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[Thief/Open] Garan heads to the Forge
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Troshen
Mar 30, 2018, 4:25:52 AM3/30/18
to
[Admin]
So this is a thread about Renik the Slip trying to steal from the Firehammer family. Or at least stir up some trouble. No plot, structure, or commitment, just fun to see where it goes. Open at any time for even a single post by anyone.
[Garan]
[Garan]
The next day after the events at the Bauer farm, Garan slept in late. But he was up mid-morning. Forge had invited him over to sharpen the axe, and it was always better to get the weapons and armor repaired after the last battle, and not right before the next one. So many times that next battle came too soon, before you were ready.
Nothing worse than starting a battle and realizing your armor had holes in it!
And so Garan picked up his chain hauberk, helmet, and his great black axe, and headed downstairs. He left Finast asleep. As he headed out he and Fawn said a few good mornings, and then he left the Inn, headed in the direction of the Firehammer Forge.
So this is a thread about Renik the Slip trying to steal from the Firehammer family. Or at least stir up some trouble. No plot, structure, or commitment, just fun to see where it goes. Open at any time for even a single post by anyone.
[Garan]
[Garan]
The next day after the events at the Bauer farm, Garan slept in late. But he was up mid-morning. Forge had invited him over to sharpen the axe, and it was always better to get the weapons and armor repaired after the last battle, and not right before the next one. So many times that next battle came too soon, before you were ready.
Nothing worse than starting a battle and realizing your armor had holes in it!
And so Garan picked up his chain hauberk, helmet, and his great black axe, and headed downstairs. He left Finast asleep. As he headed out he and Fawn said a few good mornings, and then he left the Inn, headed in the direction of the Firehammer Forge.
Troshen
Apr 6, 2018, 2:12:57 PM4/6/18
to
[Garan]
The big warrior wore his chain hauberk. It was easier just to wear it rather than to take it off and carry it, even though not wearing it would have been more comfortable. Chainmail tunics in general are bulky, and for someone like Garan, even more so.
His leg having been set in a cast the previous day, Garan had been warned to stay off his leg. And so he sat outside the Inn's door, waiting. Eventually a farm wagon came by, going in the right direction. He flagged down the farmer, and using his axe as a makeshift crutch, he climbed up into the wagon.
He winced often as the wagon trundled along. Chatting idly with the farmer revealed that he had been friends with the Bauer family, and had known them well.
"Horrible thing that. Thanks you for what you did." He said, meeting Garan's eyes, and wearing a serious expression.
Garan nodded.
At Firehammer Arms, he got off, walking slowly, trying to keep his weight off the broken leg. When he arrived at the door, he knocked, calling,
"Good morning! Good morning!," he said in his gravelly voice. "I'm here to see Forge Firehammer."
ShadoJohn
Apr 7, 2018, 7:14:00 PM4/7/18
to
[Sparky]
Across the street from the FireHammer Arms and down a little ways was a small no-name park, predominately a small pond where Ash could catch some frogs and thick green hedges good for hiding in. Normally the park was empty, except for the occasional lovers stroll or an old man come to feed the ducks that were rarely ever there. Lately, more often than not, to Ash’s displeasure, one of the park benches was occupied by an old lady crying and blowing her nose in a hankie. Montfort has been odd since the attack of whatever those frigid creatures were.
Ash heard the FireHammer dogs barking again; Thunder’s bark was very recognizable and ear piercing. Lightning joined in as usual, her bark was less annoying but she usually didn’t know what they were barking at so she kept running hither and yon. Ash wanted to name her Echo, but Magna wanted to call her Lightning, and as always bossy Magna got her way. Thunder and Echo made as much sense as Thunder and Lightning.
On his hands and knees Ash peeked around the corner to see what the dogs were barking at. The big warrior involved in the towns rescue was approaching the smithy using a large battle-axe for a crutch. Almost without thinking, Ash started to scurry out from under the concealing bush, but he stopped himself and watched the excitement from the shadows.
The problem with living were you work is some people want you to work all the time; Ash’s family was a bunch of worker bees. Papa was pretty good about it, while he was a non-stop worker himself, he often let Ash off to play saying, “Boys got to be boys.” But if you sat around looking bored he put you to work quickly enough, or Mama would make you practice your numbers or something equally as dull. The worst one by far was Magna, always giving orders and hunting down his hiding places. She was a true slave driver to be avoided at all times.
Growing bored of watching Pa conduct business, Ash retreated deeper into the small park retrieving his captured frog and the spool of copper thread he pinched from the smithy stores. With the copper securely tied about the frog’s foot and the thread hidden under a thin layer of bark and torn grass, it was time to hide and wait with a length of the copper in-hand.
The first time Ash did this, he lost control of his power and the frog was quickly cooked as it jumped about among a shower of sparks, exploding in the end. His screaming sisters, the stench, and the horrid smell got him in a lot of trouble, that and the mess it made in the back of the smithy. Suddenly Pa wasn’t as lenient, and his sisters started calling him Sparky. He didn’t mind the nickname, but scrubbing the stock area clean was a nightmare; little charred bits of frog flew everywhere. Pa, and especially Magna, was adamant that he cleaned up every little speck. That was last summer, and to this day she still complains of smelling rotting frog parts.
Ash settled in under a flowering bush and waited. This time the trick had to be more fun, maybe he could make it explode on purpose, he wouldn’t have to clean the mess here.
