Mallory, Vanessa, Elise, and Darian moved at a brisk pace along the Northern Road, the faint scent of scorched air still clinging to them from their battle in the Scarred Land. They traded commentary and post-fight banter as the adrenaline faded, each of them quietly aware that they’d just overcome the toughest trial Allovia had thrown at them by far.
As the sky deepened into gold and violet, they crested the st rise, and there was Grimwatch, its nterns flickering to life and the sounds of community echoing through the square. The second cohort had fully integrated by now. The pza bustled with the CEOs, their partners, and their chosen deputies—voices lifted in conversation, the clink of mugs, ughter that felt sincere. A living, breathing town.
They returned greetings as they passed, but didn’t linger. The forge awaited, and they needed to get to Torvyn before he closed up for the night.
They found him still at work, forearms bckened with soot, his long hair tied back. When he saw them, his face broke into a wide grin.“Well now. I had a hunch you’d make it back today.”
His eyes swept over them with a practiced gnce. “Still in one piece, I see. How was the beast?”
Vanessa gave a grin. “Larger than advertised.”
“Meaner, too,” Mallory added. “And hot enough to cook us through our armor.”
That got a hearty ugh from the bcksmith. As they began recounting the fight, Thomas Brae and El wandered up, catching the end of the tale.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Truly? The valley healed itself once the gem was removed?”
Darian nodded. “Yeah. Took about an hour, but the va receded, and these bck gss shards formed as it cooled. The whole pce… Well, there’s still the damage from our fight, but it does look more like a normal valley now. The grass may take some time to grow.”
Torvyn let out a thoughtful grunt. “Huh. There’s an old tale about a wild beast who swallowed a cursed gem and turned into a demon. We told it to kids to keep ‘em from eating strange mushrooms in the forests. Guess that one’s been upgraded to the ‘Actually True’ list.”
They shared a ugh, and the group drifted toward the side table Torvyn had prepared. Each component from their recent quests was id out with reverence and care.
The Ironroot logs, now carved and shaped, would form the bellows housing and the sturdy base to mount the new twin anvils.
The sunkissed ore gleamed faintly in the forge-light—ready to be smelted into those very anvils, metals blessed by sun and skill alike.
The obsidian gss shards, still warm to the touch, would be molded into the lining of the new crucible. Having endured the Scarred Land’s molten fury, they would now serve as the forge’s foundation—resilient, tempered, and timeless.
At the center of the worktable sat a housing unlike anything the team had seen before. Crafted by the town jeweler, it shimmered gold and gunmetal gray, etched with runes so fine they seemed woven from light itself. Even without the Forgeheart Gem inside, the housing hummed—a low, almost musical vibration they could feel in their bones. It was not just metal. It was a vessel of power.
Elise stepped closer, her eyes wide. “That… that isn’t just beautiful. It feels alive.”
Torvyn nodded solemnly. He reached for the housing with careful, calloused fingers, lifting it as though it might burst into fme. “Aye. I’ve been working steel for thirty years, and I’ve never felt anything like this. The sigils alone are a masterwork—but it’s the resonance that matters. She tuned it to the Forgeheart.”
He held it above the crucible, aligning it with the space where the gem would be set. “Once the Forgeheart Gem is installed, this won’t just be a forge. It’ll be a conduit—linking the materials of this world with the will of The System. Everything created here will carry that connection.”
There was a hush around the table, broken only by the distant ringing of hammers from elsewhere in town.
Torvyn’s voice lowered. “Three more days. That’s all we need. And when it’s done—this forge won’t just shape metal. It’ll shape destiny.”
He looked at the four of them, pride and gratitude thick in his voice. “You brought this all together. You didn’t just find the pieces—you gave this forge its future.”
He turned to Thomas. “Make sure they’re compensated properly, would you?”
Thomas nodded, beaming. “Absolutely. Grimwatch is almost at Level 3 now. Just the leatherworker and jeweler left to upgrade, and we’ll have a fully operational crafting district. What you’ve helped us build here... it’s beyond anything I imagined.”
Vanessa tilted her head. “Leatherworker... right.”
She reached into her pack and pulled out the folded hides from the Chromatic Lurkers. When she id them on the table, the surface beneath seemed to shimmer and pull at the material like a heat mirage.
Torvyn let out a low whistle. “Now those are rare. Never seen leather like that. Tarn and Lysa run the tannery—bring it to them. Bet they’ll cook up something special for you. And I know they’re looking for a few rare components to finish their own shop upgrade. Might be worth lending a hand.”
Thomas gnced at the hides. “They’ll be thrilled. That material’s like magic. Speaking of contributions, your team’s are being logged in full. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
El lingered at the smithy, chatting quietly with Torvyn, while Elise excused herself to return to the pza. There were a few colleagues she wanted to catch up with before nightfall.
