Chương 14: Chapter Fourteen: Hyena Werks (Boom, Title Drop)

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company. DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Chapter Fourteen: Hyena Werks (Boom, Title Drop) X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X The rickety stool I scavenged from one of the neighboring ruins groaned in abject agony as I leaned back to admire my work. Five pristine Bags of Holding, laid out across my workbench in a neat row. Each one crafted in a different style to match their future owners.

The whole lot finished within the week, as I had agreed to with Loki. A royal purple hip bag with gold highlights, an earthy brown messenger bag inlaid with leafy greens, and a slate gray armor inlay with marble white touchups. One for each of Loki's executives. The last two were unadorned brown leather satchels to be given out at the goddesses discretion. If she wants them customized, she'll have to pay extra for that.

All of them were made of mid-level monster drops, with Infant Dragon hide armored inserts providing the bulk of the protection. Not nearly enough to save a bag from a direct hit from some of the more nasty critters inhabiting the lower levels, but it should be more than enough to keep up with the daily wear and tear a high level adventurer puts on their equipment. Which reminds me, I'd better get started on that manual if I wanted to get these shipped out tomorrow.

Grabbing a spare notebook from my own BoH and summoning my quill with a twist of mana, I got to work on what would probably come as standard with all manner of goods I'll go on to make. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X The next morning found me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed outside Loki's sprawling estate. A brown paper package tucked under one arm, and a half eaten cheese pastry in the other. Sharing a brief nod with one of the bored looking gate guards, I was let in without a fuss.

Passing the stream of yawning and stretching adventures plodding their way towards the Dungeon for their morning run, I made my way through the Twilight Manor's winding corridors until I was outside Finn's office. Quickly scarfing down what was left of my breakfast, I knocked with a closed fist on the intricately carved door. My dinner plate sized ears easily picked up the halfling's soft spoken invitation in, so I shouldered open the door without a second thought.

Finn was currently hunched over some papers, one of those magic blood pens in his hands flowing with a seemingly endless reservoir of ink across the page. He spared me a glance, before he seemed to actually register who he just saw as he looked up fully with an arched eyebrow.

"Mister Maddic! What a pleasant surprise, please, come in." Strolling across his office, I plopped myself down in the chair in front of his desk while shooting him a lopsided smile.

"Mornin', Deimne. Got a package for yall." My piece said, I tossed him the package which he caught one-handedly with slightly furrowed brows in confusion–before his face suddenly lit up in recognition.

"Oh! Is this the first patch of those bags of yours? I thought we wouldn't be getting these for at least another couple of days." As he carefully tore it open, I just shrugged.

"I finished everything I needed to with my workshop for now, so I had some free time to kill." Finn's normally polite, if impassive smile grew into something a touch more genuine as he held up the bag meant for him, the royal purple a perfect match for his official adventurer outfit.

"I suppose it should have been evident by now, but you do fantastic work, mister Maddic. I'm sure Riveria and Gareth will be pleased with their ones as well. But before we begin using these in the field, would you mind giving us comprehensive instructions on their usage, or any maintenance they might require? I'd hate to have to use equipment in the field that I am unfamiliar with."

"Way ahead of you with that, my friend." I said with a smirk, my nose slowly climbing towards the ceiling with smug confidence.

"Each bag comes with a manual. Just reach inside and grab it." The halfling shot me a look of suspicion colored with good natured amusement before he dutifully put his hand into the pitch black opening of his bag. Though, not even the veteran adventurer could hide his growing shock as more and more of his arm disappeared into the bag, regardless that he should have reached the bottom long ago. With his entire arm up to his shoulder in the bag, he gave me an uncertain look, clearly not knowing what to do next.

"It should be intuitive." I said with an encouraging nod.

"You should just be able to sense everything in there, almost like how you can kinda feel where everything is in a dark room. You just gotta' imagine reaching out and grabbing what you want." His eyes squinted in focus, before quickly snapping open in surprise. Rearing back, he revealed a small book bound in leather in his hands. On the cover of which was proudly branded with Max's maker mark. A headshot of a hyena toothily grinning out at the viewer, a riveting hammer clenched tightly in its teeth.

Below which, I added something new; Something Max and I created together. An unraveled banner with the name of our new practise stenciled out in an industrial font across it- Hyena Werks.

"That book should have everything you need to know. Maintenance, do's and dont's, acceptable tolerances–the works. Though, by Yeenoghu's adorable snaggletooth, whatever you do, do not try to put one bag within another under any circumstances. There won't be enough left of you to mourn if you do."

"Duely noted." He said with a firm nod.

"Is there anything else critical we need to know?" I nodded back, equally as serious.

"Ya, just a warning- if a Bag is sufficiently damaged, then the enchantment may fail. If it does, there's a damned good chance that everything inside is lost forever, so I wouldn't put anything in them that you absolutely can't afford to lose. All of this is in the book, but those two things are key." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"Understood." The halfling gently placed his bag and the manual off to the side before interlacing his hands below his chin, his dark blue eyes staring into my own intensely.