* * *
His ears listened to rhythmic bang of his hammer, the tone changing ever so slightly as the sword blade slowly took shape. The subtle glow and the creeping gray announced when it was ready to be quenched. As the bath bubbled and hissed Forge noticed his eldest daughter through the roiling cloud of steam.
Stripping off his thick gloves, Forge laid them upon his anvil and approached Magna quietly watching him. She held a blanket tightly closed below her throat. Her colorful hair was severely bedraggled, and her eyes were heavy lidded and puffy, showing a clear need for more sleep. “What are you doing up? Mama said you’d sleep for several days.”
“I’m tired of sleeping, my bed is making me sore,” Magna complained stretching and moving a hand under the blanket. “I think Whack broke some of my ribs.”
“None of your bones are broken, we checked you out. Maybe you need a new bed,” Forge said fetching a stool from the assembly table and urging his daughter to sit.
“I’m fine, Papa. I want to stand for a while and feel the heat from the forge,” Magna said nonetheless resting her rump on the stool and looking worried. “Papa, are you angry at me?”
“What?” Forge looked up from fussing about, genuinely shocked. “Why would you ask that?”
“Well … I was naked … until Whack dressed me, and … and I was going to kill a girl, but … Whack wouldn’t let me. Do you think I was wrong … being evil?” she asked with liquid eyes. Forge wrapped an arm about her and spoke softly.
“It would be wrong for me, or anyone who wasn’t there, to say what you should have done. You said yourself that the lot of you made your choices, and everyone does so from their own perspective. Afterwards we see with a different clarity. You and Huard are both my children and I love you both, and am proud of both of you.”
The dogs started their high pitched excited barking, announcing a visitor, or at least somebody on their property. A moment later they heard a knock at the door and a man’s deep voice. "Good morning! Good morning! I'm here to see Forge FireHammer."
“I’ll be right back,” Forge said with a quick hug and headed for the door.
Stepping outside into the early afternoon sunshine he was greeted with a giant of a man using his axe as a crutch, and the ear piercing sound of two dogs barking. “Thunder, Lightning. Hush. Wagon, go.” The two mid-sized white dogs instantly stopped their barking and went back to their positions under the unused wagon.
“Garan, this is an afternoon of surprises, Magna just got up too. Come on in, and take your weight off that leg. I have a stool your size.”
Across the street from the FireHammer Arms and down a little ways was a small no-name park, predominately a small pond where Ash could catch some frogs and thick green hedges good for hiding in. Normally the park was empty, except for the occasional lovers stroll or an old man come to feed the ducks that were rarely ever there. Lately, more often than not, to Ash’s displeasure, one of the park benches was occupied by an old lady crying and blowing her nose in a hankie. Montfort has been odd since the attack of whatever those frigid creatures were.
Ash heard the FireHammer dogs barking again; Thunder’s bark was very recognizable and ear piercing. Lightning joined in as usual, her bark was less annoying but she usually didn’t know what they were barking at so she kept running hither and yon. Ash wanted to name her Echo, but Magna wanted to call her Lightning, and as always bossy Magna got her way. Thunder and Echo made as much sense as Thunder and Lightning.
On his hands and knees Ash peeked around the corner to see what the dogs were barking at. The big warrior involved in the towns rescue was approaching the smithy using a large battle-axe for a crutch. Almost without thinking, Ash started to scurry out from under the concealing bush, but he stopped himself and watched the excitement from the shadows.
The problem with living were you work is some people want you to work all the time; Ash’s family was a bunch of worker bees. Papa was pretty good about it, while he was a non-stop worker himself, he often let Ash off to play saying, “Boys got to be boys.” But if you sat around looking bored he put you to work quickly enough, or Mama would make you practice your numbers or something equally as dull. The worst one by far was Magna, always giving orders and hunting down his hiding places. She was a true slave driver to be avoided at all times.
Growing bored of watching Pa conduct business, Ash retreated deeper into the small park retrieving his captured frog and the spool of copper thread he pinched from the smithy stores. With the copper securely tied about the frog’s foot and the thread hidden under a thin layer of bark and torn grass, it was time to hide and wait with a length of the copper in-hand.
The first time Ash did this, he lost control of his power and the frog was quickly cooked as it jumped about among a shower of sparks, exploding in the end. His screaming sisters, the stench, and the horrid smell got him in a lot of trouble, that and the mess it made in the back of the smithy. Suddenly Pa wasn’t as lenient, and his sisters started calling him Sparky. He didn’t mind the nickname, but scrubbing the stock area clean was a nightmare; little charred bits of frog flew everywhere. Pa, and especially Magna, was adamant that he cleaned up every little speck. That was last summer, and to this day she still complains of smelling rotting frog parts.
Ash settled in under a flowering bush and waited. This time the trick had to be more fun, maybe he could make it explode on purpose, he wouldn’t have to clean the mess here.
* * *
His ears listened to rhythmic bang of his hammer, the tone changing ever so slightly as the sword blade slowly took shape. The subtle glow and the creeping gray announced when it was ready to be quenched. As the bath bubbled and hissed Forge noticed his eldest daughter through the roiling cloud of steam.
Stripping off his thick gloves, Forge laid them upon his anvil and approached Magna quietly watching him. She held a blanket tightly closed below her throat. Her colorful hair was severely bedraggled, and her eyes were heavy lidded and puffy, showing a clear need for more sleep. “What are you doing up? Mama said you’d sleep for several days.”
“I’m tired of sleeping, my bed is making me sore,” Magna complained stretching and moving a hand under the blanket. “I think Whack broke some of my ribs.”
