In My Blood

Chapter 13: The Battle of Grym

Despite her love for the dress she wears, Delphie grapples with a pragmatic understanding that relying solely on her dexterity might not always suffice to evade or deflect attacks. The beautiful garment, a symbol of her grace, becomes a compromise in the face of the practical need for better protection. Following the delivery of Nere's head to the Myconid Colony, the party collectively decides to prioritize Delphie's safety by crafting a set of adamantine armor for her.

And so, they return to the Grymforge and a quick skirmish erupts with animated armor. Despite the challenge, they emerge victorious, and their exploration leads them to the discovery of a mold for scale mail and a cache of mithral ore, the essential material needed to forge the resilient adamantine armor.

Astarion and Delphie, despite their strained relationship, take on the role of scouts once again. They move ahead, leaving the rest of the party stationed on the precarious, crumbling staircase overlooking the deserted forge. The silence of the abandoned surroundings amplifies the unease between them.

The forge itself seems to have fallen into disuse, the once bustling activity replaced by an eerie stillness. The hot lava below emanates an uncomfortable heat, causing beads of sweat to form on their brows as they press forward through the desolate space.

"It's stupid for them to come down; there's literally nothing here," Delphie remarks to Astarion, her gaze shifting upward to where the rest of the party awaits on the deteriorating staircase.

"I agree. Let's just get this over with," Astarion responds tersely, the agreement carrying a tone of impatience.

The weight of the unresolved argument hangs heavily in the air as the wood elf sighs, the echoes of the previous day's confrontation still haunting the present moment. The rift between Delphie and Astarion lingers like a shadow, a palpable absence of communication that seems to permeate the silence around them.

Despite the passing of the night, neither of them found solace in sleep. The unspoken tensions and unaddressed emotions lingered, casting a restless pallor over the hours that should have been a respite.

Delphie shouts to their companions that she and Astarion can handle the task. The rest of the party offers nods of understanding, allowing the two to proceed alone.

As they stand by the forge, Delphie retrieves the ore from her backpack, handling it with care as she places it in the center compartment. Simultaneously, Astarion positions the mold in its designated place. The practicality of the task momentarily overshadows the emotional distance that separates them.

Seeking to alleviate the tension, Delphie attempts to break the silence. "What now? Do we just pull the lever?" she asks, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

"I would assume so," Astarion replies, walking over to the lever. With determined effort, he pulls it down with all his might, the creaking sound of machinery resonating through the forge. The atmosphere shifts as the lever is manipulated, the anticipation of the forging process adding a layer of suspense to their shared endeavor.

The deafening impact of the giant forge's hammer reverberates through the chamber as it strikes the center, initiating a sudden descent to a second level. Unaware of the imminent shift, Astarion and Delphie find themselves clinging to each other, their arms involuntarily seeking support in the midst of the unexpected motion. As the forge lands on the lower level, the abrupt jolt prompts the two elves to awkwardly pull apart.

The duo's attention shifts to the lava valve in front of them, a crucial component in the forging process. Delphie, quick to act, turns the valve with deftness, ensuring the lava is redirected away before it can reach her feet. Astarion, positioned near the lever, stands ready to initiate the hammer's descent once again. However, the moment is interrupted by the approach of heavy footfalls, disrupting the focused atmosphere of the forge.