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    Yeoldebard
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Nekromancer - 39. Chapter 39

Merry Christmas everyone! (As I write this in the beginning of November 😛 )

Jeremy sipped at the bottle of wine, looking up at the smoke rising over Alkenstar even at night. The black fog cut through the early morning light, belching out of giant forges near a cliff. The rest of the city seemed peaceful, if a little shiny in the dim light.

The cleric set his bottle aside with a quiet sigh. The last bottle of wine, almost empty. But the city was right there. He could buy the cheap stuff they had in a tavern before the party moved on.

Nearby, Jakun let out a tired mumble, lifting his head from the rock that had been his pillow. A red mark ran over his cheek, a bit of drool escaping his mouth.

"Anya…?"

The catfolk frowned at Jeremy.

"Anya is stuck… she can't leave my body."

"Oh. I guess we can't use magic even if we want to here," Jeremy sighed, looking at his nearly empty bottle. "We are certainly in for some lean times."

"You are in for sober times," Amnor Sen corrected, rubbing his eyes. "Good morning."

Jakun yawned as he searched through his bag.

"We don't have any more food," he murmured, his body tensing.

"Then let's have a nice lunch in the city," Amnor Sen said, doing a few quick stretches.

The paladin pulled his armour over his head, girding himself as Jakun began tacking up Zephyr to pull the wagon.

"Come on Jeremy. I'll buy you a mug of ale when we find a tavern," he said, clapping the human on the back.

"No food, barely any wine… adventuring sucks," Jeremy grumbled.

"Yeah, well, just wait until you're curing wounds on a battlefield," Amnor Sen said.

"Oh, you mean like I did in Mechitar?"

"Exactly. No time to think about alcohol then. No time to think about it now."

"Not true. The whole time I was wrapping injuries, I was thinking about a nice mug of Anuli Blackbrew. The hard stuff, you know?"

"No, I don't know," Amnor Sen sighed, helping Jakun with Zephyr. "We'll stay in Alkenstar only a few days. Enough to fix our armour and get a new weapon for Jakun."

"Maybe one of their… guns?"

"The loud staves? I don't think they actually sell those," Amnor Sen shrugged. "But their bows are pretty good, or so I've heard."

Jeremy shoved his bottle into his bag, tossing it into the back of the wagon. He climbed in after it, Amnor Sen following as Jakun got into the driver seat.

An hour later, they were rumbling through a tall gate, passing almost instantly into a city of smog and dirt.

Jakun guided Zephyr around a group of dwarves, the horse trodding through piles of muck and sewage. In the wagon, Jeremy held his arm over his nose, coughing at the smell.

"The City of Progress… More like the City of Rubbish…" he grumbled.

"It is not their fault," Amnor Sen said, looking over the people they passed. "They live without magic. You cannot judge them for that."

Jeremy shrugged, rocking as the wagon hit a pothole.

"I suppose not. Still, this does not bode well for a stay here of any length."

"We will only be here long enough… for…"

Amnor Sen trailed off as they passed a forge, a suit of mithral mail sitting on display out front.

"Jakun, stop," he called, jumping out of the cart.

Approaching the mannequin, Amnor Sen saw a gnome linking a chain shirt together within a shop.

"Good morning!" the gnome smiled, setting the shirt aside. "Are you here for patching up?"

"That depends. How much would it cost to repair a couple of chain shirts?"

"Thirty gold and a couple of days, depending on the damage," the gnome said. "I can offer some living steel rings for sixty. They would protect you much better than those iron rings."

Amnor Sen fingered his money pouch. Stepping outside, he pulled out his glaive, returning to the gnome.

"What about a trade? I am a smith myself. Perhaps I can help you work, and in exchange, you will allow me to repair my armour with your forge?"

The gnome took the weapon, running her hand over the blade.

"It is a fine weapon," she replied, handing it over. "Is your shirt also of your make?"

"Yes. I try not to be bound to any single discipline," Amnor Sen nodded.

"You are a warrior and a smith?"

Amnor Sen nodded, pulling out his necklace. A songbird medallion hung on the end, a symbol of Shelyn.

"I am a paladin of Shelyn."

"Oh? We've had a rash of break ins lately. If you would watch my shop at night, I would be glad to share my forge for as long as you need to repair your shirt," the gnome smiled.

"Thank you. My companions and I will be glad to help you," Amnor Sen said. "I will find a place for our wagon."

"I have a small stable out back you are welcome to use during your stay."

"You are most generous," Amnor Sen smiled.

"Nonsense," the gnome chuckled. "I am merely eager to see an elf smith at work. Your people are well known for your art."

"Alas, I have never lived among my people," the elf denied. "I am afraid you will find me no more insightful than a human smith albeit one who has had near fifty years to work and learn."

"Then perhaps we shall learn from each other," the gnome smiled. "I am Methusda. May I know your name?"

"I am Amnor Sen. My husband, Jeremy, is still waiting on me, as is my friend, Jakun. We will care for your forge during our stay as though it were my own."

"I have no doubt of that," Methusda said. "You are welcome to work the forge by night and watch by day."

Nodding, Amnor Sen stepped back outside.

"We will be staying here for some time. There is a bandit to catch, and work to be done before we may travel onward to Nex," he said.

"And you decide that on your own?" Jeremy asked, taking the last drink from the wine bottle.

"I did. I have secured us a place to rest, and a place to work. During the day, I can work on your box, Jakun. During the night, we will rotate a guard. We should not be here longer than a week."

"Excuse me Amnor Sen, but Anya wanted you to know she will be of no use here," Jakun said quietly. "I will be useless without her."

"You will be of use in other ways, kitten. Help us keep watch and keep clean," the elf said. "Starting with stabling Zephyr."

Amnor Sen stroked the horse's neck, rubbing him gently.

"Hopefully this stable will stand better than the last…"

The horse snorted, shaking his head.

Copyright © 2020 Yeoldebard; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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11 minutes ago, drpaladin said:

This city is a nasty and constraining place. Is the block on magic natural or contrived?

Actually, the Mana Wastes of Golarion is a region of land where the necromancer Geb and the archmage Nex clashed in a way that caused absolute devastation on the land. It isnt so much a block as radiation from a series of magical nuclear blasts that left pockets of wild magic through the land, including an anti magic zone over the city of Alkenstar. Which led the dwarves of Allenstar to invent guns as an alternative to magic. It's an interesting part of the world, and the birthplace of the gunslinger class in the Pathfinder system.

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