Haven't Decided, But Ch.1-3 are up!!

Chapter 1

The figure strode out of Bull's Head Inn, cloak wrapped around it's small female framed body, hood shrowding her face. Within the hood small peircing eyes scanned the crammed street, looking for her partners in crime.
Stopping in front of a small one story building, the halfling looked up, and read the sign: "Richtor's Smithy". Readjusting her cloak, and pulling her hood off, she swiftly walked into the shabby blacksmith's forge. No sooner had she walked into the smithie, than a wave of extreme heat hit her petite body, stealing her breath. Looking around the one room forge, she quickly found her target: a bald tattooed half-giant. He wore nothing, except for a pair of plain trousers, sandals, and a necklace with a key around it, upon his neck. The only weapon he wore, a sword in a buetiful iron scabbard. "Richtor!" the halfling screamed, as she quickly pulled her grey cloak from her body, and threw it onto a shabby front desk.
The half-giant looked up, in midswing, and smiled. "Oi! Hello Ha'in! One mo'ent and I'll be wi' you," he said, as his head sized arm brought down the force of a large hammer, hitting it's mark, tempering the steel, as sparks flew. A few more forceful blows, and a meaty hand grabbed a pair of tongs. Pulling the tempered steel from the forge, Richtor quickly dowsed it in a bin of cold water, and sat it aside on a overly large bench, setting the tongs down next to it. Wiping his giant sized brow, he walked over to the rather small halfling and picked her up and gave her a rather strong bear hug.
"Put me down you big oaf! I can't breath!" Harin said, in between short breaths.
"Oi! I'm sorry Ha'in, guess I got a lil' excited ter see ye." He said, quickly letting her go, her dangeling feet finally hitting the stone floor.
"So, you have my order ready Rich?" She asked, after catching her breath for a few moments.
"Ay! O' course I do, buetiful. I finished it just a few 'ours ago." Richtor said, walking behind the front oversized desk, pulling out a minature sheathed rapier. "Oi! Here it is." He said, carefully handing her the weapon. Carefully taking it from his oversized meaty hands, she pulled the rapier from the leather sheath and gasped.
The blade, barely over a foot and a quater long, was blood red, ruins sketched into it, the helt encrusted in ruby, scarlet, and blood opal jewels. "Oi Richtor! It's buetiful............ wait, how much is it?" She said, carefully replacing it into the plain leather sheath.
A deep laugh suddenly filled the room, " Oi Ha'in! Tis nothin', just a simple gift, ter ye from me."
Cocking an eyebrow, she looked up at the red faced half-giant. "Ha! Okay, if it's not money I owe ye Richtor the Half-Giant, then what do you want?"
A huge smile split his face. "Oi! Nothin' like that Ha'in, what a dirty mind ye got there! I just want to come along with ye ter Vrabic City, to see if I can get anything more out of me weapons. Tis' all."
Cocking her eyebrow again, she gave him a smirk. "Liar!"
"No, I'm not lying ter ye Ha'in. Tis' all I want ter do." Richtor replied, scratching the back of his bald tattooed head.
Once again, only this time teasingly, Harin gave him the cocked eyebrow, and then burst out laughing. "Oi, alright then big man, you may come with me to Vrabic City, and try to sell your magnificent weapons. But only if you will let me parade around town, showing off your best work yet." She replied, lifting up the Blood Rapier.
"Oi! Ye can der that Ha'in, but only if you name the blade. It's improper ter not name yer best blade, besides, ever'one knows that ye'll disfavor Rrotrew if ye don't. He verie' much takes o'ense of it, ye know."
"Ai, I must... alright then Richtor, I shall call her: Bloodringer!" Harin replied, pulling the Blood Rapier from the sheath and lifting it up high. Once above her head, a bright red aura burst from the blade of the rapier, filling the one roomed forge in a blink of an eye.
"Oi! It worked Ha'in, now it will be ye and only ye're blade, for now it knows it's name and ye voice, and will only come to ye if ye call it." Richtor said, as a large smile burst forth upon his face. "It is a one of a kind Ha'in, so take care o' it."
"I shall Richtor. Thank you very much for crafting me such a fine weapon in such a short time, but now I must leave, and go see about Farrin. I shall come by for you in two days, hopefully that gives ye enough time to finish all of your orders, and prepare yourself for the long travel." She said, as she climbed up onto the overly large front desk, retreiving her grey cloak. Wrapping it around her small frame, she quickly belted Bloodringer, and bowed to Richtor.