“None of your bones are broken, we checked you out. Maybe you need a new bed,” Forge said fetching a stool from the assembly table and urging his daughter to sit.
“I’m fine, Papa. I want to stand for a while and feel the heat from the forge,” Magna said nonetheless resting her rump on the stool and looking worried. “Papa, are you angry at me?”
“What?” Forge looked up from fussing about, genuinely shocked. “Why would you ask that?”
“Well … I was naked … until Whack dressed me, and … and I was going to kill a girl, but … Whack wouldn’t let me. Do you think I was wrong … being evil?” she asked with liquid eyes. Forge wrapped an arm about her and spoke softly.
“It would be wrong for me, or anyone who wasn’t there, to say what you should have done. You said yourself that the lot of you made your choices, and everyone does so from their own perspective. Afterwards we see with a different clarity. You and Huard are both my children and I love you both, and am proud of both of you.”
The dogs started their high pitched excited barking, announcing a visitor, or at least somebody on their property. A moment later they heard a knock at the door and a man’s deep voice. "Good morning! Good morning! I'm here to see Forge FireHammer."
“I’ll be right back,” Forge said with a quick hug and headed for the door.
Stepping outside into the early afternoon sunshine he was greeted with a giant of a man using his axe as a crutch, and the ear piercing sound of two dogs barking. “Thunder, Lightning. Hush. Wagon, go.” The two mid-sized white dogs instantly stopped their barking and went back to their positions under the unused wagon.
“Garan, this is an afternoon of surprises, Magna just got up too. Come on in, and take your weight off that leg. I have a stool your size.”
Troshen
Apr 9, 2018, 3:16:44 AM4/9/18
to
[Garan Gynal, formerly of Jagar's Free Company]
" 'Lo Magna," Garan said with a gentle smile. He'd grown fond of the lass.
Garan first pulled off his hauberk, and then sighed as he sat down.
"Ahhhh, yep, that's better. Chirurgeon says it'll take weeks to heal," he grumped. His voice was deep and gravelly. He frowned at his cast.
"How he expects me to plant my feet and swing an axe with this fool thing on m'leg, I'll never know." He shook his head at the imposition and chafed at the restrictions as he lifted in up onto a chair.
"I've gotta get some magical healer involved. Just no way I'm gonna be out of it all that time." He shook his head and glowered at his leg, personally affronted.
His cast was the usual white plaster. It had a couple get well notes and signatures and things on it. One in children's script read "Thanks for saving my mom! Jarod." Another read "Get well soon, big guy! Love, Tierna." That one had a heart next to it, and was written in a feminine hand.
Now at eye level with Forge, he reached out to shake hands. He'd wanted to not be looming over the blacksmith. Jagar had always hated that.
"Gynal's the name. Garan Gynal. Finast'n I're from Bairvan, on the south cost."
From his shoulder, he shrugged off a bag and a long waterproof scroll case. Out of the bag he took his padded arming cap, and the chain coif and helmet that went with it. Also his red surcoat with the two crossed black axes on it. The crossed black axes on the red field were the sign of Jagar's Free Company. If Forge knew that group of mercenaries, he would know several things. They were honorable, very successful, brutal in battle, and partied very, very hard. They were led by Jagar and his brother Junnek.
Garan set them on a convenient table next to the hauberk. The helmet had many scratches, cuts, and dents. The coif had quite a few damaged links in it. Neither was rusty - they were well oiled. Just not repaired. The hauberk also had many damaged links, some were recent from the battle with the imps, with clear cuts from sharp icy fingers. Other had an older look with edges that were less well defined and had spread farther apart over time.
Garan grimaced.
"I should have been repairing the links a little at a time, as they happen. That's how Jagar taught me. But it's been a long time since I sat as a squire, mending someone elses mail. It's tedious and tiny work," he said.
He held up his hands, their backs towards Forge.
"And it's not like dwarven mail is easy for me to work with." he said, grinning at the size of his hands. "I really need to hire myself a squire."
That done, he also laid his axe on the table next to them. Now the helm and hauberk were of normal make, of good quality. But the axe was something else, something far, far above them. To Forge's trained eye, it was obvious as a dwarven pole-axe, designed to be wielded two handed by Dwarven warriors. The shaft was completely metal, reinforced so that it could not be cut by any blade. The two handed grip was designed for its original owners, and so was just slightly too large for Garan's one hand. Above the grip on the shaft, marks from long use could be seen where he placed his offhand when he swung it two-handed. He used it both with one hand sometimes, but with two when a great, full force, splitting stroke was needed. The blade was a bearded axe blade with the cutting blade curving back down towards the shaft. The surface of the entire axe was matte black reflecting very no light at all. Following the curve of the bearded blade, the dwarven runes "Thus Endeth All Sorcery" ran along an engraved path. They were in a script that was ancient even to Forge's dwarven eyes.
By his experience, Forge was able to see that it came from the mastersmiths of the dwarven kingdom of Meguhlekar in their attempt to overthrow the murderous Thane and dwarven warrior mage Dunekar the Cruel.
If he knew Jagar's Free Compnay, he would also know that each of the brothers had an axe like this. There were two, and only two, outside of hoards and treasuries. This axe was a relic. An artifact of the ancient world. It's master would be either Jagar or Junnek, and no one else alive. Or dead.
No normal weapons or armor could even have dented this blade, but now its edge was nicked and gouged like any normal swordblade after any normal battle. Garan guessed Forge would be interested.
