Work first, drink later.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik passed through the gate into the frozen fields. It was the first time he had been to the fields, and as he breathed in the cold air he knew he had come to the right place. He missed his mountain home dearly, and the tundra was the next best thing. The sky was hidden behind dark clouds, and snow drifted lightly to the ground in a light blanket. The horizon was also clouded by a thin mist, obscuring he horizon. Erik urged his horse forward excitedly, which responded apprehensively. It was obviously not as attuned to the cold as Erik himself was.

 As the horse trotted forward, Erik wondered how to get to Dwarfholm. Although it was one of the major cities in the region, it wasn't exactly announcing its presence. Erik decided that finding one of the smaller dwarf villages and going from there would be more reliable than blindly searching for the capital. His horse reluctantly sped up at Erik's urging, not pleased by the chill. After traveling for some time, Erik saw a small group of lights in the distant fog. He approached them slowly, not wanting to startle the source. A small group of short humanoids came into view. 'Dwarves!' Erik thought to himself, a small smile unconsciously crossing his face.

 The foremost dwarf signalled for the others to stop, and called to Erik. "Who goes there?" Despite his size, his voice was quite deep, with a noticeable accent. There were five dwarves in all, each of which wore a heavy coat to keep the snow off and had their long beards tied in a tight knot. They also had various weapons strapped to their belts, ranging from swords to axes to a crossbow on one dwarf's back. Two dwarves had deer held over their shoulders, obviously killed on a recent hunt. "Greetings." Erik called back. "My name is Erik Vrell. I'm looking for directions to Dwarfholm." The leader eyed him suspiciously. "Forgive me, but what business do you have with Dwarfholm?" 

Erik paused for a moment, considering his wording. "I admire the dwarves skills in smithing and fighting, and their love for drink." Erik said. "I was hoping to become a dwarf friend and gain entrance to their halls." The lead dwarf inspected him for a few tense moments, before nodding, apparently satisfied with that answer. "Forgive me, Erik, was it? We can't be too careful with those darkling folk around. They don't hide their love for Nebula, though, so I trust you. My name is Davras, and I'm the leader of this hunting expedition." 

Erik dismounted his horse, and reached out to shake the dwarf's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Davras." Erik said, suppressing a grin. He had heard stories of dwarves even before coming to the Omniverse, but this was his first encounter with one. Davras motioned for Erik to keep moving. "Come on then, we'll take you to Dwarfholm where you can meet someone who'll tell you what to do. We have to get moving before it gets dark, though." Erik looked at the dwarf with a puzzled expression. "Is Dwarfholm that far away? It looks like it's still bright out through the clouds." Davras chuckled, as if a child had just asked him a question with a painfully obvious answer. "Oh ho, lad, you haven't been to the fields before my have ya?" Erik shook his head, feeling as if he was missing something. "It can turn from day to dark in a matter of minutes. We're running out of daylight quick, too, so if we're not hasty you'll get to see it yourself."

Concerned, Erik simply nodded and moved to follow the dwarf's lead, leading his horse by the reigns rather than riding the already unhappy animal. The hunting party set off at a steady pace, easily moving at the same pace as Erik, despite being almost half his size. The dwarves behind Erik talked amongst themselves occasionally, but mostly kept to themselves. "So, Erik." Davras began, breaking the silence. "You said you admire our skills in smithing?" Erik nodded vigorously. "I hear dwarves works are the best in the world." The dwarf laughed at the comment. "Well, whoever told you is right. This may sound facetious, but you really won't find much better craft. So, do you have experience in smithing?" 

Erik nodded again, and drew Mageslayer partially from its sheath. "I made this blade myself on my 18th birthday. It took me some time to learn, but I got it right eventually." Davras eyed the blade curiously for a moment. "Hmm. May I?" The dwarf said as he extended his arms, motioning for Erik to give him the sword if he wished. Erik obliged, and handed the blade to the dwarf. Davras hummed as he peered at the blade and turned it over in his hands. "For a human such as yourself, this is fine craftsmanship." He said finally, handing the sword back to Erik. "It's not perfect, though. There's always room to improve." Erik nodded silently, not sure whether he was pleased or upset with the analysis. 

The remainder of the journey continued quietly, before they came to a gate built into a large cave opening, which was guarded by a pair of dwarves clad in full armour. "Who goes there?" One of the guards cried. "Davras, son of Darvok. We have returned from our hunt with a guest." The guards eyed Erik with the same suspicion Davras first had, but nodded and let them pass. As the doors opened and Erik stepped inside, he was struck by the temperature difference of the cavern. It was warm inside, almost hot. Erik was escorted by the hunting party through the tunnel, until it opened into a larger area where dwarves of all kinds went about their duties. Buildings populated this area, forming a whole city in the cavern. 

In the centre of the cavern lay a vast, shining building. "What is that?" Erik asked breathlessly. "Mithril hall." Davras replied. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Erik nodded in wonder, moving to follow the dwarf before being stopped. "This is where we part ways for now." Davras said. "Wait here, I'll arrange for someone to come guide you." Erik nodded once more, a little sad that his new friend was leaving so soon. "Good luck, lad." Davras said with a grin as he left. 

Erik waited in the busy square for a while before a spectacled dwarf approached him. "Are you Erik?" He asked. "Indeed I am." The psychic replied, having gotten over his awe at the magnitude of the city. "Please, follow me." The dwarf said. "I work for the Mithril hall, and it's my job to set the conditions of your entry." The dwarf led Erik through the city to a building near Mithril hall. "Watch your head." The dwarf said as he unlocked the door and entered, followed by a slightly stooped over Erik. Fortunately, the room seemed to be designed for bigger folk so he didn't have to duck his heas to avoid hitting the roof.

"Now, for you to prove your dedication to the Mithril hall I'm going to have to ask you to do some... small jobs. The first job is to go into the mines and extract some cobalt. Our supplies are running low, and we're having to dig deeper and deeper to find it so an extra hand is always appreciated." Erik nodded. "Sounds simple enough. Is there anything else I need to know?" The dwarf considered the question for a moment. "Well... When you get about one hundred metres into the mines, you'll come to a fork. You may have more luck finding cobalt on the left fork, because it's been mined less." Erik nodded enthusiastically, and left the building without considering why it had been mined less.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik ducked under the small doorway and closed the door behind him. He speed walked into the city square, and then kept going, heading for the same cavern he came in through. Before he left for the mine, he would have to find some accomodation for his horse, which he had left in the entrance cavern. A horse wouldn't exactly travel well in a crowd of dwarves, after all. Erik found his horse where he had left it, and it tossed it's head when it saw him. “I'm sorry. I couldn't bring you in.” Erik said telepathically. Even though the horse couldn't directly understand him, Erik hoped it understood what he was trying to convey. He took its reins and led it to the mouth of the cave, stepping out into the biting cold air of the fields again. Erik turned his head skyward, seeing that it was, indeed, already dark. It wasn't merely dusk, night had fallen to the degree that if it weren't for the blanket of snow that still drifted from the sky, Erik wouldn't know if it were still cloudy or not. “Davras wasn't exaggerating.” the psychic muttered as he turned to the guards who still manned the gate. 

