer. There are no indications of violence aside from the knife in the deacons throat. The only key is missing from the corpse. All of the money is missing from the treasury. There are no prints in the pool of congealed blood around and under the body. There is no magical residue in the room. The room is eight by ten feet in size, with a seven-foot ceiling and a stone floor. The light stones only come on and stay on when the door is open. There is a counting table on the left wall with pen, ink, blotter, scale, and locked drawer. The drawer in the counting table was unlocked by Mr. Repute, and I opened it to find that it contained extra quills, ink, and a ledger. The ledger was last updated four days ago by the deceased with a deposit of eighteen copper, and shows that there should be five thousand three hundred fifty-two silvers and thirteen thousand ninety-six coppers in the treasury. Aaron looked over to the head deacon, Head Deacon McHenry, did Gregory have anyone working for or with her? Head Deacon McHenry looked up from the corpse, Yes? But Ms. Angela has been on maternity leave for over a week now. Thank you. Aaron pressed his lips together in a frown. Is anyone else away from the temple? II dont know? Head Deacon McHenry replied. Ill have to ask around. Please do that. Aaron sad in a flat voice. I think it will be necessary. - Meanwhile, in the celestial realm An accounting error? Brother Proof shook his fist at the memo on his office desk, You want ME to investigate an accounting error? 073 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Money Problem III Isle of Golstran 51st of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. From the Journal of Aaron Fish I met a late middle-aged man with a silvering beard, wearing an ink and coffee-stained robe this morning, the man also smelled faintly of clean air and fish bait. When I asked him what he was here for, he replied that he was from the Head temple and handed me a document. Upon reading the document, I was able to determine two things: First, he was from The Head Temple; Second, that he was here to review the accounting books for an official audit. On the way to the accounting room, we met the head deacon, who, upon reading the proffered document, turned very pale and fainted. I have a theory that this head temple must be exceedingly important. I have received a list of all who were/are still absent from the temple here. Ms. Angela, secretary to the deceased. Mr. Johnson, stable master. Miss Edmon, apprentice to the kitchen. Sister Holt, head of the acolytes. I plan to start with Ms. Angela. - Ms. Angela lived in a small cottage some four miles from the temple. I was rustic but in good repair, Aaron noted as he approached the building on foot. He knocked on the roughhewn wood of the door, and waited a few moments before knocking a second time. The door was answered by a young man, who, after looking Aaron up and down a couple of times yelled, Ma, I think its for you! and scampered off. A younger woman, perhaps in her late twenties, stepped to the door holding a newborn infant to her chest, What can I do for you, sir? Ms. Angela, I presume? Aaron asked, I am Aaron Fish, in the employ of Lord Smithson, and under assignment to the local temple of Wisdom. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Ms. Angela started at the names being used, then turned white, Ifif its about the money, I can explain! --- Deacon Gregory is dead. Aaron interrupted the woman, then grabbed the infant as Ms. Angela collapsed to the floor. - From the Journal of Aaron Fish, continued. Once she awoke from her faint, Ms. Angela was very forthcoming about her embezzlement. She had been caught by deacon Gregory last month, but was allowed to continue as she had lost her husband just before the embezzlement started, and needed the money to repair her small home and prep it for the new child she had found to be on the way. Ms. Angela produced a document to prove that the embezzlement had been noted and once the child was of a reasonable age, the family as a whole would work to repay the monies owed. She was rightly terrified of being blamed for the murder of deacon Gregory, and when her son heard us talking, he ran screaming from the house as children do when they find out something bad has happened to a loved one. Due to both of their reactions, and the fact that Ms. Angela is barely able to move, I will cross her and her family off the list of suspects. I will next try to interview the Stable Master, one Mr. Johnson, but I fear that will be hard to do as he hasnt shown up to work for the last four five days. - Mr. Johnsons office was cluttered with knickknacks, debris and detritus of the horse trade. There were several winning medals on the wall for races the stable had wone under his management. The sheer difference between the office and the immaculately clean stable was a true surprise to Aaron as a groom showed him around for the copper tour. Has Mr. Johnson been back at all for the last five days? Aaron asked the boy. No sir! the boy responded, And the ladies and gents are starting to worry. Ladies and gents? Aaron asked, cocking an eyebrow. The horses! Thats what Johnson always calls them. The boy responded with a gap-toothed grin. He always said You have to show them respect, if you want respect. Not that it worked for any but him. Most of the time. Thats interesting. Replied Aaron. Who else did it seem to work for? The boy smiled for a moment, then frowned, Jockey Jim usually gets on with them, as did brother John. Did? Aaron asked. He died two years ago. The boy responded. I miss him. Aaron frowned, Oh. Im sorry for your loss. Thanks. Replied the boy, a small tear making its way down his dust covered face. Aaron shook his head, then returned to his questioning, Would anyone else have noticed if Mr. Johnson had shown up? Smiling with the change of subject the boy replied, No, Im the only one here this week. Jim only shows up when theres to be a race. Then Jim hasnt been around lately? Aaron continued. Nope! Wait, no, I think I saw him stop by and talk to Mr. Johnson on the day The boy started to weep. Its okay lad. Aaron gently patted the boy on the head. Ill let you get back to the ladies and gents. Thanks mister. The boy wiped his eyes and walked away, then turned around, Hey mister? Were actually missing a wagon and a team of ladies, Ms. Betsy and Ms. Moon. - From the Journal of Aaron Fish, continued, again. Another suspect has been added to the list, a mister Jockey Jim. The rest of the individuals on my list have been checked and vetted. I will begin looking for this Jim person in the morning. 074 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Money Problem IV Isle of Golstran 52nd of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. From the journal of Aaron Fish It has taken almost all of the day of heavy footwork, but I finally have a lead on Jockey Jim. His full name is James Mallory, and he was a mainlander until his family moved to the island around ten years ago. His parents moved back to the mainland five years ago, but he opted to stay and enjoy the life of a jockey for hire. In the last five years he has earned the respect of most of the professional riders in and around the capital city of Golstran. According to several of my interviews, two months ago he broke his leg on a patch of ice and needed emergency treatment in order to keep from losing it. The treatment failed, and he had to have the leg amputated. Last month he started riding again with a prosthetic leg, and it has gone poorly. So poorly in fact that he has lost his home due to gambling and medical debts. In the morning, I will be visiting Jims former home, as well as Mr. Johnsons residence. - This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. From the Journal of Maxwell Smithson There have been no attacks upon my person since Mr. Fish, and Brianna is happy about the lack of blood on my clothing. Brandywine has been following Grendel around the last several days, which while not odd, is different from normal. I worry that they may be bad influences on each other. Thinking about Mr. Fish, he seems to be going full steam on the murder investigation. Im interested to find out his conclusions as to who killed who. - Grendel looked over his shoulder again, trying to spot Brandy, but she was too quick for him now that she had taken the time to fully take his measure. Silly little brat, what are you hiding? Brandy thought, hiding in the shadow of a streetlight. She flitted from light to light following the young man as he made his way down the main street, then turned into an alley. Not wanting to lose her target, Brandy flew up and over the low two-story building and caught sight of him about halfway down the alley, shuffling his feet as he walked. She alighted on the roof tiles of the building and watched him. After several minutes Grendel kicked a rock, and went back to his normal walking pace. What is wrong with you? Youre normally more energetic than this! Brandy screamed at the boy in her mind. Diddid you have your first crush? Did she turn you down when you asked her out? Worse yet, did she say yes, and now you dont know what to do? - Grendel kicked a rock in the alley and watched it bounce off of a broken crate next to someones door. Stupid letter. Stupid titles. Stupid gods sending people like me letters. Grendel raged. Im Maxs assistant! Its my job to lighten his load! Max didnt need some great high muckety-muck god telling him to cut back on helping people! Who cares if this isnt his first resurrection? You want him to know, then show your bony ass up and tell him to his face! Morons. He sighed, and sped up to his normal walking speed. 075 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A few loose ends brought to heel, and some crime scene Western Continent Im sorry little miss, but I find it hard to believe that the three people you are seeking are the young ones who helped out all the farms around here for so little money! the blacksmith said, looking at the small girl who seemed to be no more than ten years old. I think you and your brother and grandpa need to move along. The small girl walked the short distance back to the road where her companions waited, and sighed. They dont believe us either. Did you find anything new out, Misty? The old asked the weary girl. No. Just more garbage about them being full of good deeds; just like everywhere else. Misty spat on the ground. Her younger brother, Matt, imitated her. Matt looked up from the road where he had been eying a long dead worm that was drying out in the sun, Are they still heading west? Yes. Misty said. Can we burn this town for being wrong about them? Matt asked. No. The old man replied, then sighed. Matt, we cant just burn down every town that disagrees with us. It isnt the right thing to do. Those Heroes that everyone loves so much, Matt put a huge emphasis on heroes, burned down our village. So why cant we burn down the ones that are actually wrong? Misty frowned at her brother, her once innocent little brother, Because we ARE the real heroes here. REAL heroes dont go around torching places for disagreeing with them. Real heroes do the right thing and bring evil people to justice. Fine Misty. Fine. Matt kicked the dead worm, I just want to do something. I know Matt, I know. Misty smiled at Matt. We will find those turds. Find them and expose them for the frauds they are. The three hefted their bags onto their shoulders, bags that held the magical items they had found in the woods near where their small village had once stood, at the place where the fire had started, and followed the road towards the west. - Isle of Golstran If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. 53rd of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. From the journal of Aaron Fish The harvest is all but, in the bag, and if things go as I hypothesize, so will this investigation. My trip to Jimmys place was fruitful, but unfulfilling - Aaron walked the few miles to Jockie Jims former home. The road was mostly level, and almost devoid of turns, just a couple of slight arcs. He wore his normal clothing, but with the slight addition of walking boots instead of his normal soft soled shoes. As he stepped from the road towards the former residence, he took in what he saw, without judgment. The house is old, and in disrepair. The yard is unmown by any form of implement or animal. The window shutters are open, and the windows themselves have no glass of oiled cloth or paper in them. No one can be seen through the windows. The front door is off its top hinge, and is half open. The tree in the front yard is mostly dead, and only has a handful of leaves on its one surviving branch. Aaron stepped slowly towards the house, eyes darting back and forth, taking in any extra bits of information. When a younger man jumped out at him from around the corner of the house, he wasnt surprised as he had already noted the mans shadow. I am Aaron Fish, in service to Lord Smithson, the Heretic. Aaron identified himself by rote. What can you tell me about the previous occupant of this dwelling? With eyes wide, the man who had just jumped out, took a half step back from Aaron, UmmSay again? Aaron repeated himself. SSorry sir, I thought you was one of the young-uns, trying to play their silly games here. The man ran a hand over his face, which had started to sweat. I dont know what all I can tell you, just that Jimmy used to be a good man, then he got hurt and became a mean sort. Always blaming everyone else for anything bad that happened to him after the accident. He even stopped going and seeing Miss Gregory. Aaron raised an eyebrow, He was seeing miss Gregory? In what fashion? Well, it wasnt common knowledge, but he and Johnson were in a bit of a competition for her hand. Werent common knowledge at all. I only got wind of it because they both asked me to be their second if they had a duel. The man replied, as he removed a pipe and a pouch of herbs from his belt. It was the darndest thing too, she was older than both of them, but, well, love finds a way, I guess? That it does. Aaron said, eyeing the man up and down. May I look around the premises as long as I dont play silly games? Certainly sir. The man replied, Just do a man a favor? Dont mention to them that I told you about them and Gregory? I wouldnt want to hurt their confidence in me. I think I can promise that. Aaron replied, as he stepped into the house. - From the journal of Aaron Fish, continued. Mr. Johnsons house was empty of personal effects. No money, no papers, no knickknacks. There were only a couple of tools missing from his shed, namely a shovel, a pickaxe, and a saw. His riding gear was also missing. On the other hand, the house had only been empty for a scant few days as dust hadnt accumulated anywhere, and the coals in the fireplace werent damp or destroyed from the rain on the night of the murder. On the other hand, there were no crumbs on the table, the beds were stripped, and I found a mouse poo on the counter next to the wash basin. I believe four days is the right amount of time to have passed since occupation. That would indicate the day I found the body. The trail is growing colder, but I think I know what has happened, and tomorrow I should have things wrapped up. Two more days at most. 076 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Money Problem - end Isle of Golstran 54th of Kusha, the month of Harvest. 2290 Years since the New gods came. From the journal of Aaron Fish It snowed on the island last night. This will make things a bit harder, but not insurmountable. I have rented a fast-ish horse in town for the week. I will be heading west from the church, and looking for signs of travel. I believe the culprits will have slowed their flight due to time, distance, and snow. As the horse is supposedly sure footed, I should be able to catch up in two days at most. The amount of money in the wagon as well as personal possessions should keep them from moving much more than fifteen miles in a day, especially if, as I believe, they are following old tracks and broken-down roads. - My first day has been eventful with twenty miles covered. I was able to spot some signs of travel while riding, but was forced to stop several times to scour the track. We passed one obvious camp about fifteen miles from our starting point. I have fed and watered my horse regularly so far on our trip. I have decided to name the horse Horse. - 55th of Kusha The weather has turned warm again, and the ground is muddy. The track has been obviously widened in several spots to allow a wagon to pass. An hour after I broke camp I found the remains of another camp. Ten miles later I found another one. Either the wagon is much slower than I expected, being drawn by two horses, or the miscreants are worse at clearing underbrush than I gave them credit for. Only 20 miles by daylight today. Horse is a good strong beast, but the mud has slowed us down. I had hoped for closer to thirty miles today. - 56th of Kusha Signs of the quarrys passing have been easier to spot from the saddle. I dont know if they are being less careful than before or if I am getting better at tracking. Probably both. I passed two more camps today, and a dead horse. Upon examination I found it had broken its leg and been put down. The ground has dried up some, so we made twenty-five miles today. If the quarrys movement remains as Ive witnessed so far, then I should overcome them tomorrow around noon, perhaps earlier. The coast is almost in sight. - 1st of Aneal, the first month of snow It is just before noon and I am currently looking down upon the quarry from atop a cliff of some two hundred feet in height. There is an ancient track that leads down from the cliff that they have abandoned their wagon next to, and are using their remaining horse as a pack animal to bring their ill-gotten gains to what can only be described as a smugglers pier. