Rise of the Living Forge

Somehow, out of every outcome that had been possible, the one that Arwin hadn’t actually considered was the workshop actually belonging to someone that was still alive. That certainly made things a little awkward. Grave robbing was one thing. It was practically half of adventuring.

Things got a little murkier when it came to taking the belongings of people that were still alive. Some adventurers would just fix the state of their target so things went from robbery to very fresh grave robbing, but Arwin wasn’t about to go murdering random people.

“Who are you?” the short man demanded, his grip tightening around his hammer with a creak. Magical energy thrummed in every part of his armor. Even though Arwin couldn’t see their stats, he didn’t even need Dragon’s Greed to detect it. The smith on the other side of the portal was powerful. He was wearing equipment that was at least as good as a lot of Arwin’s — if not better.

“It’s not our fault,” Reya said hurriedly. She paused for a second, then cleared her throat. “Do you mind if we take that anvil, though? For our troubles.”

“You seem to think this is a joke,” the smith growled. A ripple of energy roiled across the head of his glowing hammer. “If you want to keep your head undented, I suggest you speak the truth — and quickly.”

“Drop the threats,” Arwin said, his tone as flat as a metal plate. “We apologize. I wasn’t trying to make a portal into your workshop, and we didn’t mean to disturb you. A door showed up before us and we opened it. If we’d known it led somewhere with a person inside, we wouldn’t have opened it.”

“You don’t get to give me orders when you’re the one that came looking to steal from me, you big lout,” the other smith replied. He pointed the head of his hammer at Arwin. “And don’t act as if you did this on accident. Opportunistic thieves, you are. Nobody is openin’ a portal into my workshop on accident, I tell you that.”

“That’s exactly what happened, actually,” Olive said.

A pulse raced through the veins running throughout the Infernal Armory. The edges of the black flame making up the door started to dim and turn translucent. It didn’t look like the portal would last much longer.

Arwin was pretty sure their unintended victim wasn’t stupid enough to jump through the portal and into a room full of armed adventurers, so all they had to do was wait —

Red energy flared around the head of the other smith’s hammer. It rolled out in a wave, passing into the portal. The black fire along its edges roared as if someone had poured oil into it. He had a way to keep the portal open.

Goddamn it. Why did my building open a bloody portal into some ornery asshole’s workshop? I can’t even blame him for being pissed.

“I don’t think so,” the man ground out. “I’m running out of patience. You lot best start talking if you don’t want me to start swinging. You aren’t the first fools to try to steal from me. Tell me who gave you the way in and I’ll let you off with a light ‘bruisin. And, if you don’t…”

He lifted his other hand. The glowing pool of molten rock behind him bubbled. Arwin’s eyes widened as a thin strand of lava snaked out from it and slithered across the ground. The smith’s fist erupted in bright white flame. He pulled it open and the lava pooled in his palm.

And, despite the heat washing out from the portal, the hair on Arwin’s neck and back stood on end as realization slammed into him. The man’s height probably should have been a good indicator, but this just made it obvious.

Arwin summoned the description of [Molten Novice] to the air before him with a thought.

[Molten Novice] (Passive) – You have spent enough time working immersed in fire that you have begun to understand it. Unlock your potential to prepare for the first steps in the path of Dwarven forging.

“I’ll be damned,” Arwin said, his eyes going wide. “You’re a dwarf.”

“I’d be more concerned with the hammer I’m ‘bout to ram up your ass,” the dwarf barked. “Answers, trollop. I’m running out of patience.”

“I already told you,” Arwin said, keeping his voice measured. “We didn’t mean to break into your workshop. A key I found in a dungeon opened a portal here. There were a few more steps involved, but they hardly matter. We aren’t looking for a fight, but we’ll give you one if you keep pushing.”

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The dwarf studied Arwin in silence. It was impossible to tell exactly what he was thinking with the helm covering his face. Finally, he spoke once more.

“Where’d you get that gear, oaf? Who’d you take it from?”

“Take?” A note of offense entered Arwin’s voice. “I made it.”

“He made all of our equipment,” Anna added. “Perhaps we should talk this out if you aren’t going to let the portal close?”

“Did he, now?” The dwarf ignored Anna’s offer completely. “A big lumbering idiot like this? I doubt it. You lot are adventurers. I know your kind. Sniffing little rodents, you are. Not nearly scared enough for your own good. All you do is lie. Lie about your armor. Lie about your goals. Everything. Mere smith I may be, but all your fancy magic won’t keep you from melting alive.”