“Excuse me.” Erik said. Neither guard spoke, but one turned up to him and motioned to continue. “Is there somewhere where I can leave my horse?” The dwarf nodded. “Aye, there's a stable inside, go right from the entrance and you’ll find it easily.” Erik smiled internally. He had worried that the dwarves wouldn't have had stables, and he would have felt bad desummoning his horse. “One more thing, where is the cobalt mine?” This time, the dwarf chuckled slightly. “Lad, any dwarf in Dwarfholm could point you to the mines. Just take a left at the square, then go on for a few hundred metres and you’ll see it.” Erik nodded in response. “Thank you for you time.”

Erik turned and headed back through the gate, grateful to be out of the cold again, and headed to the end of the cavern. Moving back into the main cavern of Dwarfholm, Erik stepped out of the entrance and turned right. He passed a smithy, a gem cutters’ shop and and a small tavern before he reached the stables. Erik tugged on the reins and coaxed his horse over to the building. A dwarf was working out the front of the stables, moving hay for the horses held inside. He turned to Erik as he drew close and put down his pitchfork. “Another one, eh.” He muttered as he dusted off his hands. “Have you got money on you, lad?” Erik thought for a moment. He didn't have any cash on him, per se. “Do you take Omnillium?” The dwarf nodded. “Just leave your horse with me, and I'll get it in the stables. Go pay inside.” Erik thanked the dwarf and handed over his horse’s reins as he ducked into the main building. 

The inside of the stables was dusty and smelt strongly of hay and manure, even in the reception area, but it had a raised ceiling like the building Erik was given his task in, so it could have been worse. A desk was located at the back of the room, which a bored looking dwarf sat behind. He turned to look at Erik as he moved through the door. “Welcome to the stables. How many nights will you be leaving your horse with us for?” Erik thought for a moment. Right now he was only gathering cobalt, but who knew how many other jobs he’d need to complete. “Three.” Erik decided. If he wasn't finished before three nights, he could always come back and pay for more, Erik reasoned. The dwarf nodded and produced a book from under the desk. He scribbled something in it, before turning to Erik. “That’ll be thirty Omnillium.” The psychic reached into his robe and extracted his orb of Omnillium, before splitting it into two identical spheres. He placed the sparkling orb of less value into the dwarf’s waiting hand. “Okri will be taking care of your beast now. Be back by ten in the morning in three days.” He said as Erik turned to leave. “Oh, and no refunds if you collect it early!” 

Now that his horse was taken care of, Erik could focus on his job, namely mining some cobalt. The psychic navigated through the crowds of Dwarfholm, heading towards the main square, then heading left. As he approached the mines the crowds gradually thinned out until there was only a little traffic near the mine, and when the mining cavern came into view, Erik kicked himself for not seeing it. A large, presumably dwarf-made cave opened up in one of the walls, and minecart tracks ran from the mouth of the cave to deep within. Erik produced his Omnillium once more, and began summoning a pickaxe. If he was going to mine, he should have the right tools, after all. The shining substance stretched and morphed into the shape of a pickaxe, the long handle forming first, then the sharp points to cut into the Rock, before it hardened and took on the colour and texture of metal and wood. Satisfied with the pick, Erik entered the cave and followed its single path deep into the mountain. The lanterns which lit the mine were dim and sparse, and Erik needed his own lightif he wanted to find cobalt. 

Carefully placing the pick on the ground, he fumbled for the brass lantern he kept on his belt with one hand and summoned a match with the other. Once Erik had both items in hand, he opened one of the lanterns on the wall and used it to light the match, and then lit up his own lantern. Erik dropped the match and stamped it out as he closed the glass casing of the lantern. ‘Now that I have some light, finding some cobalt will be simple.’ The psychic thought to himself. He was dead wrong. As Erik wandered deeper and deeper into the mine, he steadily became more desperate. There was not a speck of cobalt to be seen. Even the dwarves who occasionally passed him by had no cobalt in their minecarts. A small amount of relief came when Erik arrived at the fork the Mithril hall representative had told him about. He noticed that, unusually, only the right path had a minecart track, but paid it no mind, figuring that it must just be a new shaft. Heading down the left path, Erik’s spirits lifted slightly at the prospect of a better chance to find cobalt.

Deep in the mine, Erik spotted a shimmer of blue. His heart raced as he rushed over to find the source. It was exactly what Erikwas hoping for, he had struck cobalt. Grinning, Erik set his lantern down and got to work with his pickaxe. The steady ringing of the pick as Erik struck the cobalt was calming in a strange way, and he gradually fell into an unconscious cycle of striking the stone. Erik was brought out of his trance by the sound of a rock clattering across the ground. He didn't give it much thought, but reflexively glanced towards the source. When he did, however, he did a double take. Turning to look further into the mine Erik saw a dozen glowing pinpoints in the darkness. Without taking his eyes off the tunnel, Erik groped for his lantern and raised it to illuminate the source. Six creatures were peering at Erik from the darkness. They were small and humanoid in shape, with mottled grey skin and needle-sharp claws. Their eyes were sunken yellow orbs set into the sides of their bony heads, which seemed to large for their emaciated forms. Realising that Erik could see them, the closest creature screeched at him, an ear-splitting noise which echoed down the corridors of the mine. Erik quickly placed the lantern down as the creature threw itself at him, with its companions following suit. 

Wildly swinging his pick, Erik caught the creature on the head, piercing its skull with the point and killing it instantly. The psychic shook the pickaxe in an attempt to loosen the body, but it was stuck tight so he tossed it to the ground. One of the creatures sunk its teeth into his left arm, while another targeted his legs. Drawing Mageslayer, Erik decapitated the beast going for his leg before runningthe one clinging to his arm through. Even in death, the monster clung to Erik, its jaws surprisingly strong for such fragile creature. Two more beasts were rushing towards Erik, and in his haste he didn't have time to pry the body off so he bashed its skull into the cave wall, cracking its jaw and knocking it loose. The closest creature ducked under Erik’s first swing, but was cleaved in two by the second. The last monster dashed through Erik’s legs and leapt onto his back before he could turn around, and began clawing at Erik’s head, neck and shoulders. In his rage, Erik slammed his back into the wall, and after the creature dropped to the floor, decapitated it with Mageslayer. 

