Open for Business

[Chey]

Incredulously, Chey turned towards the man.

"An' why the 'ell woul' I be riskin' me ole' bones fer you? It be true, I once was a fighter of some repute, served in tha kinslayer wars. But I left tha path o' violence a long time ago, stranger, I be an aging blacksmith, not a young adventurer."

--The need must be great, for him to come to me like this.--

"I dinnae even know yer name, much less what ye be carrying on about. Ye might want ta be giving me some facts afore ye ask me to go get myself killed for ye."

[HoudiniDerek]

Kerodi shook his sadly as moisture glistened in his eyes. "My friend, you can never leave violence behind. It follows you everywhere, even if not meant for you." Although he was speaking of his own past, he was certain that this dwarf could feel the universal import of his words.

Straightening and banishing the tears, Kerodi said, "My name I will hold in reserve for now, but I will tell you of my need. I need an army, not just one man, to fight an ever-increasing evil in the heart of Valear. If this evil goes unchecked, it will continue until it devours us all. In that army, I need the best fighters, blacksmiths, magic workers, etc. This army has to be composed of those that know the need and will use their talents for it."

He paused as if in thought before continuining. "I started with the blacksmiths of Valear as their job will be the most time consuming at first, but by no means the most dangerous. An army cannot fight if not well-equipped, as I am sure you know. And while you claim that there is no violence that you support, you in fact, support all violence. You make the instruments of violence, so you help to spur its ongoing nature."

Kerodi stopped as he saw the color rising to the dwarf's face. "This is not an insult, my good dwarf, but an observation again about how violence is never long separate from any being on this earth. I am here to ask you to help me save it from destruction. Can you turn your back on the entire population of Valear?"

[Chey]

"Ye be full of it. Ye give me no specifics, none at all. Ye shoul' know a soldier, as well as a blacksmith, needs specifics. 'Oo do we fight, an' why? Ye coul' be enlisting me ta fight against me kin. I have no faith in ye, ye will na' even give me yer name."

Chey turned his back again, turned to the weapon he was lovingly crafting. He ran his thumb along the blade, not yet sharpened, felt the life within the metal, the need to kill, the bloodlust. The blade wanted action, all his weapons did. He made sure of it.

"Ye be righ' though, violence does not leave ye, ever. An' with that, I suggest ye either lose the cloak of lies ye surround yerself with, or leave me shop, 'afore ye learn what violence remains in me ol' bones."

[HoudiniDerek]

Kerodi shook his head in regret that some people were too stupid or too stubborn to understand basic needs. Fight his own kin? Why would he need a dwarf when there were old enemies like the elves to do that?

"Sir, I think you are being obtuse for no reason. What need do I have for you to fight among your fellow dwarves? I could get others to do that. In fact, I could fight them myself if I was of the mind. Dwarves are not impervious, you know."

Kerodi rounded the counter and stood next to the little man, towering over him and casting him in shadow. "I do not waste my time with peons or peasants unless they show promise. You do show promise and you can help the people of Valear...and believe what you will, that includes the dwarves. I have been amassing those willing for years now and you are one of the last I have come too."

Kerodi made sure that the eyes of the other were on him before continuing. "You know best what an army needs to survive in weapons and armor. I cannot give you the specific amounts nor will I until you agree to this venture. When you do, the others will arrive and begin to tell you what they need. Your business will increase for that alone."

"As for my name, does it matter? Like your business, it should be known that I come in peace and to help, regardless of my name. So shall we continue to be hypocritical towards each other or try to work together? The reason I amass the army my friend is because a new danger has been building in the Selkia...and starting to spread to the desert."

Kerodi paused, letting the suspense build and then asked a simple question: "Have you heard of Gnorcs?"

[Chey]

Chey tuned the man's drivel out. He was obviously not going to let any information slip.

"Now, I be sayin' this one time more, an' only one time more. Get tha hell out o' me shop afore I ha'e ta bring violence upon ye."

Chey walked calmy towards the back of the shop and took a battleaxe off the wall, wrapping callpused fingers around a polished wooden handle.

"Ye ha'e two choices as I see it, lad. Ye can leave intact, or in pieces. Make yer choice. I not be fightin' a war I know nothing about fer a man who cannot gi'e me somehtin' as simple as a name."

"Have you heard of Gnorcs?"

