Em led the way up one of the staircases, and they set off down a broad chamber more reminiscent of a city thoroughfare than a hallway. They turned and followed another similarly large hall and came to a stop at a broad door embossed with what looked like a pattern of intricately carved gold bars.

They emerged in a massive chamber that was an almost direct and opposite response to the chaos of Hel’s Oasis.

Walls of neatly organized shelves lined three walls of the room, each clearly sectioned off and labeled, and the fourth wall was a gigantic window looking in on a pristine workshop filled with a vast array of metal-working tools. Half a dozen dwarves were hard at work at different stations within, pumping bellows, pounding glowing sorcerous hammers, etching runes upon all sorts of weapons and tools.

A scrawny dwarf with dark hair and pale skin greeted them, emerging suddenly from behind a counter.

“Fresh blood, have we?” the dwarf said.

“He’s stocking up like all the others, Brock,” Em said.

“Yes, we’re all working double time, thanks to yer big mission.”

“I’m sure you’re being amply rewarded. And it can only be easier since I returned your master to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the dwarf named Brock said. “Don’t need yeh to hash it all over again. And he’s not my master.”

“Look, we’re here to see—”

The dwarf cut Gunnar off.

“I know who yeh’re here to see,” Brock said.

“Well, you want to go get Nimble, or do we all have to suffer through more of this exchange?” Em asked.

Brock rolled his eyes. “Not sure what yeh’re so worried about anyway. Eitri’s work is far better quality.”

“That why there’s so much lying around?” Em asked, gesturing at a wall of what appeared to be silver weapons, though there was a unique sheen to the weapons that made Gunnar suspect it was something else entirely.

“I’d take Varyan steel over Starforged any day.”

“Yeh can say that because yeh’ll never have to take that shite into battle,” Nimble barked as he shut the door to the workshop behind him, drowning out a sudden cacophony of metalwork emitting from the busy room.

“I’d fight yeh any day,” Brock nearly spat.

Nimble plodded past the dwarf, with a not so subtle bump into his shoulder.

“Much as I’d like to play this cockfight out, yer brother needs yer help. Some sort of finicky work he couldn’t handle. And I’ve got Nighthawks to equip for an important quest.”

“Finicky work?” The dwarf looked a bit crestfallen at the prospect. “Ugh, if he wants me to work the bellows for him again…”

Brock’s voice drifted off as he left them and made his way into the workshop.

Gunnar grinned at Nimble. “Gotta be honest, when I heard you were a craftsman, I had no idea it meant something this high tech.”

“Dunno what that means,” Nimble grunted. “But I assume it’s some sort of island bumpkin slang for god-like quality handiwork. Can’t say that’s the case for all these hacks, but we’ll show yeh some of my goods.”

Nimble led the way to a shelf across the room. It towered at least twenty feet high and was filled with goods off all kinds and makes, though Gunnar noted that the wood bore the weight of it all with surprising ease. Despite holding massive weapons and pieces of armor, the shelves showed no signs of give.

“What’ve yeh got for weapons?” Nimble asked.

“Some daggers, a Red Cloak saber, a—”

“Show them to me,” Nimble said. “I en’t sending yeh to Mavenport with low-grade Red Cloak shite.”

“Alright, alright.” Gunnar emptied his Inventory, laying out daggers, throwing blades, a saber, blunderbuss, and everything.

“Any armor?” Nimble asked.

Gunnar produced his leathern vambraces and greaves.

Nimble began investigating each item closely, even sniffing some items, and muttering the word shite numerous times.

Nimble tossed the Red Cloak issue saber onto the floor, along with three of the daggers, and called out for a dawn elf maiden, who appeared from a back room. “Dispose of this shite.”

The young woman rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. “You’d think after all this, you could unearth at least one other derogatory term for the work of craftsmen you despise.”

“It’s a glorious word,” Nimble said. “I see no reason to waste time on varied vocabulary to describe the exact same thing.”

“Are they the same though?” the elf asked skeptically. “This saber is Ilaean steel crafted by Ludwen the Elder. These daggers are Kerenean iron, made by an unknown craftsman.”

“Aye! And they’re all shite!”