"Then I suppose that the only thing left to discuss is your manner of payment. Have you decided how much you are going to charge for these?" I had nothing but time to think about what I felt they were worth to me over the past couple of days. In the end, I had decided on- "I was thinking that one million valis per Bag would be more than fair." Finn stared at me silently for a long moment, chin resting on his hands and an eyebrow raised in question; Before he sighed with amused exasperation.

Pulling open a cabinet down by his waist, he took out a sheaf of paper and began filling it out. A moment later, he ripped out the top page and handed it to me. Feeling my own eyebrows climbing, I took the paper–only to realise it was some kind of bank check with the Guilds emblem proudly displayed in the top left corner. Below which was Loki's crest, a demented jester smirking at the viewer. But what instantly grabbed my attention was the number scrawled across the withdrawal amount.

If I was drinking something, I'd have done a fantastic spit take all over Finn's fancy office.

'Fifty million valis.'

"If you charged one million per Bag-" Finn said after giving me a second to comprehend the fucking insanity before me.

"Then everyone and their dogs would be kicking in your door and demanding their own for that price. It's basic economics, Max–If you want to do anything else here in this city besides making those things, then you're going to have to price most people out. I hope I don't come across as presumptuous by giving us a 'friendly discount', but if I were you, I wouldn't charge anything less than fifteen million for each one; Though, you could easily get away with twenty or more if you marketed it right." Holy shit.

Fifteen million valis for only two days of work! That's like- half a million dollars! If I wanted to, I could do nothing but make these things for a month and be set for life! Retirement at the ripe old age of twenty-ish, my whole life ahead of me with a fat bank account to keep me in the good life until I'm dead and gone. But… something inside me rallied against the mere thought.

The idea that I, Max Mokit Maddic, proud son of both Eldon Maddic and the Dustpaw pack, would be content to mindlessly churn out fucking trinkets just for easy money! No- hell no, I did not learn at the feet of one of Tal'Dorei's greatest Artificers just to be some magical sweatshop slave! I'm an inventor, our dream is to push magic to its limits, stretching the very definition of magitek to its breaking point; Not to be content with shiny coins and easy jobs. Money is nothing but a means, never the ends.

"... After I deliver the rest of your order, I'm upping my price to twenty mil' per Bag. I've got bigger aspirations than fashion accessories." Finn only chuckled, raising his cup of tea in a silent toast to a successful negotiation. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X As Max's swishing tail disappeared out the door; A smile on his lips and a spring in his step, Finn turned his attention towards the small leather book on his desk.

Taking a moment to examine what was clearly the gnolls maker mark, he flipped it open and began perusing its contents. It didn't take reading more than the first paragraph before his eyebrows began flying towards his hairline, and were showing no sign of stopping the further he got down the page.

"Hyena Werks™ LLC is not responsible or liable for any damages, loss, dismemberment, mutilation, spontaneous combustion, spontaneous glaciation, temporal distortions, banishment to alternative planes, mental anguish, or death that may result from the misuse of our products. Advisory: Potions and other consumables may cause drowsiness, headaches, irreversible mutations, or hyperactivity. If affected, do not ride mounts or operate heavy siege equipment.

If symptoms persist for more than twenty four hours, please consult a healer or denominational cleric promptly. Do not consume alcohol for at least twenty four hours after using Very Rare ranked potions or higher. Warning: May contain small parts and/or high explosives. Keep out of reach of children." … What in the hel did he just buy? X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X It didn't take me three whole hours before I was flat broke again. And I couldn't be happier.

Strolling out the front door of Gobannus's Foundry with a toothy grin splitting my muzzle, I shared one last happy wave with the foreman. Said foreman, a six and a half foot tall boaz man built like a brick shithouse by the name of Ronus, enthusiastically returned my farewell as I left. The reason for our shared jubilation?

Just a small thirty million Valis deal I cut with the man for a shipment of raw materials to be delivered directly to my store; Along with the potential for an exclusivity agreement between us to only buy from them should the goods be up to my standards. As for the last twenty mil' remaining? Five were sent directly to the Guild to pay my taxes for the next few years, so I wouldn't have to deal with that headache for a while.

With another neat five mil being spent at an unaffiliated mundane-run carpenter shop to furnish my workshop from top to bottom with nothing but the best money could buy. But for the rest of the money, that I had special plans for. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Finally, my metamorphosis was complete. With this one, singular action, I will shed this transient adventurer title and be forever changed. Adventurers complete quests. That is a universal law, an immutable fact of reality. But conversely…

someone who posts a quest can not be an adventurer. Else they would be strong enough to complete whatever the task is themselves. No, only supporting characters, or NPCs for short hand, can be quest givers. So as I finished the final tap of a hammer against a nail, I have lost my adventurer title, and will instead proudly take up the honorable mantle of… Shop Keep. Stepping back, I dropped my paws to my waist to admire my work. Amongst all the small slips of paper nailed to the Guilds quest board, my own stood out…

because I used prestidigitation to dye it an obnoxious neon red. Like a blazing beacon, my quest offer lit up the board, drawing all eyes to it and its tantalizing offers of riches beyond imagining. It advertised a standing order for mythril ore and other deep dungeon materials at more than twenty five percent above market average. Or, even more generously, an option to be paid fifty percent above average in store credit.

