venturer

ch6 curse

Bruto climbed up the ladder, and looked around the pretty wooden house. "It's bigger from the inside," he said, looking for Gathac. The hammer lay stood up on the wall, next to a weapon rack of a few metal swords and daggers. There was an anvil in the center of the living room, with a cup of milk in the center of it. There were blocks of dried grass with some sort of leather wrapped around them around the anvil. In a corner of the room there was a blast furnace, which Bruto assumed was for making alloy metals.

"You've got a little workshop in here, Gathac," Bruto said, looking at one of the sparkling daggers with gems lined in the handle. "My family never could pay for this, and we get most of our money from growing pearls and farming."

Gathac climbed down a ladder in the ceiling that had moss growing all over it. "I like to pass time by making swords, daggers, and farming gudo. Sweet, sweet gudo."

Molt perked up from one of the leather blocks, which Bruto hadn't seen, because it was blocked by a storage chest. "What's with your obsession with gudo?"

Gathac grinned, and said, "You'll see during dinner." Then he started laughing, and then coughing. He leaned over the sink next to the weapon rack, and spit out a mouthful of a mixture of curse energy and blood.

Bruto was left in shock for a moment. "You have it terrible, Gathac. Are you still, like, healthy?"

Gathac wiped his mouth of the purple liquid. "I'm still living. Good enough, right?"

Bruto shook his head. "No, man, like, are you going to die soon?"

Gathac stopped smiling, and said, "My life expectancy has been shortened, yes. I may probably die in less than a hundred moons."

"A hundred moons?!" Molt yelled, hopping onto the storage cabinet.

"I don't mope about it, though. I'm not the kind of guy to get all worked up about death. If I live my life to its fullest, which is what I'm doing right now, I'll die a happy man. To be honest, I wouldn't care if I dropped dead right here, right now."

"Lucky you. I haven't even married the love of my life yet," said Molt, running around the floor onto the counter.

"Marriage is a waste of time. It's just another soul to care for, and I'm still getting used to myself." Gathac turned the sink on, washing all of the curse and blood away.

"That's just a bunch of garbage talk! Right, Bruto?" said Molt, looking up.

Bruto didn't give Molt an answer.

Gathac looked at the two, as they had a contest to be silent, and said, "If you two would like, then I could take you upstairs into some of my material and weapon collections."

Bruto nodded. "Sounds good." Molt, the contest winner, silently followed them upstairs.

Upstairs the roof was completely made out of glass, and there was a bed made out of the same leather blocks, and with a knit blanket spread over it. Around the room there were many weapon racks and storage cabinets.

"Not to be rude or jutting questions at you or anything, but what do you make your money off of?" said Bruto, looking around his house.

Gathac sat on the bed. "I make weapons and sell gudo, that's my purpose in life and economy. And it's okay, I never really get offended."

Molt looked at a bite-sized weapon rack in the corner of the room, and said, "Who do you sell to?"

Gathac walked over to a weapon rack that took up a large wall. "I sell mostly to friendly tribes, but I also frequently trade with the insect kingdom." He took a long red sword off of the wall. "The Oxirok tribe pays a lot of gold for gudo. And they're practically enchanted by pyrotic steel." He puts the sword back on the wall.