Four months had pass since their expedition from the ancient dwarven kingdom, or what the dwarves called it, ‘The Deep Roads’. A deserted empire that once expand all throughout the land of Vashkeil. A now teeming with all sorts of monsters, demons, devils with each of their own establish territories. Before the dwarven expedition, it was a rumbling battleground to all sorts of unearthly and earthly species.
The message from the scouts was secret that not even Akatosh was allowed to partake the conference. Eventually after their gathering, Akatosh was informed permitted by king Durvod himself.
“A new road?” Akatosh implores towards Forgemaster as they gossip in a private place.
“Aye, coming from those skulking scouts, I say this won't be just a mellow expedition.”
“If so; any involvement from your neighboring brothers?”
“Nay… our relationship with our neighboring brothers is a bit rooted.”
Curious after the forgemaster words, Akatosh was intrigue to know more. He speculates that dwarfs are steadfast to their accord no matter what kingdom or place they came, tis was but a ‘blood is thicker than water but water runs deeper’. Longing for more why they have a deep affair with their own brothers, however, his consciousness is grasping him not to, for it might give him a remorseful respond.
“Oh…” Akatosh says, brushing off the dwarf’s words, “Is it okay for me to join or.” He continues shifting to their first topic.
“Well, that's up ta ye lad; but given the king’s information...” Pauses the dwarf as he drinks the whole mug of beer, “I'm certain ye won't decline such trip.” He continues with a smile.
“You bet I am.”
Forgemaster smiles, “'en this might be a good time ta consult our enchanter for some good ol’ upgrades.”
“Really?! Y-you sure.”
“Nae completely but I’m pretty sure he might agree with our request. Tha reason tha elf was willing ta enchant your axe was because o' tha king’s request. But never in a hundred years did I believe tha storm giant’s spirit chooses ye.”
“I’m flattered, but I’ve been meaning to ask; the materials you use in creating the ax is not just an ordinary dwarven metal, no?” Says Akatosh as he chomps a piece of meat right after gulping a dwarven beer.
Silencing their conversation for no more than thirty seconds, forgemaster then respond after a sip of alcohol.
“Guess nae hiding from a man who's keen in searching for answers. Tha metal I used in forging your axe be me family's heirloom.”
“Even so, why give such priceless item to someone like me. Heck there are tons of worthy candidates.”
“I was bored, I've lived for hundreds o' years guarding a piece o' metal ta nae use. So why nae give this man a good arm for saving tha good ol' prince. But never did I expect ta be this more interesting.”
“By interesting, you mean the spirit that reside within the ax?”
“Tha spirit that resides 'ithin tha ax, was one o' tha few that lives during tha first era. Countless candidates came ta seek its power for thousands o' years it waits, till now. Nae worry, only tha elf an' I know your deed; it’ll be troublesome if tha word spread.”
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“Thank you, thank you, thank you, I’ll make sure to bring my outmost service to the next expedition.”
Forgemaster didn’t reply to his gratitude, he merely chuckles and proceeds to drink his beverage. After that, they switch to a different topic, lavishly drinks their story all night.
When the day came, the two were inconstant deliberate on how to persuade the enchanter. But once they face the elf, the two was silent thinking a way to spout a word.
“Errmm... Our boy here be needing some good enchanting for tha hefty crusades.” The dwarf implores pointing at Akatosh hugging his equipment.
The elf didn’t reveal any emotions, but rather more interested to what the traveler’s holding. Uttering no respond, the elf casually lifts his arms, and by his magic, Akatosh’s gears slowly levitates away from his hand.
Upon inspection, the elf was sudden by the items floating in front of him, two armors an elven made and dwarven made. As for the weapons with his high level of divination he uncovers it was made of elven steel, curious the elf then asks…
“How did you procure such pieces.” The elf says without any mixtures of hatred nor malice, but rather inquisitive as he secretly cast a divination spell, a spell that see through lies.
“Um… I found them through my travels, which I then commission to a blacksmith.”
After the traveler’s word, the elf’s divination magic didn’t ring a deception. Levitating the items for more than a minute while he contemplates his mind. Times pass, and after silent of waiting the elf then finally decided to accept their request. Silent and no words to spout, the enchanter goes to the altar dragging with him the floating items.
The first thing the elf toil were the elven armor and dwarven made, putting both on the altar. When placed, the elf thus transforms into his higher elven form, one he used to neutralize Akatosh’s rage. Through transmutation magic, both the two armors begun to melt into a spherical shape, color in black for the dwarven while the elvish was silver. A gentle swing of the enchanter’s hand merges the two spheres into one. Now painted in grayish, a hammer appears floating atop of the altar.
“Forgemaster,” the elf called, and right away the dwarf walks to deliver a hand, for one can tell he already knows the task.
The hammer that appears was different, a forge hammer but to one’s eye, magical mist would slowly spew out, followed by hundreds of blue orbs resonating around the hammer. Forthwith when forgemaster grasp the hammer, he slowly but heavily hammers the orb. A bit sudden, all kinds of dusty colors would begin to produce by the hammering and a blast of sound bursting out.
The two masters at work made Akatosh in a state of great wonder, that he didn’t blink an eye as they enchant his equipment. After minutes of pounding, the sphere turns into a hot disk, gleaming in crimson red flame. Having no tools to hold the elf casually grabs it without feeling a pain, a whispering breath of the elf turns the red disk into a dark orb.
Resting the orb on the anvil, the elf then glace towards forgemaster. A slight nod from the two reveals their specialties. For the dwarf, a spectral of his ancestor appears on his back with it the ghostly dwarf’s hand merged with the forgemaster. So too was the elf summoning the ghostly form of an elf holding an ether hammer, the same thing he conjures when he enchanted the traveler’s axe.
When the two reveals their abilities of two different kind in one anvil, it gave the traveler a sight to the point his jaw drop in awe. Just then, the elf and forgemaster together hammers the dark orb and in turn it creates a flat explosion slapping Akatosh’s stunned face.
“W-wha-what happen?” Akatosh groan recovering from the impact.
The moment his eyes saw what the two had created, jaw drops in hectic appearance. Floating atop on the anvil was his armor, the elven and dwarven armor of his was merge into one. Additionally, the two masters enchanted it to be more powerful.
“Hawuwuwuwuw….” Drooling from ecstasy, Akatosh couldn’t help but petrified. “Is… Is it done? Is my armor done?”
“Aye… why don’t ye try it yourself.” Smiles the dwarf as he nods at the elf. And in return the elf made a last enchantment, blowing a blue breath towards the armor.
“Now… as for your weapons, what shall we put?” The elf implores dangling Akatosh’s weapons.
A month had passed, as secrets of their expedition kept in tight security avoiding any leaked information. For when their plans would exploit by their neighboring brothers, conflict would arise for who will take control of the deep roads as bloodshed would soon follow. And for those months of sending scouts few returns with little information. What’s more time is running out before the other dwarven kingdoms would learn their expedition.
In the end, through the pressure of time the king of Thuram sends dozens of expedition teams and that includes the travelers.
“And off to the deep roads we go.” Smiles the traveler.
