The Crafter's Darkness: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 4) by Jonathan Brooks (e book reading free txt) 📕

one steel sword was worth 100 of the iron swords that their old Blacksmith used to make (the one that arrived after Kelerim was chased out), and would last at least 50 times longer – if not more.  She put it back down and looked at the other swords, seeing that all of them appeared to be of a similar quality, even if a few weren’t quite as polished…and then she noticed a handful that were exceptionally well-made – master-craft quality, if she had to guess.

Furbrea picked it out of the pile and was surprised at how light it was in comparison to the others; instead of seeming weaker because of the weight difference, something told her it was equally as strong, if not stronger.  “What is this?  Is this steel?”

The Elf shook her head and opened her mouth to say something, but closed it after likely remembering that she couldn’t speak the language.  Echo strangely froze for a second before she started to gesture with her hands.  Through a series of hand movements encompassing the heavier steel swords and the one Furbrea was holding, as well as indications of short people and tall people, the Orc thought she understood.

“The steel swords are for the regular members of a Warband and these…other…ones are for Warband Leaders?”  Another nod confirmed her guess again.  “Good thinking there, because those in charge tend to like feeling a bit special.”  They were some of the worst sometimes, because they were so demanding, but they were also in their positions because they were good at what they did.

Lots of nods accompanied her statement, and Furbrea then checked out the chest armor.  In her experience, Warband members tended to prefer better movement over better protection, so she wasn’t sure if they would like the armor – especially when it was a bit heavier and bulkier than she was expecting.  Another question and more hand-waving, accompanied by a few weak punches at the front of the leather gave her the idea that there was something inside the thick sides of the chest armor.  A few rough punches of her own revealed that there was indeed something inside that appeared to be extremely durable and would protect the Warbands over and above anything she had seen them wear before, as well as the overall quality of them being unlike the norm as well – as in, it didn’t look like it would fall apart when someone looked at it funny.

Whether or not they would wear something like that was unknown, but Furbrea knew that if she were in a Warband, she would appreciate the extra protection.  “Again, smart; you obviously knew that they wouldn’t wear anything over the rest of their bodies, though I’m not sure if the weight and thickness of these will be too much for them.  We’ll just have to see.”

Echo just shrugged and that simple gesture indicated to the old Orc that it was of no consequence; the most important part of the delivery – at least as far as their deal was concerned – were the weapons, and she had a hard time believing that any Orc would find fault with them.  If they chose not to wear the armor, which was worlds above in quality to what they were likely wearing, then that would be on them.

“This looks like it will work perfectly.  Thank you so much for the food; I fear we were running dangerously low,” Furbrea said, before she hesitated.  “I’m not sure we’ll be able to carry those stone boxes full of meat; Perchunk and Gorbal are fairly strong, but that might be a struggle.”

As soon as she asked, the two monkey statues suddenly came to life, dropping their large hammers and turning to start picking up the crates with ease – even the stone one that must’ve weighed a few hundred pounds by itself.  Furbrea stepped back in shock but swallowed her scream before it could emerge; she managed to recover fast enough to make her surprise seem temporary, though she was still reeling inside her mind.

“Uh…this way,” she said after a few moments of the monkeys freezing in place and facing towards her.  She led the way to the supply hut and led them inside, where they brought the crates they were carrying down into the cellar.  Perchunk and Gorbal came in next with the much lighter crate of bread and one of fruit between them, where they brought them down the staircase as well.  Fortunately, there was more than enough room down below for all of the food crates, as well as the bundles of swords that were quickly carried in by the other villagers.  Furbrea just stood in the cellar and directed where everything needed to be stored, and within 10 minutes the entire contents of the stone platform were inside the supply hut.

Including, as it turned out, the two metal monkey statues now wielding their large hammers again.  A questioning look at them standing inside of the supply hut and over the trap door was answered – again by hand-gestures by Echo, which Furbrea proudly was getting quite adept at interpreting.

“So…they are here to help guard all the supplies, and only us villagers are allowed inside of here?  And, if I’m understanding correctly, they will attack anyone that comes within range of them that aren’t us?”  More nods.

That was actually quite useful, because there was every possibility that a Warband could swoop in and try to take everything without agreeing to the deal.  She wasn’t sure how powerful these metal monkeys were, but she had seen them carry a few hundred pounds of stone like it was nothing; accompanied by their hammers, which had a spike on one end, she could only imagine the carnage they could inflict on a Warband if they were to swing those around.  It wasn’t a foolproof defense, but would be quite the deterrent.

As the Elf