"See those there?" He pointed at the axe's edge. "It was the imps and that glacier demon. I've never seen it like that before. It usually cuts clean without a single mark, no matter the target. Wood, metal, you name it." He had been about to say bone, but didn't, what with Magna there. "But these beasts? They were something else entirely.
Garan didn't mention the map case for now, with the conversation on the weapons and armor. He would get to that later on. So he finished with,
"So, what do you think? I could use your help."
" 'Lo Magna," Garan said with a gentle smile. He'd grown fond of the lass.
Garan first pulled off his hauberk, and then sighed as he sat down.
"Ahhhh, yep, that's better. Chirurgeon says it'll take weeks to heal," he grumped. His voice was deep and gravelly. He frowned at his cast.
"How he expects me to plant my feet and swing an axe with this fool thing on m'leg, I'll never know." He shook his head at the imposition and chafed at the restrictions as he lifted in up onto a chair.
"I've gotta get some magical healer involved. Just no way I'm gonna be out of it all that time." He shook his head and glowered at his leg, personally affronted.
His cast was the usual white plaster. It had a couple get well notes and signatures and things on it. One in children's script read "Thanks for saving my mom! Jarod." Another read "Get well soon, big guy! Love, Tierna." That one had a heart next to it, and was written in a feminine hand.
Now at eye level with Forge, he reached out to shake hands. He'd wanted to not be looming over the blacksmith. Jagar had always hated that.
"Gynal's the name. Garan Gynal. Finast'n I're from Bairvan, on the south cost."
From his shoulder, he shrugged off a bag and a long waterproof scroll case. Out of the bag he took his padded arming cap, and the chain coif and helmet that went with it. Also his red surcoat with the two crossed black axes on it. The crossed black axes on the red field were the sign of Jagar's Free Company. If Forge knew that group of mercenaries, he would know several things. They were honorable, very successful, brutal in battle, and partied very, very hard. They were led by Jagar and his brother Junnek.
Garan set them on a convenient table next to the hauberk. The helmet had many scratches, cuts, and dents. The coif had quite a few damaged links in it. Neither was rusty - they were well oiled. Just not repaired. The hauberk also had many damaged links, some were recent from the battle with the imps, with clear cuts from sharp icy fingers. Other had an older look with edges that were less well defined and had spread farther apart over time.
Garan grimaced.
"I should have been repairing the links a little at a time, as they happen. That's how Jagar taught me. But it's been a long time since I sat as a squire, mending someone elses mail. It's tedious and tiny work," he said.
He held up his hands, their backs towards Forge.
"And it's not like dwarven mail is easy for me to work with." he said, grinning at the size of his hands. "I really need to hire myself a squire."
That done, he also laid his axe on the table next to them. Now the helm and hauberk were of normal make, of good quality. But the axe was something else, something far, far above them. To Forge's trained eye, it was obvious as a dwarven pole-axe, designed to be wielded two handed by Dwarven warriors. The shaft was completely metal, reinforced so that it could not be cut by any blade. The two handed grip was designed for its original owners, and so was just slightly too large for Garan's one hand. Above the grip on the shaft, marks from long use could be seen where he placed his offhand when he swung it two-handed. He used it both with one hand sometimes, but with two when a great, full force, splitting stroke was needed. The blade was a bearded axe blade with the cutting blade curving back down towards the shaft. The surface of the entire axe was matte black reflecting very no light at all. Following the curve of the bearded blade, the dwarven runes "Thus Endeth All Sorcery" ran along an engraved path. They were in a script that was ancient even to Forge's dwarven eyes.
By his experience, Forge was able to see that it came from the mastersmiths of the dwarven kingdom of Meguhlekar in their attempt to overthrow the murderous Thane and dwarven warrior mage Dunekar the Cruel.
If he knew Jagar's Free Compnay, he would also know that each of the brothers had an axe like this. There were two, and only two, outside of hoards and treasuries. This axe was a relic. An artifact of the ancient world. It's master would be either Jagar or Junnek, and no one else alive. Or dead.
No normal weapons or armor could even have dented this blade, but now its edge was nicked and gouged like any normal swordblade after any normal battle. Garan guessed Forge would be interested.
"See those there?" He pointed at the axe's edge. "It was the imps and that glacier demon. I've never seen it like that before. It usually cuts clean without a single mark, no matter the target. Wood, metal, you name it." He had been about to say bone, but didn't, what with Magna there. "But these beasts? They were something else entirely.
Garan didn't mention the map case for now, with the conversation on the weapons and armor. He would get to that later on. So he finished with,
"So, what do you think? I could use your help."
Troshen
Apr 9, 2018, 5:01:29 AM4/9/18
to
[Renik The Slip]
Renik the Slip and his old crew member Maikal walked the streets of Montfort. It had been a long time since Maikal had moved on, but Renik had decided to trust him.
That did NOT mean he wouldn't guard himself though. On the streets you always watched your back.
Right now they were walking towards Firehammer Forge.
"So how'd it go down? You lose at the dog track again, or what?" said Renik, not really expecting that to be it. But Maikal got red around the ears.
"Whaaaaaat? Again?" He shoved his friend, hard. Maikal stood straight
again and got hot,
"Hey!"
"Oh stop, you deserve what you get." Renik barked. "You know you 'aint got wot but coin on the brain when it comes ta racin'. I thought you was done with that'all madness. I thought I taught you , The House Always Wins"
"Aye" Maikal said, downcast.
"Well then?" Renik asked.
"But Snowmayne said his dogs were a sure thing....." Maikal said lamely. Renik's eyes widened.
