“This is Gehman’s,” Cavey said as we approached a small hut with black soot and smoke spilling out of the chipped and worn wooden door. The smell was awful. How could anyone actually work in there?

“We don’t have too many Pareals,” D told him. Pareals were the in-game currency. Low-level Horngrins barely dropped enough to restock on arrows and Health Kits, so being able to afford an entire new suit of plate mail, the most expensive armor in the game, was definitely out of the question.

“Don’t worry about it,” Cavey replied. “It’s on us.”

I turned to D, who again, just shrugged. Before The Ripper had come, D would have looked at Cavey’s entire guild as a bunch of softies to be easily preyed upon, killed and then looted. He wasn’t one for “nice” people in MMOs. He was all about the PvP. But now, things had changed, and I could see he was doing his best to be amiable.

“Are you sure?” I replied.

“Maybe you’ll consider sticking around,” Cavey smiled. “We could use someone of your level to protect Stoneburg from the raids.”

“Sorry, we’re not really the guild type,” D replied quickly.

“Well… think about it.” Cavey smiled as he turned away. I shot D a scolding glance as I rapped on the door.

“What?” he said indignantly.

“Do you have to be so… harsh?” I replied. “They’re being nice to us! They know who I am, and they didn’t try and kill me!”

“So that’s our standard now?” D snorted. “Anyone who doesn’t kill you is worth being friends with?”

I started to reply as I tugged the door open but was almost swept off my feet as an enormous cloud of smoke billowed out of the hut and engulfed us. I staggered back, covering my mouth and nose with my arm.

“Yuck!” D grimaced, turning his back on the hut.

“That you, Cavey!?” a voice rang out from within, followed by the sound of hammer on steel.

“What the Hell?” D coughed. “How is he not dead in there?”

It was a legitimate question. I tried to peer inside but the whole building was basically a smoke stack. I could barely make out a figure, which I assumed was Gehman, holding a hammer high above his head.

He brought it down again, and the sound of steel rang out. Waving the smoke aside with my hands, I stepped through the door and into the hut.

“Just finishing up a sword!” Gehman called out as we pushed our way through the acrid cloud inside. As we grew closer, I was able to make him out.

He was wearing a thick leather smith’s apron and had arms that looked like a bodybuilder’s. His hair was short and dark brown, with a total baby face.

He raised his hammer for a final blow, then pulled the sword from the anvil. It glowed hot red amidst the cloudy air. He spun around, drew it back high in the air like he was going to stab someone, then brought it down into an enormous cauldron of water.

With a loud hiss, a cloud of steam filled the room, pushing the smoke out the door and windows, temporarily clearing the workshop enough to see normally.

“Jesus!” D shouted. “He’s a mad scientist!”

“Sorry about that, fellas!” Gehman roared, spinning around and brandishing the freshly forged sword in front of him. He may have been a skilled smith, but he obviously wasn’t a swordsman. “Had to finish this baby up. Once I start a project, I just can’t stop until it’s finished.”

With a flourish, he brandished the sword in the air, twisting it in front of him like some massive baton. It spun quickly over his head, but his hand slipped and sent the blade spinning high into the air.

“Look out!” he gasped, leaping back as the blade spun through the air. Its blade glistened, catching a ray of sun from outside, before plummeting down and burying itself in the floor between us.

“Hehe.” Gehman laughed nervously. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem!” I said quickly, before D could say something snotty.

Upon inspection, I saw Gehman was level 12. He’d probably been spending all his experience points on smithing, which was why he had no idea what he was doing with the weapons he was making.

D leaned forward and yanked the sword from the floor boards and wiped the dirt from the blade. With a nod, he handed it back to him.

“Thanks.” Gehman smiled. “So, who are you guys?”

“This is D,” I replied, not mentioning my own name. I could see Gehman hadn’t bothered inspecting either of us, and I wanted to avoid having another conversation about being “the one.”

“Cavey said you could help me out with a suit of plate mail? We’ve been leveling out at the Bandit’s Tower and all I’ve got is this scraped-together junk.”

“Bandit’s Tower?” Gehman asked eagerly. “That sounds awesome! I don’t get out of here much, ya know? Everyone needs weapons. Everyone needs armor.”

“Speaking of that,” I replied. “How do you even breath in here with all that smoke?”

“Eh, you get used to it.” He shrugged, rubbing his hands together. “Anyway, come on over to my workbench. Let me show you what I’ve got.”