Escape from Darom, page 12
Getting Bright Claw geared up mostly required getting the strap lengths set to the correct sizes to hold the clamshell design together around the Grizhawk’s chest and back. Before he knew what was happening, Zeven found himself on his back underneath Bright Claw’s bulk having to hold the chest plate steady while everyone else adjusted the side straps to the back piece. It was surprisingly hard work and ended up being one of the most difficult parts of the entire process.
Next came the Pauldrons. The metal arms had to be slid over Bright Claw’s front legs and be adjusted properly to fit snuggly against the steel breast plate. Once again, Zeven was tasked with holding the pieces in place as Belkar and Mutoline got the straps configured properly. By the time they’d finished the second upper arm, he was sweating profusely. As Zeven stepped back to take a breather while Belkar and Lokuth got the Mountain Watch Steel Bear Helm adjusted to Bright Claw’s head, Mutoline happily stepped up beside him with a satisfied look on her face.
“Bright Claw is starting to look like a real Combat Pet now, isn’t he?” Mutoline happily asked, giving him a large smile.
“Is he?” Zeven asked in an unsure voice, glancing over to make sure the Smith couldn’t hear him, “I thought you said the armor set was an ancient relic that was so worn it couldn’t even be fully mended.”
“Oh, don’t get your beard twisted in a knot,” Mutoline laughingly said as Zeven raised an eyebrow, “The set is perfectly fine. All that work can be completed by a master crafter. I’d imagine that Cragguard or my mom could squeeze on a few more enchantments to the pieces too. I was just saying that to barter the price down to something reasonable.” She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “Besides, when you return to pick up your repaired Spirit Lochaber, I expect mom will want to see what can be done to repair the armor set.”
“That makes me feel a lot better,” Zeven said as he sagged in relief, “When she said two-hundred gold, I thought there was no way we’d be getting Bright Claw geared up today.” He shook his head at the female Dwarf. “That was damn right impressive bartering.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Mutoline laughingly said, “Typically new steel barding for any Combat Pet or Mount goes for a minimum of four-hundred gold depending on the number of Attributes and Special Enchantments the Smith was able to get the metal to hold while used steel barding typically starts at two-hundred gold give or take.”
“The only reason Varfaline was willing to sell Crusher’s old set of armor so cheaply is because most Dwarves wouldn’t buy Cave and Stone Bears armor until the beasts were at least in the level 40 range. That’s because the bears usually grow out of it too quickly to make it worth the effort or the price,” Mutoline said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “From how I heard it told, Badruc wanted to quickly power-level Crusher up so he had Varfaline make it up just after she became a Journeyman Smith. While the Dwarfling is a decent Smith, she didn’t have the skill to get the steel to take more than one Attribute or Special Enchantment.”
“Why hasn’t she upgraded it since then,” Zeven asked, trying to follow Mutoline’s logic. It was tough because his own Smithing skill was only Basic.
“You need to be an Advanced Smith with years of experience to pull that off,” Mutoline said with a laugh, “and what’s the sense if the sets too small for any of the bears that the Dwarves prefer to use.”
“Makes sense,” Zeven agreed, when he suddenly froze realizing something, “Wait, is that why you had us come here for armor?”
“Well, I didn’t know that everything would work out the way it did,” Mutoline quietly mused, looking back towards the open doorway where they had the altercation with Badruc. Before Zeven could comment further, Varfaline came bustling over as Belkar finished putting on Bright Claw’s Mountain Watch Steel Bear Fangs.
“This should do it,” Varfaline proudly said, squatting down to fit the modified steel claws over his rear Talons. Standing up straight, she proudly stated, “A perfect fit if I do say so myself.”
“Bbbrrraaa bbbra?” Bright Claw eagerly asked slowly plodding around to face Zeven as he got used to moving in the heavy gear.
“You look like a Savalbjorn now,” Zeven confirmed, trying not to laugh since it looked like Bright Claw needed training wheels at the moment.
“Bbbrrraaa?” Bright Claw curiously asked.
“It’s not important,” Zeven assured the Grizhawk.
