everyone was verified and had a good purpose to be in Minius. As Gurmble hammered away at the armor he thought back to the stories his father use to tell him.
In the Great Goblin wars there was a time where all races had to band together. To show a sign of faith all of the races brought together their best warriors and made them into the 13th legion. This Legion was to be the first in and the last to leave any battle. Gurmble’s father Rathbun had the great responsibility to keep these warriors banded together and fighting their best. It was said that these proud warriors won every battle they were a part of. In the last battle of the goblin wars the 13th legion went into a battle outnumbered thirty to one. With six other legions behind them. The only known survivors of this battle was eleven members of the 13th legion. Rathbun the dwarf, two Elves, one half-elf, two gnomes, one half-orc, two humans, and two Halflings. They all became best of friends.
After the battle a prophet said when the time was needed most there will be another 13th legion who will beat back the evil in the land. These members shall never know a mother. They shall be distinguished by their armor. They will wear the armor of the 13th legion.
Gurmble thought is sounded preposterous. In this sense Gurmble himself would be a member of the “new” 13th legion. How could anyone else be a member? He knew himself that everyone else of the 13th legion had died a long time ago. Except for one elf. He hadn’t heard from him in a long time. So for all he knew he was dead as well. He had no children, so that would mean there was only him left. Yea an awe inspiring 13th legion! Gurmble chuckled to himself at this.
He was hammering away at the piece of metal in front of him when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find the owner of the shop giving him a weird look. Gurmble nodded his head in recognition that he was listening. “You have a visitor. He says his grandfather knew your father. He is also wearing leather armor that looks very familiar. I just can’t place it.” Said the blacksmith.
Gurmble looked at him, nodded, dropped his tools, and walked toward the front of the smithy. Standing at the front counter wearing a dusty moth ridden leather armor stood a half-elf. He wasn’t a very regal looking half-elf. Standing about five foot six. He was thin and athletic looking. He had an air about him that suggested he was more at home in the woods then in a city like this. His blonde hair fell down to the middle of his back and his eyes were a blue the color of a mid-day sky.
Gurmble strolled up to the half-elf. “What is it you’re looking for? And please make it quick I have a lot to do if you haven’t noticed.”
“I shall try. My name is Elderist and I am looking for a dwarf by the name of Rathbun Proudhammer. I keep getting told that he resides in the graveyard. This cannot be. I just wanted to let him know that my father has died. My father thought that I should learn about my Granfather from Rathbun, My grandfather was a member of the 13th legion. Luckily I was told later that Rathbun had a son. But people are really not that helpful here. I feel like I have been going around in circles for half a day.”
“Well you now happen to be standing in front of his son. That armor you have on looks familiar turn around for me so I can see it better.” Said Gurmble. Elderist then turned around and that is when Gurmble noticed the mark that he was searching for. The number 13 under the collar in the back. “Who gave you that armor Elderist?”
“My father gave it to me. He said it was the same armor that my grandfather wore