Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [Welcome] BT: The Smithy Message-ID: <1993Aug30.015341.2683@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Date: Mon, 30 Aug 1993 01:53:41 GMT ADMIN: This comes after "A Few Fights". ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bakr's Tales: The Smithy ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Three roads met in front of the smithy. One led north, according to Compass; this was where the four orc-like beings had gone. One led to the southwest; we had come from there. I pointed in the third direction, to the east. The creek went there too; the northern road led over a wooden bridge. "Telmos must be in that direction. This is where we should go, says Zondragon." I tended to agree with my teacher now. A dragon wasn't our size. "Tomorrow we'll decide that. Maybe Baros can give us more information about the dragon." The smithy was open at the front. Well, not exactly open, there was a grating covering it. One could see a separated empty stable to the right and the smithy itself to the left. It was getting dark, but one could still make out an anvil, a fireplace, and lots of metal stuff, partly lying on shelves, partly on the floor. In the background there was a door. We shouted for Baros but without much hope. He wasn't at home. "Great," said Compass. "Doesn't he know that we are supposed to sleep here?" "He should know it. Preg said so." "We can't sleep in the forest. Remember the night martens? They suck your blood when you sleep." "And the gnolls, whatever they are!" "Don't worry, we'll sleep in there. I'll open the lock." "Ormgwen, we can't break into the smithy." "Why not?" "We just prevented the orcs from breaking into it. Don't you think it's double standard... oh never mind. But Baros won't like it." Ormgwen fingered the lock. "He'll understand. It's an emergency. Ouch!" He shook his hand. "Damn. There is a sharp pis ob meddle on de log..." He collapsed. "Llll!" That was the last he said. After that he could only move his eyes. "The lock was poisoned!" "I don't think it's dangerous. He's paralyzed, but he can still breathe." "How long will it take?" "Around a day, I think. If it's the standard paralysis magic." "Great. Really great, Orm," said Compass. "Couldn't you be more careful?" The ranger walked to the left side of the house. "Maybe we can use a window." He disappeared behind the corner. Tarik and I looked at each other. "NO!" we shouted simultaneously and ran after him, but a noise told us that we were too late. In front of the single window there was a hole in the ground, and we heard Compass yodeling in it. We went to the hole and looked in. I said, "The windows are trapped too. When you were back there with the horses, we saw that the big humanoid got a boulder on his horns when he touched the back window." "Thanks for telling me! Without that knowledge I would have looked into this window, fallen into this trap, and sprained my ankle on the rocks in it!" "You sprained your ankle?" "YES! DID YOU TAKE OVER ORMGWEN'S JOB OF ASKING SILLY QUESTIONS? Help me out here! Oh shit, that hurts." We helped him out and put him where Ormgwen was. It looked like this smithy was even more dangerous than the forest. But that was reasonable, as the former was surrounded by the latter and had to protect itself. What to do? "It seems we have to sleep under the sky," said Tarik. "Yes, maybe..." I had spotted something. There was a log standing at the corner of the house, the size of a rock kobold. Beside it there lay a rock one-third of its height. The log was for chopping wood on it, that I could see, but why was that rock lying there? One could move it with a bit of force, and where it was now, it would only be in the way... a lot of people hide their keys close to the house... under rocks or the like... I went to the rock, stooped, turned it over, and everything went black. ----- "You could as well go fighting an army single-handedly. A *small* army," said Zondragon. "The rock kobold will eat Ormgwen raw." I nodded. My teacher continued his sermon. "They are the worst news indigenous to this plane. They are big and strong. They have sharp bits on every end. And they have lots of ends. They can breathe fire. They can use magic. They can fly. They can talk." A rock kobold flew down on him and bit him on two pieces. The sausage-like humanoid curved around a bit, then breathed acid on Tarik and my grandfather, who melted away. It ripped Ormgwen into pieces with its claws, it gained height, then it sat on a branch and laughed at me. "Wobble" it said. "Roll back into the sea." Then it turned into a sausage, and Caramon came and ate it raw. "Bakr! Wake up and help me carry Ormgwen into the house!" "Hmmmm?" Tarik was sitting beside me. It was dark. "The log fell on you. It was a trap," he said before I could ask. "Baros has come, and the smithy is open. He has been to Telmos getting food." Pretty much every part of my body hurt. Face, head, legs. Okay, that's not every part, but you know what I mean. ----- Baros the smith was around forty and big. He had a short, thick beard and long, thin hair and didn't wear much clothing, revealing that his chest easily beat both the upper and the lower end of his head in hairyness. The grating was a portcullis, and it was now up. Tarik and me put our paralyzed burglar into the smithy, and Baros, who had put the horses into the stable, lowering the portcullis, asked, "What happened to