The Baradozian Wheeled Thunder.

Post our eating and drinking tea at the Elderanian greasy spoon, we fared onwards to our last purchase, and that was a truck. The first place we saw as we wandered the streets of the great city of Neydren, we wander into this shady automotive dealership that was recommended by the cafe owner and cheaper than renting a truck for a few weeks.

The first thing we see is a sharp-eared, blue-skinned dwarf of very stocky and strong stature, in a uniform that is similar to the Baradoziak Union. The dwarven-dark elf soviets have a violent history of striking against the orcs and often having cheap and reliable machinery. No doubt their trucks surely will run easily!

The dwarf came from behind his desk and greeted us with a proud salute "Pravit Davarisch, what is it you seek from this auto shop?" He inquired in his thick, Baradoziak accent.

"Pravit to you too, why are you, a Baradoziak Soviet in a place like this?"

"Automotive ambassador, my friend. We need money for the war effort so our soldiers are paid properly and we can trade with other nations."

Our dwarven companion, Harold, nods and then asks, "We need a truck that is heavy duty. We want something that can carry tons of heavy metals from point A to point B and is All-Terrain. Emphasis on All."

"Da, da, very well, come with me!" He said with a swell of pride inside him as we followed behind, "Davai! Here we are!" He then pulls the covering from a brand-new truck marked with the red star and written in Baradoziak cyrilic was ID numbers and writing of how to enter the truck and such, from what he said to us.

"This truck is fresh from the factory, no miles and to throw in extra because our nations share a common enemy." This mad dwarf then brought out two boxes of ammo and Derekova carbines and throwing them on the back of the truck, which led me to inquire, "Why give us such gifts like your state-of-the-art rifles?"

"Our production has been through the roof since the beginning of the Great Preservation War and this has led to our over-producing of these rifles since many of them were meant for most of our soldiers. There has been constant preferences from our men to our older rifles, as they have been slightly more reliable and easier to clean." He explains while checking one rifle for any sort of malfunctions, then adding, "Plus you never know what is out on those Elderian fjords."

I bobbed my head and then asked, "Very well, how much do you want for the truck?"

"For a soldier like you and that snow elf. Two thousand for this truck, after all, is a more recent model that is used for carrying shells and artillery cannon barrels,"

"Sounds fair but how did you know Ari and I were troops?"

"Scars, the way you carry yourselves and I know for a fact that every young person from the Kingdom Isles has served in conscription for five years since the beginning of this war." He then asks, "Before you purchase the truck and do any of you have a truck driving license?" He asked curiously, before Ari and I replied, "Yes!"

"Very well, may I see them?" He asks and holds out his hand and we both hand our truck driving licenses to him as he skims them quickly and returns them before nodding "Then who is buying?"

Harold then affirms, slightly bitterly, "I am, fellow dwarf." He said before pulling out his cheque book and writing the amount before handing it over and then nodding to the Baradozian "I wish you the best of luck on your travels. I hope our nation's proud engineering keeps you safe." The Soviet Dwarf salutes and I salute back in Isle fashion, even if off duty and retired, shaking his hand.

We got the keys and then started up the engine as the shutter rolls up and then we were off to return home in our new truck. The scent of Drenov leather and Baradozian oil and steel was a pleasant scent and reminded me of the duties I used to have.

We switched on the radio to entertain us while we drove back to The Creaky Dirigible and then parked up on the opposite curb since the police were still around even though they took away the body and cleaned the scene up.

We disembarked the truck since the police seemed to of signed off the death and stabbing of the orc last night as self-defence and a spy attack which never surprised me they were going to do since I heard on the radio that the local Elderanians and Elderanian orcs have been increasingly hostile and violent to orcs of foreign lands and signing off most foreign orc attacks and murders as either self-defence or countering the spy threat at large.

We entered the inn through the front door as the police showed it was safe to go into the bar once they questioned us before we headed inside the inn with a stretch as we then noticed our Aunty Irene behind the bar with a smile but she still looked a tad banged up but the medicine improved her condition considerably as she asked: "How did the equipment search go?"

"We have gained a truck and have some equipment delivered tomorrow from the mountaineering shop," Ari said with a smirk.

Irene asks curiously "Oh? Do you have a spare harness?"

"W-why do you ask?" Harold asked, nervously.

"Because I'm coming with you lot! I'm sick of being cooped up in this inn for long enough." She replied, seemingly stroppy, as her face showed her agitation with being isolated for so long and maybe during the time I left her alone, she reconsidered staying.

"I'm not letting you kids risk your lives for these artifacts and I need to get out again from this city," She declared while standing up from her position.

"Who's going to cover for you while you are away?" I asked, concerned about her business.

"Yennivar. She's a good friend of mine." She said, while heading upstairs. We followed as we headed into our room and began putting our clothes away into the suitcases, since we were likely leaving tomorrow evening or afternoon, if lucky.

After putting away of clothes, we gathered for dinner and talked our more sober Aunt through the plans before we made our way to Kjelensberg tomorrow and then retiring for the night.