The same day Eris and Karan took the quest to fight a Scythe Mantis and Lili and Pell went to the bathhouse, Straf and Pino set out to the armorer shop, seeking a sturdy shield for Pino.
The armorer shop in Bridgetown was located on top of the bridge where most items for adventurers were clustered, likely to catch their attention before reaching inns or departing for their long journey.
A shield was Pino's preferred weapon, as he was a pacifist who wanted to protect - not kill. With his towering Werewolf body, he already stood like a wall. Adding a shield to his great frame, he would become a living bulwark, sturdier and unyielding - a proper tank capable of defending his party.
"What about this?" Straf held a buckler, asking Pino for his approval.
Pino quietly shook his head in disagreement, careful not to reveal the secret of his Werewolf form under his large cloak.
"I guess it's too small for you, huh?" Straf let out a soft embarrassed laugh, reconsidering the silliness of his earlier suggestion - a six foot tall Werewolf holding a small buckler.
"How about this then?" Straf pointed to a freshly polished pavise, a large shield meant to protect the whole body, but lacking in mobility.
"Good choice," a gruff voice rumbled from behind them. "This here is one of my finest work, made from the best defensive ores, Earth enchantment and Golem shards." The armorer grunted as he lifted the heavy pavise, passing it to Pino.
Pino slung the great shield on his back, fastening the straps until it had a snug fit.
"That looks perfect on you, Pino!" Straf remarked with a grin, raising both thumbs in approval.
The two walked over to the counter, ready to pay when suddenly Pino had sensed something.
Pino, with his Werewolf's nose, picked up on a burnt stench that clung to the air eerily. It was sharp, bitter and acrid. To most, the foul smell would have gone unnoticed, but to his keen senses, it struck like a warning signal for something perilous.
Quickly, he darted outside the shop, following the trail of unmistakable danger.
"Hey! Big guy! You have to pay for that!" the armorer shouted.
"Sorry sir. Here's for the shield," dropping the coins on the counter, "What's gotten into you?" Straf ran after Pino, wondering what might have caused him to react in such a way.
In the roads ahead, a caravan from Adalan rolled steadily along the cobbled streets of the bridge, its presence impossible to ignore. At the front, armored horses strode in perfect rhythm, their polished barding shining beneath the Sun's rays. Behind them were lacquered carriages bearing Adalan's royal crest, swaying with effortless grace. Their fluttering banners waved to the townsfolk with an air of imposing authority.
Seeing Pino's large cloaked figure charging at them, the coachman yanked hard on the horses' reins, causing the caravan to grind to a halt.
"Hey you! Stop, don't come any closer!" the coachman bellowed, still pulling the horses back.
"What's the commotion?" a deep and commanding voice sounded from inside the carriage.
"Sir Tormund, someone's.. attacking us!" the trembling coachman replied, panic bleeding through his tone.
A man stepped out of the carriage. He walked to the front of the horses, each step carrying the weight of his undeniable presence. He stood like a tower, clad in a majestic armor of yellow and blue hues. His beard was thick and dark, his frame broad and tall, akin to a fortress wall.
The panicked coachman, along with the crowd of onlookers, fell into silence, just the sight of the man was enough to ease their fears.
His steel gaze focused on Pino. "Large fella, huh?" His fingers tightened around the haft of his weapon - a great battle axe gleaming with a myriad of inlaid magical stones. Sparks of electricity crackled from its blade.
Pino launched into the air, hurling himself to the caravan. Tormund lifted his battle axe and readied into a stance, bracing for the coming strike.
Claws inches away from the axe's blade..
And then..
BOOOOOOM!
A thunderous blast erupted from behind Pino, sending shockwaves into the streets. A plume of crimson smoke rose like a massive tree from the explosion.
Pino, Tormund and the caravan were all blown away. Pino lay flat on the ground, his face sunk beneath the broken cobblestone, unable to move. High-pitched ringing filled his ears, muting all other sounds.
He bore the brunt of the blast, using his body as a wall of flesh between the explosion and the caravan. Luckily, he had been carrying the pavise on his back, absorbing some of the concussive force. However, even with its enchantments, the shield could not withstand the full fury of the blast, becoming a pile of cracked and shattered metal.
When the haze cleared, Tormund slowly staggered to his feet, shrill ringing still clung to his ears. His eyes locked onto the Werewolf, sprawled, motionless but still breathing.
This beast was not out to attack us. It wanted to save us.
________________________________________
Inside a dimly lit tunnel, two figures sprinted, their strides echoing against the stone walls.
"Damn it!" roared a sickly disheveled man with messy red hair, half his face covered in bandages, his voice ragged, out of breath from running. The man's name was Belrik, a Potion Alchemist.
"Who was that big guy anyway? Didn't look like a regular human," a girl with short black hair and a lithe figure said, her tone calm and calculating. A dark hooded garb with muted leather wrapped around her slender yet strong body. She was Kageri, a mercenary.
"Aaaaaaah! My plan was flawless. That caravan should have been blown to bits with that Royal Guard inside it," Belrik bellowed. "That Combustion Potion would have gone through the defensive enchantments!"
"Can't you just make another one?" curiosity sparking in her tone.
"Do you know how long it took me to make that potion?" he snapped back, furious at the failure of his grand scheme. "The Royal Alchemists would have made adjustments to their defenses against my formula by the time I make another one."
"Plus, we just alerted them that there is an assasination attempt for one of their Royal Guards," her words adding salt to the wound, deepening his frustration.
Belrik gritted his teeth, "Tormund, the Thunder Lord."
"Supposedly, the strongest warrior in Adalan," Kageri remarked. "Mistress Raki won't be pleased."
"We'll worry about that later. Right now, we need to get to the other side and meet him."
Inside the great land bridge of Bridgetown was a hidden passage used by outlaws and bandits for all sorts of criminal activity: smuggling, illegal trade and espionage, even assasination. A bridge within a bridge, known by the criminal world as the Black Vein.
The tunnel's entrance was hidden in the slums of the bridge's underbelly. It lay buried beneath a mountain of rotting garbage and refuse. These were the trash that came from the wealthy merchant town above. It was the perfect hiding place, no soldier or guard would dare approach lest they step onto a festering mound of filth and muck, with a stench so disgusting, it can make the hardiest of them gag.
I'll get you next time, Royal Guard.