The not-immortal Blacksmith

Somewhere

8th of Kusha, the month of Harvest.

2290 Years since the New gods came.

Ghondish stepped into his barn, and immediately noticed something was wrong. Not only were the magic lights out. Not only did the air smell different. Not only was the barn silent as a grave. Not only was there a gentle fog rolling across the floor. There was someone here.

As he looked around more thoroughly in the dark, on the far side of the barn from him, a free-standing candelabra burst to light casting light that illuminated from behind, a figure sitting at a desk. A desk that did NOT belong anywhere in the celestial realm. The desk was a large, some would say “executive style’, affair. Light sucking black in color, with chrome highlights that assaulted the eyes.

Cast in shadow, between the desk and the candelabra sat a cloaked figure. A figure, that when looked at directly, sent electric shivers down Ghondish’s spine that made his fur stand on end. The figure gestured for Ghondish to approach.

When Ghondish finally crossed the barn; an act that should have taken seconds, but felt like minutes; the figure spoke. “I have just received a Memo.”

At the sound of the voice, the blood in Ghondish’s veins began to freeze.

“We, Need to talk.” The figure continued.

Ghondish’s stomach froze.

-

Maximilian, “Mil” to his friends, looked at Pendleton and Sarah. “Did the two of you feel that?”

Pendleton and Sarah answered in unison, “Yes?”

“What was that?” Mil asked.

“…I have a guess…” Sarah replied, the blood having drained from her face. “But I will not speak it aloud.”

Pendleton cocked his head to his right, and looked at Sarah, “Why not?”

“…Because…Because such things aren’t spoken about.” Sarah responded in a shaky voice. “Not EVER.”

-

In the darkness of the depths, something moved. It looked. It smelled. Eventually, it smiled a wide grin, showing “teeth” that should not have fit its “mouth”. “Gotcha.” It chuckled.

A great distance away, Sarah’s “children” shuddered.

-

As the lights returned, and the fog slowly drained from the room, Ghondish was finally able to breath. In anger, “I” Fucked Around. And now “I” have Found Out. He shivered again, and headed for the door.

-

9th of Kusha

Hesh looked at their companions. “It looks like a pair of skeletons in the old graveyard up ahead.”

Sam and Molly nodded.

“Since we lack our old weapons”, Hesh glared at the pair, “We will need to do this with our fists and feet.”

Sam and Molly nodded again.

“Alright.” Hesh said. “Go!”

Molly and Sam charged into the graveyard. Sam bodychecked the skeleton on the right, and Molly backhanded the skull off the one on the left. Both formerly animate skeletons crumbled to dust.

“That was pretty easy.” Hesh commented from the rear. “Now, where do we go next?”

“We follow the road west.” Sam said. “West until we finally make it to Dys.”

“I know that.” Hesh said. “What’s our next stop on the map?”

Molly brushed bone dust from her shirt, then pulled a folded chunk of paper from a pocket, and unfolded it. “The map says the next problem spot in north and a bit west of here.”

Sam smiled, “Let’s go.”

They traveled for an uneventful day, and slept in a copse of pines that night. In the morning, under a clear blue sky they continued their journey.

-

Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia.

Maxwell awoke in the apartments he shared with his wife and Grendel. He yawned, stretched, and got dressed for the day. They were leaving on a cargo ship bound for Pondge, the capital of the province of Rorevilia, in a few hours and he wanted to make sure the last pieces of equipment were properly stored in his chest.

Breakfast was a fast affair of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and thick cut bacon. He lingered for a bit longer than needed, enjoying the flavor of the smoked meat as it mixed with the egg and potatoes on the plate, then went to work packing up the last bits and pieces of their portable homestead. Grendel “assisted” by placing pieces of apartment into the chest (silverware, candlesticks and the like), while Brianna assisted by removing the pilfered items and putting them back where they belonged. An hour of packing and cleaning later, the trio returned the keys, settled their bill (much to the consternation of the landlord), and departed for the docks.

The docks were somewhat quiet, seagulls flying about and pelicans making a racket as several small fishing boats were unloading. The large ship they approached looked like a tree. A tree that had somehow been grown to look and act like a boat. The root bulb looked like the stern of a ship; the three visible branches looked like masts; and the rudder was a long trailing affair, that while functional, was disturbing to look at.

When they neared the ship, a section of what appeared to be the hull, separated itself and swung down to meet them, the bark transforming to an almost sandpaper like consistency to provide traction. Maxwell smiled and patted the ship. “I hope you like your new job as a cargo hauler. Now remember to obey your new captain, I don’t want to hear about you causing problems.” The ship gave a gentle shake under his hands.

“Captain!” Maxwell yelled, “We have arrived!”

The captain, an older looking woman, white hair in braids down her back, stepped from the rear cabin, “Welcome aboard the Sea Traveler. Now that you have arrived, and our belly is packed with goods, we can depart at any time.”

Max smiled a wide smile, “Then let’s be off.”

The Sea Traveler seemed to shake itself for a moment, then the rudder began to move back and forth in the water. Branches detached themselves from the sides of the ship and swung down into the water and began to row. The “masts” grew leaves that caught the barest hint of a breeze, and the ship set out on its maiden voyage.