"Oi, I shall leave ye now, but I expect you ready within two days."
"Oi, I shall be ready when ye comes for me." He replied, giving her a large bow, his head almost touching the stone floor of the forge.

Chapter 2

The sun beat down upon the half-giants bald head, accumulating sweat at the top of his brow. "Oi! Damn heat! Well, better make this quick then." Richtor said, as he walked up to the nearest booth. Looking around the small area he quickly determined that the vendor had nothing that he needed, so he walked on, stopping at every booth that might look promising to him.
Eight or nine booths later, he finally found one that had what he needed, and quickly walked up to. "Oi lad! How goes yer day?" He asked, picking up a handful of blood opals, and holding them up to the light, barely able to because of his overly large hands.
The boy, who sat behind the booth smiled, and said," Very well thank ye. Is there anything I can help you with sire?"
"Oi! Polite ye is. I like that in a wee one like yourself!" Richtor replied, putting the opals he had been looking at, back into a small chest. "Yes, acturley I was wonde'ing if ye had any fine Furdyan Steel, in abundance that ye'd be willing to sell to a big costumer like me self."
"Well, depends on how much you're willing to buy a hrus of it for." The lad said, closing the chest of blood opals, and looking back up at Richtor.
"Oi! I see that I have a little negotiating on me hands. Alright then lad how much is you offering for a hrus of Furdyan Steel?" He asked, as he scrunched his face up in antecipation of a high price.
"Forty rucks, and three ercks for a hrus of Furdyan Steel good sire!" The boy said proudly, as a smile appeared on his face at watching the giant.
"Oi! Forty rucks and three ercks for a hrus of Furdyan Steel? What in the Nine Hells do ye take me for?" Richtor said, slamming his fist on the booth, scaring the boy.
"Well, sire that's the cheapest ye'll find it, here at the market." The boy said, looking up at Richtor with a scared look drawn on his face.
"Oi, do ye have a father or someone older than ye pint? I don't trust ye with that damn price o' ye's!"
"Of course sire, let me go get 'em." He said, dissappearing into the back of a small tent situated up against an older building.
"Oi! I can't ber'eve this one. I'm getting hustled by a li'le kid, for Furdyan Steel. Ha!" The half-giant mumbled under his breath. A few seconds later, still mumbling under his breath, he saw the boy come out of the small tint, with a small man in tow.
" 'Ello there sire, my son says that you are interested in buying some Furdyan Steel from us." The merchant said, smiling up at Richtor.
"Oi, ye boy is right. Smart little rascool ye got there to. He was trying to tell me that yer selling a hrus of Furdyan Steel for forty rucks, and three ercks. See, I dern't blame the boy for trying to make some merney off o' me, but that's just out right w'ong sire!" Richtor said, slamming his fist on the booth once more. The small merchant flinched.
"Good sire, have you not heard? A band of highway men have been scouring the merchant wagon trains that have been coming through Trople Pass." The merchant replied hastily, as he nervesly figeteted with his mustache.
"Oi damn humans!" Richtor said, as he quickly realized that the man he was trying to buy steel from was also human. "Oi! Please don't take any o'ense o' it sire. Just had some bad incounters with highway men and shady souled humans tis all."
"Tis alright good sire. So, that is why it is so expensive at the moment. Everyday, that I send for more supplies, the harder it is to get them acrossed. They've been saying, that these highway men have been slaughtering there poor victims after they have stolen fromt them, just for fun." The merchant said, shaking his head for more imphasis upon the subject.
"Oi! Damn bastards! O'right then good merchant man, I'll take eight hrus of your Furdyan Steel." Richtor replied, as he pulled out a money pouch that had been consealed under his belt.
"Alright then sire, I'll go get it." Said the merchant, dissappearing into the tent. A few moments passed, then finally he reappeared, struggling to keep the huge slate of steel in his hands.
"Oi, good sire, let me take that from ye." Richtor said, throwing the small bag of coins onto the booth, and reaching over it to retrieve the slate from the merchant.
"Why, thank ye, I'm not as strong as I once was... not as strong..." The merchant said, rubbing his small thin hands.
"Ai! Thank ye for the Furdyan Steel good merchant, even though it has cost me out the ass!" The half-giant said hefting the steel onto his shoulder, and walking away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was nice and warm still, when Richtor finally made his way back to his forge, after getting some food off of a nearby food vendor. He called the small little foodcart-vendors roach wagons, because the food was cheap, some what filling, and you never knew what you were eating.