Breathing heavily, Erik observed the area around him. The mine walls were bathed in a mix of blood and a thick, grey liquid, and five small bodies of various levels of destruction littered the ground. Erik paused, realising something was wrong. He could have sworn there were six creatures before. Erik’s heart skipped a beat as he realised that the cobalt was gone. Echoing footsteps could be heard running down the tunnel, moving quickly away from Erik. “You bastard.” The psychic hissed as he grabbed his lantern and sprinted after the footsteps. The tunnel grew steadily narrower until Erik had to crawl to advance. The tunnel suddenly widened into a small cavern, about five metres in diameter. A large pile of stones, metal ores and gems, including cobalt, lay in the centre and on the mound was a larger version of the small creatures which had assaulted him. While the smaller creatures were a little under a metre tall, the beast slumbering on the treasure pile was at least half a metre taller. The smaller creatures crawled in and out of various smaller tunnels, occasionally dropping a small piece of ore onto the pile. 

A plan quickly formed in Erik’s mind as he watched the creatures move about. He waited until there were no smaller creatures in the cavern, and quickly got to work. Erik pushed himself out of the small bottleneck he was watching through, and speed walked to the monster on the pile, sword drawn. He reached into the tunnel and pulled him lantern into the room, illuminating the cavern just enough that the beast didn't wake up. Mageslayer’s edge still dripped with gore from the smaller creatures, and sprayed the room with grey blood as Erik swung the blade upwards and violently stabbed his sword towards the sleeping beast’s chest. It woke with an ear splitting screech, even louder than that of the smaller creatures, and futilely tried to claw at Erik. The small beasts rushed into the cavern to see Erik shake and stab his blade further into the monster, until it fell silent. Drawing Mageslayer from the body, Erik lopped the beast’s head from its shoulders and raised it above his head, roaring out his supremacy as the smaller creatures fled in fear at the sight of their slain leader.

 Adrenaline still ran through Erik’s veins as he threw the beast’s body off the pile of ores and rummaged through it, searching for the precious cobalt he had come for. Erik had gathered a pile that reached up to his knees when he was satisfied that he had recovered it all. He pushed the cobalt into the tunnel he came in through, then put the lantern in after it. Erik sheathed Mageslayer and prepared to climb in the tunnel, but realised he was forgetting something. He turned back and grabbed the beast’s head. It would be a shame to waste such a fine trophy. Now that he had all he needed, Erik crawled back through the tunnel, pushing the cobalt along with him. 

When he had enough room to stand, Erik pulled out his orb of Omnillium and summoned a wheelbarrow to carry everything in. He first filled it with cobalt, then placed the lantern and head onto it. Dwarves going about their business stopped and starred at Erik as he came out into the main tunnel, although Erik wasn't sure if they were looking at him, the head of the beast, or the pile of cobalt. Erik took a deep breath as he got into the main cavern of Dwarfholm, suddenly realising how stale the air in the mine had been compared to the rest of the cave system. Erik quickly made his way to the building the Mithril hall representative had met him in. He knocked on the door and the dwarf opened it with a questioning look. When he say the bloodied psychic, his mouth opened in shock and he ushered Erik inside.

 When the were alone, he sat Erik on a chair and took a seat across from him. “What happened, lad?” He asked. At first, Erik had thought the dwarf had left out the fact that the tunnel was monster infested, but he seemed genuinely concerned and confused. “This is what happened.” Erik said bluntly as he lifted the severed head of the beast out of the wheelbarrow. The dwarf remained silent for a while. “Do you know what this is?” He finally asked. Erik shook his head. “This is a ghul. They're weak little buggers but they attack in packs. The head belongs to a matron, one of the queens of the ghuls. The tunnel you went down is new, so we had no idea there was a ghul nest in there. I'm sorry.” Erik considered the apology for a moment, before deciding that it was legitimate enough. “It is no matter. I am still alive, after all.” The dwarf nodded, and remained silent for a moment. “Now, the cobalt. You have recovered a bloody good amount of it, so I'd say you've passed this job admirably.” Erik smiled gratefully. He was glad he didn't have to go back into those mines. “What's my next task?” Erik asked, but the dwarf shook his head. “Look at the state of you, lad. You’re in no position to do your next task now. Go rest up for a bit, then come back when you've healed.” Erik was a little reluctant, but saw the sense in the dwarf’s words, and left the building to explore Dwarfholm while he healed.

I forgot a spoiler for the last post, so I'm putting two in one.
1307 words in last post + 2467 in this post = 3374 words.
7340 characters with spaces in last post + 13549 in this post = 20889 characters with spaces.
6036 characters without spaces in last post + 11085 in this post = 17121 characters without spaces.
All of this is according to google docs.
Got the cobalt!

[Erik Vrell]

Erik stepped out into Dwarfholm once again, unsure of what to do. He was itching to get to his next task, but needed to heal first. As a prime, this wouldn't take long, but Erik was impatient and needed something to occupy himself. The crowds in Dwarfholm were no smaller than they were before, but Erik realised that people were staring at him as they passed. Looking down, Erik realised that his clothing was in a far worse state than he realised. His treasured cloak was soaked in blood, and shredded where the ghuls had bitten and clawed at him. Erik’s tunic and pants beneath the cloak were in similarly poor condition, making him look like he came out of a warzone. Erik quickly moved into a side alley between buildings and took out his orb of Omnillium. He carefully laid his cloak on the ground and focused on it, willing the Omnillium to repair the damaged fabric. Small tendrils of the glowing substance peeled out of the orb, snaking towards the tears in the material. When they reached them, they filled out the holes and came loose from their parent orb. Once each tendril was freed and retracted into the hole, it slowly faded, leaving royal blue fabric in its place. Erik smiled as he lifted up the repaired cloak and put it on, feeling it's familiar weight on his body once more.

Gingerly touching his wounds, Erik concluded that they were starting to close up, but weren't healed quite yet. Still unsure of how to pass the time, Erik decided to take a look at the smithy he had seen when he was looking for the stables. The psychic navigated his way towards the store and entered through the small wooden door. He had to stoop slightly to avoid hitting his head on the roof, the building clearly having been built with dwarves in mind, not humans. A dwarf sat behind a desk across the room from Erik, and the walls to the left and right of the room had weapon racks displaying an array of weapons. The store wasn't busy, but the were a few other dwarves inspecting the weapons on the wall. Approaching the weapon racks himself, Erik studied the sword closest to him. It was three feet in length, and had an ornate hilt forged in a spiral before ending in a steel ball. The workmanship of the blade was exceptional, and just looking at it made Erik self-conscious about his own smithing abilities. Erik considered himself a decent blacksmith, but each weapon on the rack blew his own out of the water with complex, ornate designs. Erik’s eye for forging wasn't good enough for him to tell how well they would do in battle without testing them, but he guessed that they would easily outperform Mageslayer.