Mallory, Vanessa, and Darian embraced her in turn.
“Thanks again for saving our asses today,” Darian said. “I don’t even want to think how that would’ve gone without you.”
Elise grinned, releasing him. “It’s no problem. That’s what healers do!”
With their goodbyes said, Thomas Brae offered to guide the remaining trio to the leatherworker’s shop.
“All the crafters are in the same district, more or less,” he said, leading them down a shaded path that curved past rows of workshops.
As they rounded the corner beyond the brewer’s hall, a breeze carried the rich, yeasty scent of hops and wheat mash. Darian inhaled deeply.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I could really go for a cold beer after everything today.”
Mallory and Vanessa ughed and murmured agreement. They made a silent pact to hit The Lusty Wench before retiring for the evening.
But as the cobblestones stretched onward, the aroma changed.
There was a long stretch of worn pavers with no shops—just the sound of boots echoing off stone and the fading scent of brew—before the air shifted again. This time, it hit like a wall: thick with alkali, wet fur, and the sour tang of bark-soaked leather.
The tannery.
Darian coughed once and pulled his colr up instinctively.
Thomas chuckled. “Ah, right. I forget sometimes you’re all new to the joys of hidework. This isn’t even the worst of it. On dehairing days?” He shook his head. “You’ll want to give the whole block a wide berth.”
He swept his hand forward like brushing away a bad dream. “This is why we built it down here—far enough from the tavern and homes, and open to the sky.”
They looked up and saw where the canopy had been cut away, tree trunks ending in blunt stumps that framed the wide, open-air workspace ahead. A haze of steam drifted above stted rooftops and wooden drying racks, with long pieces of leather stretched taut like fgs.
The tannery had a rhythm all its own—one you didn’t forget.
A few more steps brought them to the edge of the tannery yard, where a husband-and-wife team was still hard at work despite the fading daylight. One of them—compact, bearded, and immensely focused—was scraping a soaked hide along the curve of a wooden rack, his motions rhythmic and practiced. The other, a woman only marginally taller, was hauling a dripping hide out of a vat that smelled like boiled tree bark and questionable life choices. She wrung it out with the ease of long habit, arms corded with wiry strength.
Mallory blinked at the sight, then let out a soft chuckle. They were definitely human—but if someone told her they were dwarves moonlighting as leatherworkers, she’d have believed it. Neither one cracked five feet in height, and the man’s magnificent beard was a braided marvel crowned with a handlebar mustache so perfect it deserved its own title. The woman wore a linen dress that might’ve reached her calves on someone taller, cinched tight beneath a thick leather apron. A belt of tools—awls, curved knives, and other implements of mysterious leathery sorcery—jangled around both their waists like badges of honor.
It was like they’d stepped out of a fantasy illustration: the gritty artisan couple who could tan a hide, throw a punch, and probably win a drinking contest without spilling a drop.
The man looked up from his scraping as the group approached, squinting beneath the brim of a sweat-darkened cap. His eyes crinkled with curiosity. Beside him, the woman affixed a dripping hide onto a drying frame and wiped her hands on her apron.
Thomas gestured as they drew near.“Mallory, Vanessa, Darian—this is Lysa and Tarn Wellmere, our resident leatherworkers. We’re proud of the work they’ve done. Once their tannery’s upgraded, they’ll have everything they need to outfit the town in proper leathers.”
Darian stepped forward, hand outstretched, but the woman held up both of hers with a quick smile.“Best not, love. I’ve just been wrist-deep in something I’m sure you don’t want on your hands.”
Darian chuckled and dropped his hand. “Fair enough. Pleasure to meet you both.”
Mallory and Vanessa lingered a step behind, still adjusting to the pungent mix of aromas they’d rather not try to define. Tarn noticed right away.In a thick brogue, he called out, “Well now, are ye comin’ down to meet us, or just pnnin’ to judge from a safe distance? Don’t worry—we’re used to offendin’ noses before we get to names.”
Lysa rolled her eyes and gave him a swat on the shoulder. “You daft arse, don’t go bullyin’ our guests. Mayor Brae brought them here for a reason, and I’m sure it wasn’t for them to experience yer charm.”
She turned back to the trio, waving them forward. “Though I suppose I can’t bme ye for hangin’ back. Half the time folks can’t tell whether we’re leatherworkers or lost dwarves outta some fantasy book.”
Mallory blinked, half-ughing. “Wait, you’re not—?”
“Dwarves?” Lysa smirked. “Nah. Just short. Though with Tarn’s beard and that ridiculous mustache, I’ve stopped correctin’ people.” She leaned in, mock conspiratorial. “He’s got a whole routine about it. Talks to the goats like he’s king of the mines.”