"Snowmayne!?" he said derisively. "That faker? That trumped up nobody? He got some white cat's hide over his shoulders and now he's some grand poohbah? You're running with HIS crew? He's nothing!"
"Not any more," Maikal shook his head. "Not anymore. He's in with someone with real power this time, Ren. Real power. They're up at Northend. It's steady pay up there now, for them as work for them. No more show. No more faking. It's all gone quiet, except for who crosses them. And those just go missing."
Renik grunted.
They walked for a while in silence. Finally Renik spoke.
"So, what does "Snowmayne" want you to steal?" he said the name with scorn.
Maikal quoted,
"'A sword, or an axe. Some kind of weapon. The best they have you can find.' sez' Snowmayne."
"And why does he want it?" Renik asked.
"He's angry at 'em, he said. Will serve'em right, said he. Said they sold'im a bum sword. Think they stiffed him or something. Like'as it was for his new boss. I'm guessing his new boss weren't too happy......" Maikal said, letting the imagination answer how the new boss reacted.
Renik grinned.
"Well let's head on down to the Forge and see what's what"
----------------------------------------------------------------
Later on, as they got closer, Renik talked again.
"Ho, Maikal, you remember Ash? The one they call Sparky?"
"Nah."
Renik shrugged. "Must have been after you left. Anyways, he's one'a their kids." The young man grinned. "I'll bet you a dollar to a donut ol' Sparks'll help us out."
The two spent some time nearby and around the Firehammer's land, generally scoping things out, watching for the dogs, staying plenty far away.
And also keeping an eye out for Ash Firehammer. Sooner or later they ended up in the park with the old lady.
"What's her problem?" asked Maikal, quietly.
"Feh, she's probably lost some of her thousand grandkids to that demon-thing," answered Renik, too loudly. He wasn't one for sympathy.
The two kept on looking. They'd find Sparky sooner or later. Renik was confident. And why not be? Things were bound to turn out good for them. And if not......
Well, he wasn't called, "The Slip," for nothing.
ShadoJohn
Apr 25, 2018, 11:36:55 PM4/25/18
to
[Inside FireHammer Arms]
Magna nodded in greeting, chastising herself in the back of her mind for not curtsying, but she was never much for following lady’s etiquette; that was Amber and Ember’s thing. More than anything, Magna was feeling gungy, tired and wanted to fade into the background, feeling out of place with her hair a mess and dressed in her nighty at mid-day. Despite being wrapped in a blanket, Magna could feel cold sweat beading all over her body, collecting into tiny runnels under her clothes. Only her interest in Garan’s gear kept her bare feet rooted in place.
Forge gently picked up the black axe and cradled it like a new born babe, treating it with the utmost of reverence. “This is very precious, it would be an honor to put a keen edge on this,” he said lovingly. “Although it may take a few days and I will need my wife’s help to do it. Nothing is quick with this level of perfection.”
“As for the rest, your gear is too fine to benefit much from field repairs,” Forge said waving a hand at the other gear upon the table, still cradling the axe like a protective father. “Lower quality gear needs repair often, but your best bet is to find a quality shop when time permits. And in that, you’re in luck, our Magna is one of the best with dwarven mail in all the realms. She has a real knack for it and that’s not just fatherly pride boasting, although there is that too.”
“Magna, what do you think?”
Clutching the blanket tight over her chest, her other hand snaked out, touching the various pieces of mail, then flew up to cover her mouth during a particularly deep yawn. “I can make it like new. Tomorrow. Today, I need a long cool bath and more time in bed.”
“Yes, of course my dear,” Forge said patting her back and getting a kiss on his cheek. Magna then shook hands with Garan per the human male tradition. She was a half dwarf half elf lass of only eighteen summers that forged her own traditions with a steel hammer.
“Please tell your mother we have a guest,” Forge said was she headed for the stairs.
“I will Papa,” Magna said with joy in her voice, then stopped and spun around.
“Master Garan, your mail should be ready tomorrow night, or the next day. And … I am sorry for the way I spoke yesterday.” The way she said it, sounded like she wasn’t sure if it was yesterday or days before. “I was still angry that so many had to die. But … um … please forgive me.”
[Sparky]
Ash watched the old lady, waiting for the right moment to shock the frog; he also debated with his budding conscience whether he should do it or not. She looked so sad. Maybe a frog jumping in her lap would make her smile. But then, maybe not, an old lady was after all a girl that grew up, and old, and sour, and saggy. Who could possibly know the mind of a sad old lady.
He decided to give it a go anyway, but before he could act the frog moved and pulled the slippery length of copper thread from Ash’s cold hand. Quickly coiling like a spring, it rolled down the bank into the frigid pond. Ash was quick enough to recover the copper thread, but now his cold hand was even colder, and wet. Worse the splash he made caught the old lady’s attention.
Alerted that she wasn’t alone, the mother of five, grandmother of sixteen, and great grandmother of several trouble makers, she quickly discovered the source of the mischief, and with amazing clarity detected the poorly hidden wire and followed it to the frog at her feet.
With the skill of a seasoned guard she swiftly kicked the frog into the pond and planted her gnarled fists upon her hips. “Who’s there? Come out and show yourself! I see you, young man.”
In a state of panic, Ash thought to create a distraction with an exploding frog, but he was still very young and ignorant. He truly didn’t understand the nature of the magic he wielded so recklessly. His mother, Sarakim, was the family expert on all things magical, and Ash suspected that even She didn’t understand the electricity he could generate. So, Ash felt justified in conducting his own experiments. He already knew that getting wet was dangerous; sparking in the rain usually shocked himself more often than his target, and sometimes he’d swear that lightning was chasing him.
