Chapter 7: Gearing Up

Leaving the guild, you notice that there seems to be a lot of traffic even at this early hour. You pass a few people hurrying upwards to look for quests and the ground floor is teeming with adventurers turning in quest materials.

“It’s always like this,” Trent says, “You’ll get used to it.”

“You’re probably not looking for common items, so we’ll skip the ordinary stores,” he says as he continues to walk.

The two of you walk for a few minutes, passing a few shops on the way until you reach a fairly large establishment.

Unlike the other shops, this one has glass windows. You can see various displays and they seem to be well made. A finely crafted wooden board, carved with intricate designs, proudly features the shop’s name — Glenn’s.

“Glenn, I’m bringing you some business you old bastard,” shouts Trent as the two of you enter the shop.

Several pieces of armor are on display as well as a few swords. You see one wall dedicated to different kinds of bows, and this piques your interest.

“Trent, you land-locked pirate,” says the man behind the counter. “What’s this business you’re talking about?”

“The boy needs some equipment,” Trent gestures to you.

“This one’s new,” Glenn answers as he looks at you with curious eyes. “Is he one of your pirate friends?”

“No. He’s a hunter from Fishcreek,” Trent answers. “He’s here for a bow, some boots, and a few sets of clothes.

Glenn gestures at the wall. “See what bow suits you. I assume you have gold since this worn-down hunter sent you here.”

You look around the shop — choosing clothing that fit and wouldn’t make you stand out. You opted to buy whole sets of similar pieces with function over form. Dressing smart isn’t really your priority at the moment, nor will it be in the future.

Finding proper boots was a bit harder. There were pre-made ones but they didn’t really fit. The one that did fit was made from the hide of a frost worm, granting both protection from heat and cold.

“Those boots have a bit of magic in them,” says Glenn. “While their magic doesn’t extend to your whole body — at least your feet won’t catch fire or turn cold.”

“They suit me,” you reply. “How much?”

“20 gold no less,” he answers. “These boots are a rarity and frost worms are both rare and dangerous.”

“Frost worms?” you ask.

“A dragon-like creature that lives in the cold,” answers Glenn. “The few adventurers who have seen one say they’re as big as a house and the flames on their scales are hot enough to melt metal.”

“I see,” you reply — wondering what other strange creatures are spawned in this world. “I’ll take the boots then.”

“Enough of the clothing boy!” you hear Trent yell. “Those clothes and boots are enough. Time to choose your bow,” he says gesturing at the wall.

You stare at the bows mounted on the wall. There are numerous bows of different types, make, and material.

You eliminate half of them as they are either too short or too long. Longbows may be powerful but they are of little use in a forest and the smaller bows don’t have enough power to bring down game larger than a wolf.

The recurve bows are your only options. Short enough to maneuver in tight situations but powerful enough for larger prey.

You test a few of them — checking their draw. None of them meet your expectations.

“Do you have anything heavier?” you ask, looking at Glenn.

The shopkeeper and Trent share a knowing look.

“It seems that Trent was right to bring you here,” Glenn says. “My bows are some of the most powerful in town — and yet you find them lacking…”

He raises his hand and gestures for you to wait. He then enters one of the rooms and comes back with two bows.

“This one is made from ironwood and dragonbone…”

“Phah!” interrupts Trent. “Dragonbone my ass. Don’t you be trickin the lad,” he exclaims with feigned fury.

“Horn then,” he says honestly. “Ironwood and horn”

You grasp the bow in your hand and give it a pull.

“85 pounds — not bad for a bow,” you think to yourself.

“And the other,” you ask, just in case the next bow was superior to the one you’re holding.

The shopkeeper brings out a bow with a cruder design. There is very little elegance to this bow — instead, it has a certain savagery. The bow’s limbs are made of wood but the curved tips are reinforced with steel. The grip is decorated with spikes — quite unnecessary and probably just for intimidation or ritualistic purposes.

He strings the bow with ease and hands it over to you.

You give it a pull.

The bow pulls up to a weight of 120 lbs. — comfortable enough for you to shoot and powerful enough to kill a normal bear. Of course, the beasts in this world seem to be a little hardier — but you could probably deal significant damage with the right arrows.

“This bow…” you start.

“Is an orc bow,” the shopkeeper finishes. “Orcs rarely use bows — but the few who do have these monsters as their weapons.”

Orcs. That term is familiar — inciting feelings of revulsion and disgust. Something to be crushed when seen.

“I’ve altered the bow somewhat — changing the string to make it more efficient,” he continues. “I kept the look of the bow since it seems fitting.”

