Deephouse: Further adventures involving the employees of a mid-level adventuring corporation. New to Deephouse? Start here.
One Week Earlier
Because there was nothing to eat, Durgin Grimforge drank another cup of watery coffee.
He stood at the center of his tiny bedroom. He’d never noticed how short the ceilings were. This place was better suited for gnomes or gremlins. Dwarves were meant for great halls, places that echoed with emptiness. What kind of dwarf chose to live so tightly constrained?
What dwarf indeed.
The living quarters hadn’t entered into his thinking when he’d bought the place. He’d been enamored with the spacious first floor workshop, ensnared by dreams of the marvels he’d create.
He was a great craftsman. He was a horrible businessman.
Now the forge had breathed its last. He’d exhausted the bank’s patience. Durgin and his family had to vacate by the end of the week.
Where would they go? The question tortured his waking hours.
His children played in the next room, sweetly oblivious that their world was about to be upended. Where will we go?
His wife Elryn swept into the room, all breezy smiles and positivity. She was wearing her apron even though there was nothing to cook. “My, my, don’t you look dapper.”
Durgin frowned at the mirror. “Somehow I’ve gotten too big and too small at the same time.”
Elryn patted his belly lovingly. “Somehow, huh?”
It was one of life’s great ironies that he hadn’t had a decent meal in a month, yet he looked like he never missed second breakfast. Dwarven metabolism moved with all the urgency of rocks.
Elryn drifted toward their bed. He watched in the mirror as she took a shirt off the pile, shook it out to admire it, and refolded it. She carefully placed the shirt into an open chest.
They’d sold what would sell. All that remained were old clothes, a handful toys, her knitting knives, a few odds and ends. He’d pawned his smithing gear, an embarrassment worsened by the meager coin he’d taken in trade.
He’d kept the war axe.
It was a family heirloom, ancient by the counting of men, and worth its weight in gold. He didn’t keep it for sentimental reasons or out of stubborn pride. He kept it because the coming days were certain to be dark. Times like that, a good axe was the difference between life and death.
Not that he had any practical experience wielding it.
He turned from the mirror and hugged his wife from behind.
She patted his forearm. “We’ll find a way. We always do.”
He didn’t share her optimism.
He kissed the back of her head. “I better get going. Even by portal, it’ll take some time to get to Thornview.”
Elryn turned to face him and laced her hands behind his back. “Just remember—these adventuring corporations need us more than we need them. Don’t jump at the first job they offer you.”
“Hold out for the second, is that your advice?” He rested his forehead on hers.
“One that doesn’t involve danger.” She pulled back slightly and raised a finger for emphasis. “No matter what it pays.”
“Don’t worry—these companies have excellent life insurance policies.”
She punched him in the chest.
“Ow—I’m kidding.” He forced himself to smile, knowing he’d face a dragon if it meant he could feed his family again.