The Wizard

Forge

Fool's Forge was a complex of activity. The entrance led into a showroom that focused on mining and utilitarian supplies and tools. With a word about his friends to the shopkeeper, Mevner was led through a back door and beyond the half dozen in-house blacksmiths, all hammering away at their anvils, through the armory showroom where a certain black sword caught his eye, and to the great casting and smelting center of the forge. 

Workers shoveled coal into a huge furnace. Fire and heat filled the cavernous room. Everything feeding a series of pipes that ran across the ceiling up to a smokestack that continuously belched smog and soot. 

A group of ten men were being supervised by Grimble to lift a huge box. They uprighted it and separated it into two halves. Inside was Øregård and he came out covered in waxy mud and blowing material out of his nose. He'd been holding his breath while the mold set. They closed the empty casing back together and filled it with more wax. 

"Ah, my friend, you're just in time. We've struck a deal with the foreman of the works here." Grimble gestured toward one of the men sealing the cast of Øregård. 

"That's right, we can cast this fellow out of a combo of raw steel, titanium, and lead. It should produce the strength you're looking for and at a fair price."

"And how much is that?" Mevner felt the bars of gold in his bag that had been forged by these same men.

"On review, and including the mold, the materials, the post work, cutting the joints, and the reassembly; ten thousand should cover it." The foreman put his hands in his pockets and tilted his body weight from heels to toes and back again. 

Mevner looked to Grimble.

"It's a worthwhile price for a second unstoppable heavy metal Øregård." 

Øregård wiped his face, flinging muck to the floor. "Doubles our chances of victory."

"I can give you $5,000 now and another five on completion. I'd like to get a weapon as well. I saw a large two-handed broadsword on the way in; made of a jet black steel and big enough for our subject here to wield." Mevner took out his stack of five $1,000 gold bars and the foreman's eyes lit up with greed.

"Of course, of course, if you'll follow me to the armory."

He was led back into the weapons room. The walls were lined with swords, spears, axes, weapons of all shapes and sizes. Hanging high above the main sword rack was the very sword that Redwing dropped onto Melock's head. 

"That one." Mevner pointed at the evil looking weapon. 

"A fine choice, far too heavy for most, but your ogre should have no problem lifting it." The hunched forge foreman stood on his toes reaching for the blade.

Øregård came ducking through the doorway, reached over the foreman, and grabbed the wide broadsword off the wall with one hand. He felt the balance of the blade. Its raw steel grip was two feet long with a thick steel loop of a pommel at the end. The handguard was a thick V that arched up toward the blade, which was seven inches at the hilt and narrowed down to about half that before coming to a ruthless point. 

Øregård tossed the massive sword from one hand to another then held it before himself with both of his big green fists. He shuddered a bit and flexed his muscles. He liked the weapon. The ogre's face formed a crazed savage expression of an evil grin that startled the foreman something awful.

"Now, don't get any ideas big fellow. Seems to me that sword was meant for you. I'll throw it in for an extra thousand." 

"This will take the head off any dragon." Øregård had no intention of ever setting the sword down again. 

"Indeed it will." The foreman turned to Mevner, implying cash upfront for the sword. 

With perfect timing, de Martín walked into the room carrying a small box. "How much do you need." She plunked down an additional seven bars of gold. 

That night at the inn Bill passed out the second he hit a bed while Mevner and Pathos sat up talking. 

"I opened your bank box and Melock had left you this writing stick and two rings." 

Pathos handed Mevner the burnt charcoal stick and opened her hand to reveal two rings; one made of a soft blue crystal and another of green oxidized copper. Mevner noticed her left hand wore a simple blown glass rainbow ring. He took the two rings from her hand and placed them one on each of his index fingers. 

"Ice and corrosion, you were wise not to put them on." He felt she was a smart thief to take the rainbow ring which would protect her from all elements, but she was foolish to mistake the Wand of Fire for a piece of drawing charcoal. 

"What else did you take for yourself, besides the rainbow ring?"

She curled her slender fingers into a fist and hid her hand under her cloak. 

"There is nothing else of value in their vault, beyond the easily attainable." 

She smiled at the wizard, he seemed to have her number and she'd have to do something about that. Pathos produced a small pouch and poured out a king's prize in diamonds and rubies into her palm. She separated out three rubies returning the rest to her purse. 

"These plus the seven to the forge for the ring. And of course the return of your property. Do we have an accord?"

Mevner took the rubies and studied at them. "We do." 

He touched each of the rubies with the charcoal wand one at a time. 

"Fusion Star. Fusion Star. Fusion Star." 

He spoke the words on each touch and the rubies, in turn, sparked to life with a tiny sun glowing within. 

"Je n'y crois pas." She slapped her forehead and fell onto her bed. 

Mevner took one ruby and attached it to the end of a crossbow bolt. Then he too settled in for the night. 

Paid in full with an extra thousand as an incentive, the workers of the forge toiled into the night. Grimble supervised the melting of ores and Mevner's astral projection showed up long after midnight to work his magic over the pour into the Øregård mold.