And so the heroes left the king's chambers, a grim telling having been laid upon them. The burden of two thousand years resting on their shoulders. They would have help...but the journey from here on out was destined to be dangerous beyond their wildest imaginings.
Dracos
"Where is this Grensayer, anyway?" asks Helena, of nobody in particular. "He didn't say. Probably the armory, but he didn't say where that was, either."
"Um...don't you kinda...live here?" Craig looked at the red mage with disbelief on his features. "He made it sound like the guy was a famous person."
Mentally not being surprised at Helena's airheadeness, Alex nonetheless stays in step. "Ask someone," he shrugs, suppressing a yawn. Great disasters or not, this was a pain in the ass and a lot of work.
Damn.
"Oh, well, maybe he is," replies Helena, thoughtfully. "Am I supposed to know about people I've never needed to know about before?"
"You use weapons. And wear armor. I'd kinda figure you'd know a bit about people in your home town that make all that stuff." Craig shrugged. Oh well, nothing off his nose.
He walked up to a random townsperson.
"Hey, ever heard of Grensayer? Armory type of person, supposedly good enough for the king?"
"Grensayer, the royal armsmaster?" The guard returned. "Yes, I have, are you looking for him?"
Dracos
"Hear that? He said *Royal* armsmaster. Lowly townsfolk like me must make do with the local blacksmith," replies Helena, in a huff.
Craig rolled his eyes. "Yes. Where is he?"
"Head to your left, take the first set of stairs down and go down that hallway. He should be working in the armory. Look for the guy with the large dragon tattoo on his left arm. That's Grensayer."
Dracos
"Thanks. Have a good day." Craig lead the group off to meet Grensayer.
Downstairs in the armory, they spotted several smiths working hard to keep up the quality of the weapons and armor of the Cornerian military. In the back they saw the mighty figure of Grensayer. He was a tall smith wearinng no shirt as he smashed down on a sword with a mighty hammer, a tattoo around his left arm of a chinese style red dragon.
Dracos
"Are you Grensayer? The king sent us down here to meet with you." Craig patiently waited to be acknowledged by the man.
The man continued for a few moments, making sure the blade was just right before quickly lifting it up and thrusting it within the cooling water. Taking a moment, he grabbed a dirty cloth, wiping his face and turning around. "Huh, The king sent you, ye say, eh? Yeah, I'm Grensayer, best smith around these here parts."
"The king sent us to ask you for help, since we were on a very important quest to rid the land of Chaos' generals."
"Rid..that' be dangerous work, folks. I got a cousin who died on a quest like that. Good man too. What in the world be ye headin' out with that kind of madness for?"
Dracos
"We're apparently legendary heroes." Craig showed off the light orb. "Or so says the king. Anyway, we already stopped Garland, so that's probably a good hint we'll make it."
The man brushed his beard, appraising the folks in front of him with a keen eye. "Really? The light warriors? I recall hearin' tales of that when I was a kid, eh... hum. I could help you...Got a little project I been workin' on of late..." He mused.
Dracos
"Huh? What's that?" Craig curiously asked as he put away the light orb once again.
"Well... been thinking well... Been trying to work on something for clearing caverns. Almost done really. But haven't really tested it yet.... Not sure if it'd be very safe..."
Dracos
"Huh. Well, could we see it first, at least?" Craig looked interested.
"Eh? Sure, I guess...eh, follow me."
He lead out of the forge, heading around the castle and down into the basements, unlocking a door and pulling out a few red sticks with string hanging out of them, tied together in a tight bundle. "It's this."
Dracos
"What are they?" Craig blinked at the curious sight of the sticks. "How can such tiny things clear out caverns?"
"You know a black mage's fireball spell, boy?"
He gestured to come in.
Dracos
"I've suffered several near misses with fire*bolts*, but no. I've never seen a fireball personally." Craig entered the room where the smith was.
"Ah, well...this is sort of built to make one. Ye light one on on fire...the string...and toss it. And RUN. It'll blow rocks into smitherns, eh!"
Dracos
"Really?"
In Craig's mind, a little scenario began to form, with a more petite and rounded version of him merrily cackling as he flung those sticks into banks and assorted fancy looking places, blowing them up and sending clouds of money into the air, which he merrily plucked up with a butterfly net and stuffed into his pockets.
The little daydream ended with his little chibi self lounging about in a beach with the sun lowering over the horizon, surrounded by assorted women in tiny swimsuits.
"Where can I sign up to test those things?!"
"uh...well, eh..." He brushed his beard. "They are awful dangerous. I could give you this test one but you'd have to be awful careful with it."
Dracos
"Oh, don't worry. I'll keep it somewhere cool. It might come in handy in the future too, so it'd be better to have it than not."
He seemed reluctant for a moment but then handed it over quickly. "Take good care of it. And don't let it get wet."
Dracos
Another possible firebug can't make things any worse.
Watching the exchange, Alex speaks up. "That's enough to blow up rocks," he asks, seeing the skinny sticks. "Doesn't look it."
"All the better," comments Helena, idly. "If you need to throw it at someone, they ain't gonna be guessing what it does."
"It'll be useful, if anything else. I seriously doubt anyone would expect explosives from my type." Craig shook his head. "Anyhow, is there anything else you could help us with, Grensayer?"
"Well, nothing that comes to mind." The master smith brushed his beard.
Dracos
"Oh well. Thanks for all the help, though. We'd better be off." Craig started off, they were kinda on a schedule, sorta. He briefly paused at the door. "Do you happen to know where Seer Matoya lives?" He turned to look at the smith.
He knew something had slipped his mind.