782 Beo (2)
Armodeus looked at the man standing in front of him, hesitating for a few monts. But in the end, he just let out a loud, long laugh, "Good one. No, but really, tell what ye're plannin' on slaying, and I-"
Before Armodeus could finish speaking, Beowulf threw the bag that he had over his shoulder onto the ground in front of the dwarf.
"Your paynt's in there," he said, and Armodeus raised his brow. He squatted down and opened the bag. It was much larger on the inside than the outside; an ancient magical tool that Armodeus was barely able to comprehend. But that wasn't even the most shocking part. Inside of the bag were nurous large red scales and a crystalized heart the size of Armodeus' torso. Claws and teeth the size of daggers.
"Th-These are... You... you actually slayed a dragon?"
Beowulf nodded, "Yes."
"... Well, I'll be damned. I should be able to make sothin' rather good with these. Need anything else beside a sword? Yer armor looks a little tatters. I can use so of these scales ta fix it up."
With a slight frown, Beowulf looked around the shop. There were only weapons in here, and nothing resembling an armor. Realizing what his custor was thinking, Armodeus shrugged.
"While I'm not as good an armor smith as I am a weapon smith, I'll be the best you can find anywhere 'round here," Armodeus pointed out, and Beowulf let out a slight sigh through his nose.
"I can't pay you more than what is in the bag, even if you choose to use so of it for my armour," Beowulf explained, but the dwarf just scoffed.
"Ya think I'm stupid or sothin'? I know that! It just ain't every day I can make sothin' with parts from a dragon," Armodeus laughed, "So, what d'ya say?"
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"And so... I made him a sword, and fixed up his armour. To be totally honest with you, it was rather shabby work compared to what I could make now, but back then, I was proud of it. It was so of my finest work at that point," Armodeus explained, fiddling with his own fingers.
"What happened then? Did he manage to slay the dragon he was after?"
Armodeus nodded, "He did. And then he ca back, asking to improve his weapon, his armour, make him other items. I beca his supplier. Sohow he always went out of his way to co and visit after his work was done, no matter how far away he had travelled initially. But... he beca more and more reckless."
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An older Armodeus, far more along in his years than he had been when the two first t, looked at Beowulf as he entered the shop. He was breathing quite heavily, but quickly pulled back his hood. The entire left side of his face was covered in a thick, raw scar. His left eyes was glassy and fogged up as well.
Armodeus jumped up and rushed in front of the counter, "Beowulf, what happened to your face?"
"... It had offspring this ti. I mistook it for the one I was aiming for, but its parent soon jumped out at ," he explained, walking past the dwarf before sitting down on a chair at the side of the room, "It's nothing to worry about."
"Hogwash!" Armodeus exclaid, rushing into the back room. He ca out a few monts later with a small jar in his hand. Pulling up a seat next to Beowulf, he quickly opened the jar, "Look at ."
Bewolf groaned and turned his head toward Armodeus, letting him apply the salve to his face. He twitched slightly as it touched his face.
"Urgh, what the hell is in this stuff? You sure it's supposed to help?"
"Pah, of course it is! It was made by the great alchemist Partax. Are you doubting the skills of a Master?"
Beowulf raised a brow, "You know a Master?"
Staring the man in front of him in the eye, Armodeus frowned lightly, "What's that supposed to an?"
"Nothin', just... Didn't expect it. You do great work, but..."
"It's not the work of a Master, I know," Armodeus admitted, though he was clearly annoyed, getting a bit more rough when applying the salve to Beowulf's face, "I do know a handful of Masters, though. Even if by coincidence."
"Hm, that so?" Beowulf said quietly, "Any of those masters know how to swing a sword?"
Armodeus thought about it for a mont, but he just shrugged, "Maybe, but that's not the kind of masters they are. Hand-to-Hand combat, Freerunning, Carving, Necromancy..."
"Necromancy? Ye're friends with a necromancer?"
"I wouldn't say 'friends', but I do know 'er," Armodeus replied, "Amongst so others. I've been anin' on headin' out to visit so of 'em anyway. Ye could tag along if ya want."
Beowulf scoffed, shaking his head, "Sorry, but you know I'm quite busy."
"... But why? Ye always avoid talkin' about it. About why ya keep hunting down every dragon ye hear about. Just take a break. Recover. And, y'know, maybe strategize a bit," Armodeus suggested, but Beowulf was clearly unsure about it.
He pushed the dwarf away and stood up from his seat, "Again, I'm busy. Plus, excuse my bluntness, but... are you sure that these guys are actual Masters? You aren't being tricked?"
"Yes, Beowulf, they're really Masters. Co on, just give it a shot, alright? Y'all fighters are the sort that benefit from duels, right? Well, so of them are pretty duel-savvy. And they're stronger than a dragon, I'm sure, so ye could really improve yer skill levels. And that... card of yours, one of them should be able to teach ye how to use it properly."
"Excuse ?" with a scoff, Beowulf turned around. He carefully touched his face, surprised that the scar was already feeling much better, "I can use the card's power just fine."
"Really, now? Alright, then here," Armodeus grabbed sothing from the counter and threw it over toward Beowulf. He caught it. It was a small wooden sphere with rotating segnts. Ten lines for each axis, "Ye've seen solve that plenty, so go ahead and give it a shot. You know what ya need to do, so just do it."
Grinning, sothing that Beowulf didn't do quite so often, he took Armodeus up on the challenge, "Sure. Prepare yourself to eat your own words."
Imdiately, Beowulf started moving around the different rotating segnts of the sphere. It wasn't hard to solve; the 'puzzle' simply required specific movents to be done in sequence. It was more of a practice tool to help improve stat growth than anything you needed to think about much. It took Beowulf exactly 45 seconds to solve the entire thing.
"Beat that," he said, giving Armodeus the sphere back. With a scoff, he nodded.
"I will," and with that, Armodeus started as well. He twisted and turned the ball, following through the movent patterns. And within 29 seconds, he was done, placing it down onto the counter next to him. Beowulf narrowed his eyes.
"How did you...?"
"What, ya think just because ye have the 'Ultimate Dexterity' or whatever, you're sothing special? As I said, ye're not usin' the card's power properly. And soone like a Master can help ye get there," Armodeus said bluntly. Beowulf thought about it for a few monts, though he clearly still wasn't fully convinced. The dwarf slowly stood up, "Listen, ya need to take a break. Practice. Relearn how to fight with just one of yer eyes. Please."
Grumbling quietly, Beowulf nodded his head, "Fine, I'll join you. So where are you going to et them, anyway?"
"It's this small town on the coast," Armodeus explained, smiling broadly, "Don't worry, I'm sure ye're gonna like it."
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Eiro watched as Armodeus grew quiet for a few monts, "And this is the town that Shimour was convincing you to go back to?" the demon asked, and Armodeus nodded.
"Aye. We travelled down there. Stayed for a while. Weeks to turned to months, and months turned to years. It was our ho. The others would co and go, and even Beo would head out every once in a while, but he hadn't hunted a dragon for years. This... this obsession that he had weakened over ti. And then..." Armodeus looked down at his hands, "Well, I'm sure ye can guess. After all, I do have his card now."
The demon looked at the man in front of him, quietly making his guess, "His obsession returned? Was he killed in battle with a dragon?"
Armodeus scoffed, shaking his head, "Battle? Nah, it wasn't a glorious death like that, though Beo would have probably liked that. No, it's what happens to all people. He was already getting up there in his age when we t, but... he just got old. And with age, well... death becos harder to outrun."
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