Shocking the frog would have been a learning experience, if Ash knew what he did wrong. Maybe because his hand was wet, or maybe because the frog was kicked into the lake, or maybe the copper wire was too thin, all these and more crossed Ash’s inquisitive mind as he dashed out from under the bush and tried to send a strong shock down the wire.
First, he heard a series of slapping noises like strips of metal slapping a table. He saw crooked sticks of light climb up his arm, it looked slow, but he knew it was incredibly fast. Then came the pain, the pain of a nest of hornets stinging his hand, his wrist, forearm, the stinging pain danced on his triceps then jumped for his ear smarting worse than Magna’s pinches.
Screaming in pain and fear, Ash dropped the wire and ran out of the park.
“I know who you are,” the old lady yelled. “Your mother will hear of this!”
With tears wetting his eyes, Ash almost rushed home. But if the old lady told the truth, a spanking would find its way there soon. If she was bluffing, the last thing Ash wanted to do was lead her to his doorstep. Ash turned and ran the other way, away from home.
Once he was well out of sight, Ash ducked into an alley and hid behind a stack of broken-down crates. He examined the jagged red lines running up his hand and forearm, and could smell something burning. He couldn’t find the source until he felt a small burning spot of pain on top his scalp. Quickly patting it out, Ash discovered all his grayish hair was standing on end.
Magna nodded in greeting, chastising herself in the back of her mind for not curtsying, but she was never much for following lady’s etiquette; that was Amber and Ember’s thing. More than anything, Magna was feeling gungy, tired and wanted to fade into the background, feeling out of place with her hair a mess and dressed in her nighty at mid-day. Despite being wrapped in a blanket, Magna could feel cold sweat beading all over her body, collecting into tiny runnels under her clothes. Only her interest in Garan’s gear kept her bare feet rooted in place.
Forge gently picked up the black axe and cradled it like a new born babe, treating it with the utmost of reverence. “This is very precious, it would be an honor to put a keen edge on this,” he said lovingly. “Although it may take a few days and I will need my wife’s help to do it. Nothing is quick with this level of perfection.”
“As for the rest, your gear is too fine to benefit much from field repairs,” Forge said waving a hand at the other gear upon the table, still cradling the axe like a protective father. “Lower quality gear needs repair often, but your best bet is to find a quality shop when time permits. And in that, you’re in luck, our Magna is one of the best with dwarven mail in all the realms. She has a real knack for it and that’s not just fatherly pride boasting, although there is that too.”
“Magna, what do you think?”
Clutching the blanket tight over her chest, her other hand snaked out, touching the various pieces of mail, then flew up to cover her mouth during a particularly deep yawn. “I can make it like new. Tomorrow. Today, I need a long cool bath and more time in bed.”
“Yes, of course my dear,” Forge said patting her back and getting a kiss on his cheek. Magna then shook hands with Garan per the human male tradition. She was a half dwarf half elf lass of only eighteen summers that forged her own traditions with a steel hammer.
“Please tell your mother we have a guest,” Forge said was she headed for the stairs.
“I will Papa,” Magna said with joy in her voice, then stopped and spun around.
“Master Garan, your mail should be ready tomorrow night, or the next day. And … I am sorry for the way I spoke yesterday.” The way she said it, sounded like she wasn’t sure if it was yesterday or days before. “I was still angry that so many had to die. But … um … please forgive me.”
[Sparky]
Ash watched the old lady, waiting for the right moment to shock the frog; he also debated with his budding conscience whether he should do it or not. She looked so sad. Maybe a frog jumping in her lap would make her smile. But then, maybe not, an old lady was after all a girl that grew up, and old, and sour, and saggy. Who could possibly know the mind of a sad old lady.
He decided to give it a go anyway, but before he could act the frog moved and pulled the slippery length of copper thread from Ash’s cold hand. Quickly coiling like a spring, it rolled down the bank into the frigid pond. Ash was quick enough to recover the copper thread, but now his cold hand was even colder, and wet. Worse the splash he made caught the old lady’s attention.
Alerted that she wasn’t alone, the mother of five, grandmother of sixteen, and great grandmother of several trouble makers, she quickly discovered the source of the mischief, and with amazing clarity detected the poorly hidden wire and followed it to the frog at her feet.
With the skill of a seasoned guard she swiftly kicked the frog into the pond and planted her gnarled fists upon her hips. “Who’s there? Come out and show yourself! I see you, young man.”
In a state of panic, Ash thought to create a distraction with an exploding frog, but he was still very young and ignorant. He truly didn’t understand the nature of the magic he wielded so recklessly. His mother, Sarakim, was the family expert on all things magical, and Ash suspected that even She didn’t understand the electricity he could generate. So, Ash felt justified in conducting his own experiments. He already knew that getting wet was dangerous; sparking in the rain usually shocked himself more often than his target, and sometimes he’d swear that lightning was chasing him.
Shocking the frog would have been a learning experience, if Ash knew what he did wrong. Maybe because his hand was wet, or maybe because the frog was kicked into the lake, or maybe the copper wire was too thin, all these and more crossed Ash’s inquisitive mind as he dashed out from under the bush and tried to send a strong shock down the wire.
First, he heard a series of slapping noises like strips of metal slapping a table. He saw crooked sticks of light climb up his arm, it looked slow, but he knew it was incredibly fast. Then came the pain, the pain of a nest of hornets stinging his hand, his wrist, forearm, the stinging pain danced on his triceps then jumped for his ear smarting worse than Magna’s pinches.