Gunnar and Em stifled chuckles. The dwarf was so serious about the matter, it was probably best not to agitate him further.

“But this dagger is fine?” Gunnar asked, gesturing to Sheira’s blade, which was the only one remaining. “Isn’t this just a basic iron blade?”

Nimble grunted. “Nothing Starforged is basic, even if it is iron. It’s been formed over and over again, made stronger each and every time.”

“What is Starforged exactly?”

“You really are a bumpkin.”

“It means,” said the elf, “it was forged in a magic flame.”

“No one asked yeh,” Nimble huffed. “Now, run along and destroy those pieces of—”

“Yeah, yeah,” the elf said as she walked off.

Nimble strode over to the shelf and retrieved two Starforged steel daggers, along with a saber. And Gunnar had to admit, both the Durability and Base Damage of the items were notably higher than his previous weapons.

“Mythrowing blades are alright?”

Nimble nodded. “They’re Varyan, which means they’re a little bit lighter, slightly less damage. Don’t yeh dare tell Brock and Eitri I said this, but with these small blades, I think yeh’re better off with the lighter make.”

Nimble grabbed a series of potions from the shelf and plopped them on the counter. “Everyone on this mission gets three minors and one full potion. Healing, Stamina, and Mana restoration.”

Gunnar groaned, thinking of the money he’d already spent at Hel’s. That must have been why she’d asked him about being in a guild when he’d bought them. But he supposed plenty of potions wouldn’t hurt. He gathered up the items and stored them in his Inventory.

Nimble didn’t disapprove of his leathern armor, even if it was elven-crafted, but did insist on adding a leathern chest piece. Gunnar was impressed with how light and flexible it was, while still boosting his Resistance to Damage by 20%. He also received some new lock picks, and some food and drink rations, which the maiden fetched for him.

“That’s the basic outfitting,” Nimble said. “But yeh saved my life, and I told yeh I’d take care of yeh. So, I saved something special for last.”

The dwarf produced a dark cloak, though Gunnar could immediately tell something was strange about it. The light seemed to waver over the cloth, creating a strange flickering effect in the bright light of the workshop.

Cloak of Gathering Shadows

Item Class: Rare, Elven-crafted

Quality: Above average

Weight: 2.5

Durability: 23

Effect:+40% to Stealth

Description: Woven from a sacred cloth and imbued with dark illusory enchantments, this cloak collects darkness, increasing the shadow effect around it. It may not be invisibility, but it’s the next best thing.

Em eyed the cloak with envy. “I was part of that rescue too.”

“Sure, yeh were,” Nimble said. “But Gunnar was the one to take me brother’s quest in the first place. Besides yeh were adequately compensated in yer own right.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Em muttered, with a slight edge to her voice.

Gunnar held it up, admiring the quality of the weave. “Surprised a good dwarf like you would hold on to an elven-made cloak.”

Nimble grunted. “It pained me a bit, I won’t lie to yeh. And I’ve always believed the elven-weave was over-rated. But this en’t no ordinary celestial weave like they use among most elven clans. This bears dark enchantments. Not many know the old weaves. When yeh come across one that do, yeh can be damn sure even Nimble don’t let it slip away.”

“Damn,” Gunnar said softly.

“Yeh’d be adequately compensated, that’s what I said. And I’m a dwarf of my word.”

“You’ll be a dwarf behind on his quota if you keeping jawing over there.” Brock grinned from the doorway and gestured to an enchanted board on one of the walls within the workshop, which glowed in strange runes Gunnar now realized must be production statistics.

“Quality over quantity, yeh thick ass!” Nimble shouted.

Brock scurried back into the shop.

Nimble groaned. “Nevertheless, I should be going. I’ll be seeing yeh back soon enough.”

Gunnar gathered up the cloak and traded it out with his old common dark cloak, which he left behind for the maiden to deal with. He stuck out his hand, and the dwarf shook it.

“Thanks, Nimble.”

“Don’t grovel. Just doing my job.”

Without another word, Nimble returned to his workshop.

Em shrugged. “Well, I’ve got some things I gotta take care of before we ship out. So I’ll meet you when the pubs are closing down.”