“AAAAAAAAAH!”

A loud scream came out of a back alley nestled between a pair of 20-meter tall apartment buildings. And although all of the pedestrians on the adjacent road heard it, none of them even tried to investigate its origins. Dark, dingy places like those were the pits of despair in the city of Steelhead, and only existed to house the city’s most underprivileged residents. Hearing disconcerting noises come out of such dark corners was almost commonplace, so none of the residents concerned themselves with such cries.

This willing disregard for their fellow citizens would seem harsh and cruel to an outsider, but this was merely the way things were in the Horkensaft Kingdom.

To begin with, while dwarves and gnomes placed a lot of importance on family and clan, this also meant that outsiders and strangers were often left to fend for themselves. It simply wasn’t in their nature to go out of their way to help the poor with hand-outs. Within Horkensaft culture, it was widely accepted that one had to earn their keep if they hoped to eat. Things like charity were actually somewhat frowned upon, as a good chunk of the population believed that it only encouraged their lazy behavior.

That wasn’t to say they were completely heartless people, of course. They merely looked after their less fortunate brothers and sisters in a slightly different way - by providing them with gainful employment. Many guilds offered internship positions to pretty much anyone that needed a job, regardless of their social status or skillset. The work typically consisted of grueling menial labor and the pay was terrible, but at the same time these interns were provided with food, clothes, and shelter by the guild. As an added bonus, they typically also got a small discount on whatever goods and/or services their employers offered.

Strictly speaking, it was a harsh lifestyle with little hope for promotion, but it was still an honest and productive one. Finding an open position was not exactly difficult, either, as there was always work to go around in Steelhead. Cargo had to be delivered, precious metals and minerals had to be dug up, lumber and wild herbs had to be gathered, fields needed tending to and there was always some dead beastie or another that needed to be dismantled. And if all of that failed, then becoming an adventurer was always an option as well.

In short, if one needed paying work, then finding it would not be difficult.

However, that didn’t mean that everyone was willing to work all day every day for some pittance with little-to-no-hope of living ‘the good life.’ Those kinds of people either resorted to petty theft and pickpocketing as a way of making an easy profit, or joined up with one of the three major cartels that took refuge within the country. And these criminal organizations continued to operate in no small part thanks to how easy it was to control street-level law enforcement with coin. A side effect of the stingy, family-centric nature of dwarves and gnomes alike was that it made them more easily susceptible to both bribes and blackmail.

“Noooo! Come baaaack! Help meee!”

The bottom line was that if someone was screaming their lungs out in a back alley in Horkensaft, they were almost always a criminal. And while a few ignorant tourists might think to play the good samaritan and poke their head in where it didn’t belong, such screams were mostly left unanswered and ignored until they quieted down. Or until a cop showed up and investigated the disturbance whether he liked it or not. Otherwise his failure to enforce law and order could be reported, and his wallet would suffer for it.

This time, however, it would appear that neither of those things happened.

“Out of my way! Move it, gramps!””

A young dwarven male - somewhere between 14 and 16 years old by the looks of him - dashed out of the alley and ran down the street, nearly knocking over an elderly gnome in the process. His hair was an oily brown with long bangs that draped over his eyes, his nose was large and bulbous, and his clothes consisted of an old black vest, dull red work shirt and some filthy gray overalls that had long ago lost their original color. His face, on the other hand, was as white as a sheet, and in his hands was a Bag of Holding which wasn’t closed properly, allowing several golden coins to spill out of it during his hasty escape.

Even the jaded pedestrians couldn’t help but stare after him in a mix of confusion and shock, as his behavior was quite disconcerting. A dwarf letting gold fall out of their pockets and then failing to pick it back up? Why, the mere idea of it was ludicrous! But, before any of them could ponder the money’s clearly dubious origins, the reason behind the young lad’s borderline-heretical behavior walked out of the alley.

“Help me! Please!”

The first thing the surrounding people noticed about this newcomer was the white metal gauntlet on his left hand, which shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun. The more discerning among them were able to tell at just a glance that the glove, vambrace and shield were all bonded together, and were forged out of the purest of mithril. The value of such a thing could not be understated nor easily determined, but it was certain to be worth a modest fortune.