Screaming in pain and fear, Ash dropped the wire and ran out of the park.
“I know who you are,” the old lady yelled. “Your mother will hear of this!”
With tears wetting his eyes, Ash almost rushed home. But if the old lady told the truth, a spanking would find its way there soon. If she was bluffing, the last thing Ash wanted to do was lead her to his doorstep. Ash turned and ran the other way, away from home.
Once he was well out of sight, Ash ducked into an alley and hid behind a stack of broken-down crates. He examined the jagged red lines running up his hand and forearm, and could smell something burning. He couldn’t find the source until he felt a small burning spot of pain on top his scalp. Quickly patting it out, Ash discovered all his grayish hair was standing on end.
3373...@gmail.com
Apr 29, 2018, 12:37:46 PM4/29/18
to
[Rupert]
As time passed, Rupert became bolder and he ventured out into the streets of Montfort to sight-see. He felt relatively safe doing this because no one seemed to look twice at a flying tea tray.
The sunlight flashed off his silver self and he flew along with a certain amount of pride in his demeanour. He was a very handsome tray after all.
Rupert flew a little bit above head height for the average human today. When he first started out on his forays, he kept close to the ground and shot from one bit of cover to the other, fearful that someone would snatch him up and put him to some nefarious use. Or make him do tricks. Or force him to carry paint cans and brushes.
Although he didn't have ears, Rupert heard a familiar sound; the clang of a hammer on metal! There was a forge here? How amazingly wonderful and handy.
Following the sound, Rupert floated along, deftly avoiding tall hats, taller creatures and slops tossed from second storey windows. He parked himself close to the large door and listened intently.
As time passed, Rupert became bolder and he ventured out into the streets of Montfort to sight-see. He felt relatively safe doing this because no one seemed to look twice at a flying tea tray.
The sunlight flashed off his silver self and he flew along with a certain amount of pride in his demeanour. He was a very handsome tray after all.
Rupert flew a little bit above head height for the average human today. When he first started out on his forays, he kept close to the ground and shot from one bit of cover to the other, fearful that someone would snatch him up and put him to some nefarious use. Or make him do tricks. Or force him to carry paint cans and brushes.
Although he didn't have ears, Rupert heard a familiar sound; the clang of a hammer on metal! There was a forge here? How amazingly wonderful and handy.
Following the sound, Rupert floated along, deftly avoiding tall hats, taller creatures and slops tossed from second storey windows. He parked himself close to the large door and listened intently.
ShadoJohn
May 7, 2018, 10:45:28 PM5/7/18
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[Inside FireHammer Arms]
Shortly after Magna disappeared up the stairs Forge cleared his throat.
“Before we go any further I must advise you, this establishment has significant protections from theft and violence. It wouldn’t be fitting, or wise, to go into details; just let it be said that your gear and my family are safe here. It is no coincidence that we survived the recent attacks with only minor exterior damage. Although, it could have been worse. Again, thank you for protecting my two eldest children. It was a hard decision to send Huard out, but we couldn’t stand our Magna out there alone. She tends to push herself too far.” Forge said as Magna’s footsteps faded up the long spiral staircase to the family’s private rooms above. For a long moment he was silent as he closely inspected Garan’s axe.
“The FireHammer clan, as well as many other dwarven master-smiths, have been crafting legends long before my great granddaddy was born,” Forge said apparently to the dark axe cradled in his arm, until his emerald eyes fixed themselves on the large warrior before him. “Learning about, and from, the great works has always been an interest of mine. So, when I decided to live and work outside the clan I researched specifically those known to be in the human realms.”
“Not to challenge your heroism, or honesty, … but, it is known that dwarven kind protect their own, that includes the work of our hands.” Forge said locking eyes with the big man measuring his reactions, his right hand taking a steel hard grip on the metal haft. “This axe of yours can only be one of two last known to be with the Jagar's Free Company founders. You appear to be connected with them, but I must ask how you came by this, and where is the other one?”
Shortly after Magna disappeared up the stairs Forge cleared his throat.
“Before we go any further I must advise you, this establishment has significant protections from theft and violence. It wouldn’t be fitting, or wise, to go into details; just let it be said that your gear and my family are safe here. It is no coincidence that we survived the recent attacks with only minor exterior damage. Although, it could have been worse. Again, thank you for protecting my two eldest children. It was a hard decision to send Huard out, but we couldn’t stand our Magna out there alone. She tends to push herself too far.” Forge said as Magna’s footsteps faded up the long spiral staircase to the family’s private rooms above. For a long moment he was silent as he closely inspected Garan’s axe.
“The FireHammer clan, as well as many other dwarven master-smiths, have been crafting legends long before my great granddaddy was born,” Forge said apparently to the dark axe cradled in his arm, until his emerald eyes fixed themselves on the large warrior before him. “Learning about, and from, the great works has always been an interest of mine. So, when I decided to live and work outside the clan I researched specifically those known to be in the human realms.”
“Not to challenge your heroism, or honesty, … but, it is known that dwarven kind protect their own, that includes the work of our hands.” Forge said locking eyes with the big man measuring his reactions, his right hand taking a steel hard grip on the metal haft. “This axe of yours can only be one of two last known to be with the Jagar's Free Company founders. You appear to be connected with them, but I must ask how you came by this, and where is the other one?”
