Fates of Grenora: Return of the Night

Book II Chapter 16: Assembly Line

Aldrin tapped his fingers on the wooden table, staring at a beaming Grimhaven. "So your Clan isn't going to kill me?" He leaned forward.

Grimhaven flippantly waved him off. "We've been around worse. We woulda killed ya before ya even sank yer fangs into somebody." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Huh…" Aldrin mused. "I hope it doesn't change their opinion of me at least," he drummed his fingers again. "I assume the Knolls had something with the worse part?" Aldrin asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Ya be right bout that, lad. Knolls are terrible creatures. Their bite is worse than their grating yipping howls." Grimhaven said, his eyes becoming dark from the memories that resurfaced. "If I could, I would hunt down every last one of 'em." He slammed his fist on the table before calming himself. "Enough of that. Ruthik tells me that ye need to outfit some Orcs?" He shifted in his seat.

"Orcs on Terror Birds, to be exact. Although their Terror Birds may become something different once I convert them." Aldrin admitted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "The Orcs are wary of me still, but I think once they see I'm trying to make them better they might come around. Besides," Aldrin gave a toothy grin. "Who wouldn't want dwarven-forged weapons and armor?"

Grimhaven heartily laughed in agreement. "Aye lad. Who wouldn't want a piece of our greatness!" He turned, looking for someone then spotted a red-headed Dwarf carrying scrolls of schematics coming from the left entrance where the heavier forges were. "Oi! Damin!" he shouted. He was wearing black-lens glasses that would protect his eyes from the forge fire. A heavy leather apron ‌over a soot-stained white shirt, roughshod pants, and steel-toed boots, much like Ruthik wore.

"What tis it! I'm busy!" Damin answered, fumbling with the schematics in his hand.

Grimhaven scoffed and turned to Aldrin with a look of disbelief. "Can ya believe the little shit? I swear no respect fer their elders…" he shook his head. "I got a project fer yer group!" He shouted back.

Aldrin heard Damin grumble under his breath as he walked over. "What's tha project Uncle?" He crossed his arms, tapping his finger on his bicep impatiently.

Grimhaven turned red at the display then eyed the smug grin Damin was fighting from forming. "Ya smug little shite," Grimhaven grumbled. "This here," he pointed at Aldrin. "Has a contract fer ye. Worth getting your poor skills up a notch and some levels under ye belt," Grimhaven waggled his eyebrows with a grin.

Damin wanted to retort, but Aldrin held up his hand. "I just need some armor for my Orc friends," he chuckled.

Damin eyed Aldrin up and down, more so at the armor he wore, then nodded. "Heavy, Medium, or Light?" he asked.

Aldrin shrugged. "They ride Terror Birds, if that helps any?" he replied.

Damin hummed and frowned as he racked his brain. "It would have to be a mix between medium and light for now."

"Wait," Aldrin said as the idea of converting the Terror Birds finally cemented in his mind. "I'm going to make the Terror Birds into their vampiric versions."

Damin's eyes widened. "In that case, we can do heavy and medium then. Follow me." He said and turned back to go into the forge works.

Aldrin followed closely behind him, marveling at how their hall functioned as a dinner place and forge works. In the center where he first entered ‌with Grimhaven, there were tables where the Dwarves gathered, then to the left before the entrance to what Aldrin assumed were the forges; a few Dwarves there were busy drafting plans and improving upon others. If he were to continue walking straight through the Great Hall, he glimpsed the small abodes of the Dwarves carved in the walls where they rested. Off to the right, Aldrin guessed it was where they held their meetings based on how many elder Dwarves were standing around the opening.

Damin maneuvered around the draft tables and through the entrance, going deeper into their forges of the Great Hall. Aldrin was surprised at the lack of heat when he passed the threshold. It was another wide room with terraces that held the forges. Pipes ran to and from each forge and linked up at the ceiling into one massive pipe that ran down the center and down the far back wall into the earth. Metal grates crisscrossed the stone path that was carved with light blue glyphs, cutting it into even squares. Inside the grated peepholes, Aldrin saw magma flowing that fed into the pipes that helped fuel the forge fires.

The forges themselves had chutes that ran down to the massive anvils below them. There, four Dwarves per anvil hammered the molten liquid into shape. The Dwarves then cooled the metal and threw it in levitating crates to be taken to the other side of the workshop to be polished, sharpened, or outfitted. Once there, the Dwarves stationed there would stack their finished products on tables for others to come by and grab them.

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"Holy shit…" Aldrin whispered in amazement as he watched it all happen.

Damin let loose a booming laugh at the near slack jawed Aldrin. "Like what ye see? This here is the pinnacle of Clan Grimhaven!"