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I will put my horse on the far side of the nearby hillock so that when they come back to the wagon; which still has bags in it; I can get the jump on them. - Aaron crouched in a small thicket of thorn bushes near the wagon and listened as the pair of men slowly made their way up the old trail. when is she getting here? he heard one man ask. Like I told you before, she should make it here today. A second voice replied. If she doesnt make it here by sunrise the ship will leave without her. The first man replied. Im getting worried. Aaron watched as the pair of men came into view. One was big, big arms, big chest, big neck, big legs. The other was short, thin, and walked with a limp. As he watched the two men work, he slowly stepped from the thicket, and spoke. Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that Deacon Gregory will not be joining you as she happens to be dead. The two men stopped loading the horse and turned towards Aaron. The large man spoke first. WhoWhat? The short man squinted at Aaron before speaking, Really? He quirked an eyebrow, And how did that happen? Her throat was cut. Aaron said, voice flat. The two of you are under arrest for murder and grand theft- The large man took a step back and threw up his hands, Whoa boy! That aint right! We didnt kill nobody! Aaron snorted, The dead body would say otherwise. The thin man sneered, Doesnt matter, theres two of us, and only one of you. He drew a long knife from his belt, Now you come quietly, or youre gonna die like the cheatin deacon did. Aaron sighed, straightened his shoulders, and reached his right hand under his coat, towards his armpit. Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, I am Special Agent Fish of the IRS, currently in service to one Lord Maxwell The Heretic Smithson. He slowly withdrew his service weapon from under his coat and pointed it at the pair of men. Place your hands above your heads, and kneel. - James Jockey Jim Mallory and Mr. Edward Ed Johnson stared at the man who had slunk out of the thorn bushes behind them. They didnt know what IRS was, but they had heard of The Heretic. They also didnt know what the miniature hand crossbow that the man was pointing at them was, but the fact that it didnt have arms, or a string for that matter, was concerning. What was more concerning to them both was the way the weapons one silver eye kept Looking at each of them. The way it promised pain and death deep into ones soul. Ed dropped to his knees, and began to sob. II didnt kill nobodyI just thoughtMiss Gregory saidand shes dead? He looked up at Fish, eyes wide and tears running down his face. Shut it you stupid moron! Jim hissed, then pointed his knife, the twin of the one he had left in the bitchs throat, at Fish. Drop your little dart- The dart launcher spoke before he could finish. BANG! - Aaron let loose a long sigh. At least the paperwork for this one shouldnt be too long. He looked at the fallen thin man, then to his blood-spattered co-conspirator, Will you come quietly? - From the journal of Aaron Fish 7th of Anael I have returned from my assignment journey. Mr. Johnson was very cooperative on our journey back to the church/abbey/temple, and laid out the entire scheme to me as we traveled. It turns out that Deacon Gregory had originated the plan and broached it to her paramours less than a month ago. My thought aside, it was a fairly straightforward plan: Set up a pickup at a smugglers pier on the far side of the island, paid in advance; steal the entire treasury in one night; take the key with them when they left, leaving the vault locked. She didnt manage to take into account that one of her lovers would betray her in a fit of rage. Hell hath no fury applies to men as well, it would seem. Mr. Johnson does seem to be a good man, who let his emotions cloud his judgment. I dont know what will happen to him, once Lord Smithson sees him tomorrow. I am fairly sure that he will never work on the island again, but you never know in this new world I find myself in. I only have fifteen rounds remaining for my Glock 19, gen 5. But, considering the amount of magic in this world, Im sure I can find someone who can make ammunition for it. - The journal of Max Smithson 2nd of Anael Mr. Ed Johnson will be finishing his life in servitude to the church. Jimmy has been unceremoniously fed to the fish. We leave tomorrow for the elvish coast on a large passenger ship. I love boats and ships. Always have, and always will. 077 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed 077 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II C The Big Ship Sailed Isle of Golstran 8st of Aneal, the first month of snow From the journal of Maxwell Smithson We left Golstran this morning with the tide, on a ship bound for the western elvish coast. There will be several ports of call along the way and Im sure we will get off and tour some of the cities. I hope to have some fun on the rest of this trip as opposed to working. The ship we have boarded is called The Crystal Star and is what the captain calls a Cruise Ship. It is large. No, thats not quite right, the ship is huge! With a length three hundred forty-seven feet and a beam of fifty-two feet. By the gods who arent assholes, I love ships. According to the captain, the three masts are capable of holding a total of 23 square sails for a total of almost 32,300 square feet of sail. She moves fast. Apparently, there is a magical bit in the aft of the ship that can propel the ship forward in case of doldrums; it is slower than the wind and is mana intensive to run. I asked if I could see it, and was told NO. I can respect that decision as everyone deserves their secrets. I worry about Grendel looking into it. There are five decks, berths for almost a hundred passengers, fifty odd crew, and still room for some hundred tons of cargo. Brianna and I have a cabin to ourselves and Grendel is sharing with Brandywine. While I am busy exploring the ship, Brandy discovered the first bar on board, and got busy getting drunk. Grendel hit up the crew for gambling, and Bri got an Elvish Massage. Today has been a wonderful day. 11th of Aneal We have passed what Bri likes to call My Islands Well, actually she calls the Maxs Islands. I dont actually own them, but she says that doesnt matter as I am the one in charge of them. Maybe I should gift them to herwhatever. The sea has been a bit rough, with some waves breaking over the bow. Most other ships would have fled the storms by now, but our captain seems to know his stuff, and we keep floating. Sitting on the top deck and watching the storms cross the ocean has been the highlight of the trip so far. I found the second bar yesterday and used it as a place to drink so I could get away from Brandies awful EXCELLENT singing. Grendel has learned a new game called Checkers, named after the checked board it is played on. He learned to play it properly it from a pair of old men in the depths of the ship, after they trounced him for almost all of his gambling profits. Old men are scarry. He calls them Long Tooth and Curmudgeon. Both men talk with a strange accent. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Tomorrow, around noon we will be making port in Smootlevil, in the Cadow province of Garthia. I have heard there is a nice temple there to some god or other. I plan on visiting as it has beenseveral years since Ive been. - 12th of Anael, Noonish. Max, Bri, and an uncomfortable Grendel stood on the pier in Smootlevils harbor. Due to the draft of the large ship, they were at the far end of the pier, with some three hundred plus yards to walk to get to the shore. Grendel, being Grendel, he was not thrilled to be out in the sun, especially with-it being noon, as opposed to a more reasonable hour, like after supper. He was also incensed at the new fancy clothing he was forced to wear. He had tried the Buuuutttttt, Briiiii to no avail. Stupid appearances to keep up. Stupid clothing you can barely move in. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He thought when Max bent down and whispered into his ear, Look at it like this, in order to case a target, you need to blend in with the crowd. This is just practice. And suddenly, Grendel was smiling. The trip to the cathedral took almost an hour, most of which was spent moving through crowded narrow streets. But finally, the trio arrived at their destination, the Temple of the Holy Lover. Upon arrival, the three looked over the front gate, with its three-pointed stars of love, and the (anatomically correct) hearts pierced by spears of love. Bri was the first to speak, While the craft of this gate is amazing, I do wonder why it is so graphic. Grendel nodded, already knowing what a heart looked like from previous experience. Right? Even for me, the red paint on the spear heads is a bit graphic. As is the blood spatter. Max only nodded along, as he peered intently at the blood effects. Actually, the blood effects are either a ceramic coating, or a burnished bronze. Off to the trios left a light laugh caught their attention. You are quite correct, good sir! A young man spoke, It is actually a chrome/tin glaze, mixed and fired just right to get the perfectly proper shade of burgundy. Then the man smiled, and the blinding white of his teeth dazzled the three. Would you like a tour of the temple? It is one of my favorite places to tour, and I like to believe that I know it better than the guides do. Max and Bri exchanged a look, then Max spoke, We would be delighted, Sir? Oh, no sir to my name, I am Jack. Just Jack, I have no family name to drag me down. Jack replied, flashing his smile again. Now if you would follow me? And he led them through the gate and up the wide avenue to the cathedral. Hours were spent walking the halls and admiring the little traces of personal touches the crafters had left to show they had been there. Things like the carved mouse under the grand organ, and the exceedingly tiny triple ellipse inclusion on the most intricate stained-glass window above the great Alter of Love that they had had to climb six sets of stairs, bypass three monks, and crawl out on a ledge to see. All told there were sixteen different masterpiece marks scattered throughout the cathedral. Maxwell had an absolutely wonderful time. Bri and Grendel? Less so. At the conclusion of the tour, the three were asked if they would like to join Jack for dinner, before they returned to the ship. It wont take too long, less than an hour, and according to the sundial, your ship wont be departing for another three hours? Tired and hungry as they were, the trio agreed. 078 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed II From the journal of Maxwell Smithson 12th of Aneal, the first month of snow. Supper was a wonderfully intimate affair in a small and unadorned dining room just off of a small kitchen. There was a local fish stew with several types of tubers and root vegetables, that while not overly spiced was full of flavor and chased away the cold. An early Aneal salad was served as a side with a wonderful herb infused oil and vinegar dressing. As for dessert, Jack served a cake. A cake of seven layers with different types of filling between each layer. With no lies of Maxs part, the cake was almost to die for. After supper was completed, and an after-meal drink was imbibed, the trio left the cathedral, bellies full, and Love in their hearts. 13th of Aneal We left port on the morning tide. Memories of last nights meal will be with me for a long time. Our next port of call is Craigcoast, almost four hundred miles east by sea. Travel time is two to four days, depending on the wind. We will keep busy with the onboard amenities as well as keeping Grendel within arms reach, as Brianna has decided to start teaching him. EVERYTHING. I feel sorry for the lad, but by the gods who dont suck, I will NOT get in the way of my wife. 16th of Aneal, Craigcoast was a nice coastal town. The fortress overlooks the town, and the walls cover all but the docks. The docks have their own protection in the way of a small naval detachment. We toured the docks and a bit of the rest of the city, but didnt make it to the citadel due to only being in port for five hours. Our next port of call is Ilentfront, about sixteen hours away. We will only be there for an hour or two, so not enough time to explore. Our next trip ashore will be in Cavenfore, where we will be stopping for a full day. It will take a day and a half to arrive there. 18th of Aneal, Cavenfore is as fun as I remember it being from my candlestick making days. Sadly, our next stop isnt Clifrontle, or I could show off the college I went to. On the other hand, its probably a good thing, as they would probably try to get me to give a symposium on metals again. Our next stop is Swift Town and then Dragon. Its been a long time since Ive been to either of them. Im kind of excited. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Brandywine has found the second bar, and I just found out that Grendel has been using a forged letter saying that he has my permission to gamble at the onboard gambling parlor. I dont know whether or not to be proud of him. If he was actually my child I would give him a whack on the backside for the forgery, but hes not, so I will just give him a long lecture while making him do pushups. Then I will give him a real letter of permission. At least he seems to be breaking even. 19th of Aneal, Swift town has changed since I was last there... A Plague was present. No passengers were let off the ship, only crew who wore a mask over their mouth and nose. They worked quickly to offload the ship of trade goods and supplies. The ships cats, of which there are six, but there is a new doctor in town who practices Real Medicine. She laughs at the concept of bleeding the infection out of people and uses cooking ingredients (garlic and hot onion pulp mixed with water and boiled in a copper pot, then she strained the mixture and stores it in a silver vessel for a week) to make a salve that kills the skin legions. She has also made a pill out of some sort of mold that kills off infections of the blood and lungs. She has a large pile of books with solid covers that are filled with pictures and exceedingly consistent block letters. I dont think she is from our world. Perhaps the god of Healing is actually upping their game? We leave for Dragon on the midnight tide. 21st of Aneal, Storms. Storms are always an interesting event. - Maxwell stood on the forecastle deck of The Crystal Star and watched the waves crest over the bow. The storm had blown in around midday, first appearing as a black smudge on the horizon, then becoming a curtain of rain and lightning. The captain had tried to run from the storm but it was too fast, so he had struck the sails and turned on his optional form of propulsion and turned into the beast to ride it out. Watching the storm blow, Max was glad of the new-fangled strap harness and tether that attached him to one of several eye bolts embedded every ten feet or so along the railing and around the masts. As the wind picked up in intensity, he could feel the storm shaking the deck, but he could also feel an odd thrumming as well. When he had investigated the thrum earlier, he had found it originated in the aft of the ship where something in the water churned, making a significant amount of foam. Maybe a type of sturdy fan of some sort pushing the water like a normal fan does air? He had thought before moving on. He watched and waited on the deck as the cold rain fell, and the wind cut through his wet clothes. Waiting for the ship to enter the eye of the storm. Sadly, today was not his day and after several hours of observation he went below decks to luxuriate in a hot bath and have a hearty meal. 22nd of Anael, The storm knocked us a good way off course. Much less than I had anticipated; I think the alternate propulsion was the reason. It