3373...@gmail.com
May 20, 2018, 12:27:24 PM5/20/18
to
That axe seemed familiar to Rupert. While he couldn't quite figure out why it would be, he had to have a closer look at it. Maybe the why would come to him. Things often did. The things he could tell, if only he could talk! Few people and creatures took notice of a tea tray sitting on a counter.
He lifted himself a few inches from the ground and proceeded to drift across the floor, keeping well away from the two individuals talking. When he found a relatively 'safe' place to eavesdrop better, he rose higher from the floor, taking great care to not make a sound.
Unfortunately he failed to spot a few light tools hanging on the wall behind him. His silver handle lifted them from their hooks and they clattered to the floor. Mortified, Rupert froze in place. Hopefully the two talkers wouldn't see him!
He lifted himself a few inches from the ground and proceeded to drift across the floor, keeping well away from the two individuals talking. When he found a relatively 'safe' place to eavesdrop better, he rose higher from the floor, taking great care to not make a sound.
Unfortunately he failed to spot a few light tools hanging on the wall behind him. His silver handle lifted them from their hooks and they clattered to the floor. Mortified, Rupert froze in place. Hopefully the two talkers wouldn't see him!
Troshen
Jun 7, 2018, 2:09:38 AM6/7/18
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[Garan]
After the affair of the ice demon, Garan had gained a respect and a liking for young Magna. He smirked at how much she was interested in his gear, liking that even more. The girl was cute, in her way, and he would have liked to have had a younger sister like her.
Forge had said, "This is very precious, it would be an honor to put a keen edge on this,” and Garan nodded in reply.
"...Magna is one of the best with dwarven mail in all the realms..." Garan's eyes widened at that, in a bit of interested disbelief.
"I'll be curious to see that!" he said.
When Magna said,
"....And … I am sorry for the way I spoke yesterday.” The way she said it, sounded like she wasn’t sure if it was yesterday or days before. “I was still angry that so many had to die. But … um … please forgive me.” Garan replied,
"It was hard for us all," the big warrior spoke as kindly as he could, his voice gravelly. "You did the best you knew how. And we had the Firebird King and Queen to save us from ourselves."
When Magna left, Forge got serious,
"...Again, thank you for protecting my two eldest children..." Garan grunted in acknowledgement, not too politely. He wasn't one to be guarding children.
"Don't mention it," Garan replied.
When Forge mentioned,
“.....Not to challenge your heroism, or honesty,...." Garan's brows knit together.
"Then don't." The big warrior replied curtly. But then he sighed a heavy sigh. "There's a story behind it, of course. But to keep it short, Jagar was my mentor for years. I apprenticed with The Free Company." He looked off to the side, and got a faraway look.
"It was at the Battle of Longmarsh. Jagar and Junnek and the rest of us had gone into the tower, and we were fighting Wizard Voll." His voice caught slightly. "Junnek didn't make it. This was his axe...."
Then, clang! Bang!
The tools Rupert knocked over crashed, and Garan turned, almost relieved to change the subject. Seeing the silver tea tray, he reached out and took it by the handle, attempting to bring it in close to examine it.....
[Renik the Slip]
Renik and Maikal had reached the park and had watched Ash shock himself and run off. Renik nudged his companion with his elbow and the two of them ran off, following behind Ash to see where he'd end up. When they got to the alley, they looked at each other knowingly. Something wordless passed bewteen them. Something about careful recruitment.....
"Ho, Sparky," said Renik. "You ok? Saw you get zapped. What was that anyway?"
3373...@gmail.com
Jun 21, 2018, 10:10:36 AM6/21/18
to
Rupert dangled from Garan's hand like a stiff noodle. He was mortified that he had been discovered. He was now an integral part of the Inn, ferrying drinks and meals back and forth. It was hard to do this sort of thing unnoticed. Outside the Inn though, he tried to keep a low profile. One never knew when some acquisitive individual would grab up such a creature as he.
Lacking actual eyes to see with, Rupert nevertheless noticed the perplexed look on Garran's face. How to weather this situation worried him. Was this person a good hearted character, or was he one of those others Rupert tried to avoid?
Lacking actual eyes to see with, Rupert nevertheless noticed the perplexed look on Garran's face. How to weather this situation worried him. Was this person a good hearted character, or was he one of those others Rupert tried to avoid?
Troshen
Jul 18, 2018, 9:48:53 AM7/18/18
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[Garan]
He held the tea tray out in front of him, turning it over to look at the top and the bottom of it. He didn't see anything unusual about it. But had it moved on it's own?
He turned to Forge.
"One of yours?" He asked.
3373...@gmail.com
Jul 29, 2018, 12:28:42 PM7/29/18
to
Without moving Rupert turned his attention to the other man in the forge. He appeared to be the blacksmith. He also seemed to be studying Rupert intently. Poor Rupert didn't know whether to snatch himself out of the hands of these people and flee, or to simply hold still and wait things out.
He was on the verge of making a decision when something strange happened.
He was on the verge of making a decision when something strange happened.
Troshen
Sep 7, 2018, 2:49:26 AM9/7/18
to
[Garan]
The big warrior stood up. Holding Rupert in both hands he stared intently at the tea tray.
"I'd swear I saw this tray move on it's own," he said in his gravelly voice. "Did you see anything?" He asked Forge, still looking down at the kitchen dish in his hands. He slowly turned Rupert back and forth, upside down and then back right side up. Eyes narrowed, he was trying to gain an understanding of what it was and if it really had moved on its own.
"Hey you," he addressed the tray. "Did you just move on your own?"
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