Aldrin figured he would have his Orcs outfitted in no time at the rate and scope of the workshop he was in. Damin tapped him on the arm, breaking his trance, and beckoned for him to follow to the very end of the workshop, where a group of three dwarves were arguing amongst each other.

"Oi! Lads! Listen up!" Damin interrupted them. "I'm gonna need Darksteel helmets, breastplates, bracers, and greaves." He then took a quick glance at Aldrin's armor and frowned before turning back. "Dire Tortoise Shell Scales fer tha linking. We are gonna make two crates of this."

The Dwarves surprised Aldrin further as they got to work. One pulled down a bell-looking thing and spoke into it. Aldrin followed the piping of the speaking bell and saw it lead up to the terrace above, where the actual forge was. The Dwarf in question then cupped his ear around it and nodded before sending something back and letting the bell hang loosely again.

Damin shooed Aldrin to stand a few feet away, then rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and wiggled his fingers. He picked up an overly large hammer that was resting against a wall and took his position among the others who huddled around the smith contraption. Soon liquid metal poured down the chute and into the molding that the others had set up before. They hammered at it, beating it into the shape of a breastplate before it was thrown into a crate. They repeated the process and Aldrin lost count of how many pieces of armor were churned out.

Damin soon dropped his hammer and took out a stained red handkerchief to dab the sweat from his brow. He walked over to one crate and gave a sharp whistle that signaled another Dwarf to come jogging over. Together, they pulled both crates across the workshop to be fine-tuned. Aldrin followed behind, unsure if he should while also not wanting to be in the way. He heard tales of Dwarves getting prickly whenever they were consumed by their crafts.

Damin and the other Dwarf deposited the crates near tables where more Dwarves worked on items. Damin grunted as he lifted the crate of unfinished products, spilled the contents of the first crate onto the table, and it was like a switch. The Dwarves reached for unfinished pieces and took them to grinding wheels and hammered out their shape. They placed the finished pieces on the table for further work.

"Dire Tortoise Shell Scales fer linking!" Damin shouted once he saw them getting close to finishing the first part.

The Dwarves on the other side, who had their backs to the forges, reached for the armors, bringing them close to them. Aldrin saw one Dwarf reach under their seat and twist a knob that made a fiery rune glow on the table. He spoke something in Dwarvish, and in the place of the rune, thousands of scales appeared. The Dwarves then got to work by stitching, threading, and molding the scales to the Darksteel armor.

Damin turned to Aldrin with a cheeky grin. "That'll be three diamond coins."

Aldrin's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Wait-" he frantically looked between the armors and Damin.

Damin began laughing so hard no sound came out. "I'm just messing with ya. I just wanted to see yer reaction!"

Aldrin glared at the red-headed Dwarf before relaxing. The finished armors were moved and neatly placed back into the crates they came in. Damin and the other Dwarf he came with grabbed them and walked back to their main hall. There, Grimhaven was busy talking with others when he saw Aldrin and Damin return.

"Well, that didn't take as long as I thought," Grimhaven teased. "Got everything ya needed?" He asked Damin.

Damin shrugged, "Lemme check." He said before his gaze became unfocused. "Only two levels," he said.

Grimhaven rolled his eyes and grunted, "I swear if ya weren't my nephew, I would have kicked ya out by now… two levels," he grumbled

Aldrin smiled and stepped forward. "Damin, this is more than I could ask for. Thank you." He held out his hand to the Dwarf.

Damin eyed the hand like it was a snake, then looked to his uncle with another one of his cheeky grins. "See, this is how I ought to be treated!"

Grimhaven turned red again. "You bumbling fool! Get out of my sight before I turn you into a jacket!" He thundered, and Damin quickly shook Aldrin's hand but not before sticking his tongue out at Grimhaven, which only seemed to enrage him more as his fists shook.

Once Damin was out of sight, Grimhaven turned to Aldrin, returning to his normal self. "Aye lad, if ya ever needin anything else. Come back here." He patted the two crates of armor.

Aldrin looked at the crates and nodded. "Thank you, Grimhaven, but I'm afraid I'm going to need more help. I have to bring these and the weapons Ruthik forged back out. How do I do that?"

Grimhaven laughed. "Ah, that's tha simple part. Just tap yer card against them, claiming them as yers and once ya leave, everything ye have will be teleported out with ya. The crates will return to us once they are empty."

Aldrin took out his Black Bazaar card and tapped it against the crates. The card flashed a black light once, as did the crates. "All done then," Grimhaven said. "I'll walk ya out. Come on."

They walked up and out of the Great Hall back to the entrance, where the barrier separated them. "Thanks again, Grimhaven," Aldrin said earnestly.

Grimhaven waved him off with a smile. "Ma pleasure, lad. I hope yer Orcs enjoy what ya bring 'em!"

Aldrin stepped through the barrier and took a calming breath. He still had one hurdle to overcome. Kilinos.