Already, intrested adventurers were drifting over to see what kind of job the city's newest curiosity needed done. Soon -huehuehuehue- soon! - I'll have everything I need to really get to work. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X I raised the hammer up, primed to finally flatten the last stubborn kink in the steel pipe before me, when a different kind of thumping interrupted my rhythm. The pounding of a fist against wood filled my workshop.

Tossing what would become one of the legs of a rotary table saw into a nearby trough of water to cool off, I picked my way across the room. Carefully stepping over the scattered remains of my old shit-tier machines that I had just finished tearing apart with glee for their scrap metal, I pulled open one of the warehouse doors to reveal… no one? Wait, I'm an fucking idiot. Looking down, I laid eyes on a suspiciously familiar dwarf. Though, how I knew him escaped me.

Steel plate armor, a fur mantle around his neck, and a pair of absurdly large warhammers strapped across his back. Oh, wait! - I remember him! He was one of my many opponents of that drinking tournament back at Mia's… who I've completely forgotten the name of. Whoops. Said dwarf was currently leaning to the side to look past me, his eyes wide as he took in the utter mess that was my workshop.

"Uh, aye' can come back, if this is a bad time?"

"Depends on what you need, friend." I said with a careless shrug. His eyes found my own, an eyebrow raising while a knowing smirk slowly grew on his lips.

"Yee don' remember, do ya?" At my own questioning look, the man threw his head back and roared a laugh.

"Aye' figured you'er sloshed, but I didn' know I had yee that far on the ropes!" He threw out a calloused hand for a shake, which I readily accepted. I'm not sure why, but something about the dwarf was instantly likable. Maybe it was his butchered Scottish accent that made him sound like a half-decent Shrek impersonator; Or maybe he was just naturally charismatic like most dwarves seemed to be here.

"Names Dorumuru, proud member of the Magni familia, and Frontline fighter. We ave' a debt to settle, you and I."

"Debt?" X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X"You want tea, coffee?"

"... Have you got mead?" With a smirk, I pulled open one of my kitchen cabinets with a flourish to reveal three casks of the stuff, courtesy of Mama Mia as a house warming gift; Eliciting an ear to ear grin from my guest. Pouring out two mugs of the stuff, I thunked one down in front of Dorumuru before taking a seat across the table from him. We were currently up in my apartment above the workshop. The furniture for my 'official' clientele meeting room hasn't come in yet, so we had to make do.

Which was fine, in all honesty. The furnishings I got for the meeting room were a bit on the garish side of luxury, designed to impress hoity toity rich-as-literal-gods familias. While my apartment on the other hand was much more simple and homey. Which seemed to suit the dwarf just fine. Dark but cozy wooden stylings matched to a fluffy rug and big bay window made the room feel more like a fancy hunting lodge than a city apartment. Dorumuru took a long pull of his drink and sighed in satisfaction.

"Ah, Demeter made- best in the world, you have good taste, Mister Maddic. But now then, to business! -" He then grabbed the handles of his hammers, causing me to tense. But all he did was smoothly draw them as if the massive weapons weighed no more than a stick of rebar, and laid them flat on the table. As my brand new table let loose a worrying groan as it was forced to bear a load it was never designed to hold, I took in the hammers in their entirety for the first time.

The first word that came to mind was beautiful. Beautiful, in their brutal simplicity. Fixed atop a handle made of solid adamantine was a spiked warhead like a meat tenderizer blown up to comical proportions. Extending out almost a full foot off the backside was a single massive spike, perfect for catching foes on a surprise backswing, or else piercing armor too thick to be crushed by the front face. Etched along each side was a series of swirling loops that vaguely reminded me of Celtic knots.

"-Aye' distinctly remembered making a deal with ya' Max. That if you drank me under the table, I'd come down to get my weapons tricked out with yer' fancy magics. But if I won, you'd do it fer' free. So, here ya' go. Let no man or… whatever it is yee' are call Dorumuru Bolster a liar. Now, what's this gonna cost me, and how long am I gonna' be out of work waiting on em'?" Taking one of his hammers into my paws, I heaved the weapon up to take a better look at it.

It was your typical fantasy fair, with an impractically large head that should be all but impossible to use with any finesse. Frankly, it looked like it would be more at home in Monster Hunter than any western fantasy world. But that massive size… Meant that there was loads of free real-estate in there that I could play around with.

Hundreds of ideas for how I could transform these things from simplicity made manifest into the scariest Yeenoghu-damned weapons to have ever graced the face of a Dungeon monster raced through my mind. Feeling a toothy, manic grin begin to split my muzzle, I looked back up at Dorumuru.

"Gimme' a week, and I promise you that you'll happily pay whatever fucking price I ask for."