How could he possibly explain to Bright Claw that he looked like the perfect living replica of The Golden Compass’s Warrior Polar Bear race? Nonetheless, his joking comment wasn’t without merit. If anything, Bright Claw looked meaner with his steel-tipped claws and fangs. With a thought, Zeven mentally called up the Grizhawk’s Character Sheet to see how much of an upgrade all this new gear gave him.
Combat Mount: Bright Claw of the Azure Sky (Grizhawk)
Level: 26
Strength: 36 (34)
Intelligence: 36
Spirit: 36
Agility: 36
Stamina: 36(x2)
Charisma: 36
Primary Attack: 182-187 (+25 plus an additional 5 – 10 points of Piercing Damage / Bite)
Secondary Attack: 53-63 (+50 plus an additional 20 points of Bleed Damage to each slash for five seconds / Claw – can be up to four separate attacks)
Speed: 0.5
Armor: Natural (+ Heavy)
Defense: 400 (+1000)
Weight-Carrying Capacity: 240 lbs. (-130 lbs. due to armor)
Abilities: Heavy Armor
Special Abilities: Ferocious Bite, Enhanced Health, and Claw Strike.
Shared Experience: 50% (up to a max of 50%)
Additional Information: Your mount is bound to your soul. Unlike regular mounts, this mount can participate in combat alongside its owner like a summoned creature or tamed pet. At each fifth level, combat mounts can choose additional feats. To access the feats available for your combat mount, open the properties of your pet to choose from the available selection. Should your mount be slain in your service, your mount will lose all of its current level’s experience and remains unsummonable for the next twenty-four hours.
Zeven let out a mental whistle. Bright Claw’s Strength and Damage stats were now through the roof and his Defense had nearly more than tripled. Hell, his Primary Bite alone was nearly dealing as much damage as his Spirit Lochaber of Chieftain Diongmhalta. Not only that, his Claws were dealing a respectful amount of damage too. If this kept up, maybe Bright Claw would be tough enough to go toe-to-toe with those Triple “A” bastards when they caught up with them to save Nahi. As Zeven was thinking over that, Belkar interrupted his train of thought.
“He’ll be getting his Heavy Armor skill up quick enough by wearing the armor as we head back,” Belkar knowingly said as Mutoline and Varfaline nodded in agreement. Pulling out his pocket watch, the Dwarfling checked the time before continuing, “Not to be rude Varfaline, but we really need to be a getting.”
“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Mutoline said as a frown momentarily flashed across the other woman’s face.
“I should be upset at ye for the hard deal ye pushed,” Varfaline said, choosing her words carefully, “but if I were being truthful, I’m glad to see the armor has found a new home.”
“Bright Claw and I thank you,” Zeven politely said, offering the Dwarfling a respectful half-bow as the Grizhawk added his two cents in.
“Stop ye bowing and get yer arse moving,” Belkar said, pushing Zeven and Mutoline towards the door, “we’ve got just enough time for ye to be picking up yer stuff to get back for the ceremony.”
Hurrying out the door, Zeven saw Thongrewynn still hard at work on the hide that she’d been busy curing when they’d arrived. By now, the Dwarfling had finished whatever she had been working on and was now stretching the hide out to dry. He was a bit taken aback at the difference between this woman’s attitude and that of Varfaline’s.
“So, what’s up with her?” Zeven asked as they headed for the cavern’s exit tunnel.
“Thongrewynn Wyvernbraid?” Mutoline asked in a tight voice as she hesitantly glanced back at the dirty female Dwarfling, “She’s from The Pits.”
“Aye, one of the lucky few that made it out of that horror zone,” Belkar brusquely added, his face an emotionless mask as Mutoline’s head whipped around to glare at him in outrage.
“Lucky?” Mutoline demanded in an uncharacteristic show of anger that made Lokuth and Doufalynn flinch away from her, “She all but lives up here as Badruc’s slave.” She flung an arm at the Dwarfling female as her voice lowered to a hiss, “He sells her for sex to customers.”
