Ezra and Korr strolled through the bustling streets of Tavelon, the air alive with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and the occasional clatter of horse hooves on cobblestone. Ezra's eyes scanned the shop signs, seeking something that promised quality rather than the cheap, hastily-made armor he often had to settle for.
His newfound wealth was practically burning a hole in his pocket, and this time, he was determined to invest in armor that wouldn't fall apart after one hard battle. Steel was his first choice—preferably something forged from the specialty lightweight steel of the Isloria continent. It was leagues above anything standard, balancing strength and mobility perfectly. But it was rare and painfully expensive, and until now, Ezra could never afford it.
Korr walked alongside him, towering over the crowd and drawing plenty of curious stares. He grinned and gave the occasional wave, completely unbothered by the attention. "You've got that look in your eyes, Ezra. Planning to blow all that gold in one place?"
Ezra smirked but didn't glance away from the storefronts. "If it means I walk out of here with something that doesn't disintegrate after one fight, then yeah. Consider it an investment."
Korr chuckled, clapping Ezra on the shoulder. "Fair enough. Just don't let them swindle you. I've seen merchants mark up their prices the moment they spot someone with deep pockets."
Ezra raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in a dry smile. "Thanks for the advice, Master Economist. I'll be sure to haggle like my life depends on it."
The two turned a corner into a quieter street lined with more specialized shops. Here, the storefronts were less flashy, but their signs spoke of quality. One in particular caught Ezra's eye: Dural's Forge - Armor for the Brave.
Ezra pointed to the shop. "This one looks promising."
As they entered, the heat from the forge in the back of the shop washed over them. The walls were lined with armor pieces ranging from polished steel breastplates to intricately designed helmets. Behind the counter stood a grizzled blacksmith with a scar running across his forehead and soot-streaked arms.
"Looking for something specific?" the blacksmith asked, his voice a deep rumble.
Ezra nodded, stepping forward. "I need a set of armor. Lightweight but durable. Steel from Isloria, if you've got it. Black, if possible."
The blacksmith's eyebrows rose slightly, and he crossed his arms. "That's a tall order. Isloria steel's not easy to come by. Expensive, too."
Ezra pulled the pouch of gold from his belt and placed it on the counter with a heavy clink. "I'm willing to pay for quality."
The blacksmith eyed the pouch, then gave a small nod. "Alright. I've got a piece you might like. It's unique, though—not your typical knight's set. Let me grab it."
As the blacksmith disappeared into the back room, Korr wandered over to a display of helmets, picking one up and examining it. "You know, Ezra, maybe I should grab something too. If I'm gonna be fighting alongside you, I might as well look the part."
Ezra chuckled. "As long as you don't blow all your coin on something flashy."
Korr grinned. "Me? Flashy? Never."
The blacksmith returned, carrying a sleek, all-black armor set. The breastplate was matte black, with subtle angular designs that gave it a modern, almost assassin-like aesthetic. The pauldrons were streamlined, designed for mobility rather than bulk. The set came with a flowing black scarf that could be wrapped around the lower half of the face, providing both style and practicality. A hood, also black, was attached to the back of the armor and had a sharp, shadowy cut, reminiscent of an assassin's cowl.
The blacksmith set it on the counter with a solid thunk.
"Here it is. Isloria steel, lightweight, durable, and with a little flair. That scarf's fire-resistant, by the way, and the hood's reinforced with aether-thread for extra durability."
Ezra ran his fingers over the armor, admiring its craftsmanship. He slipped on the breastplate, adjusting the straps, then pulled up the hood and wrapped the scarf over his face. He turned to Korr, the shadows of the hood giving his already serious demeanor an almost menacing edge.
"How do I look?" Ezra asked, his voice muffled slightly by the scarf.
Korr grinned. "Like you're about to assassinate a king. It's perfect."
Ezra handed over the gold, wincing slightly at the amount but knowing it was worth it. As they left the shop, Korr glanced at him, his usual grin back in place.
"So, Ezra, you ready to stop playing the ragged mercenary and look like a proper warrior now?"
Ezra smirked. "If I can stop looking like I rolled out of a bandit camp, I'll call it a win."
The two continued down the street, Ezra's new armor catching the light in subtle flashes as the scarf and hood fluttered slightly in the breeze, ready for whatever battles lay ahead.
Ezra and Korr continued down the bustling street, drawing a mixture of stares and whispers from onlookers. They certainly made an unusual pair—a tall, lean Elthar dressed like a shadowy assassin, and a massive bear beast person, a race rarely seen outside the Sacred Forest.
The two paid little attention to the glances, focused instead on their task. But their stride paused when Korr suddenly pointed to a weapons shop.
"Hey, Ezra," Korr said, his voice light but tinged with enthusiasm. "Let's check this place out. Been thinking about getting some gauntlets now that I can use Aether. Might as well put some money to good use."
Ezra raised an eyebrow, then smirked as he glanced at the shop. "Gauntlets, huh? I'd hate to be the poor bastard you hit with those. You were already tossing demons around like ragdolls, and when you hulked out at the end of the fight with Zyrion? Pretty sure you were taller than the trees."
Korr laughed, clapping Ezra on the back with his usual exuberance. "Hey, no harm in getting stronger. We're gonna turn our mercenary group into a legend. I've gotta keep up the reputation."
Ezra shook his head with a wry smile and pushed open the shop door. He was halfway inside when he realized Korr hadn't followed. Turning, he saw Korr standing just outside, his expression serious as he gestured toward a sign posted on the door.