took till early morning for us to leave the storm, and several more hours to find our location on the charts. Our captain kept cussing about a lack of GPS, whatever that is. We should arrive in Dragon tomorrow, at least that is the captains thought. I am surprised at the lack of damage to the ship from the storm. The rigging is completely intact, as are the sails. Sure, he furled the canvas early, but still there should be some damage, and there is none. I have looked at the lines and the sails more closely now, and both seem to be made of a new material that is both lightweight and strong. When I asked the captain about it, he just smiled and said not to worry about it. the captain concerns me a little bit 24th of Anael, We have arrived in Dragon. The City isalmost gone. 079 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Celestial Barnyard A Barnyard in the Celestial Realm Ghondish looked down on his friends using the water trough in the yard as his looking pool. What was I thinking? This could have been handled any number of ways, but I just haaad to lose my poo over it, he thought. Now I have paperwork to fill out, a solution to put forth, and the threat of That Guy coming back GAH! He watched them walk in a mostly westerly direction, and stop for the night in a thicket. Why havent you borrowed some tents? Or blankets at least? Youre still wearing what Pendleton made for you! Come on guys, get with it! He saw the bear before they did. Saw it sniffing out their trail. Saw it charge into the camp. Then he watched as Maximilian did what he did best. -- A thicket on the western continent Mil looked up at the sound of something large charging into the thicket they had just bedded down in. Stupid creatures. He growled, and stabbed thrice in the direction of the sound, then stood up. Time to butcher some meat! -- A Barnyard in the Celestial Realm Ghondish snorted at the display of combat prowess as, in the blink of an eye, Mil struck the bear three times in the heart. I keep forgetting he is the god of War. He mumbled. A rooster fluttered up to the edge of the trough, What you watchin boss? Mil and company surviving on the world without their powers. Ghondish replied, eyes still on the scene. You would think more gods would be watching this travesty play out. Yeah, it is pretty funny. I think not many watch because no one knows how it happened. Probably worried about it happening to them. Rooster said. Ghondish frowned, I dont think even Tranquility could screw up enough for that to happen. Trust me on this one. Rooster hopped down and began scratching in the muddy soil, If you say so. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Ghondish passed a hoof over the trough, Thats enough of that for now. Time to go back to work. -- Back in the thicket Mil, Sarah, and Pendleton sat around a small fire cooking bear meat and talked. Aside from west, what do we know? Pendleton asked. Still nothing so far. Mil replied. Sarah? Pendleton asked. Nothing for me either. Sarah said, You would think my brother would have done something by now. A dream; a chance encounter with a strange wizard who spells the wizard on his hat with two Zs; a pile of rocks pointing somewhere; maybe a stone tablet with better directions written on it? The other two nodded as the filled themselves with more meat. Finally, the meal, if you could call it one, was over and the three bedded down for the night. As they lay there watching the fire die, Pendleton spoke up again, Sarah? What is your brother, really? Um Im not really allowed to say exactly, but I can say that hes more powerful than all the rest of us put together. Mil snorted, Thats obvious, since he did this to us. No. I mean ALL of us gods. Sarah replied in a quiet sleepy voice, then rolled over in her spot and started to lightly snore. Pendleton and Mil stared at each other; eyes wide for several hours before sleep overtook them both. -- The Celestial Barn Ghondish sat behind the moving type machine as his hooves hit the keys, Stupid, stupid, stupid. He glanced up and to his right at the crystal displaying the Heretic doing something or other in a destroyed port town. Well at least that idiot is having an interesting time. Sometime later he looked at what the machine had Printed out. Paperwork filled out and a solution put forth, now I just need to send it off. He folded the papers and placed them in an envelope, then looked around the barn for a way to send them in. Finding nothing, he sat back at the machine and sighed. How in the hells am I supposed to send these to Him? he asked the rafters. A moment later he heard a soft pop, and the envelope was gone. -- Elsewhere A young blond man in a cheap business suit looked at the envelope in his IN box. Ah, finally done, is it? He opened it and read the documents, smiled and said That works. No sense bugging the boss, Ill send the go-ahead. -- The thicket, againMorning Mil yawned and stretched, then widened his eyes before blurting out, I DONT HURT!!! Pendleton rolled over, mrr, huh? Wha? For her part, Sarah kept snoring. Im not in pain from sleeping on the ground! Mil yelled, then kicked a rock he had been sleeping on, Take that you stupid rock! The rock flew, and stuck in a nearby tree. Pendleton, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, stared at Mil, then looked down at himself. II slept well too Then he shook his head. Something must have changed. He muttered. It was at this point that Sarah grumbled something that sounded like five more minutes, and pulled a cloak of darkness around herself. -- The Celestial Barn Ghondish was again at the water trough, looking down at his friends and smiled. Good to know that my idea of returning some of their power was accepted. Now I should never have to see That Guy again. 080 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed III From the journal of Maxwell Smithson 24th of Anael, the first month of snow. We have arrived in Dragon. The City isalmost gone. -- In the fog of the morning Maxwell looked over the bow of the ship as they arrived in port, and watched the damage from the storm be revealed. The storm and its surge had burst over the walls that usually kept the storms at bay, and flooded more than half the city. The portion nearest the docks had the worst of the damage, all that was left were piles of debris where shops and warehouses had been. Chunks of ships and piers were strewn about the beach and some of the chunks were easily visible in the town itself. Eyes wide, and jaw slack, all Max could do was slowly shake his head in wonder at the power of nature at its worst and realized, That wasnt just a storm, that was a hurricane! As soon as the ship had anchored in the bay, Max was almost the first to volunteer to go and help in town. He missed being first because Brianna had beaten him to the captain to volunteer. -- As the small boat closed on the port, the devastation of the hurricane could be seen more clearly. The storm surge was still draining from the city and the wreckage was far worse than Max had first thought, with the dead and injured still in and around the remains of buildings and ships. As soon as the small boat beached, he and the others were off and running. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Max cast the spell Detect Life and was off in a heartbeat with Brandy on his sheals, heading towards a chunk of ship that showed a life was still inside. The two of them (mostly Brandy) ripped the barnacle crusted hull open, exposing a sailor with a pair of obviously broken legs. They carefully carried the man out onto the beach and laid him down above the high tide line before racing across the beach again in search of another of the storms victims. Brianna, for her part, had started to erect an aid station of sorts where her husband had lain the man down, assisted by the ships doctor an some of the other passengers. As the survivors came in, she and the passengers triaged who they could while the doctor did what surgery and healing his magic and training could do. And thus, left to his own devices, Grendel walked the slums, the muddy flats above the beach that were still draining water, looking for people of his own to help. He scoured the slums, looking in, on, and under collapsed shacks. He checked every chunk of boat, every piece of debris that could hide a small child, he even checked the midden holes, but to no avail, the slums were empty of life, even the rats were gone. He then began the chore of counting the bodies of the slums dead. - As the sun neared its zenith, the city guard approached the dock district. They noticed the several small boats on the shore, and the people wandering around going through the wreckage from the storm. The Lieutenant, second class, in charge of the group ordered the troops to stop the looters At all cost. Sgt. Ralph stepped up to the nearest man, held up his hand and yelled Stop! The man ignored him and continued shoveling the dirt away from a shops wall. I said STOP! he yelled again. The man didnt look up when he replied, Why dont you back to guarding the keep. Ralph raised his truncheon and started to bring it down towards the insolent mans head when he felt something sharp at his throat and froze. Then something soft spoke in a honeyed voice in his ear, I wouldnt do that if I were you. He gets really angry when someone kills him. Slowly, Sgt Ralph of the city guard, turned first his eyes and then his head to stare towards the voice. What he saw on his shoulder was a small fae, a pixie if he remembered correctly, staring at him. A pixie with a very sharp knife and an obvious will to use it. He swallowed hard, and dropped the truncheon into the mud at his feet. Umcarry on citizen. He said, before he bolted up the road. 081 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed IV From the journal of Maxwell Smithson 24th of Anael, the first month of snow. The city guards are mostly okay IDIOTS. - Evening had come to the remains of the city of Dragon, and Grendel had found himself near the water on the southern end of the bay. Shuffling his feet in the sand as he walked, his mind jumped through what he had experienced today. Everyone in the slums is dead. Well almost everyone; I did find three children in a shallow well. The well was weird, it had no water in the bottom. None. You would think as low as the top was, the storm would have filled it. Then there was the stone outcropping at the bottom that had that cracked rock on it. And the funny carvings around the rock too, that was weird. The waves must have been really strong to knock off the huge stone that sealed the well. The kids said that the stone had been there forever. The oldest one said that according to her grandmother, there used to be a thick rope tied around it with ribbons tied to the rope, but some hooligan adventurers had cut the rope off for reasons. Well, theres nothing for me to do out here, guess Ill go back to mo-- Max and Bri. Grendel slowly turned around and walked the long trek back to where the injured were still being treated and the survivors of the lower city were being fed. - Maxwell sat in the city lords sitting room. It was what he had once heard called posh, but he thought of it as gaudy. Nautical baubles and nicknacks had been placed around the room to show off the lords wealth. Glass floats in a decorative net bag made from seaweed hung on one wall, fanciful miniature boats adorned the shelves, a perfectly serviceable anchor leaned against another wall. There were of course the standard decorations as well, such as the sword, trident, and shield hanging over the fireplace. And books on shelves. Twelve books in all, a veritable treasure trove of knowledge, if they had had any words in them. He sighed as he waited for the lord to come and meet him. Idiots. - In a room just down the hall from where Maxwell waited, a very concerned lord paced. Well? Does this look presentable for the Lord Heretic? He snapped at his manservant. Is everything in its place? The servant released a deep breath, My lord, this is the best we can do on such short notice. If there had been any inkling that He would show up, your wife would have sent along your best clothes as opposed to your third best. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I know Jeeves, I know. The lord replied. Im just nervous. This is The Heretic we are talking about. The man who has become a god! The man who trained countless heroes! The man who, at a word, could topple countries from the shadows! I cannot help but be worried! He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his heart. If I screw this up, what will become of me? What will become of my family? Everything I have worked for will come to not! - The door opened and Maxwell stood, preparing to bow. He was instead surprised when a younger man in exquisite attire stepped in and bowed so deeply that his fine feathered hat fell onto the floor and rolled to Maxs feet. Max bent down and retrieved the hat, then, when the man stood, he returned it. Looking into the face of the presumed lord of Dragon, Maxs heart sank a little in his chest. The lord was smiling, but more like the smile of a child who was afraid his alcoholic father was going to beat him for no reason, than the smile of a man who was receiving a guest. The lord stared at Maxwell, desperately trying not to let his fear show through the smile he had plastered across his face. M.. My lord Smithson, a pleasure to meet you. He was proud that his voice only cracked once at the end of his sentence, and hoped that Maxwell hadnt noticed the stutter at its beginning. What can I do for you this evening? Max stifled a groan; Its going to be one of those evenings. - Midnight came and went over the city of Dragon, and if anyone had been in the slums, near the well where the children had been found, they would have possibly seen the strange sight of an oblong shape ooze over the lip of the well and slip down what remained of the street. -- 24th of Anael From the journal of Maxwell Smithson C continued. I hate meeting nobles of any variety, but the nervous ones are even worse. Either they fawn all over you, or they whine about everything that is wrong around them and beg for help. Help being, of course, money. The nervous ones are worse because they do both. Lord Franklin was the latter of the two, but he kept the level of complaining to just mild comments about the storm and the damage it caused; as opposed to how this or that was wrong and dont you think it would be better off for a bit of investment? Hehe didnt even ask for a handoutmaybe he isnt as bad as most of the nobility? 25th of Aneal From the journal of Maxwell Smithson Cleanup of the town has started. Im glad to see the community come together. Sadly, there is now a murderer on the loose. Someone who is strangling people in their own beds. Isnt it so much fun visiting new places? - Maxwell stopped for a moment and watched as the townsfolk of Dragon began the chore of clearing debris. Those not busy with their own homes were either helping their neighbors or clearing the streets. Already there was a path cleared all the way from the upper town down through the lower town and to the harbor. He smiled at the cooperation of the locals, then went back to his own job: lifting debris from the street and placing it on an ox drawn wagon. Once it was full, the wagon would drop the debris into a swamp that was just north of town in a continuing effort to reclaim the land. As he lifted and placed, he overheard a pair of watchmen talking about something interesting. she said when she got back to the room, her old man was dead. The first officer said. Thats the third one so far. The second officer replied, a deep frown in evidence. Just what we dont need, someone strangling people after that storm. The first officer shook his head, Tell me about it. The lord is up in arms about it too. Apparently, there is some important person in town that he doesnt want getting a bad impression of us locals. Politics, murder, and a storm. The second officer looked into the sky, Heretic take all the idiots and feed them to his forge. 