However, the gnome it was attached to was much too poor to legally own such a treasure. The long black coat on his back, while sturdy and undoubtedly warm, was quite old. The battered trouser legs and old boots that poked out from beneath its hem even further solidified the fact that this guy was clearly undeserving of an item of that caliber. His face wasn’t anything remarkable other than making it obvious he was around the same age as the dwarf that ran past earlier. His most prominent feature was the short, spiky, and uncharacteristically bright green hair that strongly implied an elven father, which wasn’t all too surprising considering the town’s proximity to the Republic.

What was surprising, however, was the way he walked. Or rather, he wasn’t so much ‘walking’ as he was ‘dragging his feet.’ He was leaning heavily towards his left while his arm was left hanging limp. It was almost as if the gauntlet on it was much too heavy for him, which seemed a bit odd as mithril was known to be a relatively light metal.

“Please! Someone! I can’t- I can’t-”

In his desperation, the young man kept calling out for help, but his appearance made the already uncharitable people around him even less likely to approach. Something was clearly wrong with him, and the fact that the nature of this ‘something’ wasn’t readily apparent only served to make them back off even further. The moss-headed gnome continued to plead helplessly until his knees buckled under some unseen weight, and he collapsed on the cobblestone road shield-gauntlet first with a heavy clunking noise.

“Get this thing off me! Get it off me!”

While on the ground, he tried to force the expensive piece of armor off his left forearm, but his efforts were met with nothing but frustration. It was at around this point that people began to realize this was the sign of a cursed item - a tainted object that offered great power to its wielder, but at a heavy price. And something that was most of those things had in common was that they would be nigh-impossible to remove once equipped.

“Alright, stand aside, you lot!” shouted someone as they made their way through the crowd. “What’s going on over here, eh?!”

The dwarf that made forced his way forward was a middle-aged man with a heavy build. He wore a padded black uniform with white underclothing poking out from around his hands and neck. A small round shield was attached to his left forearm while a double-bladed axe with a short handle dangled from his right hip. He had a pair of beady eyes and a marvelous upwardly-curled moustache, but no beard. On his head was a bell-like helmet painted black, with a shield-shaped copper badge bolted to the front of it, which had the number 127 engraved on it in large, blocky print.

“Please, mister copper!” shouted the man. “You need to cut it off!”

“What you screaming about boy?” he said as he got closer. “What do you want me to cut off?”

“This! Blasted! Thing!” enunciated the poor boy as he kept banging on the mithril gauntlet.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” responded the public servant. “Ain’t no way I can cut through that! Hell, is that even yours?!”

“No! It’s not! So get it off me!”

“Right, right, we’ll do just that down at the guard house. Come on, ya little-!”

The street rat had openly admitted to theft, so the copper - or ‘cop’ for short - tried to do his duty and bring him in for questioning. Those plans were then rapidly abandoned when the young gnome pulled out a knife with his right hand, causing the dwarf to reach for his axe and brace for an attack.

“Look! I’ll show you!”

However, rather than lash out at him, the youth merely ripped open his old coat and underlying shirt to reveal the shocking truth. His left arm, shoulder, and part of his torso were covered by a series of interlocking steel plates. And although he could waggle his mithril-covered fingers, he lacked the strength to support that much heavy metal at once, and was effectively pinned to the ground by his own body.

“Sweet Goroth,” muttered the copper as he realized that the steel plating was slowly encroaching on the rest of him, threatening to swallow him whole.

“It’s cursed, see?! Do you understand, now?! If you do then chop this fucking thing off!”

“Chop what?! I don’t know what you want me to do!”

“My arm, man! Slice off my fucking arm!”

“I… I don’t-”

“Hurry! I can’t… I can’t even breathe right!”

The cause of his shortness of breath was undoubtedly the advancing Curse of the Steelshaper currently enveloping his body. It had already claimed the left half of his torso and was threatening to crawl up his neck, weighing down both his lung and his windpipe, restricting his ability to breathe normally.

“Alright! Grit your teeth, laddie!”

The dwarven cop grabbed his war axe with both hands and stood above the offending limb. The crowd held their breath as he lifted it above his head and swung it down in a wood-chopping like motion.

*CLANG*

However, while he definitely hit the steel-covered bicep of the cursed gauntlet’s victim, he was unable to cut through it. He still left a harsh dent in it, but it was obviously going to take more than one go.

“Again! Hit it again!” pleaded the gnome, and the dwarf complied.

*CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG*

But no matter how many times he hit the same spot, he wasn’t making nearly enough progress. Although this was partly due to the poor quality of his axe - which was more for show than anything else - it was an undeniable truth that this thing was hard. It felt like it would take him at least two or three minutes to completely get through it, but that was time the poor boy didn’t have. The curse had already enveloped most of his face and chest, and he was so short of breath that he couldn’t even speak.

Just as he was about to give up, the copper heard a set of thunderous footsteps behind him. They were heavy, scraping paces that threatened to crack the very road they walked on, and were rapidly headed towards him.

“Out of the way, meatbag.”

He heard a disrespectful voice from behind before he was shoved rudely aside and felt his already dull axe fly out of his hands all on its own. He rebuilt his balance and turned around to chastise whoever the owner of that bucket-impeded voice was, but was momentarily stunned speechless, much like the rest of the crowd.

In front of him stood a golem made out of what appeared to be pure mithril. Rather than the clumsy and unsightly manservants he was used to seeing around town, this construct was far more… life-like. The amount of detail on it was so extreme, that if he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was a mithril sculpture that had come to life.

“Hey!” he shouted out after snapping back to his senses. “What do you think you’re doing?! Where’s your owner?!”

“Who me?” replied the animate art exhibit with a small smile. “Don’t mind me, I’m just passing by.”

“Yeah, right! And I’m the princess of Waffleopolis! You know something about this curse thing, don’t you?!”

It really didn’t take a genius to determine that a queer mithril golem missing a left arm and a piece of unnatural left-handed mithril armor were connected in some way.

“It isn’t a curse,” she said softly. “It’s a blessing. My blessing. And I’m taking it back!”

In the next instant, she raised the copper’s axe in the air using her one good arm, and then swung it down with terrifying speed.

*CRACKLANG*

There was a loud impact that left a wide crack in the ground, sending both stone and metal fragments flying off at less-than-safe speeds. When the dust settled a few seconds later, the crowd that had instinctively ducked for cover was treated to the sight of that shiny newcomer holding the shield-gauntlet in hand. The magic item that had shrank down to fit the gnome’s tiny hand began to expand in size, reverting to its original dimensions. The severed limb of its latest victim slid out of the growing cavity, falling to the ground with a wet plop.

As for the owner of said appendage, his body was slowly beginning to recover. His left arm stump had already adopted a more fleshy disposition and was even starting to bleed profusely. All things considered, it was hard to tell whether this was a good or a bad thing, but he was definitely going to recover in due course. However, as far as Fizzy was concerned, ‘in due course’ was code for ‘way too fucking late.’ She stowed away the Left Hand of the Forsaken Sentinel in one of the other two Bags of Holding on her person, then kneeled next to the bleeding boy. She placed her hand on his steel-covered left shoulder and began to administer first aid.

“Cleanse! … Holy Light! … Cleanse! … Holy Light!”

After a series of quick applications of alternating restorative and purifying holy magic, Fizzy was able to completely purge the remnants of the curse while making sure the boy survived. The crowd let out a small round of applause when the gnome coughed himself back into consciousness and the last bit of cursed steel flaked off his skin. It was hard to deny that there was something truly special about witnessing a pure-white holy healer at work.

“Are you alright?” asked Fizzy as she helped him sit up. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Yeah,” replied the boy in a hazy manner. “Everything hurts.”

“Well then, congratulations! You’re back to normal!”

She then gave him what seemed to be a celebratory pat on the back-

*SMACK*

“GUHAH!”

-but was actually an open-palmed blow. One hard enough to make him scream out in pain while coughing up a bit of blood, which immediately made the peanut gallery fall silent.

“What the hell are you-! Oh.”

Now that the stinging pain had brought him back to his senses, he realized the shining angel that had just saved him was actually the infuriatingly expensive golem he had robbed a short while ago. He had her pegged for an easy mark, as something that extravagant was bound to be carrying a lot of good stuff. It also looked sturdy enough that it wouldn’t notice if its luggage suddenly lightened by a few kilograms’ worth of valuables. With that in mind, he had pocketed the heaviest-looking Bag of Holding while it was spacing out and made a rapid retreat. And he would’ve gotten away with it too, if his mate didn’t talk him into trying to put on that weird gauntlet.

But he did, and as a result the thief ended up in his current predicament. Lying half-naked on the ground, with that very same golem smiling at him mere centimeters from his face. But the smile on those lips wasn’t one of forgiveness, but one of terrifying glee. The sort of smile a mischievous little brat would make after getting a brand new toy. One that the child would enjoy smashing against various hard surfaces to satisfy his destructive impulses.

