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The Final Events of the 10th of Slate.

"Olon." mumbled the Captain. "Nobody's called me that in a long time."

Kodor grinned. "Yes, well nobody knows you like..." his eyes darted to a corner where he saw a goblin doing something to a pair of boots. He seemed to be cleaning them.

Kodor went blank for a moment. "Olon, there's a goblin cleaning boots in your office!"

"WHAT?" roared the Captain, his gaze shifting fiercely to Buzong who sprang back in terror, cleaning items and boots scattering around him.

"ONLY POLISHING!" screamed Buzong. "DON'T KILL ME!!"

The Captain's gaze calmly shifted back to his brother. "I think you'll find he's only polishing them."

"I see..." said Kodor uncertainly. Then remembering himself, he introduced his wife. "I'd like you to meet my wife, Melica."

"Pleased to meet you, Melica." the Captain nodded. "You're aware she's a human, Kodor?"

"I had noticed." Kodor dryly replied.

"In any case. None of this answers why you're here. Last time I checked, you weren't a Baron, Kodor. You're not even peerage!"

Kodor gave a heavy sigh and sat down. "We know that. I'm here incognito. Something strange has been happening down here."

The Captain raised an eyebrow. "You heard about this in the mountain homes?"

"We haven't come from the mountain homes. I've traveled from half a world away, Olon, to this... impressive yet rather dismal location, to prevent all of hell from literally breaking loose."

"There was a cult to the Soulsmith here, its true. We crushed them, however."

"Are you certain of that? The kobolds seem concerned."

"Who cares what kobolds think? They're as dumb as stumps!"

Kodor gave a conceding nod. "Their general uselessness cannot be denied, brother. However, their God is Armok, the God of Blood."

"Armok is the one that slew the Soulsmith." interjected Melica.

"Hence our concern. Soulsmith is returning, drawn to this place as though it were a beacon in the darkness!"

The Captain pondered this for a moment, leaning with his elbows on his desk. "What can be done?"

Kodor leaned back in his chair. "Well, we'd prefer to stop him before he succeeds, if we can. Crazy, vengeful gods are not something I like to encounter."

He stood up. "Fortunately, not all the creations of this place are the workings of Soulsmith."

He walked to Kal Berim, and the Captain turned to watch him with interest.

"Behold brother! Kal Berim! The Smiles of Artifice!"

"Yes, I know. I made it."

Kodor faltered. He hadn't known that. "But... do you know what it holds within?"

"Of course!"

"AHA!" Kodor cried, and opened the cabinet. Some crumpets fell out. The whole thing was stuffed full of them.

"Crumpets!" shouted the Captain in glee.

"That's not right!" protested Kodor lamely. This was not what he had been expecting at all.

"Perhaps," said his brother with a grin, "you'd like a crumpet while you tell me what it was that drew you here."

Kodor nodded and sat back down. "It was some time after I left you. I had been traveling, and it started when my ship became wrecked. I was swept across the sea, and nearly died. I was half a world away, reliant on the kindnesses of strangers."

"That's no good for an Ironblood." the Captain noted grimly.

"Indeed not. I set to work and gathered enough coin to buy myself some weapons. I figured there's always work for a stout blade carried by an even stouter dwarf..."

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