Monsters

     One morning while cooking, Glam took a bit longer then usual. He was stopping often to gaze out the kitchen window. After a slight breakfast Glam said to Van whom had grasped most of the dwarven language, "Before it gets light, there's something I want to give you." Van looked at him questioningly, arching an eyebrow. Give him something? Glam had provided him everything he owned, already. In addition to wages (where there was no nearby place to spend it), he kept a tally of what he called their 'contract'. In most of the world at that time, indentured servants were able to buy their way to freedom. Although it was not law in that frontier land, it was a custom Glam preferred.

     Glam led Van to the small shop where he forged simple farm tools. Opening a chest he removed a set of armor. "Being man, I was worried you'd outgrow this armor before I finished mending it. You must be from a shorter stock then the locals. Try it on." As Van inspected the armor and donned it, Glam continued talking. "It belonged to my son. Every five seasons a particular Goblonii tribes migrations bring them past this area. Previous seasons they just attempted to steal some crops for winter, and we were able to chase them off. In the following weeks we'll have company. Usually it's just fall helpers. I've began to hire them after... my family... five seasons ago a powerful leader had risen among the goblonii. Instead of coming to just steal crops, that leader had come for us. Perhaps it wanted revenge for previous seasons. They... the other goblonii managed a distraction, separating me from the others. By the end, my family gone and their leader badly wounded, I barely managed to drive them of. He'd under estimated me, or I'd be gone, too."

     Van, meanwhile, marveled at the armor. He couldn't imagine how it was made. It was heavy cloth, but somehow resilient. He couldn't cut or pierce it with a knife he had picked up for the purpose of testing it. The armor consisted of black pants and a yellow shirt. The gauntlets and the boots were heavily armored by a dark metal. The oddest part was the long elven coat. "Why this elven looking coat?" Van wondered aloud.

     Seeing his perplexed look, Glam chuckled. "My sons wife asked me to make that for him. She was a new-elf. It's why he never gave me grandchildren."

     "New-elf?" asked Van?

     "It is said the first waves of elves were an extremely advanced people. However, as other groups advanced, subsequent waves of elves came from the Far West where their homeland is said to be, each less developed then the last. The latest wave is known as new-elves. It is said, there will be no more waves. Not to speak ill of Ilonda, my sons wife, this last wave, come here only about 500 years ago, were not very developed, mentally...". Upon seeing Van looking at the plated gauntlets Glam changed topic, "The gauntlets are basically shields. Gronell, my son, preferred two handed weapons. Our people don't have the greatest reach."

     Van reminded Glam what he'd said about visitors. Glam nodded. "So much to say. Walk with me to the fields and wait for the attack with me, and I'll explain." Glam grabbed a warhammer and pickaxe from the bench. gesturing to the shop in general he added, "take what you need."

     "Attack?" demanded Van.

     "I saw Goblonii scouts this morning. They no doubt had some looking up and down the road as well, making sure there's no rangers or strong travelers that could come to our aid. They seem to have forgot, I don't tend to need any." Glam gave a wink. "Now pick a weapon and lets go."

     Van held his left hand out, palm up, and concentrated as he had been practicing. In his hand first appeared a handle, then from it grew a long, jagged, impossibly thin blade, all of so black it seemed to absorb the light. As the old dwarf gasped, Van added the finishing touch, casting light on it. 

     "How..." started Glam, "where... where is your relic?" he asked.

     "It hasn't arrived yet." Van smirked, feeling all smug and self satisfied. He'd pictured this moment over and over, and it didn't disappoint. Even this wise old dwarf was surprised.

      "I've not heard something like that before, but I'm no expert." Motioning for Van to follow he started toward the fields. "Some old companions are coming to help me with my justice. We will slay the Goblonii leader. One of them is a relic holder, too. And here, I was about to brag about how my old companion is a relic holder!" Glam laughed. "Why didn't you mention it sooner!?"

     "I didn't know I could trust you, then when I did, I wanted to get strong enough to surprise you! I'm still not too strong yet. I can only do a few things, and those, not very well."

     The goblonii must have seen them approaching and launched their raid. They ran in and began filling bags with vegetables. Glam broke off the conversation and started sprinting. Van knew this would in no way wind or tire the old dwarf. As for himself, he broke out into an energy saving jog. At least the long black blade he wielded didn't have any weight.  Van wanted a handle to it but that would have to wait.

     The baggers retreated when the old dwarf approached and fighters, larger and wielding mostly primitive weapons, rushed forth from the tree line. Before the baggers could get far, Glam threw his weapons in turn felling two of them. The row of aggressors advanced attempting a simultaneous attack using two spearmen, an axer and a sword user. Somehow Glam slid under the attack and, bowling ball like, knocked them all down. Before they had time to react he was up and spinning past another group to retrieve his weapons from the fallen baggers.  They completely forgot about Van, who had began to worry having seen arrows launched from the wood line. Glam never stopping, gave them no time to land, even causing a few incidents of friendly fire. The few that reached him seemed unable to penetrate his armor, anyways.

     Glam was like a whirlwind among the enemy. Lightly armored as they were he had no use for the pick end raining strategic blows in turn with axe and hammer, sometimes unbalancing, sometimes hitting weapons, and occasionally finishing one of them off. Van veered off toward the end of the archers and slingers ragged line. He sped up the last 50 feet as they started noticing him and turned on him, shouting a warning. It was at that point Van realized he wanted a helmet. Arrows and sling stones whizzed by him, some bouncing off his armor and, terrified, he tore into the goblonii. 

     It was like mowing grass. They added no resistance. Those he just injured seemed overwhelmed by something, and fell back, their faces masks of fear and surprise as he finished them off. Van felt a surge of energy. Before he knew it he had new targets, a wall of fighters fleeing in panic from the onslaught of the old dwarf. It was over in just a few minutes.