“You can’t quit!” General Pol stammered chasing My-re across the Broken Sword Tavern.
“This isn’t up for debate. This is for notification purposes only,” My-re replied and continued walking.
“The bi-weekly arena fights are ending. This is the busiest night of the week,” Pol added. “You can’t leave me empty-handed.”
My-re glanced around the sparsely occupied tavern and noticed Anusha of the Skull Squadron stable sitting nearby. “Hey, do you want a job?”
“Sure, I’d rather be surrounded by Lord Protectors at night, especially with a vampire roaming around looking for its next meal,” Anusha replied. “Did you hear, Lara Croff of the Dead Legends stable killed Deuce Wigalo of the Deceivers the previous turn? That’s how it starts!”
Pol scoffed then grilled, “What about her training?”
“Anusha, can you listen and remember what customers order and give it to Pol?”
“Yes, and I can even write it down.”
“See, she’s a better employee than me already,” My-re said.
The Shagornan elf, Vomarian Fae and captain of the Unsinkable III entered the tavern with a wide grin at seeing her. His step quickened as he approached, “My-re, we are ready-“
Interrupting, My-re said, “No, we are not.”
“No?”
“Nope. There are a few things I need. Who is the best smith on the Isle of the Eye?” My-re asked.
“I think I know someone,” Vomarian Fae said running his hand through his long, black hair. “Why?”
* * *
My-re heard the chorus of metal-striking metal long before the workshop came into view.
A rectangular sign hung over the opening read, Kildo Hammerhand’s Forge. The air around the shop wavered visible from the heat. Four dwarven apprentice youths hovered around an over-sized anvil. Despite the heat, each wore padded clothing with a leather apron across the front and bulky padded gloves reaching to their forearms. Two held massive, long tongs, holding a large sheet of thick, red-hot metal, while the remaining two pounded on the material with hand-hammers. The smithies arm and leg muscles taunt and bulging as they battled against the stubborn metal. As they drummed, the tong holders twisted the piece, which rapidly resembled the shape of an armored breastplate.
A might roar rolled over the hammer’s din. “Quicker lads! There be no reheating it and that metal be cooling off faster than a dwarven gala where the ale be running dry!”
A dwarf, almost wider than he was tall, emerged wearing thick leather with a dingy apron. A massive tomb holding several hundred paged were locked together and hung from his back. He sported a fire read beard braided in three thick strands. The outer two were longer than the middle with brass clasps holding the weaves in place. The sides of his head was shaven with blue tattoos around his eyes and forehead. His muscles radiated power with every step and My-re was surprised he didn’t leave indentions in the dirt as he strode towards the four youths.
The two with hammers drummed the metal one after the other in a rhythm holding music of its own. The lead dwarf folded his arms across his thick chest and grunted with satisfaction. “Almost done. Get the bucket lads. It’s going for a swim.”
“Master Ironworker, the right corner is starting to warp.”
“Is it now?” the dwarf said and then motioned them away. “On second thought get the big bucket.”
The two hammers disengaged, as the lead dwarf grabbed a nearby sledgehammer, which most men could only hope to wield with both hands. The two remaining smithies held the tongs, cringed in anticipation, and enhanced their grip. The dwarf raised the hammer and it came down ‘whooshing’. The impact seemed to cause the entire area to jump, while the dwarf remained stationary. A second strike caused a similar effect. Snorting in satisfaction at the shape of the breastplate’s right corner, he dropped the hammer. The tong bearers relaxed their grip.
The former hammers returned with two buckets sloshing with water.
The dwarf roared, “Are ye daft? I told ya ye’d need the big bucket!”
“Sir, it seems a cinder burned a hole through it. Water is everywhere.”
“To the nine hells! It must be those fairies again,” the dwarf said, then looked up and grumbled under his breath. “Speaking of fairies.”
“Kildo Hammerhand, I see you’re still beating your own metal, Vomarian Fae snorted.
Kildo asked with eagerness, “Are ye coming to pay off yer debt?” He then looked around Fae to My-re. His face soured. “Or are ye coming to add another?”
Realizing these two had a history, My-re stepped forward and said, “They say you’re they best smith on the Isle of the Eye.”
“They be right.”
“Then I’m in the right place. I need something that can resist fire,” My-re said then added, “A lot of fire.”
“There be different kinds of fire lass. Are ye talking torch fire, wildfire-“
“Dragon fire,” My-re said interrupting.
The pounding in the forge stopped as the four dwarven youths, as well as Kildo regarded her. Scratching his beard, Kildo said, “Ye’d be unlucky enough indeed if ye be messing with dragon fire.”
“Luck favors the prepared,” My-re said.
Grunting in agreement, Kildo asked, “Can ye pay?”
My-re opened a small pouch filled with perfectly cut gemstones. Kildo’s eyes, as well as Vomarian’s, lit up in wonder.
Snorting in amusement, Kildo turned and walked deep into his workshop. They could hear him rummaging in the back. Metal clanged against one another and a few curse words were heard after a loud ‘bang!’ A few minutes later, Kildo re-emerged with what appeared to be a rectangular, gladiator large shield that would cover half of a person’s body. The outside was covered with what appeared to be dense leather or hide of some animal. The metal was several times thicker and it had a curved dome extension at the top, which would cover the users head. Slamming it into the ground, it made a large indention and its massive weight kept it in place. Kildo motioned My-re towards the large shield and smiled with enjoyment.
“It’s me own invention.”
Reinforced leather straps with thick cloth padding and more leather lining were bolted into the inner shield’s frame for the user. Putting an arm through, My-re lifted it. The weight was substantial and she wouldn’t be surprised if it weighted over thirty pounds.
“What is this leather on the outside? Is it actual dragon hide?”
“Nah, it be mere-dragon.”
“This will resist dragon fire?”
“Aye.”
Dropping the shield’s bottom back into the indention on the ground, My-re exhaled and asked, “It’s so heavy. You expect me to carry one of these things?”
“No, lass. I expect ye to carry two.”