The not-immortal Blacksmith

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 weren’t any villages back that way.” Hesh said before pulling their companions up. “We’ve had a rest, let’s 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.

-

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 I’m 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 can’t coddle him though; he is going to have to learn the lesson of FAFO on his own. I just hope it doesn’t kill him.

Twenty-three miles closer today. I’m 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?”

“…Oh…um… Hi boss?” Grendel Repute replied from the stone. “Um...nothing? Sir?”

“I’m old, not senile.” Maxwell replied. “What are you doing?”

“…I’m 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?”

“Um…Rich people?”

“Don’t cause a problem for the normal people,” Max replied. “it won’t 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.