As I struck the final blow, and sang the final note, a pain unlike I had ever felt in this life radiated from the rune of forging. It was as if I had stuck my hand into a bucket of dry ice, with spikes of pain encapsulating my entire hand instead just the rune lines. It was so painful, that my voice cracked as I yelled in pure agony.“Kvalinn!” Dak rushed from where he had been guarding the door to check on me. “Kvalinn! Are you ok? What happened?”“N-never rush a f-forge song.” I croaked out, my throat evidently hadn’t recovered from the shout. “Help me up. I need to make sure the rune was successfully applied.”Dak and Grildem supported me as I looked over the hammer. Fortunately for our continued survival, a rune of fire was glowing on the head of the warhamme
It wasn’t until the next morning that I woke up again. By that point, I was the only one who hadn’t recovered enough to be taken from the tavern, so I woke to see the dining room completely empty.“Hello?” I tried getting up from the table to see the room better, but was hit by several waves of pain from my back. Judging from the sensation, the burned and damaged skin around the rune of protection was still working on healing itself, and since the rune covered most of my back, there was a lot of skin to heal.“Kvalinn!” Bekhi scrambled up from the cot she had been sleeping in nearby. “Get back down or you’ll move the poultices!”I gladly followed her instructions, and let my head fall back onto the waiting pillow. I could feel Bekhi moving any of the
“Good morning, Kvalinn. Ready to go back to school?” Bekhi seemed to be back to her normal self, and was washing dishes in her usual outfit. “How are your burns doing? Think you can make the trip back down to Nurnwuhr?”“I’m feeling a little better, but I’m not looking forward to three days of walking.” I was still feeling very stiff, and my hands were wrapped up with burn ointments, so the trip back home would probably be very long and very, very, miserable. “No need to worry about that.” Dak walked into the kitchen with a traveling bag on his back and weapons strapped to his side. “As thanks for making the weapon, I’ll be paying Kholgaik to let you ride on one of the wagons.” “Why do you look prepared for a trip, Dad? Are you going down to trade food for mead with the humans down the mountain?” “Not this time, Bekhi. I’m going down to Nurnwuhr with you and Kvalinn. I’ve got to explain to Kvalinn’s father why his son is coming back burned and unable to work. Plus, I’ve got to repo
Call me Ishmael… Is what I’d say if my name mattered. But since no one knows or cares about my name, not even myself, I’ll just get to telling my story. I was an average American millennial, with a job, mortgage, credit card, and friends on social media that I never saw in person. It was a good life. One thing that set me apart from the average guy was my love of technology. Every minute of every day of my life was spent in front of a computer screen, working, gaming, reading, watching movies, listening to music, everything I did was done on a computer, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Now, if you are wondering why everything is in the past tense, it’s because I appear to have died. I’m not sure how, or why, but I am, without a doubt, deader than a doornail and without a corporeal form. Looming in front of me in the midst of an infinite white void was what appeared to be a judges bench. It was well over fifteen feet high, with depictions of gods from the Norse, Roman, Gr
I was reborn into the body of a baby dwarf. Not exactly the best afterlife experience out there, but it was still better than anything written about by Dante, or talked about in Sunday school. Needless to say, it was an extremely jarring experience, going from a fully ambulatory and rather strong adult’s body, to an infant who couldn’t even hold up his own head. However, it was better than having my soul disposed of to avoid filling out the paperwork for an errant soul. The name I got saddled with upon my rebirth was Kvalinn Ekgorsson. It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but it could’ve been worse. Occasionally I’d overhear my father mention people with ten syllable names in passing conversation with his friends. Those were names I most certainly did not want to have attached to me, spelling them would doubtlessly be a nightmare!As for the language, I learned the same way any infant learns. Papa, mama, baba, ect. Although unfortunately I didn’t get to use the word ‘mama’. Apparen
“Kvalinn, pump the bellows! You’re working with steel now, remember? The fire has to be a lot hotter if you want to melt it.” Following my father’s instructions, I climbed my makeshift stairs to reach the bellows. I’m now a little taller than I used to be, but I’m still less than 2 feet tall. Three years have passed since I first received my hammer. I’ve been so busy that they seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. Father has been teaching me weapon crafting work from dawn till dusk. Not that there is a dawn or dusk since we live deep underground, but from breakfast to dinner, Father would train me as he did his own work. Unfortunately, the grand dreams I once entertained of using my rune of forging to bring 21st tech to this world all failed spectacularly. Like any American millennial, I could tell you roughly how the various gadgets used in my daily life worked and could operate them with finesse and competence, but that didn’t translate well into knowing exactly how the devic
The next morning I woke up at the usual time, but when I attempted to get started on my usual chores, my father stopped me with a gesture. “Don’t worry about that, Kvalinn. Today you will be accompanying Zikruk to socialize.” Father almost gagged in disgust and revulsion on the word socialize. Apparently he was no fonder of the act of socialization then I was. “Wash yourself up and prepare gifts in case you meet anyone you need to make a good impression on.” “Gifts?” I asked. “What type of gifts should I give?” “Depending on the person, either something small and token, or something more substantial. Customers get the former, and Elders get the latter.” Father then began working on the chores I normally did. Pointedly refusing to elaborate. I began thinking of what gifts I could feasibly give. I didn’t have any money, and most of my practice weapons that I had made up until now had been scrapped so that the materials wouldn’t be wasted. Maybe I could bake something? In my previ
Looking around, I realized that I had finished just in time. The defenders were down to their last three students. One of them was the overly aggressive girl who had been pulled earlier, apparently she had challenged the Elder and had gotten put back in the game. “Finished already?” Elder Threrburk raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Let me inspect it, and if I find you have either not finished it, or done a shoddy job, then you will be cleaning this place by yourself for a week.” With a respectful nod, I handed Elder Threrburk the dagger. He took it with experienced hands and began scrutinizing it with the eyes of a hardened warrior. Examining the heft, the balance, the grip, and finally the edge. “Ancestors beard.” He muttered to himself. “I don’t know if it was luck, or the gods playing tricks, but the lad somehow managed to add a magic rune to his weapon in a half hour! Let’s see, it appears to be the rune of… Beer?” Elder Therburk cleared his throat and glared down at me with a mi