Ezra stepped back to read it, his eyes narrowing as he processed the bold, inked words:
NO ORCS, BEAST PEOPLE, OR STONEKIN. YOU WILL BE DENIED SERVICE AND TRESPASSED.
Ezra felt a flicker of anger as he looked between the sign and Korr, who stood calm but resolute. For a moment, Ezra's mind churned with thoughts of confronting the shopkeeper, but he quickly dismissed the idea. If the owner was foolish enough to turn away capable customers because of their race, they didn't deserve his coin.
Without a word, Ezra stepped back out, his dark cloak swishing behind him. "Let's find somewhere that isn't run by idiots," he said, his voice cool but firm.
Korr grinned, his usual good humor returning. "Works for me. Probably wouldn't have liked their selection anyway."
Ezra and Korr strolled through the streets, passing several more shops displaying signs with similar discriminatory messages. Each rejection added to the weight of frustration between them, but they pressed on. Eventually, they came across a small, unassuming building tucked between larger establishments. The shop looked run-down, its wooden sign barely legible, but when Ezra peered through the grime-streaked window, he spotted a collection of weapons that looked well-forged and meticulously crafted.
"This looks promising," Ezra said, pushing open the creaky door.
The interior smelled of burning coal and heated metal, and the steady sound of hammers striking steel echoed from a workshop in the back. The warmth of the forge wrapped around them as they stepped inside.
Ezra approached the counter and knocked firmly on the worn wood. "Yo! Get out here—you've got customers!" he called out, his voice cutting through the rhythmic hammering.
The sound of tools clattering to a stop came first, followed by heavy, deliberate footsteps. From the back room emerged a towering figure who made even Korr seem average in size. The man had broad shoulders, greenish-gray skin, and tusks protruding from his lower jaw—an Orc.
Ezra's lips curled into a smile. Orc smiths weren't as renowned as Dwarves, but they were known for their raw strength and skill at the forge. Ezra had wielded an Orc-made blade before and trusted their craftsmanship.
The Orc's deep-set eyes scanned the duo before he spoke, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Didn't expect to see an Elthar and a beast-man walk into my shop. What're you looking for?"
Ezra gestured toward Korr. "My friend here needs gauntlets. Something sturdy enough to handle his… particular brand of enthusiasm."
Korr grinned. "And Aether-friendly. I don't plan on just hitting things—I plan on breaking them."
The Orc chuckled, his tusks glinting in the firelight. "You came to the right place." He motioned for them to follow as he led them to a display of gauntlets reinforced with intricate metalwork. "Pick something that speaks to you, bear-man. Or, if nothing fits, I can make you something custom. Won't find any of those other snobs making gauntlets to handle Aether flow."
Ezra leaned against a nearby rack, arms crossed, as Korr inspected the selection. He was already liking this place. "Finally, someone with some sense," Ezra muttered to himself, watching the Orc work.
Ezra wandered the shop while Korr inspected the gauntlets, his attention drawn to the array of swords displayed along the walls. The blade he had brought with him to Tavelon had served him well, but as he unsheathed it and examined the edge, he noticed the chips and cracks that marred its surface. The relentless battles and overuse of Aether had clearly taken their toll, and Ezra couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the craftsman who'd made it. At this point, the blade wouldn't even cut an apple cleanly.
But a sword was a tool, and tools were meant to be replaced. Ezra shifted his focus to the shop's selection, searching for something lightweight and efficient. His eyes landed on a unique weapon displayed in a simple wooden stand.
It was a single-edged blade with a gentle curve, slightly longer than his current sword. Picking it up, he noted that it was heavier than what he was used to, but its balance and design intrigued him. The craftsmanship was distinct, unlike any blade he had encountered before. It reminded him vaguely of a saber or scimitar, yet it had its own unique elegance.
As Ezra inspected the blade, he noticed intricate engravings etched into the sheath—simple yet striking. He turned it over in his hands, marveling at the unfamiliar style.
"That one catch your eye?" came the deep, gravelly voice of the Orc smith, who had approached quietly.
Ezra glanced over his shoulder as the Orc continued. "That's a katana. Learned to forge them during my time in Thornmere. The wolf beast-folk there favor those blades, and while I was traveling, I picked up the craft from one of their smiths."
The Orc reached out, lightly tapping the blade with a thick finger. "They're not always as versatile as a longsword, but if you've got good steel—and this one does—they'll hold up just fine. Cuts clean, moves fast, and holds Aether better than most. It's a good weapon for someone who knows what they're doing."
Ezra smirked. "It's different from what I usually use, but I like the feel of it."
The Orc grinned, tusks glinting in the firelight. "You'd do it justice. Tell you what—I'll sell it to you cheap. Haven't had customers in a while, and it'd be good to see it put to use instead of gathering dust."
Ezra nodded, gripping the sword more firmly. "Deal. I think this blade and I will get along just fine."
As the two finished their dealings, Korr emerged from another section of the shop with a wide grin on his face, holding up a pair of hulking, fist-shaped gauntlets. Each one was a masterpiece of heavy metal craftsmanship, adorned with subtle engravings and reinforced knuckles designed for devastating blows.
"Hey, I want these ones!" Korr announced enthusiastically, flexing his claws to emphasize the fit. "Already checked—they'll work just fine with these bad boys."
The Orc smith turned around and chuckled, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Those were made with Orcs in mind, but I can see why they'd fit a bear beast-person just as well. Built for strength, durability, and smashing things to bits—seems right up your alley."
Korr nodded, his grin growing even wider. "Perfect! I've been told I have a knack for smashing things to bits."
The smith let out a hearty laugh. "Then those gauntlets found the right owner."