2. Beregost

Aldous grins in relief and nods. "Yes, I remember that tavern from the other time we passed through. They had a rather delicious venison steak that... Oh. Well, we'll see if it's still good."

He seems put out for a moment and lost in thought, but then perks up at Aiwe's question about Ajantis. "Hmm? Oh, he's great, isn't he? I mean, he's a bit dour, but he's one of the best, most loyal mercenaries my family has ever employed. My father hand-picked him to accompany me south, and he's always been sure to keep me safe. I'm sure whatever he's gone off to do is important for my wellbeing and that of the Gate."

"I have new employment" Dieter says bowing as he scoops the coins into a pouch. He maintains eye contact the whole time "Good day" and promptly leaves.

……………….ah.

Dieter takes the long way back. For a period of time he takes a few corners and waits in an alley of his choosing resting on his shield, waiting.

"Speaking of wellbeing, would you mind if we stopped by the smithy first?" Stella asks Aldous, opening her tome to her finance notes again. "I'd really like to get our armor situation figured out as soon as possible, regardless of how long we're staying. Then we can get settled at the Burning Wizard. I wonder if it's named after a pyromancer, or wizard who was set on fire...Maybe both?" she muses, tapping her pencil to her cheek. She really had to stop doing that, she thought, after realizing she had gotten charcoal on her cheek. Or maybe she just needed a pencil cap.

Aldous offers no objection. "You must mean Thunderhammer Smithy! Yes, Master Fuiruim is one of the best along the Sword Coast. My father has tried to bring him to the Gate to work for us on numerous occasions, but the mastersmith seems to like being in charge of his own business, which I can hardly fault him for." The noble gestures to a side street. "Down this way."

Thunderhammer Smithy is a modest name for the mastersmith's business. It's a huge warehouse with no fewer than four forges and a team of blacksmiths of various races. Taerom himself works alongside his apprentices, watching and teaching as they hammer metal and sharpen edges.

As Stella, Aiwe, and the others watch, Taerom reaches barehanded into a furnace and pulls out a heated bar of metal, seeming not at all inconvenienced by the heat. He brings the glowing bar up to his eyes for inspection, then shrugs and returns it to the heat of the forge.

Finally noticing the newcomers, Taerom wipes his hands off on a nearby rag (for he wears no apron, or even a shirt) and then approaches with a smile that seems all the whiter for the soot on his already-dark skin. "Hallo! Welcome to the Smithy. I am Taerom, and you look to be adventurers in need of the finest gear. How can I be of assistance?" His accent has hints of the same as Feldmar Bisset III, the extravagant tailor in Candlekeep, but far toned down.

Dieter sneaks up behind him and tries to restrain him with his rope. Dieter ties him up and rests him against the alley wall. It should buy him a good thirty minutes to an hour. With luck Gor wouldn’t even know it was him. He then runs off to the inn to raise the alarm and get out of dodge. He decides to go by the smith on his way to the inn, the others mentioned they’d probably be making a visit.

Wow!, Stella mouths, looking at all the furnaces and smiths working their craft. She wonders how the man stands such extreme heat. He looked human, but clearly had some impressive heat resistance.

"I see now why your father wanted to hire this man," Stella says to Aldous.

She smiles and nods excitedly at Taerom. "Yes!" she says, holding out a sheet of paper outlining their needs and her estimated costs. "We were hoping to get a suit of plate for these two," she says, gesturing to Sheemish and Runeson, "and for one more—they all already have mail—as well as a muffling modification for her armor," she gestures to Aiwë's half plate—or was that brigandine? Stella hadn't studied armor much. "And a holy symbol etched on his shield," she gestures again to Runeson. "If my research of your rates was accurate, we should have enough for all of that...Does that look right?"More importantly, how long would all of that take? We're not sure how long we want to stay in town yet... Runeson, here, is an accomplished smith and artificer himself, if an extra hand could help expedite the process?" She looks to Runeson questioningly to see if he'd be up for it, if needed.

Aiwë thumps her chest once in greeting. "Mine is less of a priority. I know a whole suit is a whole thing."

Taerom puts his hands on his hips. "What you ask I can do in perhaps two days; we have much material to work with. The problem..." He grimaces. "You know this Iron Crisis, no doubt? Well, it is not so good, this material." He gestures all around. "Your armors will be... what is the word... unreliable."

