Crafting, dwarf, boobs? No, not crafting.

The bus stopped in the middle of town, a middle aged man and a teenage boy stepping onto the pavement, walking into the direction of a nearby Irish pub.

“Who are we going to see, and why did we need to leave so suddenly?” John asked the man walking in front of him.

“Lad, it will all be made clear when we get inside,” the man walking in front of him said with the unmistakable voice of Old Fred.

John saw the name on the window: ‘The Guinness Shack.’ “Charming name,” he stated without much enthusiasm. The moment they walked through the door, a popup appeared in front of John.

You have entered a barrier.
Welcome to the Dwarven Vault.
You can leave whenever you want.

When John looked around, he found that they were in the middle of a spacious hall, large, beautifully hewn pillars holding up the ceiling tens of meters above them. Behind him was a big, decorated door, carved with small, stout figures battling dragons, snakes and other scaly creatures. Multiple doors of the same kind lined the wall next to it, roughly 10 or so in total. Torches were placed in sconces all around the hall, giving plenty of light to see the patrons of the bar sitting around small, round tables. The one thing they all had in common was that they were smaller than humans. Gnomes, goblins and dwarves were mingling, drinking and chatting all around the hall.

Old Fred took off his wristwatch, storing it into his beard while the illusion surrounding him got dispelled. “Welcome to the Dwarven Vault, laddy. The best pub ran by little folks in the entire US of A.” John quickly picked up Jack as the dwarf started guiding John through the hubbub of people, making his way to the bar. “Is Ilis around?” Fred asked the bartender.

The gnome looked up, recognized him and pointed at one of the hallways. “In her workshop,” he said in an almost painfully high voice, before going back to wiping the glass he was cleaning.

Fred waved for John to follow, the hallway big enough for three men to walk next to each other and four of them to be stacked on top of each other.

“Lad, I am taking you to see a friend o’mine. Ilis Stoutpeak. The lass is very dear to me, you can consider me to be her uncle, though not by blood. She and I had a little talk yesterday, and well. She might be better at explaining this than I am. But the man she works for is interested in ya,” the dwarf spoke with a grin, nodding at a few passing dwarves, leading John further and further into the hallway.
The hall split off left and right a few times, but Fredrick knew where he was going. Eventually, they arrived in front of a big cast iron door. Fred knocked twice before pushing it open and entering the room.

John followed behind him, making sure to hold onto Jack as the loud thudding of machinery flowed out into the hallway. The inside of the workshop was cluttered with pieces of metal laying about; springs, tools, metals of all kinds were thrown around in a disorderly mess. In the middle of the room, a stout, busty dwarf was drilling a hole into a sheet of metal. When she was done, Fred stepped up in front of her, waving at her and then pointing at a nearby machine that was producing a lot of noise.

As the woman looked up and pointed a remote control at the machine, John cast Observe on her.

When the machine stopped making noise, Fred gestured at John. “Ilis, lassy, I brought you John Newman, The Gamer,” Fred said with a grin, pulling John closer to the table.

“Hi,” John said awkwardly, petting Jack who mewed lazily.

John gave her a quick look over, taking her small but curvy body in. She was a dwarf, broad shoulders, short legs, but her curves were nothing to scoff at; her big, mouth watering breasts were neatly confined into a leather and cloth top. The cups were made from leather while cloth connected them together and covered most of her stomach. Her hips were wide, accentuated by a belt that was straining to keep her denim pants up. The thing that intrigued John was the cog shaped belt buckle in the middle; it was a neat little design. Her feet were clad in leather boots with a bit of the fur lining spilling from the top, two strips of iron covering the top of her foot, probably to prevent falling metal from crushing them. Her hands were covered by leather, fingerless gloves, neatly covering most of her lower arm, stopping just short of her elbows. And finally her face: she had a pretty, youthful face. Short blonde hair kept in two messy tails, one on each side of her head, sparkling blue eyes and a cute, small nose. Her teeth were nibbling on her lower lip as she looked him over too.

“Hi, you are John?” she asked in a curious tone, looking him down, then up, up, up. Almost putting her head in her neck to look him in the eye. “Sit down!” she suddenly commanded, pointing at a group of chairs. “You sure he is the one I’m looking for, Uncle Fred?” she asked as they moved to sit.

John felt a bit cramped as he sat down on the tiny chair, but when it didn’t break, he was happy enough.

“Aye, lassy, I am sure,” old Fred nodded. “You said your boss told you to look for a late bloomer in America with, and I quote, ‘incredible learning ability that don’t seem to fit him at all.’”

“Hey!” John cried out, promptly getting ignored.

“I saw it, lassy. He can create skills from doing something for a bit. He spent half an hour hammering a piece of iron, and suddenly his entire posture changed. His hands moved as if he had been smithing for a year or three. This being the end result.” Old Fred tossed the arrowhead John had made to the girl.

Ilis pulled a magnifying glass from her pocket, inspecting the arrowhead for a bit. Then she looked at John. “You made this?” Her tone still curious.

“Ehm, yeah, I did. I hit craft, and well, my body moved on it’s own. Then that came out,” he said with a shrug, not really sure why it was such a big deal or why he was here in the first place.

“Then I think I might have found you indeed! Good!” Ilis smiled widely, handing the arrowhead back to Fred. After putting the magnifying glass away, she looked at John. “I owe you an explanation. My name is Ilis, Ilis Stoutpeak, engineer by trade. Recently, I joined a newly formed organisation. And well, our leader tasked a few followers, including me, with finding you. He needs to have a word with you about something you did in the past?” she gave him a curious glance. “I am not really sure what you did; I mean, uncle Fred told me you only got your powers recently. But, I hope you will do me a favour and at least talk to him.”

“I’d consider it a personal favor if you did, lad. Do this for my lil niece, and I will give you a set of armor on the house. How does that sound?” Old Fred added as he rubbed his glasses with a dirty handkerchief.

“Ehm, I don’t feel like I have much choice here, but… Sure? Can I ask you one question though? Who the hell is your boss!?”

Author note: To celebrate the fact that I have survived yet another year on this planet tomorrow(april 9th) I am giving out an extra chapter today. Normally I tend to upload one every 2 days, keeps it manageable for me and gives you guys something to look forward to. So rejoice!