Erik left the smith unsure of how to feel. He never expected his workmanship to outdo a dwarf, but the sheer difference in technical skill left a bitter feeling in his chest. Feeling his wounds again, Erik decided that they had closed up enough to go back to get his next task. He made his way to the building the representative would be waiting in, and knocked before letting himself in. The dwarf’s eyes flicked up to the door as Erik entered, and a look of confusion crossed his face. “Surely your wounds haven't healed already.” He remarked with a concerned tone of voice. “Being a prime has its perks.” Erik said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal that his cuts had turned to little more than pink lines in his flesh. The dwarf thought for a moment before nodding to himself. “Alright, you can have your next task. But, before I do, apologies are in order for the ghul incident.” Erik shook his head vigorously. “I already told you, I've moved past it.” “You don't understand the process behind our tunnelling, so please, let me explain.” Erik relented, sitting in the chair on the other side of the dwarf’s desk.

“When we are creating a new tunnel, we send a small group of miners, usually two or three if it's not a major project. They dig the tunnel out, taking any loose ore and placing lanterns at regular intervals. When they breach into another cavern, however, the mining stops there. It's rare that this happens, and when it does nothing of note happens often, but we send an expedition force of about four dwarves in case we break into a dragon’s hibernation cave or a ghul nest. The tunnel you mined into is less than a week old, and we hadn't gotten to sending the expedition force yet, as they're usually low priority. Most dwarves avoid unexplored tunnels, but I sent you down the new tunnel I thought they were being overly cautious. As you know, I was wrong. I'm sorry.” 

Silence descended over the room for a moment, before Erik sighed. “I've already told you,” He paused, realising that he didn't know the dwarf’s name. “Uther.” “I've already told you, Uther, I'm not holding a grudge. Let's put it behind us, so I can get on with my next task.” Uther nodded, before taking a piece of parchment out of his desk. “Do you know what a wampa is?” Erik shook his head, mystified. “Take a look at this, then.” The dwarf handed Erik the parchment, which had a drawing of a strange white beast on it, along with a block of text. “This is a fresh report about a wampa who was sighted less than an hour away from Dwarfholm, it's been terrorising local farmers and eating their goats. A tracker has located it's lair, and it's going to be your job to hunt it down and skin it.” Erik studied the parchment, noting the directions to the cave. “Is there anything I should know about this ‘wampa’?” Uther considered the question for a moment. “Don't let it hit you.”

Erik exited the main gates of Dwarfholm out into the bitter cold of the fields once again, holding his lantern up to guide him through the dark. ‘At least it's not snowing too heavily.’ The psychic thought to himself. Erik trudged through the heavy snow, feeling the weight of the skinning knife he had summoned on his hip and occasionally glancing at the parchment to make sure he was heading in the right direction. “So I turn at the third ridge… And then… Go down the snow drift…” Erik muttered to himself as he tried to tell which direction he was moving in. Maybe it would have been better to wait for sunrise, but Erik wanted to get the the wampa’s lair while it was asleep. After around 45 minutes of walking, Erik spotted wisps of smoke rising into the air. Powering forward, the roof of a farmhouse came into view. Heart racing, the psychic checked the parchment. Sure enough, the farmhouse was in the directions and he was getting close to the wampa’s cave. Taking a right, Erik moved past the house and continued up a shallow hill until he reached a steep drop, barely avoiding falling. From his view on the small cliff, Erik spotted a the opening of a cave in the wall of a nearby ridge. The mouth of the cave was littered with the bones of a number of creatures, shining white in the glow of the lantern. 

Erik slowly lowered himself down the cliff, holding the lantern in his mouth while he carefully manoeuvred downwards. Relief flooded Erik’s body as his feet touched the bottom, a broken leg was the last thing he needed outside the lair of a hungry monster. The psychic crept up to the lair of the beast and raised his lantern, illuminating the depths of the cave. Erik’s eyes scanned the cave for the mass of white fur, and spotted it balled up in the furthest corner from the entrance. Erik began to creep inside when he shifted the lantern slightly and saw something that made him freeze in place. Something caught the light and was glinting at Erik through the gloom. Erik realised what was happening, but it was already too late. The wampa had seen him. The beast rose to its feet slowly, its eyes still shining in the light of the lantern. Erik realised that it would be big, but wasn't prepared for its full size. It towered a metre above Erik and stared down at the psychic with a predatory gaze. Horrifyingly, its white fur was stained red from its last meal. With a roar, it barrelled towards Erik, who turned tail with an admittedly undignified yelp. 

Erik sprinted out of the cave mouth and threw himself towards the cliff wall he climbed down just moments before. The psychic raced up the wall, desperate to keep some distance between him and the monster behind him. Erik hauled himself over the cliff and onto the snow drift, dropping the lantern and making his way down before he even get to his feet. Purple mist crept from Erik’s sleeves before pooling in his open hands, forming into the curved shape of a shortbow. As the wampa effortlessly pulled itself over the cliff face, Erik was already taking aim. The psychic trained the violet arrow on the monster’s chest, the lantern on the ground his only guide. 

Erik let the bolt fly, the arrow shooting through the air to fast for the lumbering beast to dodge. It struck true, but simply wasn't powerful enough to pierce through the wampa’s ribs and into its heart. The monster bellowed in pain, its eyes burning with bestial anger. It moved to advance towards Erik, but the psychic had already fired another arrow while shuffling backwards, this time striking the beast in the shoulder. Erik fired again and again, each shot hitting home but doing little other than slowing down the advancing wampa. Suddenly, the beast turned around. Erik thought it was giving up its chase, but quickly realised that the wampa was far from finished. Instead of fleeing, the wampa raised its foot and crushed Erik’s lantern, plunging them both into darkness. 

Erik could hear his heartbeat racing as darkness descended. The only source of light was the faint glow of his bow, and the only sound he could hear was the howIing of the frigid winds. An arrow was ready in the bow, Erik only needed to get a look at the beast stalking him. The psychic focused, listening for anything nearby. The oppressive quiet was broken the a faint crunching of snow to Erik’s left. He spun on his heel and aimed into the darkness where the sound had come from. Less than two metres away from Erik, the wampa stared at him like a deer in the headlights. The fact that it had drawn so close made Erik jump, and he accidentally loosed his bolt into the darkness. The wampa roared in triumph as it rushed the momentarily defenceless Erik.