Once he had fired the forge back up fully, Richtor went to work, melting the steel down to a usable size. Using the mighty forge, a pair of oversized tongs, an anvil, and a rather large hammer, (his favorite one, out of the many that he owned), began to shape it until, it resembled a rather long rod. The rod, which he dertermined would be big enough for him to fit his hand around, was just a little over three and a half feet long, and four inches thick, when he finished it. Quickly submerging it into the bin of water and oil, a hiss arose from it sending a chill down the half-giant's back. Everytime it would happen, he would pray under his breath to Rrotrew, the Smithie God, for that was one of the many things his father had tought him as an apprentice.
This time, there was no exception to his praise to Rrotrew. "Oi! I give ye this mighty rod Smithie God, so that you may guide me arms and hands, to craft a mighty weapon out o' it to slau'ter our enemies with!" As he finished his praise to his god, he pulled the rod out of the oil-based water, and smiled, as he watched his god bless his work. The once gray steel color rod, slowly turned a deep onyx color right before his eyes. When he finally sat the thing down upon the bench, a smile was still visible.
Wiping the sweat away from his brow, he went back to work. Taking the remander of the Furdyan Steel, he set it upon the hot coals of the forge, turning it every once-in-a-while, till it began to glow red and orange. Grabbing it, he set it upon the anvil, and began to swing his mighty hammer till it slowly took shape, after a few minutes, it began to cool down, until it was to hard for even the half-giant to shape. So, into the smoldering coals it went again, till it was glowing red and orange, and he set it upon the anvil to shape it. The cycle continued, just like it had with the rod, and all of his other magnificent works, till finally it was shaped into a giant war hammer.
Turning it over again and again, to make sure the sides were even, Richtor smiled, and decided that it was as close as it would get, for even with the naked eye, he saw no flaws. Sighing, he dowsed the mighty hammer head into the bin, and once again prayed to Rrotrew. Pulling it out, he sat it next to the rod, which would soon become the handle to the giant sized war hammer, and watched as it changed to the exact same onyx color the rod had.
Not realising how long it had been since he started, Richtor looked outside, to see that day had turned into night, and with it, brought gaurdsman patrolling the streets. Sighing, he realised that he was extremely tired, and thirsty.Looking down upon the two seperate items, he decided to call it a night. Taking off his apron and throwing it down, he blew out the candles that had been barely lighting the room, and walked out of the shop, locking it, on his way to the Bull's Head Inn.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, before the Sun had risen, Richtor was back in his shop, finishing up the war hammer. He had decided, that if he got up early enough, he would have enough time to finish the magnificent war hammer, and pack his things into his old wagon for the long journey to Vabric City.
Putting on his apron that he had left there the night before, he picked up the rod, that would serve as the handle, and walked over to the far left corner of the shop. Fastening it onto a lathe, he pulled up a rather high stool, and sat down. Grabbing the diamond tipped chisel, he positioned his feet on a small worn out wooden pedal, and slowly began to pump the pedal, until the lathe began to move the rod in a circular motion. Setting the chisel carfully onto the Furdyan Steel, he slowly ran it up and down the rod, gradually forming it into an hourglass shaped handle. After he had completed the shaping of the handle, he walked back over to the bench that held the head of the hammer, and chiseled the tip of the handle into a hexagon shape.Once he finished, he grabbed the head of the hammer, and in the middle of the bottom of it, began to notch a hexagon hole; big enough for the rod to fit in.
Fitting the head of the handle into the hole of the head, he determined that the fit was perfect. Surprised at the first fit, he sat the war hammer down, and walked over to the bench at the front, and bent down. Rummaging through the contents of the shelf, he finally found what he had been looking for: a rather cold, stone box.
Standing back up, he walked back over to the bench, and sat the stone box down. Pulling the necklace off of his head, he carefully fit the key into the socket, and turned it. Inside the stone box nothing but ashes. Putting the necklace back, upon his neck, he picked up the war hammer, and grabbed a handful of ash. Walking over to the forge, he began to pray, and sprinkle the hammer with the ash. No sooner had the first flake of ash touch it's destination, the hammer began to glow a bright blue, after the glimmer died down, Richtor shoved it into the smoldering coals, waiting, until finally the war hammer was a bright red, he pulled it out and sat it upon the bench. Again, he took a fistful of ashes, and patted them down into the crevice were the handle met the head, and prayed. Putting the war hammer back into the forge, he waited till he heard the familair crack of the ashes, as it melded the two peices of Furdyan Steel together.
