Collect your gear from Smitty.

You left your gear with Smitty, the camp’s blacksmith two days ago for the usual maintenance and care. You decided to go collect it.

You threw on a sleeveless tunic and pulled on a fresh pair of pants. Then you trudged out of your tent and descended the crude stone steps down the hill to the base camp.

The base camp, or ‘the pit’ as it was known, was bustling with activity as usual. There were scores of brigands drinking outside Dug’s tavern. They were cheering and hooting as two wet-ears wrestled each other drunkenly in the mud before the tavern.

You moved on and came across Mama Gisele’s shag tent. A trio of scantily clad human women was standing outside the entrance. They whistled and called out to you as you came along.

“Hey handsome! Heard you just turned 18!” One of the whores cooed.

Mama Gisele, a plump, matronly dwarven woman with too much makeup, came out of the entrance and noticed you. She cupped her hands to her mouth and hollered, “We got some new girls available from the recent raid! Fresh! Haven’t been broken in yet. How about giving them a taste of that big spear in your pants, Gus!”

You chuckled, “Maybe later, Mama.”

Mama Gisele made a pouty face, but immediately shifted her attention to the next couple of brigands who strolled around.

You kept going and walked past Jed’s Cantina. A long queue had formed for whatever mystery-meat slop that Jed had stirred together into a pot today. You made a mental note to stop by later. Your recent successful job at the Bonnet Farm meant that there would be fresh ingredients for at least a couple of weeks, so Jed’s chow might actually be edible for the time being.

Smitty’s Smithy was at the opposite end of the pit. Smitty was a blue orc and had been the band’s smith for a better part of two years. He wasn’t bad at his job, just often unmotivated and lazy.

You stepped up to the shop and spotted Smitty sitting in a chair, nodding off. When he noticed you approach, Smitty quickly got up to greet you.

“Ayyy, Hellooo Gus. How Smitty help?”

Smitty was older than you, but still pretty young. He was about 24 years old. The thing you have noticed about other orcs is that they still tend to speak like retarded ten-year-olds. The younger they are, the worse their language skills. This is to be expected as their mental development haven’t yet quite caught up with their age. Take Smitty for example. 24-years-old in orc-years means that he has had just about 12 years of existence. Even human children need more time than that to develop a full vocabulary.

You’re a special case of course, having been reincarnated with your language skills intact.

“Hello Smitty,” you said, “I need my gear. Are they all sharpened and oiled?”

Smitty bobbed his head up and down like an excited child. “All done, Gus. Smitty do yours first, always before other jobs.”

You smiled. “That’s what I like to hear, Smitty,” you said as you placed three silver coins on the table. “A little extra as usual, for the good service.”

Smitty grinned and scooped the three coins into his palm. Then he shambled away to a chest to retrieve your equipment.

Smitty returned shortly with a sackcloth containing your gear and laid them out on the counter. You picked up your well oiled leather cuirass and promptly strapped them on. Next you put on your utility belts, and boots.

Then you moved on to the metal. You equipped two long daggers, six knives, two hand-axes, a pair of leather gauntlets with studded steel knuckles, and your favorite weapon, a cruelly crafted heavy black cleaver that you named Black Mary.

Lastly, you picked up your personal custom-made ranged weapon which you had made from memory of your past life. It was a slingshot. You found it to be far more portable than bows and your telekinesis easily made up for its lack of power compared to bows. Even better, your telekinesis could accelerate your shots to the degree that they are comparable to high-powered firearm bullets from your past life.

Smitty came up to you and placed a leather bag of metal balls on the counter. The balls were made from high-grade steel that you had provided to Smitty. It would serve as ammunition for your slingshot.

“You ask for this. Smitty make,” Smitty said.

“That’s excellent, Smitty,” you replied, flipping another silver coin onto the table.