Reincarnated as a random race, of course I got goblin.

Chapter 86 - A Gathering of Champions

Grisvold glances around the shop, taking note of who is present. He squints his one good eye when he notices the human man who is still browsing the weapons, seems they're a new arrival. He then gives me and Lychee a nod.

"'Pologies, Ma'am, what seems to be tha issue?" He begins before his gaze falls onto the weapons laid out on his counter. His expression sours, and that's even before he's been exposed to the Photian lady's personality.

"You'll address me as Sir, smith. Now, perhaps you see reason where your clerk doesn't. I need these serviced." The Photian lady gestures towards her weapons. Grisvold's expression briefly becomes one of contempt, before he settles for one of general annoyance.

"I 'unno what kind of treatment yer expectin' here, Ma'am. As my daughter said, these are unlicensed. Indeed, I'm afraid of even touchin' 'em on account of how modified they are." He gently lifts one of the gloves to get a better look at it. As the thumb joint shifts, he suddenly drops the weapon, like he's gotten shocked. 

"Eck! Blasted thing's Twisted, too! No, Ma'am, either you buy a set of clawed gloves from me, and I'll happily service those at a discount, or you take your business elsewhere entirely, yer holding up my actual payin' customers." He glares at the Photian as he demonstratively wipes his hand on his apron.

Anise peeks out of the doorway leading to the back room. "She can come in here to be measured if need be." She curtly announces before retreating back in. 

There's a terrible quietness in the store as Grisvold and the lady stare each other down. With an annoyed sigh, the woman shrugs before storing her weapons in a pouch. It's obviously a Slotted Bag, judging by the size difference between the weapons and the bag itself. 

"Fine, I guess I'll commission a set of 'legal' clawed gloves then." She admits defeat, and is escorted into the back room by Grisvold. 

"Man, what a scene, huh? You'd think she'd be smarter than that, demanding service of military grade weapons from Feyloche here." The man that's been quietly perusing the weapons and armor all this time speaks up. "I'm Brocken. I get the sense that we're supposed to get acquainted with each other, and her as well, I guess." He gestures with his head towards the back door.

He then holds out his hand, and I hesitantly grab it. A jolt of energy seems to hit my body as I do so, and I become aware. This is the Champion of Death, Brocken Voidreiser. "I'm Valena Argenfeather, and this is Lychee Voidreiser, one of my Hunter buddies." I introduce us. 

"So, that's... four so far. I'm told the Divine are pulling out all the stops for this." Brocken is counting on his fingers, seeming to include the Photian woman, himself, me and one more.

"Who's the fourth?" I ask. 

"Ah, he told me you're acquainted. One Merkiv Blastguard. He and his party arrived along with me just a few days ago." He informs. "So, there should be four more Champions arriving here."

"How are you so sure they'll arrive here?" I ask, casting a glance at the door to the back in anticipation for either Anise or Grimvold to arrive through it.  

"I mean, this is the only well equipped place within at least two days travel." He shrugs, as if that was obvious. I suppose it was. "It's also the closest settlement to the center of that darkness that's been emanating from the Illomen for the last few weeks." Brocken adds as he picks up a spear, testing its heft.

"I'll send a messenger once it's done. You were staying at the Smiling Goblin, correct?" Anise exits the back room, followed by the Photian woman. Seems Grisvold has returned to his forge to continue working. 

"Yes. Here's the payment." She fishes out a small purse and places three Gold coins onto the counter. By the Mother, what did she order?! Most basic weapons intended for further strengthening through adding monster parts barely run you seventy-five Silver!