082 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed V City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia 26th of Anael, the first month of snow. From the journal of Maxwell Smithson The weather is a comfortable three points below freezing. Tristan would have called it a balmy thirty degrees, but I dont understand what compass readings have to do with it. Supposedly, before the demon wastes appeared, the weather below the mountains was warm year-round, but I dont believe it; I dont believe whatever that goddess spouts, even if she is supposed to embody Wisdom. The corpses have been mostly policed, except for the slum. Grendel and the children he found have been working hard to get help to clean up, but most of the survivors just dont seem to care and want to burn the place as is. Ill help him and the kids as soon as Im able. Sometimes I hate towns folk. 28th of Anael, The slums stink. Literally. There are feral dogs and wild animals rooting through the garbage. The bodies arebad. I should have insisted on the place being cleaned out alongside the rest of the city. I expect there to be sickness in the near future. Grendel showed me the well where he found the kids. Something about it stirs worry deep in my bowelor maybe Im getting sick? Ive never been sick - Maxwell lowered himself into the dry well, and looked at the rock outcropping. It was a lump of flattened rock that protruded from the wall of the well. The rock that lay atop the outcrop felt wrong to his senses, and the pictograms twisted his guts in a knot. He took his time bolstering his will, then make a rubbing of the pictograms, as well as drawing a picture of the rock. Once finished, he placed his papers in a pouch on his belt and climbed out of the well. Time to help clean the slums. The work was hard. And stank like warmed death. The bodies he helped recover had already succumbed to rot and were bloated, most more horrid to look at than ones he had seen on battlefields. He retched at the stink more than once. 29th of Anael More horrid cleaning of the slums today. Brianna punched a man who joked from the sidelines about the place getting its just deserts; he may or may not wake up. There was another strangulation last night. Maybe once Im done with the cleaning, Ill look into it? Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. 32nd of Anael The slums are now empty of the dead. I will be conducting a controlled burn in the morning, then supervising a team of looters (and a man who got punched the other day) in cleaning up the remains and carting them to the reclaimed swamp. This vacation cruise is turning into more work than play. For some reason, I feel better about that. 33rd of Anael The fire is done. The remains of the slums went up like a matchstick. I have made my displeasure known to the lord about how the bodies left to rot can cause disease. Im just glad that no disease has yet cropped up. Maybe one of the Idiots has been watching out for the town after all. The killings keep happening, night after night. The watch seems to have some idea whats going on, but havent felt inclined to share with the rest of us. In the morning, I will be heading to the local temple; it is a temple to the twelve; to have a word with Wisdom about the rock and pictures in the well. 34th of Anael Wow. Just wow. I had no idea there were so many booksJustwow!!!!! - Maxwell marched his way to the Temple of the Twelve. He passed the polished iron gates set in the six-foot walls, and mounted the twelve steps into the temple proper. He nodded to the statues of Healing and Bjorn, made a rude gesture (out of habit) at the statue of Tranquility, and stopped in front of the statue of the gnomish goddess of Wisdom. He nodded to the statue, and started to speak, Alright. You know me, and I you. I need information, so, hand it over. The statue did nothing. The temples head priest, dedicated to Tranquility, approached Max. Good sir, that is no way to talk to any of the gods, especially Wisdom. She requires Max turned around to stare at the man, Dont bother me, child. The priest shrank back, eyes gone round, and began to shake. IIm sorry your holiness, Ii" Just Go Away. Im Busy. Max said, then turned back to the statue, As I was saying, before I got so rudely interrupted, I need information. The priest, having just aged to infirmity, staggered to the back of the temple and began to weep. I have just witnessed a miracle. The words of a god! He lay behind the alter, and slept. The statue of Wisdom glowed a dim purple, then spoke sounding like a disgruntled school teacher, You are a very rude one, arent you Max? Only when dealing with Shut Up. Wisdom took a look around the temple. See? Youre not the only one who can use The Voice. Now I tell you what, you go fix that poor mans new health conditions, and I will unlock the door behind this statue so you can visit the Head Temple. Max, barely able to resist the compulsion that Wisdoms voice had caused, spluttered for a moment before nodding and croaking out Okay. He walked to where the now elderly priest lay on the cold tile floor, held out his hands, and spoke, Cure. As he watched, the priests body started to breath more evenly, the age spots on his face departed, andMax was almost certain there was a trick of the light, but it seemed that the priest had gained some height and muscle mass. He turned from the now dozing priest and walked behind Wisdoms statue to find nothing out of the ordinary. Stupid godsgodswisdomwisdom to look for the unexpected and the expected Max took a deep breath and looked again at the wall. He thought about where he would put a door, where the handle would be, and how big a gnome sized door would be. A few minutes later he found what he was looking for, only about eight inches to the left of where he thought it should be. A latch, sized just right for a gnomes small hands. He slid the latch up and it made no sound; then he pushed gently on the wall, and the whole thing opened wide. What he saw inside almost blinded him. 083 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed VI City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia 34th of Anael, the first month of snow. Maxwell stared at what lay beyond the door: a bright light, illuminating Books. BOOKS. Books as far as the eye could see. Large books, small books, red books, blue books. For a few moments Maxwells brain shut down. And that was how one of the librarians found him in the general circulation shelves, in the section Books about Color [Section 752 of the DeWalt System of Decimals]. When Max came back to his senses, he was confronted by a young man with a shock of bright red hair, short cropped beard, and wearing the plain white robe of an acolyte of Wisdom. The man smiled at him, Can I help you good sir? um Max said intelligently. Well, sir, let me show you the way to the lounge. The young man steered Max by the elbow to a gathering of chairs, low tables, and couches. Please, have a seat. Max sat, his mind whirling at the sheer number of books that sat on the orderly shelves around him. I am Acolyte Shamus, and it is both my pleasure and duty to serve in this section of the temple of Wisdom. One day I aspire to be in charge of the whole Color section, as opposed to just this room, which covers 752.21-2101! Seven what now? Max finally said. Section 7, The Arts; Subsection 5, Painting; Sub-Subsection 2, Color; after the decimal we have the category, subject, then author. Shamus stated, a happy smile spreading across his face. My section only contains seven thousand books, but I hope to grow it in the time I am here in order to prove my worth to the goddess! um I dont need the color section Max finally said. I actually need to translate some ancient pictograms. Oh. Shamus said, a small frown crossing his lips before his smile beamed again, I can help you find what you need! The young man glided across the lounge to a very large plain wall box of small drawers, and pulled a drawer out seemingly at random. The drawer extended out some four feet, before he called quietly across the lounge, Do you know the age of the pictograms? You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Eyes wide, Max responded No. Just that they are very old, and were found at the bottom of a dried out well. Alright. Shamus replied, writing a large number of numbers on a piece of card he had pulled from within his robe. I will be just a minute to find these sources for you, why dont you make yourself comfortable at one of the research tables? Um, sure? Max looked up from the carpet he had bees staring at to see that Shamus was already gone. By the time he had moved to the table, Shamus had returned with a cart full of books. Some were thick, others thin, but all were well cared for. Eyes wide at the large pile of books, Max asked, This is all of them? All of the ones that I am allowed to bring you at one time. There are more in the stacks and I have placed a request for a couple from the restricted section as well. Max gulped, Thank you? Shamus smiled even brighter, You are very welcome! Just ring the bell by the card catalog if, or when, you need something! And Shamus walked away. Max stared at the pile of books for an indeterminant amount of time, then got busy looking for what he needed. Sever hours, and many dozens of books later, Max jumped from his chair and yelled, FOUND IT! Causing Shamus to appear at his elbow. Patrons are not supposed to yell in the library, good sir. Placing a hand gently on Maxs shoulder. But we of the library are glad you found what you are looking for. Max gave the young man an apologetic grin, Sorry. No worries. Will you be needing anything else today? I heard what sounded like a monkey in the back, what was that about? Max asked. An orangutang, sir. Shamus replied, And do bear that in mind if you ever meet him, he is very particular about that. Max raised his eyebrows, Okay? What was the orangutang looking for? A book about the colors of magic. - Max walked the dark streets of Dragon back to the beach as he thought about what he had found in the Library of Wisdom. Elemental. Earth. Old. Sealed in a stone, at the bottom of a dried out well. Why? Who? The how is obvious. What in the hells? As his feet carried him to the beach, he continued on his thoughts. I will have to sleep on it. - Meanwhile, in The Celestial Realm, in the Library of Wisdom, a conversation was taking place Mistress Wisdom? An Acolyte has requested access to the restricted section on behalf of a patron. Archibald, High Priest of the Stacks said. The patron has already left, but you may still be interested. Wisdom looked up from the newspaper she had been reading, Well, get on with it. She snapped. As I am sure you are aware, the small god Maxwell entered the library this morning Archibald started before he was interrupted. Yes, yes. Showed up in 752.21-2101. I know, I let him in. She glared as all people who dont like their reading being interrupted do, So What? Archibald swallowed hard, Maxwell wanted translations of old runic god speech pictograms. Wisdom raised her voice, clear for all in the library to hear, AND YOU ONLY BRING THIS TO MY ATTENTION NOW?!?!? - 35th of Aneal I have spent the day translating more of the pictograms, and re-entered the well. The stone wall is actually covered with the damn things, once you know what you are looking for. As of now, I need to get back into the library and look in the stacks for more books, probably the restricted section as well. I wonder if I am still banned from the Museum of Wisdom after I borrowed Stole all of those little figurines 084 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed VII City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia 36th of Anael, the first month of snow. From the journal of Maxwell Smithson Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Copulation with the spawn of a sea spider! There is a problem. - Maxwell strolled into the Temple of the Twelve, smiled at the well-muscled priest (who had several hangers on) and stepped behind the statue of Wisdom. He knocked on where the door had been the other day, and waited for a thirty count, then knocked again. A few moments later the door opened, and Max entered The Library. He smiled at Acolyte Shamus, and thanked him for his help on his last visit, ordered a couple of specific books on translation, and asked for a book on the history of the region. More than a little shocked at the about face from last time, Shamus scurried off to collect the requested books. Max sat alone at the table he had used on his last visit, and laid out his much-increased number of rubbings from the wall of the well. He had just finished when Shamus returned with the pile of requested books. Thank you, Acolyte Shamus. Max said. If I require anything else I will use the bell. Shamus smiled, and scampered off to report that the Heretic was back. Several hours passed, and taking a break from translating the well writings, Max moved to a lounging couch and took some time to read the short book about the regions history. About halfway through, he straightened up a bit, a few more pages, and he had bolted up from the couch and was ringing the service bell. Shamus stepped into the lounge area, You range sir? I need every book you have about The Elemental Well. Max all but shouted. And I need it sometime yesterday. Im sorry sir, we dont deliver to the past. Max took a deep breath and let it out slowly, Its a figure of speech. Shamus snapped to attention, gave a salute, and hustled off into the stacks. - This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Elsewhere in the library, a discussion was going on. What is the Heretic researching? Wisdom asked her assistant. According to the records, translation of archaic god script. The assistant paused a moment to refer to a sheaf of paper in her hands, And the history around the town of Dragon. Do we know where he found the old text? Something about a well in that area, that was what Acolyte Shamus reported. A wellOld script Confusion crept across Wisdoms face. What did he find? Get me the books he was using. I would like to know what the man is up to. Yes goddess. The assistant bowed and departed. - Max sped through the remainder of the history book, and put it down. Huh, Shamus isnt back yet, he thought. Im quite surprised. Over half an hour later, Shamus returned empty handed, Im sorry sir, the information you have requested is in the restricted section and I am unable to retrieve it. With a sigh, Max stood up, Please take me to the head librarian. I guess I will have to deal with them. Yes sir. Shamus smiled, Right this way. Another half hour passed as Shamus took Max to the libraries office and knocked on the open door, Maam? Mr. Smithson is here to see you. Very good Shamus, you may go. The head librarian said, then stood to her full three-and-a-half-foot height, Maxwell! So good to see you again! For his part, Max just stood and stared at the goddess of Wisdom. Now, I know we havent been on the best footing this pastalmost thousand years, but do come in and tell me what is going on. Wisdom said in that kind librarian voice she used on people she actually liked. You do know that I actually like you, right? Max stepped in, sat in the overstuffed chair that appeared for him, and shook his head. I was not aware of that. I dont give books to people I dont like. Especially not ones from my own personal collection. She smiled. It is chock full of recipes that I do enjoy, but I thought you would get better use from it than I ever did. It had belonged to my grandmother, Goddess Serrhen of the Hearth and Home. Max stared at the goddess as she spoke, and could hear the capitals in each word. Ththen thank you for the gift. You are very welcome. Wisdom sat down, Now what has you in such a tizzy? Wishing he had brought his notes, Max recounted his tale, Grendel found some children in a dried out old well in Dragon. The well contained some strange writing, and since I finally had time, I decided to check it out. Abbreviated, but I understand. Wisdom poured two cups of tea from a service that hadnt been there a moment before, and offered one to Max. But why are you in a tizzy? Max distractedly took the cup, The history book I was just reading about the area said the well had been there since before the town was founded, and that it protected the whole area from storms. The well was named The Elemental Well. Wisdom nodded and took a sip of tea, I understand so far, please continue. The partial translation I have been able to complete? Max said, voice containing a slight tremble, They were all warding and binding spells. Wisdom spat out her tea. - Grendel and the well children stood next to the well that had saved them. Do you think we should roll that big rock that used to seal the well back over here? One of the children asked, It and the well are all thats left from He sniffled, From before. Grendel nodded to the child, a boy some two years his younger, We can try. The group trotted off to gather rope to pull the large boulder back to the well. 085 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed VIII Celestial Realm, The Great Library of Wisdom 36th of Anael, the first month of snow. Maxwell sat in Wisdoms office in the Library, sipping at a cup of tea that had gone cold. Across the desk, Wisdom was using an embroidered handkerchief to mop up the tea she had just spat out. Maxwell, dearest, would you be willing to share what you have found with my research staff? Will I get proper credit and recognition for my contributions and effort? Max asked, old college habits coming to the front. Wisdom cocked an eyebrow, I didnt think you had any aspirations towards such recognition. Not usually, but it took just one college paper for me to understand the world of academics. How about third name? Wisdom asked. You found the site and started the process, but you lack theproper training to do much more. I could argue for first, with the threat of destroying my research and the site. Max smiled a toothy smile, But this thing that was contained, I think, is killing people and needs to be stopped. Second name? Wisdom asked. Max nodded, Second is fine. As long as Shamus gets third name. He has helped a lot. A little taken aback, Wisdom raised both eyebrows, then nodded. Done, and done. They shook on it, then headed out into the library proper. - City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia Through the use of several smaller ropes tied together by Grendel, a pair of liberated pry bars, and a borrowed plow horse, the children began to slowly move the capstone boulder the hundred or so yards back to the well. The going was slow, mere inches at a time. Except for one time that they were lucky enough to hit a short slope that propelled the rock almost three feet! Then the adults showed up. At least a dozen of them just appeared from nowhere (at least as far as the kids were concerned). The adults wore a mix of scholarly robes and workmens clothing; the robed ones carried thin boards of wood with papers somehow attached and clutched writing tools, whereas the workmen carried delicate looking tools and implements. They fussed about the top of the well before dropping a new chain ladder, that looked like it had come off of a ship, down the well. Two went down the ladder and began yelling incomprehensible things up to the others. Things like The anticipated effects in the Alluvium, Complete surveyCultural Resources, and others. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Through it all, the children kept moving the rock. Until the adults noticed them. Children, get away from here! This is no place for you to be playing your silly games! One of the robed adults said as he stalked over. You and what army gonna send us off? The youngest child yelled back. Why you little! The man said and raised his fist. Grendel stepped forward and pulled a dagger from his belt and held it at the low ready position, Maybe you should step back, old man, and think it through for a minute? The robed man blanched and took a step back, then he began to yell, GUARDS! GUARDS! Less than a minute later several of the watch arrived and surrounded the children. For his part, Grendel had enough sense to return his dagger to his belt. The apparent head of the group of watchmen, a Corporal Chance, spoke first, What are you children up to? Before the children could speak, the robed man who had yelled for the watch spoke up, I am lead researcher Kobitz, of the Library of Wisdom. These children are intruding on important research, and that little bugger, he pointed to Grendel, drew a knife on me! I was asking the childre Corporal Chance began, and was cut off. I want the whole lot of them arrested! And I want that brat executed! Kobitz screamed as he again gestured to Grendel. Grendels face soured. Listen here you jumped up crab procreator, I have just as much right to be here as you do. And to Defend myself and others from creepy old men like you. Corporal Chance, a look of disgust briefly crossing his face, raised his voice to yelling at recruits level, Both of you! Sit down and shut up! Grendel and Kobitz both dropped to the ground before realizing they had done it. Looking around, Grendel realized that everyone but the other watchmen had as well. His left eye twitched for a moment, then stilled. Now what in the goddesses pretty pink bloomers is going on here. Corporal Chance said, more than asked. First, I get told that I needed to secure an old busted up well due to a scientific inquiry by the goddess of Wisdom. Then I hear the bloody Heretic is in on the action. He paused for a moment to wipe his face. Then I get close and hear a shout for guards. He proceeded to glare at the researcher and the boy. What. Is. Going. On. HERE? Grendel swallowed hard, but was beaten to speech by Kobitz. I was chasing off the riffraff here, he gestured at Grendel and the other children, and that one pulled a knife on me. For no reason. Corporal Chance nodded, then looked to Grendel, Is that right? Up until the knife bit. He threatened to punch the little one when he asked him and what army. Did you pull the knife after that? My Daguardian says I shouldnt talk to cops. Youve been talking just fine so far. Chance stated, voice turned flat. He said self-incrimination is something to avoid. And who is your guardian, go give such instructions? Kobitz interjected. Grendel smiled, Max, I mean, Maxwell Smithson. Married to Lady Brianna Smithson. Kobitz chuckled low and deep, Well, you know your gossip. But everyone knows about them be Just then a breeze played across the area, a breeze that left frost on the ground. And just why is the boy in my care being questioned by the watch? A feminine voice called out from near the well. My husband will be most displeased if something untoward were to happen to him. Grendel jumped to his feet and tried to keep his voice from shaking, MoLady Bri! Dont blame them, he gestured to Chance and Kobitz, There was just a bit of a misunderstanding. Lady Brianna Smithson stood to the side of the well, holding a very large picknick basket in each hand. Then come over here and help your guardian with doling out the food. There is plenty for all. Kobitz, Grendel, and Corporal Chance looked at each other, gulped, and walked to Lady Bri to help hand out the food she had packed. 086 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed IX City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia 36th of Anael, the first month of snow. Afternoon. Lunch had been served, and Lady Brianna had had a nice chat with the children puling the capstone boulder. She praised their ingenuity, and their attention to detail, gave out hugs when needed, and eventually departed. Grendel, Corporal Chance of the city watch, and lead researcher Kobitz of the Library of Wisdom gave a collective sigh of relief. Kobitz turned to Grendel, And you live with that woman? Yup. You have more intestinal fortitude than any man Ive ever met. Kobitz nodded to himself. Wait until you meet her husband. You think shes bad Grendel paused and smiled. Well, no, Bri is the scarier of the two. Max will ruin your life then make you explode. Bri will ruin your life, then make you live with it. All three twitched at the implications of the statement. Corporal Chance cleared his throat, So, Lead Researcher, shall we call off the whole bit about the charges? I thought that would be obvious, but yes, I would like them to never have been made. Kobitz said, mind returning to the present. Young Mr. Repute, why were you and your cohort dragging that rock over here? Oh, you didnt know? Grendel raised an eyebrow, It was the wells capstone. The children, a few paces distant from the three, nodded vigorously, and the eldest spoke up, Ya see mister, grandma said it used to have a big thick rope tied around it, with strips of cloth dangling from the rope. Then some adventurers took the rope. Kobitz froze for a few moments, eyes wide, then took a deep breath before running to the well. Gentlemen! This is a class four hazard! I repeat a Class Four Hazard! The two men down in the well all but threw themselves out of it. Those gathered around the well took several steps back. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Kobitz started to pace, Record Keeper Three! a man stepped forward. Take a statement from the children. Treat this seriously, and write down EVERYTHING. The man nodded, and walked to Grendel and the children and started asking questions that Grendel had to translate. Keepers one and two, return to the library and get the appropriate items for this. Kobitz waived at the well. Workmen five and six, please set up a thirty-foot cordon, you know the procedure. The rest of you, help me get the capstone over to the well. The small crowd broke, everyone to their assigned duties. The children watched in wonder as the people in robes struggled and pulled on the ropes, eventually getting the boulder situated next to the well. Then they went back to telling their new friend everything they could remember about the well. For his part, Grendel felt sorry for the man. Celestial Realm, The Great Library of Wisdom Maxwell and Wisdom met a pair of record keepers [Met may not be the right term, perhaps were run into by] on their way to a supply closet. What is going on? Wisdom asked the two men. Master Kobitz has determined that the well is a class four hazard! Mistress. The slightly older of the two men said. We were sent to gather the appropriate supplies. Wisdom arched an eyebrow, Well then, be about it. And get the good stuff, I dont want to lose the whole team like last time. Last time? Max asked. A cave of darkness just east of the demon lands. Wisdom waived her hand dismissively, The researchers didnt set protections as they were supposed to and died a very painful death. This has happened before? Not like this, no. But we do find a spot or two of trouble every century or so, that the old ones left behind. Wisdom smiled, Thats what Tranquilitys heroes are for. A soft feminine voice came from behind Max, Did someone just take my name in vain? Maxwell spun in place, revolver at the ready, and stood face to face with Tranquility. Tranquility paled, then disappeared. I think you have actually scared her! Wisdom beamed. Well done! Now I believe you need to be heading back to the translation room? Max holstered his revolver, and took a few deep breathes. Yes. I think I do. City of Dragon, former slums, the Well Grendel and the children sat in a semi-circle around the record keeper, and spoke in turn all that they had heard about the well from their parents or grandparents. Grendel kept the children mostly on track, and between stories asked his own questions of the keeper. What kind of benefits do you get? Working for Wisdom, I mean? Grendel asked. Let me see, free medical services, that includes dental health. Room and board. A competitive salary. And most importantly, all the books I could ever want to read! What about vacation time and family? one of the children asked. Thanks to Brother [Redacted], family isnot encouraged. The keeper said with a sigh. Vacation accrues monthly, and is never allowed to be banked for more than five years. Except for that one guybut lets not talk about him and his fishing addiction. Or that stupid bear of his. - In a certain dell, in a certain woods, a certain bear had a sneezing fit, then went back to making tea for a small child who had actually gotten lost in the woods. 087 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed X City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia 36th of Anael, the first month of snow. Nightfall Grendel and the children departed the worksite at dusk, along with the other workers, leaving three new watchmen too look after the well. When they arrived at the tent camp near the beach, Grendel was plucked from the children by Lady Brianna and dragged to their tent to bathe and to dress in respectable clothing to go and meet the city lord. Do I really need to go? Grendel asked from behind the bathing curtain as he scrubbed himself. I dont have anything to contribute to the conversation. You say that almost every time we go to one of these functions. Bri replied, Then you get yourself involved in a political or economic argument with some noble or another and make enough sense that people actually listen to you. Its not my fault they are so stupid. Grendel groused, That also means that they notice me. Thats bad for business. But good for gaining information. If you plan on working your way up in your world, you will need both skills. Maxwell said as he strolled into the tent. Now stop arguing with your mot with Bri and finish up in there. We have to be there soon. - The great hall of the lord was warm and well lit, candelabra, sconces and chandeliers filled with candles everywhere. The tapestries on the walls looked freshly laundered, and the collections of weapons and fishing accoutrement that hung between them looked freshly cleaned and oiled. The smell of fresh fall herbs hung in the air, and Max noticed the diffusers cleverly concealed in alcoves behind the larger display pieces. After taking a long inhalation, Bri said This place smells wonderful! I wonder what the occasion is? I believe it is a charity ball for reconstruction. Max said, still looking at the chandeliers. The lord could sell some of the decorations and make more than enough to repair the city, but I think he wants to get the other nobles and the merchants to assist. A man in court attire stepped towards the three, You are exactly correct, lord Smithson. The man smiled a smile that barely touched his eyes. His lordship decided, after he met with you, that the best way to secure funds was to throw a Charity Ball with a sealed bid auction. The results of which will be announced at the end of the ball. If this is a charity ball, why didnt we have to pay to attend? Grendel asked from behind the man. You move quickly, master Grendel. The man gave another smile. But to answer your question, his lordship considered it, but decided that there were some who should not be required to pay an admission fee. Something about not wanting to cause an incident. Grendel grunted in response. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. But please, allow me to introduce myself, I am Adrian Welsman, the lordsleft hand. Ah. Max smiled. The spymaster, assassin, and general doer of untoward feats. You are correct, as expected of one of yourstation. Adrian said with his first actual smile. I have made it my mission for the last few days to find out as much about you and yours as I could. Did you learn anything interesting? Max asked, returning the smile. Your roots run deep, and while you take absolutely no advantage of it, you have your fingers in so many pies, that it would take me more than a decade of exclusive work to untangle your connections. Did you know that you are now the major stock holder in National Coffee? Really? Max stared into space for a minute. All I did was loan the company some money when I needed coffee delivered to the shop back when I owned the bakery Yes. The Loan. Adrian grimaced. The loan of one hundred Demonian golden heretics; a small fortune then, just as it is now. The loan that enabled the company to monopolize the coffee crop for thirteen years. The loan that established their trade empire. The loan that scared the board enough that they forced the growers, the other importers, and the roasters to conform to a sustainable and fair coffee trade. A standard that continued even in the worst of times. A standard that still exists today. It was just a small loan! Max argued. A small loan for you, yes. For them? For them it was the saving grace of their company. They paid it back in stocks. The loan doesnt exist anymore. Do you have any idea how much those stocks are worth? Adrian asked, rubbing his face. A hundred gold? Fifty-three thousand gold. Each. Adrian answered. You own more than half of the worlds largest trading companies. Huh. Max shrugged his shoulders. For her part, Briannas face went pale. Well, it has been nice to meet you, Mr. Adrian Welsman. I will keep an eye on your advancement. The party walked away from Adrian, who stood stalk still, eyes bulging, and face turned pale. Im doomed. Just like they said. I am doomed. He whispered. Bri looked at Max after a few minutes, Are there any other investments that I should take into account? um I was working as a baker at the time, and had regular access to coin. There was a bottler of beer that I loaned money too. And that wolfman. Oh, the Ratkin took out a loan to buy some new equipment for their sanitation service, they were expanding to the surrounding communities you see, and needed new wagons and such. I dont remember what the wolfman was up to, something about cattle breading? Max shook his head. I have all the paperwork somewhere Is there anything else? Bri arched a well-manicured eyebrow at Max. I dont remember off the top of my head. I was mostly busy making sure the local hoodlums werent causing trouble for the legitimate businesses in town, or the surrounding communities. Max shrugged again. There is a ledger of the loans, and repayments? Bri sighed, and slowly shook her head. Husband dearest, just because its just money to you, doesnt mean it isnt important to the big picture. You do realize that National Coffee has a yearly budget on par to most nations, do you not? they were just a couple of guys trying to make a living selling java juice back then. Ben and James were wonderful guys. Very loving. Maxs eyes lost focus, thinking back. Then there was that brewing machine I helped them invent. Well, by invent, I mean they brought me the idea, and I helped set them up with craftsmen and capital to pay them. The steam from that machine was godly! And what it could do to cream! Truly a work of art. Grendels eyes almost popped from his head, You mean the MX Ex-Press-O machine was your doing? Not really? I just worked on the original design. The crafters did all the fine tuning and manufacturing. Thats why Im not on the patent paperwork. I barely had anything to do with it. Or the semi-automated roaster. Jessi had the idea for preset, but adjustable, settings on the roaster. Much better than my three-position design. I wonder what she did with the rest of her life? Jessi? As in the original owner of J&M Roasters International? Grendel asked. The manufacturer of the finest coffee equipment on the continent, and probably the world? probably? 