Grabbing the now complete war hammer out of the forge, he submerged it into the bin for the last time, as it gave an incredebly loud hiss. Once again he prayed to Rrotrew, and pulled it out of the water, and watched as the whole weapon glowed a magnificent onyx color, and shimmered as the ashes, that Richtor had applied to the weapon turned into glimmering shards of gold.
He sighed, as the time consuming task was finally finished.

Chapter 3

Harin hurried. After just finishing breakfast, she briskly walked out of the Bull Head's Inn, toward the nearby stables, were she had found a spot for her trusty steed, Farrin.
Farrin, a Wolfox, was just a little smaller than Harin.Although he was only three and a half years old, Farrin had reached the limit of his growth. Standing at just over three feet four inches, from the ground to his shoulders, he was a perfect size for Harin to use as a steed. Having nursed him, since he was a pup, Harin took great pride in knowing that she had trained such a stubborn animal into a wonderful companion.
Still walking at a brisk pace, Harin walked into the small stables, and turned the corner, finally reaching Farrin's stall. Looking around the small stall, Harin quickly noticed that the Wolfox was nowhere to be seen. Reasuring herself that he was safe, she opened the stall door with a hard nudge with her shoulder, and walked over to feel the warmth of they. Only then, did she notice that the hay was slowly moving up and down. Smiling, she finally figured out just what had happened to Farrin.
Reaching her small arms into the hay, she felt around, till her hands came upon a furry lump of breathing matter. Hastily pushing the hay aside, she looked down, to see the pitch black coat of the sleeping Wolfox, curled up into a small ball, from head to bushy tail. Finding one of his small perky ears, she slowly moved her fingers up and down the nook behind it, till slowly he came back to reality.
Lifting his small fox shaped head up, he opened his eyes, and stared sleepily at Harin. "Good morn to you boy. Sorry to have woken you, but today's the big day. Were gunna go to Vrabric City with Richtor!" She said, as she petted the top of his head, smiling. At the mention of the half-giant's name, the Wolfox rose from the bed of hay, and looked around the small stall. Quickly deciding that Richtor was nowhere in sight, he went back to his casual laying position, so that Harin could resume petting him. As if in understanding, she quickly spoke up, "Nay Farrin. No more petting, we have to go and get Richtor, to see if he is ready. Vetray only knows, how long he's been waiting for us. I told him two days ago, to be ready this morn so that we might make our way to Vrabric City on time for our council at the Temple of Solace."
Looking up at her with big sad eyes, he slowly nuzzled his snout under her arm, until finally, his head was situated on her lap, and he was licking her arm. Laughing, Harin picked up the petting once more, before speaking up again. " You know I love ye Farrin, but we really need to go and get Richtor. You know as well as I his temper when he is mad."
Responding to her quick but understanding tone, he pulled his head out from under her arm, and walked over to the other end of the stall. Smiling, Harin got up to follow, grabbing his brush and her bag on the way. Situating the small adventurer's bag on her back, she began to brush down the Wolfox, as he enjoyed every minute of it.
Finishing the brushing, she walked out of the stall, reappering a few minutes later, with the special made leather saddle. Setting it upon the mid-back of Farrin, she made haste to buckle it up, bringing the strap around and over his breast, finally buckling the last buckle.
Nudging the door open with her shoulder, she walked out, Farrin following. Turning the corner, she saw that Will the stable boy had found his post, sitting on a chair right next to the open stable door. "Oi! Good morn to ye Harin. Come to take Farrin with ye?" He asked, getting up from his chair, and walking over to the two.
"Yes. Thank you for taking care of him for me. This should cover his stay for the week, plus a tip for you. Working hard I see, gaurding the horses, it's well deserved." Pulling a gold piece from her purse, kept tucked under her blade belt, she tossed it at the lad. Catching it perfectly in his palm, he smiled and thanked her.
Saying goodbye's, and a quick growl from Farrin, the pair, walked out into the busy street. Keeping close to Harin, the Wolfox walked no more than two steps beside her. Coming upon the market area, Harin quickly looked around for the small booth. Finally finding it a few feet down to her right, she made haste, walking among the taller crowd, till she was right in front of it. Looking among the wide variaties of food, she quickly came to a decision of rations she would take with her. Two loafs of nut bread, a block of goat cheese, and two saddle bags of food for Farrin, (a special blende of dried cubed meat, and nuts and oats), Harin was set to go.
Quickly putting thier provisions away into the saddle bags, Harin mounted Farrin. Feet burning with haste, Farrin headed thru the streets of Hubric, towards the half-giant's smithie.