Paragon of Weaponmasters

"Hay is for horses!" I shout, sending my weapons to do my dirty work.

"Dad jokes, really?" Peter rolls his eyes.

"Can't help myself." I grin.

The humans definitely didn't send their best and brightest to run this operation. They barely even try to avoid my weapons as they sail through the air, dispatching them one after another. One actually manages to wrap his whip around Thozur's handle, but Apaki servers the whip, then his neck.

Good teamwork Apaki.

They send back grumbles.

"What's all the ruckus?" a huge dwarf steps out of what is clearly the command tent. He's dressed head to toe in mithril armor, gleaming like the moon. A square crown rests upon his brow.

Earl says: I thought they didn't have a king?

Peter says: well, an oligarch isn't going to call himself that. They'd be begging for a beheading.

Mountain King Bramrol Flintmane. Level ??

"Just here to liberate and recruit you, no biggie." I shrug.

"Ay, appears so. What did ye have in mind fer this recruitment?" he asks.

"Well, I rid you of your slave masters. Isn't that enough?" I wonder.

"Killin's easy, lad. It's the living that's hard." He responds.

"That's deep." Peter nods.

"Everything dwarves do is deep!" the king guffaws, drawing laughter from his people as well.

I smirk, I can't help it.

"Well, sir, I'm out of ideas. Do you have something in mind?" I inquire.

He strokes his long, white braided beard. The soot from his hands turns it partially black.

"I've got an idea er' two, ay." he smirks. "How about you an I have ourselves a little competition?"

"Sure, what kind?" I ask too late. I shouldn't have said sure first.

"Minin, of course." his smirk turns into a devilish grin. "You win, and we'll join you for whatever it is you need us fer. As a bonus, I'll let ye have a turn with my wife!" he cackles, as a figure leaves the tent behind him.

Radiant is the only word to describe her. Where the mithril armor on the king is ornamental but ultimately utilitarian, the mithril garments on this figure accentuate every curve, highlight every asset, and draw you in like a moth to a flame.

It took me quite a while to notice her beard. She makes it work somehow.

Mountain Queen Modaeren Flintmane. Level ??

When my brain starts working properly again, I assume she would be offended by the insinuation, but on the contrary, she's giving me the eyes.

"Kiddin', of course." the king wipes a tear from his eye. "Ah, yes. If you touch her I'll kill you." he voice takes on a more serious tone

"Noted." I say, breaking eye contact with the buxom beauty.

"Then rules are as follows: I will use every pick on my person to mine mithril as fast as I can. You may use as many picks as you can carry, and I'll even let your goatman friend help." the king informs us.

"Works for me." I nod.

"Alrighty then. On your mark, get set…" the takes off running before he says 'go!'

"You cheater!" I laugh. He cackles in response, already reaching for a particularly shiny pick.

I move to a nearby barrel full of picks, lift it, and sprint in the opposite direction as he did.

"What are you doing?" Peter asks, keeping pace with me.

"I have an idea." I say. When we reach the wall, I place the barrel down and lay out the picks in a line. I sit cross-legged in front of them, and close my eyes.

"What are you doing?" Peter asks after a minute.

"Let me concentrate." I tell him.

I reach out with my will towards the picks. They're not sentient, and they don't float, but neither did the ballista bolt, and neither did the priest. Maybe my power isn't as restricted ad the game would have me believe.

"We're falling really far behind. He's got a full cartload already." Peter informs me.

"Give me a second!" I say, maybe a little too harshly. "Sorry. Give me a second, please."

Nothing. I don't sense anything in these picks I can latch onto. I search the wood for a dormant spark of life, the metal for… something else. I don't know exactly what I'm looking for. Soul seems like the wrong word.

These picks have been used for millennia by the dwarves. They've replaced the head and the handles multiple times, but if you asked the old timers, they're still the same trusty pick that they used back when humans were still apes.

…how do I know that?

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I open my eyes to see the ten picks floating before me. I look at Peter with childlike wonder, he returns the expression.

Get mining!

Like magic… no, it is magic! The picks fly through the air, finding rich veins and digging into the rock. Peter rushes to collect the ore as it falls to the ground, piling it high in a cart behind us.

"We need a second cart!" Peter yells to the dwarves. I dare not take my attention off of the picks, lest I lose control.

"We're almost caught up!" Peter announces.

The wall in front of us runs dry, without needing to be told, the picks fan out to find new veins. They must be controlled subconsciously, understanding my will without explicit instructions. I take a single step, letting my focus slip just a little. The picks continue their work without interruption.

"We're ahead!" Peter informs me.

I summon Thozur to my hand, eager to cement our lead. I wind back, and with all of the strength I can muster, slam Thozur into the cave wall. The entire chamber shakes as a huge crack appears running from the bottom to the top.

"Are ye mad?" one of the dwarves yells.

"Stop! Ye'll bring the whole mine down on our heads!" Another panics.

"Alright, orc, that's enough." the king tells me breathlessly.

I turn to face him, standing next to our carts he looks even shorter than usual; three piled high above him, as tall as me even. On his side, he's barely managed to fill two up to the brim.