“Oi! That was one time,” Tarn huffed. “And they were good goats,” he said as he trailed off, pouting.
That cracked everyone up. In just a few minutes, the smell faded into the background, eclipsed by ughter and easy banter. Tarn and Lysa might’ve looked like storybook dwarves, but they were warm, real, and unmistakably Grimwatch.
Mallory was thinking about how the 3D Forge functionality seemed to be gated by their quest to upgrade the smithy in Grimwatch. “Hey, Thomas? I’ve been thinking about the town’s upgrade path. Do you get quests that tell you which shops need to be upgraded in order to progress to level three?”
Thomas paused for a moment, appearing to access his interface.“Yes, in fact there is a list. The forge will be done in a few days, as Torvyn said. The jeweler also has what she needs and is on her way to completing her upgrade. The tailor is already done. And finally we have the Wellmeres here. Once this shop is upgraded it looks like we’ll have a full suite of Tier II capabilities. Why do you ask?”
Mallory said, “It seems that the forges in our world that enable us to create these weapons,” she held out Fatepiercer in front of her, admiring it for a moment, “seem to be missing a key authorization from The System in order to fully function. We’ve been postuting that the Grimwatch upgrades may unlock that authorization on our side.”
Thomas thought for a moment.“It makes sense. We can’t be certain until it’s all done, but I do believe that the shops here are connected to your world in some way. When the tailor finished his shop upgrade, he noticed that some new capabilities had opened up under some System menus. They are grayed out now, but they appear to be linked to some kind of System permissions. I don’t pretend to understand all the mechanics, but it definitely felt like… it was important.”
Darian crossed his arms, eyes narrowing in thought. “So the System’s set up a kind of double-locking mechanism. We’ve got to turn the key on both sides before it opens.”
“Yes it seems that way,” Thomas said.
Vanessa gave a soft ugh. “Which means it all comes down to Tarn and Lysa. No pressure, right?”
Lysa rolled her eyes. “Oh, lovely. The fate of interdimensional crafting rests on the shoulders of two half-sized humans, a vat of goat piss, and a stretch of canvas.”
Mallory brought them back to the task at hand.“So, what do you need for your upgrades?”
Tarn’s eyes lit with sudden recollection. “Right!” He raised a finger, then ducked into the shop to fetch a piece of parchment. “Torvyn already passed along the rest of the Ironroot log, so we’ve got all the wood we’ll need. What’s left is on this list.”
He handed the sheet to Mallory. Darian and Vanessa leaned in over her shoulder.
Vanessa’s eyes lit up at one of the entries. “The Shadowed Hamlet? I’ve been there before. It was part of one of my trials.”
Lysa narrowed her eyes. “Aye, I know the pce. Equal parts poncy nobles and back-alley thieves. Hope your quest involved cleaning house.”
Vanessa chuckled. “It did, actually.” She brushed her hand across the curve of Nightweaver slung over her back, the memory vivid.
Darian gave her a sidelong gnce. “You what now?”
“I’ll fill you in ter. But yes—I’ll take this one. Breaking into a mansion and repatriating a few shiny objects? No qualms here. Just don’t ask me to steal from the vintner. He’s one of the good ones.”
Mallory smiled. “Take Valerie with you. She’s been buried in D.C. for too long. I bet she’d love a chance to stretch her legs.”
They all ughed at the casual mention of stealing from a corrupt noble estate as if it was just another Tuesday.
Darian turned back to the list. “The beast hides...?”
“Oh! I almost forgot!” Vanessa stepped to a wide clearing on the worktable and carefully drew two scaled hides from her satchel. They shimmered in the light, reflecting the surrounding woodgrain like liquid camoufge.
Lysa and Tarn stepped forward—and froze.
“These are lurker hides,” Tarn whispered, reverently.
“Chromatic Lurkers,” Mallory corrected.
Even as she said it, the hides shifted subtly, mimicking the table beneath them. Tarn reached out, running his hand across the iridescent scales.
“I’ve heard stories. Never seen one in person. Did they attack you?”
As they reyed the tale of their encounter, Tarn nodded slowly—then decisively.“Forget the hides on the list. These will do. Just get us the resin from the Hamlet, and we’ll have everything we need.”
He turned to Vanessa. “And you? With your css, I think we’ve got something special in mind for you once the shop’s upgraded.”
Lysa’s eyes gleamed. “You’re right. Vanessa, this’ll be worth the wait. I’ve been saving a skill just for something like this.”
They said their goodbyes with smiles and promises, and as they made their way back toward the heart of Grimwatch, Mallory looked back once.
Moments ter, the trio slipped into The Lusty Wench, ready for a round of drinks to finish off a very long day.