088 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Big Ship Sailed XI City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia 36th of Anael, the first month of snow. The Ball Maxwell and company circulated through the ball, meeting almost every noble in attendance, then separated to talk more intimately with different groups. Grendel, for his part, stayed quiet as he followed Brianna and took mental notes. Polite hello, small talk, deeper questions with a give and take of information, polite goodbye. Dont actively argue, just a polite comment of differing opinion. Actively listen to what each mark is saying, then repeat with a questioning tone in order to get more clarification and deeper meanings. MoBri is brilliant on so many levels. Im glad Max told me to follow her and pay attention to How she says things as opposed to what shes saying. His musings were interrupted by an older man staring at him expectantly. Um, Im sorry sir, I was lost in thought aboutthe architecture? Architecture. Yes. It is surely grand. The older man quirked an eyebrow. I had asked you to get me a flute of wine, but I see you are much too busy admiring the Architecture of Lady Brianna. Grendels face turned red, and his mouth went dry. Huh? Wait, WHAT!?! He stared at the man. You think I was ogling Lady Bri like she was some sort of STREET TART?!? His face turned a black cherry red as anger started to course through his veins. He reached to his belt and slowly withdrew a pair of soft leather riding gloves, and threw one in the mans face, before saying quite loudly, I believe I will be needing a sword. - Across the ballroom, max heard the word Sword, and looked up from the small plate of cookies he was devouring. He slowly scanned the room until his eyes fell upon a slowly expanding circle that was centered on Grendel and an older man. Shit. - Sir, you have insulted me and profaned my Lady. Grendel growled out. I will not leave this insult unanswered. Arm yourself, cur, or be cut down. He took two steps to the side and yanked an antique sword from the wall. As he pointed the curved blade at his opponent and sighted down its length, the weapon started to glow. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. The man stared at Grendel, then at the sword, then back to Grendel, and fainted. Grendel glanced around at the circle that had formed, Does this man have a second? He growled out. The circle of people, as one, stepped back. - 37th of Anael Grendel made quite the stir last night. Its not every day you see one of the ruling classes felled by an angry youth without a single blow being struck. He has entrenched himself as someone who is not to be trifled with, but the political fallout will cause problems down the road, I am certain. For our part, Bri and I have made a few connections with the upper class, that should help smooth over the reconstruction of the docks. I would include the slums, but aside from the children, there arent any more poor people, and the children have been taken in by more well to do families. I wonder how long it will take for people to realize that they needed the workforce the slums represented as they wont want to do the low class jobs. I can already see the garbage starting to pile up in the alleys. My research, with the assistance of people who are much better than I, has not produced much. The script is of the Elder Gods, and as such translation is slow going. We have translated a binding spell completely, and that is it. Those in the field are constantly bringing back more information to study. Last night four more people died of strangulation. There were no witnesses. The watch has no leads. I have a theory, but it would need tests, and I dont know how to test it without the risk of someone dying 38th of Anael The cruise ship has departed. They have places to go and cargo to transport. We gathered the last of our things, said goodbye to our traveling companions, and had a last supper at the captains table. Two more have died, this time in the more affluent neighborhoods. Still no leads. I need to test my theory. 40th of Anael A book of ancient binding spells. Son of a motherless goat - Maxwell walked into The Library early, well before the staff was even thinking about coffee, and looked at the pile of books. His eye caught on a small volume that had been placed on the direct center of the table. It was new. He stared for a moment, before picking the volume up and flipping through the crisp pages, and his nose smelled the scent of fresh ink and new paper. Then he looked at the words. As his eyes bulged, he screamed at the top of his lungs. A few minutes of deep breathing later, he began writing at a furious pace, while muttering to himself, shit, shit, shit. 089 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well The Library of Wisdom 40th of Anael, the first month of snow. Shit, shit, shit. Maxwell quietly swore as he read through the new book. We are so screwed. Shamus, the library assistant, stepped into the room, Is there a problem Master Smithson? Call me Max, or Maxwell if you must. The honorifics go out the door after a while. Max took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Yes. There is a problem. He pushed the open book over to Shamus, who sat down and took the book. Shamus winced, Well shit. Yup. Any idea what to do? Nope. Maybe we should ask her for help? Probably. Max frowned. I hate to say it, but Im out of my depth at this point. You and me both. Shamus replied with a frown. A short while later the rest of the assistants arrived, and Max briefed them on the new book. Cussing was heard all around the table. - It had been two hours, and Maxwell stood in a new (to him) room in The Library, The Auditorium. He stood on the large, well-lit stage, next to a couple of priests and their assistants. Before him were rows upon rows of seats that stretched up into the darkness of the ceiling. You could fit thousands of people in here! He thought as he went over his notes for the umpteenth time. With god-foolery, probably tens of thousands. I wonder if this is what the Bard of Rio meant when he talked about Stadiums? Wisdom stepped up to him, interrupting his thoughts, Are you ready for your first address? Not my first presentation, but yes, Im as ready as Ill ever be. Max replied, shaking his head slightly. What did Tristan used to say? Ah, Not my first rodeo. Wisdom blinked, What is a Rodeo? No clue. Max shrugged, Something about cattle and horses. I dozed off when he tried to explain it. Huh. How long until we start? The symposium will start when most of the attendees have arrived. I believe that will be in about half an hour. Just what I need, more time to wait. Max took a deep breath and released it, Reminds me of the army. -Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. It took most of an hour for the auditorium to fill, and Max paced behind the stage for the whole time. Finally, after several addresses from other respectable scholars, Max walked quietly out onto the stage. He looked at the wide expanse of filled seats, and the few people standing in the back, and sighed. Alright, most of you know who I am, but for those of you who dont, I am Maxwell Smithson, the Heretic. A mild amount of panic was experienced in several parts of the auditorium, but quieted down fairly quickly. Yes, I know, by reputation I should kill all of you. Im not here for that. Today. Today I am here because something was found in the world below. Something old. Something powerful. Something dangerous. Something the Old Gods left behind and forgot. An Elemental. There were some gasps across the audience, but most looked on, waiting for the big reveal, so Max continued after rolling his eyes, As I believe most of you are aware, Elementals were created by the Old God Gehna, in the dawn of our world. They were hishertheir children; children not involved in the so called Childrens War at the dawning of the age of mortals, and therefore ignored by most. Over the millennia many of Gehnas children have been found wandering the land, or bedded down in their own element. Some have bred themselves down to tiny things, such as the Forge Fire elementals so favored by smiths; while others have grown monstrous in size. But never has one been found that was sealed away by Gehnas own hand. Max looked out over the crowd, trying to sense its sway. On the 24th of Anael, a devastating once in a millennium storm struck the city of Dragon; look in the pamphlet you received at the door for more information on the city and surrounding regions. This storm, plus other proceeding factors, unsealed a series of wards that were placed inside an ancient cistern that Wisdoms scholars date to the era of the Old Gods. Due to countless hours of research, we now know the meaning of the broken wards that were found at the site: Binding. Specifically, the warding and binding of a single Elemental. An Elemental of such power that the spells holding it in place are beyond the power of even the Twelve to reproduce. And that, Ladies, Gentlemen, Both, and Neither, is why we are gathered here this fateful day. We are here to formulate a plan to capture and eliminate an Elemental of such power and force, that even Gehna was afraid of its existence. - City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia 40th of Anael, the first month of snow. Night The world was dark when it oozed from its ancient prison. It made its slow way to the bright lights, and slipped through the miniscule crack under the door of aDwelling? The thoughts were new to it, but it liked the thoughts. It made its way across the stone floor of the dwelling, but found nothing to consume. Slowly, carefully, it slid one tendril and then another up a step, then contracted itself to flow up after. One step at a time. Over and over. It was tired when it made it to the top of the steps, but continued the search for food. Food it found in the closest room. It made its way slowly up a Bed Post and onto the attached bed. It slithered across the sheets, over the face of the food, and ate. When it was done, it moved to the other form in the bed; the wife she was called, it now knew; and ate again. Somewhat sated, the thing allowed itself to drop to the floor and wriggle back out the Bedroom door. Its next meal was just down the hall, a door marked with a colorful sign that read Nursery. - Max watched as panic and fear raced through the audience. Why is it always panic AND fear? Why not one or the other? Do they always have to go hand in tentacle? He thought, shaking his head as the auditorium emptied much more quickly than it had filled. In moments, a mere hundred attendees remained of the more than a thousand who had attended. Max nodded to the remnants that remained, Alright, now that weve thinned the herd, let us adjourn to a more comfortable room for coffee and a more detailed discussion of the facts at hand. A few minutes of walking found the group in an overly large room that was filled with boards of slate, comfortable lounge chairs, couches, tables, and tablets of wax and paper. Piles of pens lay next to ink pots and boxes of colored chalk. As they filed in, a shiny pot in one corner gurgled, emitting the comforting aroma of fresh coffee. Maxwell happily filled a large ceramic mug of the dark nectar, turned to the assembled group, and smiled his best smile. Lets get started. 090 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well II The Celestial realm, Deep inside the Great Library, in a Meeting room 41st of Anael, the first month of snow. Just after Midnight Discussion had dragged on for hours as Maxwell and some dozen lesser and small gods worked deep into the night on ways to find and eliminate, or if needs must recapture the rogue elemental. It would help if we knew what kind of elemental it was. One small god, who was also just small, said in frustration as it paced across the table on stubby legs while sipping coffee from a thimble. If we could determine the type we are dealing with, it would make things easier. Judging by the imprisonment location, I would hazard the guess that it is either air or fire. Another small god replied. Max looked up from yet another research book, Weve been down this road before, Lemon, Greg. The small small god glared at Max, My name is- Lemon. Max stretched. Your given name is three sentences long, and more descriptive than most High Elves names. Fine. Heretic. Lemon declared. I was thinking that making a dedicated finding artifact would work best- We already discussed that as well. A slim, log/rock/vine god said.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Would you all let me finish?!? Please?!? Lemon nearly screamed. I mean, I know Im small, but Im not stupid! The rest of the gods fell silent. Thank you. Lemon sighed. Now, a dedicated finding artifact as they are currently made can only find a single type of item, and elemental is too broad for our purposes. What I was thinking was a compound, sliding scale item similar to the one that Bjorn is testing so he can find his bladed projects in his back shed. The room went quiet. Some of the gods didnt even breathe. Then the uproar started. - City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia It contracted its growing body, retrieving long tentacles of itself from the throats of its food. Hmm. This food had names. Jacob, Penelopy, and Jason. I wonder if I should eat food with names? Doesnt matter, I need to grow. Using newfound strength from the young food, raising the window and oozing down the side of the house was easy. - The Celestial Realm Max and Lemon wandered down the street to Bjorns forge. When they knocked on the door and got no answer, Lemon began to walk away, but Max smiled and pulled the door open, stepping in. Lemon gasped, eyes going wide, Youre just going to break in and steal his item? If you mean The Strategic Transfer of Equipment to Alternate Locals, then yes. Max smiled, If you mean Theft, then no. I leave theft to the governments of the world, as they dont like the competition. Lemon slumped. Fine. Ill stand watch in case anyone decides to be offended. Good. Max meandered into the old forge and began searching for the item in question. Three hours, a face full of coal powder, and a nail in his boot later, Max stumbled out of the forge. I couldnt find it. Lemon looked up from a bench across the street from the forge, Okay. Guess we will have to ask him in the morning. I suggest we head to bed. Max grunted assent, and departed. - It lay in the gutter below the window. I think I need a name. How about Benny? No, doesnt sound right. Walter White? No, that leaves a cloud of something in the air. Frank Castle? No. Kim? Nope. Joseph? No. Karl? No. Hugo? No. Maxwell? No. Hmm I suppose I will find a name somewhere else Brick? Maybe It rolled down the gutter, then across a street and into an unguarded basement. I should decorate this place. A couple of throw pillows, and maybe a news reporter? Whats a news reporter? 