Reforged
15 Years after Albert's Exile
Outside the Filth Factory, Isle of Bigail, Surface
"Quick, out of the smoke," Albert hurried them on. Everyone looked back from time to time, but the quickfire they had unleashed from the Pheonix Egg had finally stopped spreading. The smell was appalling, but once they got upwind, they began to realize that they had made it out alive, and another monster factory was demolished.
As they walked back to town, Albert commented aloud, "I never thought I'd have friendly giant spiders or friendly giant roaches to thank for a victory. But I do, and that's that. Life sure is funny."
Sschass said thoughtfully, "I hope the friendly roaches will stay in hiding. It'll remain hard for them to convince anyone of their friendliness."
Albert swallowed. He hadn't thought of that.
Helen agreed, "I wanted to treat them and the spiders as friends, but it was so hard being used to seeing them attacking me."
"Ah," Sschass agreed.
After a moment, Helen asked suspiciously, "What is it, Sschass?"
Sschass stated with mischievous honesty, "Really, the spiders looked rather tasty to me."
Albert and Helen shouted in disgust, while Frruh made a hacking noise.
"You mammals," Sschass chuckled, "so finicky. It's a wonder you survive in the caves!"
Helen desperately adjusted the subject by agreeing, "Yes, the food is much better up here. And there's so much of it! So many kinds! There are actually different types of vegetables to eat, instead of just mushrooms! Actual different textures and tastes!"
"That alone definitely makes it worth it," Albert agreed. "Domesticated meat - I've almost never gotten any in all my life, and up here, there's finally a chance of it!"
Frruh said thoughtfully, "And the area around Fort Emergence is sparsely populated enough for good hunting, too."
Helen admitted, "I don't really feel like I deserve such bounty. We're always practically starving back in Avernum!" She threw up her hands. "I guess we just have to keep exploring so someday we can get enough of us here so we can ship good food down there."
"Me, I'm staying up here," Albert disagreed.
"But you still could do that," Helen noted. "You could be a farmer up here and sell food to people still living in Avernum."
"And they'd pay a lot for it, too - I like your thinking," he said, grinning at her.
"You wouldn't be an extortionist," she threatened with clear irritation. "You'd charge a fair price."
"And this food would be worth a lot," he agreed. "We are agreeing, you know."
"We are not, we most certainly are not," she said through gritted teeth.
One and a Half Years Before Albert's Exile
Fort Remote
Nathan wondered which of the smells was the more horrible; the sulfur, or the last few tendrils of smoke rising from the bodies of those poor souls who had been defending this place. Just last month, Nathan and the others had passed through the fort on their way elsewhere. It had been a sleepy little frontier outpost, just like his old posting on the surface.
Only now there was no one left alive. Walls were breached, and enormous soot stains marred floors, then climbed up walls and ceilings to stand vigil over the fallen.
Derek shook his head. "Grah-Hoth did this from prison? That must be some leak in the bottle."
Ribaldi said angrily, "That false king may've directed some of his minions here as well."
Warren spoke out of his frustration at finding only pocket change still salvageable on the slain men (naturally, he still kept the change): "Nathan, tell me you're not seriously thinking of taking him on."
Nathan quickly dismissed the idea of pretending he didn't know who "he" was. "Warren, we should really be more concerned about the here and now. For instance, keeping alert so we aren't crushed by any demons taking a victory lap."
Warren was not so easily diverted. "I saw the way King Micah was considering us," he said. "We got paid well for taking out Sss-thsss, it's true. Even if we did have to give up that lovely gold-leaf torc as proof he was dead. But we don't owe these people anything."
"A knife and five coins," Derek deadpanned.
Warren humphed, "They can have twice that before we face something this dangerous," spreading his arms to encompass the desolation.
Ribaldi pointed out, "If Grah-Hoth does escape and reclaims Avernum, everyone left will be tortured for sport. Nevertheless, though the Almighty can save by many or by few, I should like to be more sure we few are the ones who should be facing this evil."
"Then say your prayers, Father," Nathan said gruffly, "because Warren's right, we're going to be asked. But I have a feeling about King Micah. He's not the sort to ask us to throw our lives away. And he does pay as well as anyone in this dirt-poor place can."
Derek added, "Also, no torture for sport."
"Another plus," Nathan agreed, returning Derek's grin. Ribaldi chuckled while Warren folded his arms.
Ribaldi held out his hands palms up to appease Warren, saying, "Now, now, my son. I have heard some legends of a sword called Demonslayer-"
"And how much was somebody charging for this sword?" Warren finished skeptically.
"I heard it was broken," Ribaldi finished shortly, "and so even once we find it, it would need reforging."
Warren sighed heavily.
Nathan clapped him on the back and said, "If we get the mission, maybe we'll hear stories of where to look for it. But that's all the future - forget it for now, Warren."
Underground Fort
Warren shivered as they marched towards the spectrally chilled crypt within the fort, asking, "I get it, we're going to fight a bunch of demons, and their big, bad, boss. But is Demonslayer really worth all this trouble?"
The others charged the undead inside, and he hustled to follow.
Slith Temple
Warren coughed out some blood - he had been stabbed in the face by a now-deceased slith - and as Ribaldi healed him, he commented, "I mean, I'm just saying, Demonslayer had better be a big help."
Crypt of Drath
"Wouldn't have wanted," Warren panted as he kicked away a last, twitching, skeletal arm, "to have chased around Avernum for something unimportant."
"Well, it is important," Nathan told him shortly.
"Mmhmm," Warren returned brightly. "Good. That's all I'm saying. It'd better be helpful."
Fort Draco
Boutell the smith picked up Demonslayer, reforged from the pieces the adventurers had found, and held it out hilt-forward, to Nathan. "This," Boutell said reverently, "has been a true honor, sir, and I thank you. It is the culmination of my life's work. So long have I heard the stories - and now I am a part of them."
Ribaldi surreptitiously kicked Warren before the latter's mouth got all the way open.
"I'm honored also, sir," Nathan told him, looking down its length and swinging it slightly. "It's wonderful, thank you. The time to use it is near. We'll never forget you, Boutell."
Of course, they also didn't forget to pay him.
Author's Note:
I love Demonslayer, love the quest to get its pieces, and love helping Boutell participate in its storied history. Warren, however, has a very different perspective on the world than I do.
I'm fairly sure that Boutell does charge for his labor in reforging Demonslayer. He did a lot of work on it, and he does need to eat.