“I think I’ll fare just fine,” Arwin replied. The tension in the air was rising together with the heat, but he really didn’t want to get into a fight here. If they’d just stumbled into the dwarf randomly, then he would have had far more right to take the offensive.

As things stood now, they’d basically just broken into his house. If Arwin could avoid a fight, he’d do whatever he could. And if he couldn’t — well, there was still a new anvil he could get his hands on.

Arwin summoned [Soul Flame] over his right hand. It covered his fingers and palm completely, matching what the dwarf had done. To his surprise, the other smith’s hammer lowered slightly and a bark of laughter escaped his mouth.

“Arrogant, overgrown brat. You think your pathetic human magic will do anything against lava? Copying me does nothing but show how foolish you truly are.”

“I’ve got the same magic you do,” Arwin said. He extended his hand. “But I doubt you’ll believe me, just like everything else. So let’s start here, shall we? Try me.”

The dwarf tilted his head to the side, but it took him a remarkably short amount of time to decide he had absolutely no problem calling Arwin on his supposed bluff. He held his hand out, stretching it just through the portal, and dumped the bubbling lava straight into Arwin’s palm.

Arwin didn’t so much as flinch. The lava’s heat washed across his arm and bit at his face, but it couldn’t penetrate his [Soul Flame]. Seconds ticked by. The dwarf’s hammer lowered even further.

“That’s impossible. You’re using [Soul Flame]? How do you have dwarven magic?”

“It’s part of my class,” Arwin replied with a half-shrug. “And I’ve got more than [Soul Flame]. I’ve got [Molten Novice] as well. I wasn’t lying about that, and I wasn’t lying before either. Just let the portal drop. We apologize for intruding on your space, but it won’t happen again.”

The dwarf was silent for another second. Then he let his hammer lower completely. He flicked his fingers and the lava in Arwin’s hand coiled up, sliding back through the portal and working its way over to the pool.

“Can’t do that either,” the dwarf said, but the anger had left his tone and been replaced by curiosity. “Let’s say I believe you for a second. There’s some portal just magically shunting you big oafs into my smithy. Can’t have that lying around. How’d you open the portal?”

“A key,” Arwin replied. “One that I’m not sure I’d be willing to give up. It opens more than just one door. I can give you my solemn word that we won’t use it to attempt to return to your workshop.”

The dwarf reached up to his helm and pulled it off, revealing a tanned face covered with equal parts scars graying hair. A thick, bushy beard rolled out from the helm like an ocean wave and unfurled all the way down to his feet. Beads, gemstones, and other pieces of glimmering metal had been woven into it like a tapestry.

“That could be acceptable, but not yet,” the dwarf said as he tucked the helm under his arm. “Tell me how you got dwarf magic.”

“I think that may be a story too long for the time we have.”

The dwarf smirked. Then, to Arwin’s disbelief, he stepped forward. He passed through the portal and emerged into the smithy, glancing around the room without even the slightest amount of concern.

There’s no way he trusts me that much yet. It would be stupid… which means he’s so confident in his own abilities that he doesn’t see us as a threat. How strong is this dwarf?

“I can open a way back any time I please,” the dwarf said as the glow of the hammer at his side faded. The black flame making up the doorway sputtered behind him. It vanished, and the key clattered to the base of the hearth at his feet.

Kneeling, the dwarf picked the key up. The rest of the Menagerie watched the dwarf, readied to spring into action if he made any sudden moves. Arwin tensed, but instead of trying to pocket it, the dwarf held the key out. “Name’s Wallace. I’m no thief. You say the story is long, but I’ve got time. I can’t pass up on hearing how a human got dwarf magic.”

“Not all of it is something I’m at liberty to share,” Arwin said as he took the key back from Wallace.

“I reckon you can find something. I want to pick ‘yer brain about how this happened in the first place,” Wallace said in a gruff tone. “Some answers and a drink are the least you could do after trying to break into my house.”

Arwin exchanged a glance with Lillia. He was more than willing to talk things out if that was the alternative to a pointless fight.

And, perhaps, there was a chance they could do more than just avoid a fight if Wallace got a taste of her cooking. It wasn’t like they had anything to lose. Arwin let a small smile drift across his face as he banished his helmet.

“I think we might be able to arrange something.”