Fear struck Erik’s heart as he threw himself backwards, narrowly dodging the wampa’s claws. More psi poured from Erik’s sleeves, coalescing on the bow and merging with it, increasing its size drastically. The wampa was taken aback by the purple mist wreathing the weapon, but when it saw the massive bolt forming in the bow it knew it had to strike quickly. Erik aimed at the charging beast one more time, the great bow illuminating the maddened beast’s face and shining off the foam leaking from its mouth. Erik’s fingers released the bolt, letting it fly and praying that it would be enough. The massive arrow flew through the air and pierced the monster in its mouth, interrupting its maddened roar and slaying it instantly. Erik lent backwards and lay down in the snow, breathing hard as his bow shrunk back to its regular size. He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, but he had slain the wampa. 

After a long moment, Erik’s heart settled and he rose to his feet. The psychic drew the skinning knife and got to work, removing the wampa’s hide. The white fur was surprisingly soft, although the blood would have to be washed out before it could be used for anything. Erik folded the wampa’s hide into a more manageable size, before producing his orb of Omnillium and summoning a new lantern and matches. After the shining substance receded, Erik lit the lantern and started making his way back to Dwarfholm, excited to show Uther his handiwork.

2095 words. 2095 + 3374 = 5469/10,000 words
11639 characters with spaces. 11639 + 20889 = 32538
9550 characters without spaces. 9550 + 17121 = 26671
All according to google docs.
Got the wampa hide.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik shifted the wampa hide in his grip as he approached the gates of Dwarfholm. Despite his best efforts to make it more manageable, it was still quite large and unwieldy. The guards at the gate said nothing, but Erik could have sworn he saw their eyes widen as they realised it was wampa fur in his arms. They opened the gate for him without a word, and he slipped inside. The path to Uther’s office was more or less burned into Erik’s brain at this point, and he quickly walked to it while snuffing his lantern and clipping it to his belt before letting himself it. Uther was in the middle of some paperwork when Erik came in, and looked up with a smile. “Ah, you’re back already. And not a scratch on you.” The dwarf stood up and took the wampa hide from Erik. “Well, if you’re mostly unharmed, I see no reason to delay your third task.” Erik shifted uncomfortably on the spot, unsure if he should ask the question on his lips. “Forgive me, but how many tasks do I have to do?” Uther gave Erik an understanding look. “I know it's tough, lad, but you’ve only got to do this task and then pass a test, then you're in.” Erik nodded. “Ok, what's my next task?” Uther’s expression turned serious suddenly as he began to speak. “You need to find and kill a troll, and then bring their tusk back for proof.” Erik’s heart sank. The little information he knew about trolls included the fact that they were both savage fighters and were barely slowed by wounds. “How does one fight a troll? Short of decapitating one I can't see way around their regeneration.” Uther replied with just one word. “Fire.”

Erik kneeled at the top of a small hill outside Dwarfholm. The sun was beginning to rise already, rays of light peeking through the clouds. Erik had summoned a whetstone with his omnillium, and was making sure Mageslayer was sharp before the battle. He wasn't sure if he actually needed to do this, the Omniverse seemed to keep everything in perfect condition as long as it has time to repair itself, but it was reassuring to sharpen his sword with his own two hands. Inspecting both sides of the blade, Erik was satisfied that it was sharp enough and began to make his way into the frozen fields. He felt the weight of his secret weapon, a bottle of grog, on his hip as he marched through the thick snow. At first, Erik had no idea where he would be able to find a troll. The fields were massive, and it could takes days to find one randomly. But then it hit him that there was almost certainly going to be trolls in the ruins of Delzoun, so that was where he was going to seek one out. After a while of walking through the snow, Erik crested a hill and the ruins came into view. Sure enough, a pair of trolls were talking near the entrance to the ruins. Erik flattened himself against the ground to watch them. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but wanted to keep an eye on them regardless. Finally, one troll turned and walked inside the ruins, and the other left to go about his business.

Erik waited until both trolls were out of sight before making his move, jumping to his feet and rushing to the entrance the troll had entered. He crouched down and peeked around the corner. The corridor was empty, but Erik could see the light of the troll’s torch from around the corner. The psychic slowly crept up to the end of the corridor and peered around it. The troll was facing the other direction, and appeared to be patrolling the ruins. Erik considered running up to the troll and stabbing him in the back, but hesitated. He forbade himself from attacking someone from behind, but did trolls count? Erik decided that it was better safe than sorry, and that he shouldn't attack the troll from behind. Erik stood up and rushed around the corridor, drawing his sword in the process. The troll spun around, his eyes wide as Erik plunged Mageslayer into his stomach. It wasn't an attack from behind, after all. The troll forced Erik off of him with a kick and held the wound with one hand as he drew his axe. “Whadda we have here?” The troll sneered. “A little human tryin’ ta run me through? Let me guess, you’re with the dwarves, aren't ya?” Erik rose to his feet, sword in hand, and looked the troll in the eyes. “My name is Erik Vrell, high priest Gal’skap, I am here to kill you.” 

The troll grinned, and without a word, raised his axe over his head and brought it down, attempting to split Erik’s head like a melon. The psychic raised his sword and blocked the mighty blow, although the sheer strength of it jarred his arms. He turned the axe to the side, and adopted a defensive stance, Mageslayer ready to block any incoming strikes. As he blocked a powerful sweep at his side, Erik’s heart sank as he realised the wound on the troll’s stomach had already closed up. As Erik held the axe in place with his sword, the troll swung his torch towards Erik’s head. The psychic ducked below the strike, feeling the heat of the flames as it whizzed over his head. Erik pushed the troll back, creating some distance between the two. Purple mist crept from Erik’s left sleeve and came to rest in his hand, quickly forming into the shape of a sword. With a faint flash, the sword solidified, and Erik swung the blade around, feeling the familiar weightlessness of the psi weapon. The troll squinted at Erik, seemingly uneasy at what he was seeing. “What’s this witchcraft.” He muttered. “Watch your tongue!” Erik spat, his voice thick with venom. “This is not witchcraft, this is a psi construct, made with the power bestowed upon me by the mad God himself.” The troll almost rolled his eyes, the religious types were always so full of themselves. “Come on, then, priest boy. Show me what that shiny sword can do.” 

