103 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Elves

  The Celestial realm.

  Greymore, god of the elven people, was steaming. Literally. The Heretic was on his lands! He couldn’t let this affront continue, so he did what he always did, he spoke to his clergy.

  “Followers of mine, I have a holy mission. I want the Heretic drugged, captured, and drowned. I want the fish to feast upon his flesh and bones. I want him to never emerge from the water, and suffer an eternity of pain!”

  The clergy complied.

  -

  5th of Samune,

  As is prudent at the moment, I have forgone visiting the Elven places of worship. I don’t want to anger Greymore (as I found out his name is) any more than I have to. That said, I keep feeling his eyes on me. It’s creepy.

  -

  Brianna’s Journal, 6th of Samune,

  My dearest husband has been missing since lunch. We stopped in a lovely arboreal village overlooking one of the bedrock lakes so he could spend some time fishing, his favorite hobby. Our son wandered off to play with some of the children while I took some time to catch up on the local gossip.

  It is now close to midnight, and he hasn’t returned. Grendel and I have visited all three of the taverns in the village, and no one has seen him. I even ran into the gent who rented him the boat, and he hasn’t brought it back. I am worried, as in Grendel, even though he doesn’t show it.

  -

  Max “awoke” groggy. He felt tired, but someone nibbling on his left leg had woken him up. He took a deep breath, and coughed as water flooded his mouth and lungs. Shit. I must’ve hit my head on the boom and fallen out of the boat! Probably got a leg stuck in a stump or something. He tried to calm his lungs as he opened his eyes to look around. It was dark enough that he could barely see. He wiggled his legs, only to find that both of his feet seemed to be stuck in something. Something very heavy. As his lungs ran out of air, he cursed his luck, and died.

  -

  Brianna’s Journal, 7th of Samune,

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  He is still missing. The whole village turned out this morning to help search. The boat he had borrowed was found just before noon, stuck in the sand across the lake. All of Max’s gear was still in it, even though he was not. Nothing seems real right now. Nothing makes sense. The worry is eating at my soul.

  Grendel has disappeared as well. I will have a strong word with him if he comes back…When, not if.

  -

  Grendel sat on a rock at the edge of the ancient lake. He stared out over the water, as the waves splashed against the rocks base. If I were Max, what would have made me take off without Any of my gear? … Some sort of life-threatening emergency. I’ve seen him pee off the side of a boat in high winds. Poo too. Beaching for the bodies needs is not something he does… Any sort of attack would leave scorch marks everywhere due to how much heat he generates with his explody thing. If someone shot and killed him, they would only have seconds before he healed up and came back angry… Unless…Poison. He told me that poison still effects him, otherwise booze wouldn’t do anything…

  So, poison him, capture him, keep him drugged… Doesn’t make sense, to what end? Ransom? Mom would pay the bill, then Dad would hunt them to the end of the world and kill them… No, not ransom. Why go to the trouble? …Revenge. Who hates dad so much that they would go to such a length? I had better check around.

  -

  Brianna’s Journal, 7th of Samune, late evening,

  Addendum, Grendel came back late last night, I gave him a teary hug and an earful. Then he told me his hypotheses. I think he’s right. We will work on it in the morning, but I have a bad idea about it.

  -

  Max “awoke” groggy. He felt tired, but someone nibbling on his left leg had woken him up. He took a deep breath, and coughed as water flooded his mouth and lungs. Shit. I must’ve hit my head on the boom and fallen out of the boat! Probably got a leg stuck in a stump or something. He tried to calm his lungs as he opened his eyes to look around. It was dark enough that he could barely see. He wiggled his legs, only to find that both of his feet seemed to be stuck in something. Something very heavy. As his lungs ran out of air, he cursed his luck, and died.

  -

  The 8th of Samune opened with a short rain squall, followed by a sunny cloudless sky. Bri and Grendel sat in the local church to Greymore and awaited the priest. It didn’t take long for the elf to approach the pair.

  “I am truly sorry for your loss, young ones.” The priest said as he stepped up to the two. “But thus is the way of men. This is why we of the clergy, and Great Greymore himself, discourage the crossing of the lines.”

  Grendel grunted at the man. Bri stood from the chair, and glowered at the priest.

  “Know your place, Priest.” Bri said, frost in her tone. “I have lost my husband, and you act like this?” She took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “I will count to three. By the time I finish my count, you will have told me where my husband is, or there will be consequences.”

  The priest flinched back from the sudden threat, “Lady Brianna!”

  “One.”

  “I have no idea where your husband is!” The priest said, voice mostly calm. “I did see him depart in the boat as I was out for a stroll, but I don’t know where he went!”

  “Two.”

  Grendel spoke up, “You had best tell her the truth. I’ve seen her like this before. It isn’t pleasant.”

  “I have no idea where he is.” The priest said.

  “One last chance before I finish my count. Priest.” Bri said. But the priest just smiled. “And Three.”

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