Behind him, one of his apprentice smiths cries out as the head of his hammer shatters mid-strike. "Bah! Even the tools, they are corrupted." Taerom shakes his head. "It should be no different from the iron of my homeland, but it breaks for reasons unknown. It frustrates me to no end." He pulls another hammer from a rack of tools and tosses it to his apprentice. "They say the mine of iron of Nashkel is poisoned. How does one poison a thing that does not live?"

"Oh, snapple gobs..." Stella says with a scowl. She had somehow forgotten the Iron Crisis was still very much in effect. The mine wouldn't be poisoned further, but the poison was probably still applied to most of the surface iron, and it would likely be weeks for sufficient iron to be mined, smelted, transported, and sold for metalworking. Not to mention inflated prices until distribution returned to normal, and the enemy's other means of interrupting trade.

"I think it's a metaphor, a substance that reacts to the iron, creating impurities," she suggests, then shakes her head. "At any rate, the iron supply will hopefully return to normal soon—we just came from Nashkel and the mine should be clear of the creatures poisoning it. Actually..." Some of her eye-stars strike yellow in remembrance. She digs through her pack and procures the vial of green poison they retrieved from the mine. "We found some of what we think is the poison." she says, holding it up to her eye to inspect it. "Do you know of any alchemists? Perhaps they could discover an antidote! I doubt that'd help us get new armor any time soon, but maybe it could help turn things back to normal quicker."

Aiwë frowns, thinking the implications of the crisis over. "Even your tools are poor? Are they new?"

Taerom gestures towards one of his apprentices, who is busy disposing off the shattered pieces of hammer. "New or old seems not to matter. They all pound the tainted iron, no doubt? Perhaps it spreads by touch. This is my thinking."
The master smith's eyes light up. "You come from Nashkel?" Strangely, he puts the emphasis on the last syllable of the town's name. "You bring news!" He cocks his head and regards the party members individually. "Are... are you the ones who cleared the mine?"
Master Fuiruim barks a laugh, eyes alight with excitement - and hope. "I do better than that! Permit me have the poison, and I will not sleep until I find a medicine - a cure!"

He whistles sharply and all of the apprentice smiths immediately stop their work, coming to gather around Taerom. "These fellows need armors! They are friends now, and they shall wear the best we have. Other work must wait, no doubt!" The smiths pass around Stella's instructions and set to work getting their materials together.

Taerom nods in satisfaction at his apprentices, then turns back to the companions. "I lament the state of iron, and so I cannot take full pay for these armors. I take half, to feed the smiths and their families." His grin is infectious. "You wear these armors, you trust in our work. This is better than what you have now." He taps Runeson's armor. "And if it does break, you will bring back, please, and we fix it!"

Aiwë grins tuskily. "Indeed! The people responsible for the mine aren't pleased, though, so we'd appreciate if you kept that quiet." She bows with gratitude for his offer.

"We shall spread the news of your fine craftsmanship and service."

She turns as Dieter walks in. "Hey! What happened to sticking together? ...Why do you look anxious?"

"Hello everyone! We need to leave right now" Dieter says whispering the second part "the fist has been corrupted here and they’re looking for us as we speak"

Aiwë turns to the smith. "Good master, our work at the Nashkel mine has already gotten ahead of us. Please, is there somewhere we can hide?"

"Aiwe we need to leave not hide, we have to go now" Dieter is already scanning the streets. He scans for anyone with the look, the purpose in their step and tension in their hips, the eyes of a predator.

The dance had already begun and he was a step behind. He needed to change the pace, the kid wasn’t enough. He needed something big, he needed a decisive win and cripple his enemy. The sword hung above but who would grab it first?

Dieter stops his pacing and realized where he is "Good master Taerom, it is good to see you again. My maille has served me well and I shout praises of your craft and kin" Dieter bows low. He pulls ten gold pieces out of the bounty pouch and places them on the anvil "for the strength of the fire and shaping of iron.

As my friend has said Great evil is about and threatening us. Help me and my friend."

Stella's newfound confidence winks out like stars behind rolling storm clouds.

"What?! What did you do? No, no..." Her eye stars flicker between orange and indigo, between rising anger and terror. "How do you know? Are you sure? We can't just leave. We've been traveling all day! And you'll need to convince Aldous and Ajantis...and..." She trails off, clutching her tome to her chest, jaw clenched, seemingly resigned.