“Now then,” said Fizzy while grabbing him by the shoulder. “Where’s the rest of the stuff you stole from me?”

“I- … Uh… I’m not… sure.”

Not hearing the answer she wanted made Fizzy respond by putting a little bit of strength into her grip-

*CRACK*

-shattering his collarbone with a gruesomely loud noise. The young lad started howling in pain, but a quick application of the pint-sized Paladin’s healing magic quickly cured his injury, but leaving the agony fresh in his mind.

“Where’s the rest of the stuff you stole from me?” repeated the golem as if she were a broken record.

The pickpocket stared at her with quivering eyes and trembling lips. Unfortunately, paralyzed by fear as he was, he had taken a bit too long to respond.

*CRACK*

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

“Holy Light.”

*Fwoooom*

“Haaah, haaaah, haaah.”

“Where’s the rest of the stuff you stole from me?”

“My partner has it!” he blurted out finally.

“There you go! See? I just knew you and I would become fast friends!” said Fizzy in mock bemusement. “Now, where might I find this ‘partner’ of yours?”

She immediately began to put pressure on his abused shoulder, but his mouth began running before his bones had the chance snap.

“He has this place he likes to hide out! I’ll lead you to him! It’s not that far!”

“Oh, well if you insist. After you!”

The crowd watched in silence as the psychotic golem got up from the ground and carried her new ‘friend’ along by the neck in front of her, almost as if he were a bag of garbage. Before she made it past the crowd, however, someone shoved the dwarven copper from earlier into her path. The man was clearly unwilling to stand up to that monster. Coppers like him were first-responders anyway. They were intended to handle small stuff like domestic disputes or drunken bar fights, not what seemed to be a rogue golem.

“Is something the matter, officer?” asked Fizzy sweetly.

Still, she seemed… reasonable enough, so he decided to at least try talking her down. It wasn’t the smartest of ideas, but was part of his duties as a peacekeeper deputized by the city guard. Which he needed to do if he hoped to keep a roof over his family’s heads and put food on their tables.

“You, uh, *Ahem* Good day, miss. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to unhand that miscreant?” he asked.

“Miscreant? Why, whatever do you mean, officer?”

“Isn’t… Isn’t this just a thief who stole from you?”

“Oh, heavens no! You have the wrong idea! Mossy here would never steal from me!”

“M-Mossy?” blurted out the gnome in her grasp.

“After all,” continued the golem. “We’re such good friends. Aren’t we?”

The dwarf could just barely see her tighten her vice-like grip on the gnome’s neck. The way his flesh tried to escape between her fingers gave the impression that she was squeezing an overripe banana.

“That’s right!” he sputtered out while struggling to take a breath. “We’re the best of friends, her and me! I wouldn’t even dream of stealing from her! Or anyone for that matter!”

“See? No crime here!” declared the shiny psychopath with the infallible smile. “Just having a bit quality time together, that’s all. What about you, Mr Badge Number 127? Do you want to be my friend?”

A stray piece of circular metal fell from above the instant she finished saying that. It landed directly between Fizzy and the public servant, lodging itself between a pair of large cobblestones in the road. A quick glance revealed that this steel shard was actually a remnant of the dwarf’s one handed war axe, which had shattered into several large pieces upon its arm-severing impact.

“Nope,” squeaked the copper. “I’m good.”

“Aw, a shame. Well, come on, Mossy. Let’s find someplace else to… expand our circle of friends.”

The instant the golem took a step forward, the sea of people in front of her scattered as if they were running for their lives, allowing her to carry on her way unabated. As she was walking away, another copper - this one a plucky dwarven woman with the serial number 216 stamped on her hat - arrived at the scene from the opposite end of the road.

“Borestone!” she shouted as she approached her colleague. “Borestone! What the hell happened here?!”

The dwarf looked at her, then at the large crack in the road by the dismembered hand. His eyes then passed over the piece of shattered axe at his feet as he shot a fleeting glance at the side street Fizzy had just disappeared to. His sight then traveled horizontally across the rapidly dispersing crowd until they settled onto his superior officer’s face.

“Nothing at all, ma’am,” he said in a surprisingly calm voice. “Just a nice lady teaching others about the magic of friendship.”