091 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well III The Celestial realm, Deep inside the Great Library, in a Meeting room 42nd of Anael, the first month of snow. Bjorn, god of crafting, walked down the halls of the great library. Dwarves do more than just dig holes, you morons. He thought, slipping past a pair of overburdened workers. Now why does Max have an interest in my finding rod? A few more twists and turns and he arrived at the meeting room, room 1134, and entered. Maxwell stood as he entered, Bjorn! Long time, no see. Maybe if you stopped by during the day, instead of night you would see me more often? Bjorn laughed. But seriously, why do you want my finding rod? You know about the elemental in Dragon? Max asked, and Bjorn nodded. We want to use your rod as a prototype for making an adjustable finding artifact tuned to elementals. Hmm. Thats actually a good idea. Bjorn nodded. That said, I assume you didnt think of it? Correct. Maxs brain caught up with his ears. Jerk. Although you are right, Lemon thought it up. He waved in the direction of the small god, who looked up from the book he was standing on while reading it, and waved back. Bjorn nodded to Lemon before turning back to Max, This is only a prototype itself, so I dont know how much help it will be. Just dont break it. Max nodded to his oldest friend. - City of Dagon The watch surrounded the shop which, until last night had contained six people, a husband and wife, and their four children. Its the same as before. A tall, and somewhat rotund watchman said to his short and scrawny compatriot as they watched the higher-ups search the home from top to bottom. Just dead. Choked to death while asleep. The shorter watchman shrugged, Not much we can do. I wont feel bad about Mr. Williams, he was an unpleasant man, caught me looking at a fish wrong an threw me out once. Missis Williams was a sweetheart, going to miss her. Me maw said the kids were little darlings. Going to miss them too. They stared at the once loved home for a while before slowly meandering off to have a smoke out of the wind. - He awoke in the bowels of the city. I am a he! I am Large, strong, and somewhat violent! He smiled to himself. Sure, I sneak around at night like a whatsit, and eat food like a, a, arodent that does such things, but I am still male. Mr. Williams is wrong about that; women arent the only ones who hide in the dark and plot things. Mrs. Williamsshe was tasty. I wonder what fish stew tastes like? Maybe it tastes like her? So many things to eat. The elemental drank in some of the filth around it, consumed what it could, and released what was left over. II dont have to eat the food up there? But they called to me. So much power. So much strength! Maybe I will limit those to once every few darks, that way I dont kill off all of my food supplySounds like a good Idea. He started sucking down the contents of the sewer, until he came to a very plugged section that was over filled with filth. I could live here for a while, plenty of food, blessed dark all the time. He sank off to sleep, constantly filtering out the stuff as he slept.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. - 45th of Anael In the city of Dragon, the watch was on edge, as was the city. No murders had happened the previous three nights, and the waiting was grating on the nerves of all involved. On the afternoon tide, the city was expecting the first of the relief supplies the crown had granted, and the workers were finishing up the last details of the only pier that had survived the storm. Meanwhile a pair of sewer workers were uncorking a long-stuck sewer grate so they could unplug a drain. An action they were soon to regret Not far away in the sewer, He awoke to the sound of splashing coming from down the tunnel he was in. The plug of food had partially disappeared from the wall he rested against, showing the top of some sort of large pipe. Why do I know what a pipe is? How do I know what a pipe is is the better question. I hearfood approaching! Food, on two legs! It is surface food delivering itself to me! YUM! Frank and Mike, Sewer Specialists of the first order (mostly due to their lack of a functioning sense of taste and smell) walked towards where the map told them the fishermans junction into the main sewer line to the ocean was. A junction that was prone to plugging, even though it had been enlarged several times so as not to clog. Short and wide, so much so that he had been confused for a dwarf several times leading him to fastidiously shave twice a day, Mike walked the sacred tunnel whistling. Ya know, Frank, If they had angled this piece of sewer down another two and a half degrees, the water wouldnt back up like this and the Fishermans Junction wouldnt plug up. And you claim not to be a dwarf. Frank replied to his oldest friend. Maybe you shouldnt have gotten that engineering degree? Then people would be less likely to call you a shaved dwarf. Youve met me mom and pa. Mike replied. Not a drop of dwarf in either of them. I dont know what happened. Theyre so tall, people wonder if they have halfling in their blood. Frank shook his head, You were probably switched at birth by the fae. Mike stopped mid stride, and turned to his friend, Dont even joke about those bastards! Do you want to accidentally call the attention of one of them? - Flying lazily in the sun above a certain part of the city of Dragon, Brandywine, pixie of the world extraordinaire, heard a word she immensely disliked: Fae. She chugged her tankard of ale, and dropped to the road, trying to hear more. - He submerged himself in the pool of food, and thought. If I stay down here, I will be able tobut no, I should stay on the ceiling and drop on themIf I hide in the exposed pipe I canI could be a part of the wall The two men walked in, and his plans fell apart, they had lights. Bright beams of light that pierced his dark home, and hurt his senses. The light came fromlanterns. He swam behind them, and out of the beams of light, then stopped as he listened. Frank? Mike called out, as he stood staring at the water that should have been thick with feculence and rotted fish bits. Are you seeing what Im seeing? Frank looked up from where he thought he had seen something swim past his boot, What? Then he looked. The water iswater? What in the sea kings swimmers? Right? Mike asked as he looked around. Somethings even been dissolving the bits at the exit pipe! All we need to do is free up a couple of spots, and the drain will work just fine! He looked on from below the water line. Did they just praise my eating habits? He listened as the two pieces of topside food prattled on. They did! They just did it again! He lay on the bottom and watched the food dig a few spades full of food from the pipe, tossing the food into the water where he lay. They are even giving me food while I wait for them to leave. Such nice foodI guess I will eat them last. Such good food. When Mike and Frank finished unclogging the pipe, a matter of an hour or so, they played their lanterns around the junction for a moment before leaving. Mike spoke as they left the section of sewer, I feel like something was watching us the whole time we were working back there. It didnt feel like rats. Maybe it were the fae? Called in by being mentioned? Frank said, smile on his face. A high-pitched voice came from above the two men, How did you know we could be summoned by saying out name? Frank and Mike ran for the exit. There may or may not have been pee involved in their sudden departure. 092 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well IV 45th of Anael, the first month of snow. City of Dagon Brandywine laughed as she flew from the sewer, did a pair of loop-d-loops, and followed them up with a barrel roll, before settling down on a rooftop near where the sewer workers would eventually climb out. She giggled for a while longer, then quieted down when the workers crawled out from the grate. That was a bit of a lark. Now what should I do? She stared off into the distance, mind whirling. Max is busy working on the finding stick. Brianna is still working on a relief effort for the locally displaced workers, as she calls them, and the boy is off teaching the orphans how to fish - Elsewhere in the city, Grendel sneezed, then looked to the children, Sorry about that. Now when you are trying to cast out, you - In the Great library, Maxwell scratched his nose, and blew it for good measure. - Brandy flew through the city, terrorizing the random cat or dog as opportunity allowed, until she found herself at the old cistern that was the supposed source of the elemental problem. She flew down into its depths, and studied the spell work, shook her head, and flew off to terrorize another pub. - Lady Brianna Smithson sat at a desk in an office, inside of a small rented warehouse, and filled out paperwork. Some of the forms were just blank sheets of paper with a single line of instructions on the top, while others were long forms that asked too many questions about unimportant things. A young woman, Deloris by name, knocked on the office door before poking her head in. Maam? Your eleven oclock has arrived.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Splendid! Bri stood from the desk, And hes even early! She all but ran, as ladies werent supposed to run, down the stairs and into the waiting arms of her husband. Max! Its so good to see you! How is the research? Maxwell hugged his wife, smiling, Were almost done with the prototype. Bjorns work made it a lot earlier, especially when he showed up again with his design notes. The couple walked arm in arm down the road towards a small diner that served a superb fish stew. That is good news. Bri responded, clutching his arm tight. How long do you think it will take to work the problems out? A couple more days at most. Bearing in mind that it may need field adjustments, how long do you think it will take to find and capture, or destroy, the elemental? Say two days to work out all the kinks, then another three days to find the thing, that would be five. Another day or two to trap it, gives us seven. A day or two to dispose of it gives us nine. I think, even with probable need of field adjustments and false starts, we should be done in ten days at most. Good. Good. Bri smiled at her husband. Most of my work has been handed off to my subordinates at this point. I really only have to do some of the smaller tweaks here and there, and fill out the governments stupid extra complex forms. Maxwell shook his head, Bloody idiots and their bloody paperwork. But it makes the government function. Bri replied. Although I swear, if you stole all of its ink, a government would grind to a halt! The couple stepped into the diner and made pleasant conversation over their meal. - Grendel sat on a rock. The rock wasnt particularly comfortable, but it wasnt the sand, and it commanded a good view of where the kids were fishing. The youngest of the three orphans held an oversized rod in his hands, and was trying to cast it out as far as he could, while the other two larger children already had their lines in the water. As the four waited for the fish to bite, Grendel began telling tales of Maxwell the Heretic. He had just finished one about the Max and the Green Man when one of the poles bent. The four of them ran down the beach to the pole, and Grendel pulled. The pole bent almost to the breaking point, but held as the four pulled the line in. When what they had caught was dragged up onto the beach, all four screamed, and ran for the docks. - Max and Bri had just stepped from the diner when they heard the screams of panicked children. Max, reactive as ever, dashed down the street towards the noise, and at a more sedate pace, Bri followed him. When they reached the docks, well, the remnants of the docks anyway, they were almost bowled over by Grendel and his lot. Max! Grendel almost shrieked, We just pulled a body from the water. Then why are you screaming? Max asked, a frown tugging at his lips. Because its the captain of the cruise ship. 093 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well V 45th of Anael, the first month of snow. City of Dragon Maxwells Journal The big ship has sunk. There were almost 100 people on board. Several of them have washed ashore here, and Im sure more cover the shoreline of the local coast. The head priest has been running funerals all afternoon, and into the night. It was a huge blow for all of us to see the captains body, as we had spent so much time with him onboard the ship. Most of the other bodies were identifiable by either face, or clothing worn. Bri did most of the work on that front. On one hand I am glad we stayed behind. On the other, I am devastated that we werent there to help save the ship. Bri may be right that I have a bit of a hero complex after all. I hope we can find a survivor. I want to know what happened. The ship was nearly unsinkable. What could have sank the damn thing? - 46th of Anael The prototype was finished late tonight, and we all went home for a good nights sleep. Most of my team are gods of one sort or another, and it amuses me that they still have to sleep. Albeit some sleep more than others. Tomorrow we will be testing the prototype on randomly summoned elementals. - 47th of Anael Maxwells Journal Today was tough. Lots of tests, lots of feelings around how much time the tests were taking. We were all frustrated by the time things are taking. I think Lemon had another good idea; we will be trying it in the morning. - Maxwell awoke from a deep sleep, and crawled from the warm covers. The chilly morning air woke him all the way up, and he hurriedly dressed and went to the kitchen for coffee and breakfast. Food and drink taken care of, he jogged to the church and entered the great library. Entering the conference room turned magical laboratory, he smelled the wonderful aroma of coffee once again.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Glad someone already brewed some. Max said, walking to the table where the brewing machine sat next to a tray of morning pastries. He poured himself a mug of the dark liquid, and grabbed a pastry at random, then turned to survey the room. Half asleep with a thimble of coffee in hand, Lemon sat cross-legged on the main table mumbling to himself. Once he became aware of Maxs attention, he took a large swallow of the brew and yawned. Im glad you introduced me to this stuff. He waived at the coffee machine. It really helps in the mornings. It truly is the nectar of themorning, isnt it? Max responded, a slight smile playing across his lips. Why are you here so early? I never actually left last night. I was worried about a couple of the calculations, and ended up re-running them until I passed out. The small small god answered, then yawned deeply. At least I didnt come up with a different result. The pair continued to chat while the rest of the crew slowly filed in. When everyone had a coffee and snack, but before they could become sidetracked by other conversations, Max started the meeting, Im glad everyone could make it today! Like we were going to miss the test. Someone in the back said a bit too loud. Thats the kind of enthusiasm that I like to hear! Max smiled. The plan for today, unless anyone has an actual objection, it to start with a basic function test. After that is complete, we break for lunch. NOT a liquid lunch this time. Several people laughed. After lunch, we start with the half variants. If there is time afterwards, we will start work on the Other category of elementals that dont match the basic types. Max paused for a moment. Any questions? What is the flight speed of anOuch! A voice from the back started, only to be shut down by an elbow from a neighbor. Which elemental system are we using? The four, five or six? Lemon asked from the table. We will start with the four system, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. Then add Metal and Wood from the Five Elements. Max replied. If we have time before lunch, we will add Darkness and Light, not that Ive ever seen either, or know how to summon an elemental of either type. He looked around the group, Do any of you know how to summon one? No one replied. Max frowned, In that case, we will ignore them. We will also ignore Good and Evil as neither have a summonable form. And no, angels and demons dont count. A hand in the back that had started to raise, dropped. Any other questions? No? Good. Lets go. The tests of the six elementals went smoothly, even if it took around an hour for each test, with multiple summons by multiple people, at different locations and at the same and different times. Lunch was had, and work was resumed. Activating and dialing in the half and half or mixed elementals took much longer, and was put off for the next day part way through the first test: Earth. Lemon sighed, There are 30 combinations to go through. At an hour each, thats 30 hours for a full test. Max shrugged, What else can we do? We summon 30 elementals at the same time, and seek them out with the rod. Lemon stretched. It isnt a thorough as a full test, but it makes sure it works, and time is of the essence. As long as the summoner isnt a jerk, it should only take a couple of hours to complete. Max cocked his head to the left, thinking. I think we can do that. Its not like we wont be doing the same thing when we go looking for the one in Dragon. 094 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well VI 48th of Anael, the first month of snow. Maxwells Journal Brianna was right. I should have listened to her council this morning. Ouch. The Celestial Library The day dawned bright and early, Max had breakfast with Bri, told her his plans for the day, and she shook her head. Bless your heart my love. I think thats an unwise choice, but I wont try and stop you. Arriving at the workshop in the library, Max made coffee and waited for the others to arrive. Everyone was assembled by seven, handed their summoning assignments, and sent forth. Then the trouble began. Alright Lemon, Ive picked up a Mud elementalI mean earth/water elemental. Max announced. Distance is 200m. What does the m stand for, anyway? Why isnt it in inches? M is for Meters. It is a measurement based on the size of our world. Lemon replied, clinging to Maxs backpack. It is much more accurate than inches and feet. Well, its never going to catch on. Max grunted. Next youre going to tell me that youve got a new system of weights that people are going to have to learn how to use.