"I dunno what sort er' powers ye got, but that was mighty impressive. In all my life, no one has ever beaten me in a mining race. Is why they made me king!" he laughs, interrupted by a cough. "Anyways, you've earned our respect, and more. Ye can't have my wife, but you can have the next closest thing."

He extends the hand holding his pick. It appears to be half-hammer, half-pick.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"It's either this or the crown, and you bein' an orc an all, I think this is the better option of the two." he smirks.

I accept the hammer, conceding his point.

[Earthshatter] Added to inventory.

It's raining legendaries lately.

Earthshatter - Legendary one-handed warpick - low strength - low blunt damage - low pierce damage

Sentient: This weapon has a consciousness. It can operate and think independently.

Floating: This weapon has the ability to hover close to the ground.

This weapon functions as a pickaxe.

Peter clears his throat.

"Ah, yes, almost fergot you goatman. Here, take what I mined. Ought to be worth a pretty penny on the surface." The king's pile vanishes, presumably into Peter's inventory.

"Sweet." he says.

"Right then. What do you have in mind?" the king turns his attention back to me.

"We're overthrowing the Honorlord. We need all the help we can get." I inform him.

"Ah, revolution is it? Dwarves are no strangers to a wee bit o' man sticking." He grunts.

"Man sticking?" I ask.

"Sticking it to the man." Peter clarifies.

"Huh. Alright, never heard it phrased that way." I shrug.

"You've got to do something for us in exchange, Orc." The king mentions.

"I thought we won the contest?" I frown.

"Aye, ye did. An I'm a dwarf of my word, but my people aren't going to just follow along because some oversized greenskin tells them so." he crosses his arms.

"Alright, what do you need? Name's Earl, by the way." I extend my hand to shake.

"Mountain King Bramrol Flintmane." he accepts it.

"I know, I can see it floating over your head." I point.

"What?" he looks up, squinting.

"Nevermind. So what do you need?" I repeat.

"It's about time for a revolution of our own. Ye see, down here, dwarves are ruled by the power of coin, much like the surface. However, we have rules. Ye can't just, say, buy up all of the mines in the world and refuse to sell them or any ore. Monopolies were outlawed by our ancestors. Humans didn't have the foresight or desire te, who's te say. Either way, the human king has used his capital to buy up every inch of the world, and he's not sellin'." The king explains.

"He even owns the orc territories?" I inquire.

"Oh ye, he do. Ye see, orc arn't allowed to own property under human law, so on paper, it all belongs to him." The king nods sagely.

"What an ass." I comment.

"Here here." Says the king.

"Wait, why did you let human slavemasters down here if you didn't agree with what the king's doing?" I think to ask.

"Oh, the only way to deal with a tyrant is to make them believe they're in control. So we pretend, let his lackeys whip us a bit, move ore in a way that makes it seem as though it's moving along his trade routes. In reality, we're selling it all under his nose. Mostly to his competition." the king smirks. "Their wee lashes don't compare to what we do to each other for fun. It's pathetic what they think wippin' is. Sad."

I see Peter blush at that. It might be time to get the kid out of here.

"Alright, you've got a deal." I shake his hand. Mine comes away dirty.

"How did you know we were going to deal with their king too?" Peter asks once we're out of earshot.

"I didn't, just seemed like the right thing to do." I say.

"Huh." he grunts. "Next up are the goblins. I bet you're glad to finally liberate them."

"I am." I admit. "First, let me introduce myself to my new hammer."

"It's sentient?" he asks

"Yep." I say, linking it to chat.

"What the fuck." he swears.

"Language." I chide him.

He rolls his eyes.

"You get new weapons like the game is having an 'everything must go' sale. I'm still using the same daggers I bought from the auction house at level sixty." he complains.

"Don't know what to tell you. It's not like I'm purposefully seeking them out." I shrug.

Finding the pick in my inventory, I replace my basic sword, then swap it into the second slot. Not that it makes a difference stat wise, I just like to make Apaki feel like a third wheel.

Hello, are we friends? The pick asks.

We can be, sure. Nice to meet you!

That's lovely. Who are your friends?

Fregai, it's me, Thozur. My hammer jumps in.

Obviously her real self is locked away like ours was, Thozur. Apaki rudely points out.

I'm sorry. Earthbreaker tells everyone.

You have nothing to apologize for. We'll get you back to your old self, just like we did for our friends. Right, Thozur?

Verily!

"Is this one a predator?" Peter asks.

"No, it's actually really sweet. The nicest one so far." I answer.

"Oh, that's good. It would have been funny if it shared the same raunchy personality as the king." he laughs.

"Oh yeah, super funny." I fake laugh. "Quickest way to the goblins?"

"For me, going back through the portal and sneaking up through the streets of the city. For you?" He looks at me very critically. It makes me self conscious. "Maybe the sewers?"

"Really?" I sigh.

"You either go through the sewers and escape the city without being noticed, or try to make it through the streets, and if you die you respawn back home. Or you skip the middleman and use your herston." He counts my three options on his fingers.

"I'm following you." I tell him.

"I'll be invisible so you're gonna get jumped by like a bajillion guards and players." he informs me.

"I'll figure something out." I say, scheming.