The not-immortal Blacksmith

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”.

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.