“And nonetheless she be lucky,” Belkar forcibly reiterated, staring up at Mutoline with his hard dark-brown eyes as he continued. “I’ve seen The Pits for myself, have ye?” As Mutoline uncomfortably shifted at his words, the Dwarfling’s eyes got a faraway look to them as they entered the tunnel leading to the exit, “Clanless Dwarflings without any marketable skills scrabbling for a bit of life be the lot of them. Most die before their first century and I honestly can’t be saying if it be the living or the dying that is the greater travesty.”
“If that’s the case,” Zeven said, turning to give Belkar a particular look, “then, why don’t they treat Varfaline the same way?”
“Because she’s a Smith, and Leather Working is not considered as prestigious,” Lokuth hesitantly said, glancing between Zeven and Belkar, “right Belkar?”
“Ye hit the nail on the head, lad,” Belkar gruffly agreed, before looking Zeven in the eyes, “Like I said, having a Marketable Skill be making all the difference when ye be talking about a Dwarfling escaping The Pit. Especially, if it be having a bit of prestige to be going along with it.”
“Is it really that bad?” Mutoline asked with a pleading look.
“Aye, lass, it be,” Belkar said, not shying away from the hard truth as the conversation on the subject died.
Zeven wasn’t sure how he felt about a game having such realism. It was a tough call. While a part of him didn’t want to see that ugly reality, another part of him thought it made perfect sense for a realistic Medieval Fantasy MMO. Because, it didn’t get much more real than that. At least, it didn’t for anyone who’d ever taken the time to study history or the Human Condition. What didn’t make any sense was why they didn’t treat all the Dwarflings the same way. Zeven’s contemplation was suddenly interrupted by a familiar brusque Dwarven voice as they neared the corral-like exit to the tunnel.
“Why all the long faces,” Caskgut called out at their approach, “Did Varfaline say she can't do any armor up for a beast like you or did you use up all your coin on that Dwarfling skank and not have anything left for your own suit of armor?”
“Are ye deaf or what, Caskgut,” Belkar sharply asked as the Sub-Leader’s subordinates threw open the door to the corral, “the lassie here told ye earlier that we be just shopping for the Grizhawk. Besides, our boy here has his armor needs covered by the great Skovreck Graymail.” As the squad of Dwarves goggled at the thought of a Badger Kin being geared up at Graymail’s, the Dwarfling nonchalantly continued clapping Zeven on the shoulder, “but Varfaline did suggest to me boy here that he save up a bit of silver for yer lip service.”
“My lip service?” Caskgut asked, his annoyance at the Beast Kin momentarily forgotten as his face scrunched up in confusion, “Why in tarnation would Varfaline a be saying that?”
“Aye, it be a surprise to us too,” Belkar easily said as his lips twisted cruelly, “but Varfaline assured us that ye be having the sweetest lips on this here side of the Trading District.” As Caskgut’s face turned ash white, the Dwarfling continued without batting an eye as they walked past. “Said ye be a cheap little whore accustomed to be working on yer knees.”
“Why, I aught to beat the sense of a Dwarf into yer wee Halfling arse,” Caskgut snarled as he lunged for the Dwarfling that had just stepped out of reach, when the shit hit the fan.
It all had happened so fast that Zeven didn’t quite see what happened. In the time that it took for him to yank the Brutal Bearded Axe of Slaying from his belt and whirl around to face the squad of Dwarves with an angry armored Bright Claw at his side, Belkar had Caskgut sprawled out on the stone ground of the tunnel and was sitting astride his back with both daggers pressed against the Dwarf’s bare neck.
“One step closer and I’ll gut him like the beardless-scag he is,” Belkar promised in a tone that froze the rest of the Dwarven squad where they stood, “Yer boy here be wanting to run his mouth and then got butt-hurt when it didn’t work out the way he be wanting.” The Dwarfling drove his knee deeper into the gasping Dwarf’s back.
“When that didn’t be working out the way he be expecting, the yellow-coward decided to assault a paying customer and the Tánaiste of the House of Hammertoe from behind,” Belkar said, taking a second to club Caskgut in the back of his thick skull with the butt of a dagger as he put his lips up close to the Dwarf’s ear. “I could cut yer throat here and now if I be of a mind to and there be not a thing any of yer boys could do about it except die by me blades like a pack of Cave Shriekers.” He spat on the ground in pure disgust. “Badruc would even be having to pay us for damages or be censored.”