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Lemon smiled a devilish little smile, Well actually, yes. Marquee Measures, god of measurements, has come across something called a stone. Just then an electrically charged ball of water dropped from the ceiling, splashing Max with water and electricity. Damn it! Why did we summon ALL of the elementals at the same time? Max yelled. Lemon, now hiding under the top flap of the bag, yelled back, Because we were in a rush, and not thinking clearly! Max sighed, shaking his head, I should have listened to Bri. - Max and Lemon stared at each other over their respective glasses of whiskey. Lets never do that again. Max said, taking a swallow of the dark amber liquid. Lemon nodded, taking his own swig of liquor. And lets never speak of this again. Max nodded in response. The pair stayed up late drinking. - 49th of Anael, We have a range of about 218 yards on our stick of elemental detection. We get distance and direction from the stick, but thats about it. We need a generic elemental detection device too, otherwise we will be walking around flipping through some thirty choices at random. Gah! This is annoying! At least at this point I can do the detection enchantment myself. I am already tired of working on this project. If I was just working by myself or just one or two other people, that would be fine. Working with and managing a dozen people? Nope. Especially not gods. Never again. Herding cats is easier. 50th of Anael, Basic detection charm is complete. Anything elemental will trigger the alarm if Im within 200 yards. Im going to start tomorrow with a street-by-street search. The Research and Development team for the stick has been compensated, called a success, and disbanded. Research on the cistern/well (turns out it acted as both, apparently) is ongoing. The individuals working the well are currently working on figuring out what the rope was that was around the top, and what properties it held. I wish them luck. We have found out Bri found out what happened to the ship. It was caught in a gigantic whirlpool a hundred or so miles off shore. At least according to Madam Beatrix, the local soothsayer. My heart grieves for the lost. 095 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well VII 50th of Anael, the first month of snow. Maxwells Journal With the massive undertaking done, I have moved into a small shop to work on my own. I have dragged Grendel into helping me as a gopher. He should do well in this post. Today I start on a device that detects AND automatically identifies elemental types. Of course, it will only show main and sub type, no tertiary, but that should be fine for 99% of elementals. If only we could find out the exact types we are looking for from that damned well. We know we have Water, Earth, Fire, and Lightning. But the workings arent differentiated between Protection/Containment/Empowerment in the wells enchantment. Even the book doesnt say anything about it. I will have to talk to the excavation crew about it. See what they have deciphered of the layout of the spell itself. The spell is a curving twisting thing that rebounds over itself often. I think its more god absurdity. I hate the gods just a bit more on days like this, even if I am one of them now. - The Celestial Realm, Wisdom! I cant believe you let Him into the realm! Tranquility raved, standing in the librarys atrium. Here, in this place, He could kill us all! Wisdom rolled her eyes, And that is exactly WHY I didnt tell him we were in the Celestial Realm, And why I made it so difficult for him to find his way out from the stacks. I didnt want him to be tempted to take the tour. She took a deep breath, and released it. A tour he is entitled to, by the ancient laws. Tranquility paused, UmLets not let that slip, shall we?Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. I think we will keep the required tour to ourselves. Wisdom nodded. Could you imagine him walking around, shaking hands with all the lesser and small gods? His mortal form soaking up all that power? Tranquility shuddered. - 53rd of Anael Maxwells Journal Grendel had an excellent insight. We will be looking into it on the morrow. - Max and Grendel prowled the streets, elemental wand MKII in hand. Thus far they had found and identified three fire elementals being used to warm homes, and a water elemental purifying liquids in the lords kitchen. After two more streets of searching, night was full upon them, and they retreated to home. Is the range too short? Grendel asked as they stepped into the main room. No, the range is fine. Max responded. The lockout for previously identified elementals is working too. I just think we havent found our suspect yet. They sat at the table, and Max began cleaning the wand. Grendel, face deep in concentration, eventually spoke a new question, Do you think it was the elemental we are looking for that was killing those people? Max stopped mid polish and stared at Grendel. Oxbows arse! I think youre onto something boy! - 54th of Aneal Max and Grendel started the day at the first murder scene. Use of an elemental tracing spell was inconclusive, so they moved on. On the fourth scene, the spell was successful. Kind of. There had been an elemental at the scene, but no conclusive evidence. Maybe we should look at the corpses? Grendel asked as the pair stood outside the victims home. Max nodded, It would be nice, but they burn the dead here. Grendel frowned, We have two more places on our list. Lunch first? Lunch first. A lunch of hot roasted pork on thick crusty bread with a side of mashed tubers and the whole plate slathered in a delicious gravy later, the pair stepped back out onto the street. It had started snowing. I hate snow. Grendel groused. Could be worse. Max said. Could be a freezing rain in the mountains while fighting an angry dragon. Grendels eyes grew wide, Seriously? Yup. Damn. They were about halfway to their next destination when Grendel stopped. Hey, Why not have the wand on while we walk. Two birds, one stone and all that? Max nodded, and muttered the activation phrase. The wand vibrated, lit up, and pointed straight down. Grendel and Max cocked an eyebrow, and said at the same time, Thats new. 096 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well VIII 54th of Aneal Maxwell and Grendel stared at the wand as the literal magic smoke began to come out. Max almost shouted the command word for stop, and the wand fell dead in his hand. So, theres something in the sewer? Grendel asked, eyes still on the wand. Max mumbled a string of curses, then replied, Apparently, yes. Is the wand actually broke? I hope not. The pair silently walked back to the shop. - 55th of Aneal, Finally made a new wand. And gave a lesson to Grendel. Boy needs to grow up a bit, but he also needs to live the life of a kid for a while longer. - It had taken three shops and 18 hours, but finally, as the last rays of the sun trickled in through the window, Max looked down at the new and improved elemental identification wand. I sure hope this thing works the way I want it too. Grendel, sitting on a stool just out of arms length, replied, Me too. That was an expensive set of ingredients. He let out a long sigh. You should have let me flinch those from the merchant. He was overcharging us. Max narrowed his eyes as he slowly spun towards Grendel, What have I told you about stealing? Only steal from the rich, then give most of it to the poor? Exactly. That merchant had the most run-down shop Ive seen for years. Max inhaled deeply, then let it out slowly, We were some of his first customers in weeks, and I can handle a little price gouging. See! I knew you knew he was gouging us! And what do you do when a rich man walks into your shop? I take him for every last Fine. Good for the goose, good for the gander, and all that. Grendel muttered. Good. Max smiled. Especially when you are tired, poor, and havent eaten for a few days. I get it, I get it. Good, now take some of your moth- Bris stew over to his shop and leave it on his doorstep.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Fine. Grendel departed. - 56th of Aneal, The midwinter festival took up all of today. It was very subdued what with all that has been going on of late. There is some good news, no new murders and people were at least thinking about the coming spring. 1st or Arah, Second month of Winter, Part One of Maxwells entry for the day. I spoke too soon. A man was found dead this morning, near a sewer entrance. No marks on the body, asphyxiation. We started looking for the culprit there. - Max and Grendel stood at the entrance to the sewer. It was a simple grate on the side of the street, a simple lock keeping it closed. The watch having already moved on, Grendel made short work of it, and they climbed down into the darkness. Why do sewers always have to stink. Grendel said, more than asked. Well, you see- It was a rhetorical question, old man. Grendel snapped. I see you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Grendel sighed, Sorry. I kept having strange dreams about kittens in armor last night. I almost woke up screaming a couple of times. That sounds abysmal. It was. Max activated the new wand, and the pair wandered in companionable silence for a while. The sewer was laid out in a fairly straightforward manner. Long tunnels under the main streets, and smaller ones under the lesser streets. Except for the for the slums, the entire town had sewer service. They walked, the occasional splash of rats, or steady drip of sewage the only sounds. After most of an hour, the wand began to tug, and its dials spin. Took it long enough. It would seem that the stone is blocking the magic to an extent. Max said, breaking the silence. Are we going to surface at the next grate, then another after that? Grendel asked. Use that triangle method you were talking about yesterday? Max smiled, So you were listening, not just drinking your pilfered goods. I paid for that bottle. Grendel growled. Well...I paid in a bruise on my butt, anyway. Max sighed at him, then turned away. You have money now. Some of it you actually earned. You should spend it. He wasnt going to sell it to me. Grendel griped as they climbed up the next ladder. I did leave the price on the counter before I took off running. Max nodded his approval, Thats better. He brought up the wand, and slowly spun until he found the greatest pull. Looks like South-by-South East. He noted their location and direction on a small pad of paper, then they dropped back into the sewer. Why arent we doing this from above ground? Grendel asked. Partly to test the wand, and partly to get the lay of the sewer. Was Maxs quick response. I didnt want to come down and find the signal completely blocked by the stones, and I didnt want to get down here and find giant rats or worse living here when we had a time crunch. Grendel nodded. Several minutes of travel to the West later, they climbed up another ladder, and took a reading. South East by East. Lets go home and get cleaned up. Then we can pull out a map and get a good fix on this things location. - A good cleaning (because neither wanted to brave Bris wrath), A hearty lunch of a creamy fish stew with bacon alongside a loaf of bread, and a good look at a map later, the pair headed to the point where the lines had crossed. The route they followed ended in a back alley, just above what the sewer map had called Johnsons Hole. There was no ladder that led into the hole, so they had to backtrack a ways to find an entrance. Once down the pair slowly followed the wand towards the hole. As they crept closer, Grendel pulled a knife with deeply inlaid runes from his belt, and Max, holding the wand in his left hand, placed his right on the hilt of his short sword. They entered the Hole. 097 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – The Thing in the Well IX 097 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II C The Thing in the Well IX 1st or Arah, Second month of Winter, Gods buggered elemental. That bloody well hurt! At least Grendel lived. - Johnsons Hole was a large gray bricked chamber where the flow of several alley sewers dumped into the main sewer. Then the main sewer, for some unholy reason, constricted to a third of its previous size, creating regular massive backups. At least the hole was large enough to contain most of the backups. Maxwell and Grendel stood in the main sewer entrance to the Hole, and stared. What should have been a backed-up pile of effluent, was a pool of water as pristine as a mountain stream. The air even smelled sweet. Eyes wide, the pair looked at each other, then back at the pool. After a few moments Grendel let out, What in the idiots pink panties? - In the celestial realm, lying on her very comfortable fainting couch, the goddess of Tranquility sneezed. - I have no idea. Max said quietly as he held up the wand. The wand was still showing Water and Earth elements, but when Max opened his hand, palm up, it began to spin, pointing at everything. Grendel glanced worriedly at the wand, Does that mean the thing is all around us? I hope it means the elemental is too near to point to directly. Max whispered. The water before them erupted as a lance of greyish matter stabbed up and pierced Maxwells stomach. Max screamed as several dozen spikes tore out of his abdomen. Grendel fell backward, trying not to vomit, as the scene unfolded. For his part, Max twitched and died.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Grendel scooted back from the spikes, and slowly regained his feet. You shouldnt have done that. A faint voice replied from the far end of the hole, Why not. Food is food. This one is strong food. Once it drains its life into my pool, I will eat. As the thing spoke, its spikes retracted into the water. Grendel took a deep breath, Because all you did was piss him off. Knee deep in water, Max stood, face an ugly red, and screamed. You stupid, gods buggered, piece of sewer trash! Then the Hole turned white. A sustained blast of superheated air blew Grendel backwards into a wall, He felt overwhelming pain for a moment as his nerve endings cooked, then blessedly passed out. When he awoke, crumpled on the floor, a slightly singed Max stood over him. Im glad youre alive son. Max let out a long-held breath. Bri would have killed me if I didnt bring you back alive. Grendel looked up at Max, and stared through freshly regrown eyes, What was that? Max grimaced, Just that Bri would kill me if I didnt bring you back alive. He looked down, and under his breath added, son. Eventually Grendel got to his feet and was wrapped in Maxs cloak. Did its core survive? He asked. Well, I got this small cracked piece of kind of glass, but thats it. Max said. I think thats it. Grendel made a wan smile, Then lets head home. Dad. Shut up. Son. - It stared out the fractured face of its condensed essence, and screamed. Then screamed again for good measure. What had happened? Food had come. Strong food. It had killed food. Then food had killed it! What? That defied the natural order of things! Food no kill! Its consciousness sank to the middle of the cracked ball of condensed essence, and drifted into oblivion. - Elsewhere, around the same time. The dark oozed through micro-fissures in the stone of the world. It wiggled and crawled. It started with pride at the crystal filled caverns, unblemished by mortal eyes. On three different occasions it came across mines that were too deep, made by dwarves. It shook itself in the depths of them, and caused their collapse, sometimes causing the mine to collapse all the way to the surface. It did not care. It followed the sense of her. The essence it wanted. Needed. West, as the mortals called it, West it went. Need and longing occasionally overcoming it. In those occasions it dove deep. Deep into the warmth of the worlds embrace. Then up to cool itself. Quenched, it continued its unrelenting journey. Once there was a cavern, into which a small slice of light had made its way. The light glittered through countless natural prisms of crystal. It was blinding, but mesmerizing. It stayed there for a time, until finally moving on to the West. Another interesting cavern was found, one with the skeletal remains of long bodied mortals. They were still dressed, as though they were just taking a nap. It passed through without a trace. It thought on that cavern for a while, before remembering the things. Things that had been cast aside by that old god, things that the old one had decided to destroy. It put the affair aside, and continued its journey.