--Gnorcs? Bloody hell?--

"Can't say that I ha'e, an' can't say that I care what the hell a gnorc is. If ye ask me, it sounds like a gnome-orc or gnoll-orc breed. I care why? There be plenty o' younger fighters ta go die in an act o' glory. This dwarf does not figh' fer no nameless, faceless commander. I ask yer name, once more, afore I dismiss ye from me shop, permenantly."

Chey swung the axe around a few times, testing the balance and weight while loosening up his old joints.

[HoudiniDerek]

Kerodi listened to the pompous dwarf and saw him foolishly caress an axe. Yes, because that will stop me, Kerodi thought.

"I fail to see why a name is so important, but I will tell you this: If that is the least of the things you do not understand in the days ahead, you are a lucky man. I can see you do not wish to save Valear from the Gnorcs. That is your choice."

Kerodi walked from behind the counter and stopped at the door of the shop and looked back. "I want you to remember this day, dwarf," Kerodi spat. "When all the dwarves of Valear are dead and you are fending the Gnorcs off by yourself, remember that you had a choice to help the people of the world...and chose not too."

Kerodi opened the door and stepped out, but before leaving entirely. "And when those that you once knew are recruited into the Gnorc army, you remember the time that you fought your father...and remember that you had a chance to stop it too for yourself and others."

With that, Kerodi gently closed the door and started to walk towards a nearby pub. Sadly, he shook his head. If only age did not cause so much stubborness in the leaders of yesterday, Kerodi sighed inwardly. He went into a pub whose name he did not read and ordered a mug of ale. Maybe he would try again on the morrow...if there was still time.

[Chey]

Chey was shocked, and followed the strange man.

--How does he know about my father? Hes too tall to be either a dwarf or a gnome.--

Chey tracked the man to a pub, watched him order an ale, and sit down. Chey slowly approached the bar, sat 3 stools away from the man, and ordered himself a mulled wine. When his drink arrived, Chey took it all down in one long swig, then turned to the stranger, a bit of menace in his voice.

"I dinnae know 'oo ye are, or what ye be. But I do know ye know too much. 'Ow did ye know about me father?"

Chey stroked his beard, simmering down.

"Me past is personal, an' not a soul knows it. 'Ow in the bloody 'ell do you?"

Chey turned to the bartender and nodded to keep the drinks coming.

[HoudiniDerek]

Kerodi sipped his ale and turned to find the dwarf next to him. He listened to the dwarf ask about how Kerodi knew of his past and thought before answering him.

"I know much of you, Chey," Kerodi said, using his name to help soothe some of the earlier tension that they both were allowing to simmer now that the confrontation was past.

"I have lived in the Ularian for most of my life," Kerodi continued after a swig of his ale. "I have traveled the length and breadth of Valear though. Several years ago I came to the battle site of the undead of the kinslayer wars. I was able to go into their midst and study with them on the magic that they enlist to make their creatures."

Kerodi took another swig and set his mug down. "How did I do this? Simple. I disguised myself as one of the mages of old...one of the gods they worship and presented myself to them, telling them that they must teach me their trade as if I was a beginner. The gnomes have always been superstitious and they believed me. I learned from them. I read their ancient logs...I came across the kinslayer entries...one of them was your father, Chey."

Kerodi stared off into space for a minute, remembering the scene where he had MET Chey's father, but could not bring him to relate all of it. "I wish I could tell you that there was a way to reclaim your father, who is still alive thanks to the magic that claimed him, but there is not. He, and the others are lost. How do I know about you? I managed to read the mind of your father, who is still lucid and disgusted with his life. He told me of you and the last moment between the two of you."

Kerodi drained his mug and set it aside. "He told me that I must let you know that he was dead...and dead he is, for he can never return. He begged me to kill him, knowing I could not do so and survive myself. He is still alive in the far reaches of the world, waiting for the time when the army can come forth."

Kerodi faced Chey for the first time. "My need of you is not for that, although it might become part of it the longer we wait. Your father communicated your skill, but I had not found you. When I did, I expected you to jump at the chance...but reflection has helped me to realize that you have lost much in the world...as I have. I know you are right to question me, but at the same time, it does not hurt you to listen to what is happening."

"You know what a Gnorc is: A cross between the worst parts of a gnome and an Orc. There have been rumored reports of breeding for years...and now, a new rumor. They are amassing to take over Valear. My worry, and this is where your pride should come in, is that the Gnorcs will defeat the gnomes, the first on their list, and take over their labs of the dead. Then, you WOULD fight against your father again and anyone else the Gnorcs defeated. I did not speak lightly then, nor do I now. I need your help...and others like you. Can you give your support?"