By now, there was a number of Dwarves off in the distance that had taken notice of the commotion. Several were even close enough to even hear what was being said too. While none of them particularly gave Zeven a friendly look, they were more upset at hearing that Caskgut had lost his cool and tried to Backstab a valid customer.
“So Caskgut, I be suggesting ye be smart, keep yer fat clapper shut, and silently slink back to yer post,” Belkar continued in the same cold tone, “before I change me mind and be taking me due.” Springing up from the Dwarf’s back, the Dwarfling sheathed his daggers as he snapped at the rest of them, “Stop yer gawking and get yer arses movin, we’ve got places to be tonight!”
Glancing over at Mutoline, Zeven shrugged and patted Bright Claw on an armored shoulder for him to follow as they headed off after Belkar. None of the Dwarves watching paid them much attention as everyone went back to whatever it was that they’d been doing. A final look back at the red-faced Caskgut watching them go, Zeven let out a heavy sigh already knowing that he’d made another enemy for life. Or then again, maybe not. Half the reason he felt that Belkar had taken the altercation to the next level was so that the obnoxious Dwarf would only remember him and not Zeven.
As they hurried through the park area for the opposite side of the large cavern, Zeven saw there were a lot more Dwarves around then there had been earlier during their late lunch break. A quick check of the time on his HUD let him know that it was already past six in the evening. Did that mean all the shop owners and crafters stopped working for the day or what, he wondered. How would that even work in an MMO where most of their customer base would just be starting to login to play? As he watched the traffic around the eateries noticeably growing by the minute, Zeven caught Mutoline’s eye.
“Are all the shops closing for the day?” Zeven asked in a low voice.
“Not at all,” Mutoline said, letting out a good-natured laugh at the thought, “most Dwarves work in shifts under the mountain.” She swept an arm out at the Dwarves filling the nearly crowded park. “I don’t know how the other races work, but here, Dwarves like to relax after a hard shift of work by enjoying a hearty meal and a few beers with their friends and coworkers.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They say that most of the true deals are made during these shift changes.”
“Good to know,” Zeven said as an unbidden smile came to his lips. He silently swore that the girl’s simple joy of life was contagious as he went back to watching the Dwarves around them.
Thankfully, they had no problems making their way to the opposite side of the large cavern. While more Dwarves seemed to be arriving by the second, they genially let the group by without any problems. Entering back into the main trading tunnel, it took nearly a half an hour of dodging foot-traffic for them to make it back to the entrance of Merryfinger’s Exceptional Threads.
“We’ll wait out here with Bright Claw while you grab your threads,” Mutoline said, encouragingly waving for Zeven to go on without her.
“Great timing,” Girroc called out as soon as he saw Zeven entering the shop, “I just got everything packaged up.” The pernickety Dwarf held up two different wrapped bundles. “The white one is your formal jacket while the brown is your peasant shirts.”
“Thank you, Girroc,” Zeven politely said, trying to not laugh at the old Dwarf’s effeminate mannerisms, “you’re a lifesaver.” Sticking the white bundle into his Rucksack of Holding, he held the brown package up as he glanced over at the changing screen that he’d used earlier. “Mind if I use your changing screen to get dressed real quick?”
“Hmm, not at all,” Girroc graciously said albeit somewhat confused as he arched a manicured eyebrow at Zeven’s furry chest, “help yourself.”
Rolling his eyes at the old Dwarf’s attitude, Zeven hurried over to the changing screen and began stripping off his gear. Digging out the top peasant shirt and stuffing the rest in his bag, he hurriedly slipped it over his head and began getting his gear back on. The longest as always was the freaking Great Kilt. Looping one side diagonally across his shoulder, he swung his Rucksack of Holding onto his back and stepped out to check his reflection in the mirror. So much better, Zeven thought, feeling fully clothed for the first time since the battle last night. Giving Girroc a wave goodbye, he headed back out to see the Dwarfling rolling his eyes.
“Took ye long enough to pretty yerself up in there,” Belkar commented over his shoulder as he started off again, “I thought this was going to be quick.”