Erik threw himself at the troll, determined to show the heathen the power of the gods. He swung Mageslayer towards the troll’s ribs, only for the sword to be caught by the axe. The troll repelled the blow, only for Erik to swing his psi blade at the same spot. The warrior held his weapon steady, wondering why the psychic would swing at the same spot twice. Horrified realisation struck him as the blade passed through his axe and bit into his side, followed by Mageslayer stabbing into his shoulder. The troll dropped his torch as he pulled back, rousing himself from his shock. Erik wasn’t finished, however, and pressed the attack on the troll. None of his blows were devastating, but his onslaught of slashes served to both push the troll back and threaten a death of a thousand cuts. The only trouble was that only a dozen or so slashes remained on the troll at a time, the older cuts healing as quickly as Erik could inflict new ones. He considered using his grog, but it would be wasted if the troll were to swat it out of the air. Erik had to wait until he was sure it would cover the troll, otherwise the fight would be over. A plan quickly formed in Erik’s mind as he continued his onslaught of slashes, and as the troll raised his axe in an attempt to defend himself, Erik put it into motion. As the axe raised to block Mageslayer, Erik manoeuvred the blade under the axe and hit it upwards, moving it enough for Erik to plunge his psi blade into the troll’s stomach and release it. 

The warrior roared in pain and swung wildly, his movements becoming savage and bestial. Erik ducked under his flailing blows and gripped Mageslayer in both hands before impaling it into the troll, right next to the psi blade. Erik’s success was short lived, however, as the troll’s fist came crashing into him. The massive blow knocked the psychic to the ground, forcing the wind from his body. Erik wheezed as he tried to climb to his feet, before another blow smashed into his back. The troll had abandoned his axe, choosing to beat Erik down with his bare hands, even with both swords still in his stomach. Blow after blow rained down on Erik, who didn't have the troll’s regeneration to weather such an onslaught. Erik’s vision blurred for a moment, before focusing on a foot hurtling towards him. The troll kicked Erik with such force that he lifted off the ground before crashing back down a few feet away. Erik felt something hot near his face, and forced his eyes open to see the troll’s dropped torch. The maddened warrior was stomping towards the prone psychic, and Erik realised that this was his last chance. 

Erik reached into his cloak and pulled out the bottle of grog he had been saving. Thankfully, he had landed on his right side. If he had landed on his left hip, the bottle would have smashed and it would have been over. The psychic wound his arm back and hurled the bottle at the troll. Blinded by anger, the warrior didn't even slow down as the bottle struck him, drenching him in alcohol and piercing him with glass. What did give him pause, however, was Erik picking up the torch. The psychic, despite the danger of the situation, couldn't resist the opportunity to be smug. “Do you know what an interesting characteristic of alcohol is?” Erik asked with a grin. The troll stopped in his track, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place in his brain. “It is, despite being a liquid, quite flammable.” Erik said, and with that, cast the torch at the troll. The warrior attempted to dodge the flames, but the pain and anger made him sluggish. The fire licked at the alcohol coating him, and the troll went up in flames like a Roman candle. The warrior shrieked in pain as he burned alive, the flames consuming him faster than his regeneration could heal him. The steel impaled into his stomach grew orange, then red, and the flames heated the blade, searing him from the inside as well as the out. The troll attempted to stumble to the entrance of the ruins, to snuff the flames out in the snow, but fell to his knees after a few steps. 

The troll’s final cry grew weak, then silent, as he fell forward, both blades erupting from his back as their hilts were forced into his body. Erik sat motionless as he waited for the flames to burn themselves out, the heavy smell of burning troll flesh permeating the air. Although he wouldn't admit it, Erik felt sick to his stomach. He wasn't a human, but the troll was still sentient, and Erik had just sentenced him to one of the most painful deaths he could imagine. The psychic cursed himself for not just breaking the troll’s mind. It would have been cleaner and more humane. Finally, the last embers grew burned out, and Erik approached the blackened corpse in front of him. Erik kicked his body onto his back, and retrieved Mageslayer from his stomach before converting the psi blade back into violet mist. Erik inspected the troll’s tusks, making sure they weren't burned beyond recognition. They were blackened a little, but they were still recognisable as tusks. Erik raised Mageslayer and hacked the tusk from the troll’s head, before picking up the warm trophy and hooking it onto his belt. 

Erik turned to leave, but hesitated. He turned around and saw the troll’s axe on the floor. For some reason, Erik felt compelled to take the weapon. The psychic felt somewhat melancholy as he picked up the weapon. “Mercy is a virtue.” Erik muttered to himself. It was something his tutors had taught him many years ago, but he had never really considered it. ‘Heathens, witches, beasts, monsters, none deserve to suffer.’ The elder priest had told him. ‘They’re not human.’ Erik had reasoned to himself. ‘Who can say they even feel pain?’ After hearing the screams of the troll, however, Erik realised how wrong he had been. Erik hefted the heavy axe and tied it to his belt as well, before dragging the troll’s body out into the snow. Erik did his best to dig through the ice, before placing the corpse in the makeshift grave. Erik whispered a prayer for his foe as he heaped the snow back into the grave. The psychic considered making a headstone, but he didn't even know the troll’s name. Erik began making his way back to Dwarfholm, but before he did he took one last look at the ruins, thinking about the battles that happened there daily. “A little mercy would go a long way in a place like this.” Erik muttered to himself as he started his hike back to Dwarfholm.

2210 words + 5469 words = 7679/10000 words.
12144 characters with spaces + 32538 = 44682 characters with spaces.
9937 characters without spaces + 26671 = 36608 characters without spaces.
All according to google docs.
Troll tusk obtained!

[Erik Vrell]

Erik’s was bruised and exhausted as he made his way back to Dwarfholm. He was so close to reaching his goal, but he was getting weary of the tasks. Erik decided that he wasn't ready to go back to Dwarfholm yet, and made his way towards a nearby rock peeking out of the snow. He swept the snow off of the stone and took a seat on top of it. The psychic rested for a while, before deciding to have something to eat. As a prime, Erik didn't technically need to eat, but it both sped up the process of restoring energy and felt right on a subconscious level. It wasn't natural to go for extended periods of time without eating. Erik produced his orb of omnillium and considered what food he should summon. After a moment, he decided on a leg of turkey. The shimmering substance morphed and stretched into the shape of the leg, and then retracted, leaving the warm food in its place. Erik hungrily devoured the piece of turkey, realising that this was the first piece of food he had eaten in a long time. When Erik was finished, he tossed the bone into the snow and pushed off the rock. The psychic’s body was still sore from his beating, but it was steadily getting better. Erik began his march back to Dwarfholm, hoping that his bruises would be mostly healed when he got back. He didn't know what the ‘test’ would be, but he had no doubt that it would be physical.