[Chey]

A tired look crept across Chey's eyes. He could feel the bite of duty clawing at the back of his mind. A warrior was bred to fight, and being the son of a warlord, Chey had been born with an axe in his hands.

Chey turned towards the stranger.

"Ye dinnae ha'e me convinced, stranger. I will be travellin' wit' ye, fightin' by yer side, forgin' yer weapons. But not because I be trustin' ye, but because I dinnae trust ye. I dinae like that ye know o' me father. Ye speak o' ill bodings, stranger. War is not somethin' ta be speakin' lightly of, I ha'e fought in me fair share."

Chey turned to the bar and grabbed his freshly delivered ale, tipping his head back and allowing the sweet liquid to run down his throat. Downing it in one go, Chey slammed the mug down on the bar and turned back towards the stanger.

"Where we be headed, an' when? I be needin' a bit o' time ta be gettin' me things together. Me tools, weapons, a horse an' provisions."

[HoudiniDerek]

Kerodi watched as the dwarf drained his ale. He knew that the dwarf did not trust him completely, nor should he, as Kerodi had not told him everything. He had told him what concerned the dwarf and left the rest for another time. At least he had agreed to be a part of the venture, which was the important part.

"You will not need to do anything for some time, Chey," Kerodi said. "The others are on their way here and will keep you busy for the next month, making weapons and armor for all. I will return one month from today with where we are going and how long I expect to be gone. It would be best if you had your things in order by then. We will probably be gone at least a year."

Kerodi stood, laid a coin, on the counter, and faced the dwarf once more. "Each person will pay you for the service you rendered to them. You will know them by the way they react to you...they are of all the nations, so do not be anxious. We need all the help we can get. They will tell you that they were sent by me...and you will know who they are because like you, they do not know my name." He stuck his hand out.

"Until we meet again, my good man."

[Chey]

Chey stared at the hand for a few seconds, before slowly extending his own to shake it. He didn't like the situation one bit.

"In a month then, aye? I guess I will be headin' back to me shop then."

Chey jumped down off the bar stool and stumped out of the tavern, slowly making his way back to his small shop to finish his current orders in preparation for the influx of new customers the stranger had spoke of.

(((OOC)))

So... are we moving the actual adventure to a new thread, or using this one. In either case, I will be taking orders from anyone who wants to buy armor/weapons until the time comes for us to leave, and if the thread splits off and becomes its own adventure, then thanks to the Roleplaying Forum Space-Time-Continuity clause, Chey can still accept orders in his shop, even if in another thread he is at war.

(((OOC)))

[HoudiniDerek]

Kerodi watched the little man stump out of the bar and then left himself. He went outside and shielded his eyes from the sun. He could tell by the waning of the summer months that he had very little time left to gather the army here and get them where they needed to go. It seemed that the older you got and the more things you had to do, the worse off you were for time to get things done.

Shrugging, Kerodi turned and headed towards the outskirts of town. He had more errands to run and did not know if he would have the time to get to them all in a month. Within moments, he was out of sight.

I think that this thread could remain open...I will probably post in this thread again when I return in my "month." That should give you time to get orders for TOR and others out of the way and still RP some in the shop. Then, I figured it could either be locked and you gone, or both could be kept open. I figure we can PM each other closer to time, as well as the others in the thread if we have other ideas that need discussing. :) -

[Chey]

Time crawled by. Knowledge of his coming duties kept Chey from ever relaxing. More and more people shuffled into his shop, all mentioning the stranger in some oblique fashion, requesting mostly the usual sets: Chainmail, platemail, swords, axes, daggers, an occaisional mace. A few odd weapons surfaced, requests for iron staves and chakram, and a shield with spikes jutting from the front.

The orders kept Chey busy, and kept his mind off the possibility of bearing arms again.

Chey completed orders as they came, quickly finishing Orik's order and detting it on the rack for pickup. Others came and went, dropping orders off, picking products off. Chey made a decent amount of coin in the first week, enough to live off of for months.

--War was always a profitable business....--

Chey sat back on his stool during one of his off days, allowing the morning light to filter in through the window, illuminating his morning meal of eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit. Chey had been eating well since business had gotten so good.