him?" "Uh... he tried to open the lock." "Aha. I'll give him an antidote as soon as I'm finished with this. Take seats." The seats were stools, Periklymenos style. So not only Mythros was full of them. "You see, we didn't want to sleep out there, and..." "Yes, I understand that." He glanced at Compass's foot. "I guess I'll have to repair the trapdoor too." He looked at me rubbing my head. "I saw someone must have triggered the log. Did you try the back window too?" "No, that was a sort of orc. Four of them. We caught them trying to break in here." "Ah, professional jealousy. Ha ha. How did they look?" Tarik described them while Baros got the antidote. "The big one with the horns is a hobgoblin," the smith said, feeding the stuff to Ormgwen, "and the other two were goblins. There are quite a few of them around in this forest." "What else is there?" "The harpys you have met. I can smell that. You should have bought anti- harpy amulets. Didn't Preg tell you?" "No. He told us about gnolls and night martens and goblins. What are gnolls?" "Humanoids made of stone. Not very big, but numerous. They eat humans. There is a tribe of them somewhere in the west. Better if you don't meet them." Ormgwen started to move. "Is there anything else to avoid?" asked Compass. "Poisonous snakes. Boars. And brigands. When you come closer to Eraton you should look out for them." He made a short pause. "And the dragon of course." Silence. "The dragon," I said. "Yes?" "Did you see it? Do you know what colour it has?" "Good heavens no. Old Kanthariol saw it. He's the mayor of Eraton." "Nobody else?" "The hermit, I think." "Didn't it eat people?" "Not yet. But it devastated the fields. Most of the harvest is burnt." "Hey, that's good!" said Ormgwen. Damn, I thought. That means we will go. "We are prepared for fire breath," Tarik added quickly. "We feared that the dragon may be breathing something other then fire." "How does one know it was the dragon that devastated the fields?" asked Compass. "It left footsteps. And Kanthariol saw it doing it." "Again?" "No, that's the only time he saw it." "And the hermit?" "A queer fish. Lives in the woods somewhere. He saw it too. Found its cave." "Lives in the woods? I thought sleeping in the woods is dangerous." "Maybe he knows a safer place. Nobody knows his hideout. From time to time he appears in Eraton, or in Telmos, or here. Laughs a lot." Silence again. Dragons a laughing matter? Damn. "It doesn't sound very dangerous," said Ormgwen. "If it didn't even eat anybody..." Damn. I could see that he already saw himself slaying the beast. The smith, unaware of our dilemma, misunderstood him. "But it has to be killed. The peasants of Eraton can't have their fields ravaged regularly. They must make a living. Of course they can't kill it themselves, or at least not alone. We will need everyone who can fight, and it's really good of you that you will help us." More silence. Would we? Baros rummaged in a heap of junk on a shelf and produced a two-handed sword. "I was already tempted to make a plowshare out of it when I was short of iron, but it's a good thing I didn't." "Wow! Nice! Can I have a look?" Ormgwen stood up, took the sword from Baros, and swung it. "Whoosh! Whoosh! Good work. Wieldy." "Thanks." "You made it?" "Yes." I asked, "Do you mean to say you will come with us and fight the dragon?" "No, I'll follow you after a few days. The priest, who has been sent to Ikonium, won't return before Catrudag." "That's... four days from now." "Right." Still more silence. The smith would fight the dragon... "We should eat something. I have fish, dried meat, olives, bread, peas, cheese, figs, carrots, wine..." "And we have fresh meat. A boar made the mistake of attacking us." "Oh, great. You know accommodation is free?" "Oh?" "Of course. After all you'll kill the dragon for nothing, so it's the least we can do." "Nothing?" Great, I thought. We won't go. "Did Preg forget to mention that too? You get free accommodation and boarding. We aren't that rich." "But the hoard?" "Oh yes, right. I didn't think of that. The dragon's hoard is divided between the foreign heroes." Damn. ----- Behind the door we had seen from outside there were six beds, six three- legged stools, a pantry, and Baros's private quarters. We put our stuff beside the beds, Baros got hold of a heap of food, and we gathered around the fireplace in the smithy to eat it. During the meal Baros told us about the second but last time he had hosted a traveller - the last time it was Preg, Ziemi, and Fulfur. "He had a dog too. But not as a nice one as you have. Snarled and barked when you came too close to his master. The master was a smith too. But he does much finer work than I do. He had a small chest with him, about so," he indicated it with his hands, "that he made himself. Rather tricky. You can open it by turning it round and round in a certain way, because there is a small metal ball running around in it in a labyrinth. But if you try to destroy the chest to get at the pearls in it, a vial containing vinegar will break and remove the pearls." "Remove them?" "Yes, it will hiss and foam and the pearls will be gone." "Ah, magic vinegar," I said professionally. "I suppose that's it. But that labyrinth... I wish I could make such wonderful things. But I have too thick fingers!" He laughed. "You can make traps alright," said Compass, pointing to his foot. -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Thomas Kettenring