Erik entered the main cavern of Dwarfholm and made his way to Uther’s office once more. He moved around a small group of dwarves in front of the building and entered. Uther looked up at him with a smile. “Ah, there’s the young champion. Have you got the tusk?” Erik nodded and fumbled for his belt. Untying the blackened tusk from his belt, the psychic placed it on the desk in front of Uther. The dwarf raised an eyebrow at the state of the tusk. “What did you do, throw him into a volcano?” “I covered him in grog and lit it.” Erik replied, struggling to meet Uther’s gaze. To his surprise, the dwarf chuckled. “Well, that savage got what was coming to him.” Erik almost opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it. The feud between dwarves and trolls wasn't something he was going to touch, not anytime soon at least. “I see you have a troll axe.” The dwarf said. “Another trophy?” Erik had forgotten about the axe, and simply nodded, not wanting to mention his regret for burning the troll. “How’s your injuries?” Uther asked, placing the tusk in his desk. Erik’s body was still a little sore, but his bruises were almost faded. “I’m doing fine. Just a few bruises.” The psychic replied, mostly telling the truth. “Are you ready for your test?” Uther inquired. “I won't lie to you, it won't be easy.” Erik considered the question for a moment, before nodding. “I'm ready.” Uther stood up from behind his desk and moved for the door. “Follow me.”

Erik followed Uther through Dwarfholm, going deeper and deeper into the city. Finally, they came to a large building and Uther led Erik inside. There was a single large room, with a large ring in the centre. A small group of dwarves sat outside the ring and on each side of the ring was a weapon rack stocked with wooden training weapons. “Who are those dwarves?” Erik asked Uther quietly. “They're Mithril Hall officials, here to watch your fight.” “My fight?” “Aye, you're going to be sparring with a dwarf champion.” Erik felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Could he beat a dwarven champion? Erik stood in the doorway for a moment, before Uther urged him forward. “Go on, lad, get into the ring.” Erik hesitated, then walked up to the weapon rack on his side of the ring. He considered his choices, before deciding on a short sword. Erik swung the sword around, testing its weight and feel. Despite being made of wood, the training weapon was very well balanced. Erik took his place in the ring, anxiously waiting for his opponent. Uther took his place next to the ring, and addressed everyone in the fighting hall. “Greetings, Mithril Hall representatives. We are gathered here tonight to judge candidate Erik’s attempt to enter the hall. Will his opponent, Davras, son of Darvok, please step forward.” Erik's eyes widened as the dwarf he had met at the start of his journey stood up and made his way to the ring. Davras approached the weapon rack and grabbed an axe without hesitation. The dwarf swung the axe at the air as he walked to the ring with a grin on his face. “Surprised, lad? I knew you wouldn't disappoint us, and I made sure I'd be the one to test you.” “I will admit, it was unexpected.” Erik said. “So, we fight until one of us cannot fight anymore?” “That's right, lad. Either you surrender, or fight until you drop.” 

“May the bout begin!” Uther shouted, signalling for the fight to start. Erik and Davras both entered fighting stances as they faced off on other sides of the ring. The two slowly made their way towards each other, neither wanting to make the first strike. Finally, Erik decided to make the first move. He feinted his sword towards Davras’ shoulder, before swinging at the dwarf’s hip. Davras moved his axe to block the strike, but was too slow to block the real attack. Despite the solid hit, the dwarf didn't even flinch when Erik’s sword struck him. When Erik’s arm was still extended towards him, Davras took the chance to strike back at the psychic, striking at Erik’s shoulder with his axe. Erik pulled back as the dwarf swung, but still took a glancing blow. Although it wasn't a solid blow, Erik was still surprised by the sheer strength of it. The dwarven warrior was obviously both tough and strong, but Erik had the advantage when it came to speed. The two moved apart and circled around each other. Erik knew that he couldn't afford to fight Davras blow for blow, but instead had to defend himself and land hits when he could do so safely. 

The dwarf moved to strike at Erik, swinging his axe in a wide blow to the side. Erik moved to parry the strike, but the strength behind it was too much for him to stop. Instead, Erik turned the blow downwards and struck at Davras’ arm before he could raise the weapon again. Davras raised his weapon and swung it at the Erik, however the psychic had already moved away from the dwarf’s range. The two continued to play cat and mouse, with Erik keeping himself just out of harm’s way. Davras, on the other hand, was visibly getting frustrated at the psychic’s ability to elude him. The dwarf swung his axe in a downward swing towards Erik’s shoulder. When Erik turned the strike to the side, he moved to strike at the dwarf only to realise the axe was coming at his again. The heavy strike crashed into Erik's lower arm, hitting him so hard he almost lost his footing. Davras wasn't finished, however, and swung his axe with newly discovered fervour, forcing Erik back with each blow. The psychic barely managed to dodge or turn each swing, and every second or third strike grazed him, and sometimes hit home. The dwarf’s axe had become a wooden hurricane of blows, raining strike after strike upon the psychic. Erik was beginning to pant as the onslaught continued, his body straining under the constant movement. Davras was not doing any better, however, his heavy breathing audible from across the ring. The dwarf raised his axe and brought it down towards Erik, the axe hurtling towards the psychic’s shoulder. Erik raised his sword, holding it with one hand on the hilt and one hand on the blade, and blocked the mighty blow. To his relief, fatigue had taken its toll on Davras harder than it had on Erik. The strike was much weaker than the dwarf’s swings had been at the beginning of the fight. 

Erik pushed the dwarf back with a grunt, and the pair stood and caught their breath for a moment. After he had caught his breath, Erik decided to try and press the attack on the tired dwarf. Erik rushed the dwarf and feinted towards his right shoulder, before aiming the real swing towards the left shoulder. Davras’ tired body was too sluggish to block the swing, and Erik landed the blow before following up with a strike to the left hip. Erik pulled back, dodging Davras’ counter-strike, although not without difficulty, and began circling around his opponent. Erik was better off than Davras, but he was still exhausted and couldn't push himself too hard, or last too much longer. Erik decided that he had to end the fight soon, and moved towards Davras once more. Erik struck towards the dwarf’s upper arm, and then swung at his stomach before he could react. Davras stumbled backwards as the wind was knocked from him, and Erik slid in, determined to deliver the final blow. Erik swung his sword upwards, catching Davras’ axe and knocking it from his weakened grip. The axe landed a few metres away from the pair, and Erik aimed his sword at the disarmed dwarf. Davras stood there for a moment, puffing as he glanced from Erik, to his axe, and back, before he sighed and let a grin spread across his face. “Alright, you've won, lad.” The dwarf turned towards the representatives and raised his arms. “I concede.” A wave of mumbling spread between the judges, and Uther took his place at the ringside once more. “The challenger, Erik, has prevailed!” 