--Im fresh out o' orders, an' still have two weeks 'afore I be leavin' with tha' stranger. 'Ope someone comes by needin' equipment, I dinnae know what I be doin' with two whole weeks to meself...--

[HoudiniDerek]

Kerodi sat in a small alcove of the Ularian Ridge just above the town of Tamasha. The day was heading into dusk and he had paused here to collect his thoughts. His month had gone by fast and he was still moving to try and get everything together for the final assault that was going to be happening sometime soon.

Kerodi shook his head and leaned back against an oak tree growing behind him. It did not seem possible to be ready in time. The Gnorcs had been organizing for years and were well ahead of him...in most everything. Kerodi had managed to contact as many individuals of varied backgrounds as he could, but he did not know if it would be enough.

Kerodi sighed and leaned forward again, looking down into the darkening town of Tamasha. He figured that he would go into the town tonight and finish making some last minute arrangements. Then, he would pick up Chey, the blacksmith dwarf, on his way out of town in a day or two. They would be the last to reach the rendezvous spot...if all went well. Kerodi snorted derisively. Not that anything ever went well when you needed it too.

Grumbling, Kerodi picked himself up and dusted off his robes. He reached down and picked up his pack. Huffing it onto his shoulders, he turned and started down the side of the mountain towards the continuously brighter lights of the village. At least tonight he would get a bed and some decent food. Silently, he disappeared into the shadows.

[Chey]

A month had slowly drifted past, along with numerous orders and the setting sun found Chey's arm hair standing on point. The smell of war had drifted through his window, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. It was almost time. Energy coursed through Chey's old bones, and he walked with a lively step as he went about the final tasks of the week.

It was always such. The bones know no age when there is excitement to be had. All the stiffness, the pain, the signs of age melted from Chey's physique. Those close to him often said his wrinkles seemed shallower, that his eyes brightened and his beard turned a bit more brown. The warrior blood running through Chey's veins gave him a new state of mind, a single purpose, to rain death and destruction upon his foes, to cleave them in two.

Chey set about filling his traveler's pack. A rolled apron, an extra set of padded cloth undergarments to wear underneath his mail, a few weeks worth of dwarven traveling rations. Hanging on a peg were three wine skins, two filled with crisp clean water drawn from the town well, the other full of a stout spiced wine, the Gilded Helm's specialty. A little alcohol never hurts.

Chey walked towards his weapon rack, pulling free a battleaxe worn with age. A leather wrapped steel handle rose to a point, and two large curved blades sprouted from the top in opposite directions. Past the two blades, a large spike crested the top of the weapon, useful for thrusting when you wanted to keep your foe farther away from you. Chey placed his axe on the counter, next to a pair of smithy hammers, then turned back and began selecting knives of various sizes and shapes. The first he chose was a long, curved knife forged in the elvish style. The blade curved towards the wielder, creating a miniature scimitar only a foot long. It was wickedly sharp and quite thin, meant to pass in between the ribs with a slash, mincing the internal organs without snagging on bone. Chey didn't bother sheathing the knife, just set it by his axe. Next he procured a long knife with no hand guard, but a round pommel on the end. Held in an upwards motion, the knife was good for a quick thrust in close quarters, or if needed, could be brought down against the skull of a foe, using the round pommel as a weight sprouting from the bottom of your hand. This knife, Chey sheathed in simple leather, before slipping it into his belt loop. The last set of knives Chey procured were much smaller, the blades only a finger's length long by a knuckle's width wide. The had no handles, per say, just a small area to grip them by between two fingers. They were balanced for throwing. Chey slid one inside the lip of each boot, in a specially stitched pocket found on the inside ridge of the outside of the boot.

Chey then reached under the counter, bringing out a horseman's crossbow and a quiver of bolts. Chey checked the strength of the string, oiled the mechanical pieces, made sure everything was in working order. Setting one of the small field point bolts into the groove along the center of the weapon, Chey pulled the string back in one quick motion, grunting slightly with the exertion, then spun around and sunk the bolt into his wooden door, crossbow held straight out and braced against his upper arm. The handle was a holster, fitting almost like a glove to give increased stability while on horseback, and the string had a lighter draw, so the crossbow could be rethingyed with one hand while still riding, instead of needing to brace it against your foot, like most crossbows.

Chey set his kit all together on a table near his bed, then flopped face down into his bedding, allowing sleep to overtake him. He would need the energy, badly.