“The string feels peculiar,” you say, looking at the shopkeeper for some answers. You could discern that it is woven from ten strands of silk-like material — but it also has a slight aura of magic. “It’s not something an orc would use.”

“Enchanted elven strings made from spider silk and one of their forest plants,” he answers. “The enchantment makes the string more durable and would probably last two more years.”

Elves. Another familiar word — but you decide to put it off for later.

“How much for the bow?” you ask.

“80 gold, with 2 dozen arrows,” he answers.

“Broadheads?”

“Of course.”

You hesitate for a moment, realizing this purchase along with the boots and clothing would cost 110 gold — more than half of what you have.

“100 gold for everything,” the shopkeeper offers after noting your hesitation. “I’ll throw in the quivers for free since you’re friends with Trent.”

You nod in agreement and take the gold from your pouch.

“Let the boy shoot a few arrows to get a feel for his bow,” says Trent. “I’d like to see those bows put to use.”

Glenn pauses for a second. “Outside then,” he replies.

Glenn then calls an assistant to mind the shop while the three of you walk to the courtyard. He sets up a few archery targets, a few pieces of thick wood, and a discarded piece of metal from some form of plate armor.

He goes inside for a moment and comes back with a dozen arrows.

He hands you three of them — not broadheads, so you assume they’re for the archery targets to test for accuracy.

“I’ll start,” you say, and the two give you space to shoot.

Your new bow has its arrow rest on the right side for faster reloads. You wonder if this was an orc thing or if the shopkeeper made a few modifications to the original design.

You nock your first arrow and shoot — followed by the second and the third. All three hit their targets dead center.

It takes you two seconds to fire all three arrows — a feat that should be quite normal for serious hunters.

The two seem unsurprised by the result. Any hunter with a bow should have no problems hitting a stationary target at that distance.

“Test for penetration,” says Glenn.

This time he hands you three broadheads.

“The log,” he says.

You nock the broadhead and pull back until the string is past your ear. You let loose.

The arrow hit with a sharp thud — splitting the six-inch thick log in two.

“That was a mighty shot!” exclaims Trent.

“Or a bad piece of wood,” you reply with a laugh.

Glenn looks on with an intrigued expression.

“The metal plate,” he says.

You pause for a while and then shake your head.

“No arrow would be able to puncture that piece of armor and I won’t be wasting good arrows,” you reply.

“Beasts don’t wear metal armor,” you continue, “and even if they do, my arrows can easily find their eyes.”

The two seem to be satisfied with your explanation.

The three of you go back to the shop and Glenn packs up your things. You came to this shop with 180 gold and all you’re left with is 80.

“So how is the boy?” asks Trent.

“He’ll make a good hunter — but he’ll never be the best,” Glenn straightforwardly replies. “He has power and precision — but all his shots are devoid of even a trace of magic.”

“Does the boy need magic — considering his accuracy and strength?” Trent asks.

“Maybe not now,” Glenn answers. “But soon he might face a foe that normal arrows won’t be able to touch.”

“Hahaha!” Trent laughs. “Then the boy can just beat it up to a pulp!”

Glenn stares at Trent with a questioning look.

“The boy isn’t an archer — or not just an archer,” Trent explains. “He took down a runed bear…” he gives you a knowing look, “…with his bare hands.”

You try to mask your surprise but the veteran hunter has clearly seen through your ruse. You merely smile and shake your head.

“Then that orc bow definitely suits him,” Glenn says with a bit of disbelief in his voice. “Why even bother with a bow? Why not spears or throwing axes?”

“They’re not as efficient,” you answer. “Arrows are easier to carry and I can always switch weapons if I meet a tougher foe.”

“I’ll be looking for an actual weapon after this and Trent says he knows of a certain smith,” you finish.

“You’re taking him to Torm, I presume?” Glenn says looking at Trent. “The man is eccentric. I don’t even know how he manages to survive?”

“Torm is a real weaponsmith,” Trent answers. “He’ll only forge the best of weapons for people he believes are worthy to wield them.

“And you think he’ll make one for the boy?” Glenn asks.

“I believe so,” answers Trent. “The boy may have a lack of magic, but there’s something special about him.”

“We’ll also be going to a certain place before going to Torm’s — to give that smith a little more motivation.”

“Just you and the boy?” Glenn asks.

“It should be no problem now that the boy is all geared-up,” Trent answers. He turns to you and asks, “So boy, are you ready to go see the smith?”

You have an inkling that this trip with Trent would drain all the money that you just earned.

“What will it cost me?”

“Ohhh,” Trent pauses. “Maybe everything.”