Erik took a seat on a bench at the side of the ring, trying to control his heavy breathing. Davras came over to the bench and sat next to Erik, his breathing just as heavy as the psychic’s. “You’re pretty good, lad.” The dwarf said between breaths. “Where did you learn to fight?” Erik smiled at the compliment despite his exhaustion. “I've been learning since I could lift a sword. My father got me the best tutors from miles around.” “Well, I'd say it paid off.” “You're quite talented with an axe yourself.” Erik said. “Where did you learn?” “I'm self-taught.” Erik raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. “Self-taught? By the gods, how did you do that?” Davras laughed at the psychic’s surprise. “I hid an axe under my bed, and left every night after my parents were asleep to practise against dummies or trees. When I finally got caught, I could already beat my old man in a duel.” Both the psychic and the dwarf chuckled at the story. “You've left a bloody big bruise on my belly.” Davras laughed as he lifted his shirt, displaying the mottled purple mark on his stomach. “I didn't exactly get out unscathed.” Erik replied, lifting his sleeve to show an array of bruises on his arm. “Sorry about focusing your arm, it was the highest target I could hit.” Both fighters laughed again as Uther walked over to the pair. 

“Well, lad, the verdict has passed. The judges have decided that you’re fit to enter Mithril Hall.” Erik cracked a grin at the dwarf. The fruits of his labour were laid in front of him. The tasks were hard, but he had faced all the challenges before him and succeeded. Uther motioned for Erik to follow him. “Come with me, lad, I've got something for you.” Erik stood up and followed the dwarf out of the hall and into the main cavern of Dwarfholm. The pair made their way through the crowds of Dwarfholm, before arriving at Uther’s office. Erik gave Uther a puzzled look, but the dwarf just smiled at the psychic and opened the door. When they entered, Uther sat Erik in the chair in front of his desk and reach inside. The dwarf pulled a box out of the desk and handed it to Erik. “A welcoming gift from Mithril Hall.” Uther said, grinning at the psychic. Erik opened the box and pulled out a beautifully crafted axe. It’s steel edge was sharpened to a point beyond what Erik thought was possible, and the head was decorated with with an ornate, twisting design, slightly Celtic in nature. The grip was two feet long, which Erik guess was large for a dwarf but was a perfectly sized hand axe for a human. 

The psychic held the axe up to the light to inspect it, and noticed a blue sheen to the weapon. Erik turned to Uther, with a faint smile on his face. “Is this cobalt?” The dwarf nodded, reciprocating Erik’s smile. “Aye, you brought back so much we decided to use some of it to make your weapon. I thought it would be a good reminder of how far you've come.” Erik stood up and swung the weapon around, testing its weight. “Davras told us about the measurement of your sword, so hopefully it should be well balanced.” Uther said as he watched Erik test the weapon. Sure enough, Erik could use the axe just as well as he handled Mageslayer. The psychic sat back in his chair, struggling to come up with the words to convey his gratitude. “Thank you for all the support.” Erik said. “I don't think I could have made it through without you.” Uther smiled, bowing his head humbly. “Don't mention it, lad.” Erik stood up, and moved for the door. “I'd better get going, I've got work to attend to.” Uther stood up, and followed Erik. “Aw, don't you have time for just a few drinks?” Erik paused, considering the offer. “Ok, just a few drinks.”

2325 words + 7679 words = 10004/10000
12816 characters with spaces + 44682 = 57498 characters with spaces
10494 characters without spaces + 36608 = 47,102 characters without spaces
All according to google docs.
Dwarven champion beaten, quest complete!

[Erik Vrell]

Erik, Uther and Davras sat at a table, along with a group of other dwarves, drinking ale and eating an array of exotic meats hunted in the fields. “Let's hear it one more time for Erik!” Davras cried, which was followed by a cheer from the table. “Go on, lad.” Uther urged. “Show us the axes.” Erik obliged, and raised both the gifted dwarf axe and the stolen troll axe above his head, which elicited another round of cheers from the dwarves.The dwarves grew quiet again and Erik realised that he had been drinking and eating far longer than he had intended. “I'd better get going.” Erik said, standing up. “Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?” Davras asked, to which Erik replied with a simple nod. The dwarf shrugged. “Alright, if you insist. But come back and visit again soon, eh?” The psychic chuckled at the dwarf as he made his way to the exit. “Of course.” Erik made his way to the stable where he had left his horse. Thankfully, he hadn't drank too much and his prime regeneration working in tandem with his liver was already sobering him up.

 Erik entered the dwarven stables, ducking his head under the door and walking up to the counter. The same bored dwarf sat behind it with his feet on the counter, reading a book, before looking up at Erik. “Oh, hello. Em, blue cloak, sword, brown hair. Yours was the grey mare, right?” The psychic gave the dwarf a surprised nod. “You've got an impressive memory.” “Okri! Get the grey mare saddled up.” The dwarf shouted, before turning back to Erik. “You learn to put faces to mounts pretty quick, horse thievery is more common than you'd think. Your horse should be outside.” Erik thanked the dwarf and exited the dusty building to find Okri with his horse. “There she is.” The dwarf said as he handed Erik the reins. “You have a safe trip.”

Erik mounted his horse as he entered the tunnel to leave Dwarfholm, patting its mane as he coaxed it forward. “Sorry I had to leave you there, girl.” He whispered to his mount. “I couldn't exactly bring you to a mine, though.” The gates of Dwarfholm swung open and Erik exited the cavern. The frigid air chilled the psychic to his core, and as much as he loved the tundra, he was glad that he would be out of it soon. He turned his horse in the direction of the gate and urged it to move faster. As the horse broke into a gallop, Erik thought about his mount’s loyalty. It had carried his from the dunes to the fields without a complaint, and was about to carry him back. He had already gotten too attached to the horse to desummon it, so giving it a name was natural. “I will name you… Jorunn.” Erik decided, blessing his mount with the same name as his grandfather’s horse.

Erik guided Jorunn through the fields until he came to the gate leading to the Nexus. Before entering, Erik considered where he was going next. He berated himself for even having to ask. His next destination would be Nippur, of course. It had been too long since he had last been there, and it had probably deteriorated even further than its already poor state. The psychic urged his mount forward, determined to get there as quickly as possible.

Passing from the Frozen Fields into the Nexus.