Famh colours a little at Mael's last point. "i've nae haed reason tae learn thon recipe erenow; thouch A remember a wee bit o whit wis rumorit frae whan A were a girl i the farmlands o' Brymstone an the herb ladies cam' around. But A'v hait tae mix other cures for sheep an man i ma wanderings, sae gin someane were tae teach me the proper herbs an ways o' mixin' thaim A' sure A coud manage... thon ane." She smiles appealingly at the older woman; then goes on.
"A'm na sure aboot the crone, thouch the faeries dae... favor me frae time tae time. But whan we met the auld Cailleach o' the muirs. aw she tauld me wis thon ah haed tae work on ma e'e." Her blush deepens at this last as she tells Mrs. Mor the full story from her perspective and what she imagines Cainneach experienced from what he has since told her and her momentary glimpse of the Cailleach's benevolent face. "Whit dae ye suppose she meantit bi thon?"
Famh colours a little at Mael's last point. "i've nae haed reason tae learn thon recipe erenow; thouch A remember a wee bit o whit wis rumorit frae whan A were a girl i the farmlands o' Brymstone an the herb ladies cam' around. But A'v hait tae mix other cures for sheep an man i ma wanderings, sae gin someane were tae teach me the proper herbs an ways o' mixin' thaim A' sure A coud manage... thon ane." She smiles appealingly at the older woman; then goes on.
"A'm na sure aboot the crone, thouch the faeries dae... favor me frae time tae time. But whan we met the auld Cailleach o' the muirs. aw she tauld me wis thon ah haed tae work on ma e'e." Her blush deepens at this last as she tells Mrs. Mor the full story from her perspective and what she imagines Cainneach experienced from what he has since told her and her momentary glimpse of the Cailleach's benevolent face. "Whit dae ye suppose she meantit bi thon?"
" Yer suil?"
" Sounds like hag-work ta me. Seeing the truth o' tings and the like, ye ken?"
" I not knowing much about witchin' 'cept the usual ye need round broch."
Rory: " Well, them that woud be doubtin' yer seanchaidh wo' hae a hard time noo."
Vardi nods then puts her hands to the small of her back and winces as she replies "Fra tha sake o ma aching spine, I certainly hope so." then smiles ruefully as she concludes "I have heard it said tha' honor is a burden nae ta be taken lightly, but I did nae expect it ta be this sort o'load!"
The Lyften lass looks with a metalsmith's eye at the blackened iron links spilling out of the sack in several places as she ponders just what manner of iron the Fomori flail is wrought of, and just how it was wrought...
(OOC: Smithing check total 23.)
Famh: "That were beautifully tellt, Vardi. And it were refreshin’ tae hear a tale o’ the seafolk – whae we call ‘maichdeann-mhara’ i' Thulish Madhir – where nae ane tries tae steal her changin’ shawl sae he can compel her tae become his bride. Althouch I must say it disn’t sound lak this Gotha woud be like tae stand for much i thon way. Gin she were ane o’ our giants frae doon Brymstone way she’d hae a fence.i’ the back o’ her castle wi’ a hundrit spikes, an aw the spikes but ane wad be fillit wi’ the heids o’ thae thon she’d caucht tryin’ tae steal her shawl.”
"Nae doubt she would. Fra all her cruelty, they dinae call her daft." Vardi offers in fair reckoning, then blushing a little adds "I thank ye fra tha compliment, as I highly value yer opinion in tha matter o'tales an' their telling."
It crosses her mind that someone should see to it that the cloak broaches with clan designs are at least returned to their clan. Even if their kinfolk are long gone, at least someone will know of what became of them.
...Small comfort to the living, aye, maybe so... she thinks, but her heart pleads that the dead should be remembered regardless. The Lyften lass decides to discuss the matter later on the morrow, after she has slept on the idea and given it thought in the light of day.
The companions allow themselves a sleep in the following morn to ease tired muscles and bruised bodies and then pack to be on their way back towards Marrowglen and Beltayne once more.
Vardi-
Vardis examination of the flail leads her to three conclusions- the metal is an alloy of silver and perhaps copper along with other trace metals she cannot identify, it is incredibly hardy ( far stronger than any silver alloy she has come across before) and likely carries a very mild dweomer of sorts.....she is fairly sure if she took a couple of lengths of chain she could forge at least two weapons from the material. She advises Rory on the best ways to temper, and shape the metal for his own purposes.
She's sure she could knock out a weapon in 3-4 days in Rorys rudimentary forge but the work would be easier and better quality back in Beltayne.
Cainneach sleeps well and rises early. It had been a bit since he'd been able to properly exercise Salt, given their various duties to the northerners, so he takes the opportunity now, before they head out on the road once again. The hound is slow to rouse, though thankfully quiet until the forester can usher him out of the comfy home. Unsurprisingly, Cainneach finds most of Rory's household up and about, for chores wait for no one. The cold is bracing, but Salt enjoys tearing about the frosty grasses, sliding as he chases sticks and is occasionally distracted by a bird or vole hardy enough to stay the winter. After wearing out the hound for now and sending him in to warm up, Cainneach takes some time to help out their gracious hosts and chat with Rory about what keeps him out in these lands when an easier living could be made closer to the settlements to the south. Cainneach absolutely sympathizes with the "frontier" mindset, or however Rory couches the notion, and is grateful to find others who might find this sort of life appealing. Mostly, he plies the older man for tips on how to make a good life for a family in these circumstances.
After these discussions while assisting with the work, the forester heads in to pack and enjoy breakfast before returning to their travels.
Vardi sits in the sunlight, examining the links of the flail as she compares them to a series of assorted metal wire rings in her hand, attempting to match the metals as best she can by eye, Skoggi sitting on top of the bulky sack, washing his paws after breakfast.
"Nae blacked iron, oh no. Older than iron, Skoggi. A mixture o'three, maybe four metals in alloy..." she says in some chagrin at her inital assumption, but a little excited too "...But the amounts? Ymir's bones, tha' I cannae fathom here, but I'd wager Mastersmith Gregor would know where ta lay his hands on a wider library o'samples."
She looks over to Rory's humble but serviceable farmer's forge, considering if she should tax his supply of good charcoal so severely. The distinguished gentleman ceases his washing with a sneeze, recovers his dignity then jumps off the sack, tail high in the air as he heads swiftly towards his basket.
The Lyften lass nods in seeming agreement with Skokki's choice of direction, as she mutters "Aye, then there's tha' small matter o'something more than just smithcraft about it. Nae l putting anyone in danger out'o ignorance, or misplaced pride, least of all tha' folk we came here ta help."
She packs away the myriad of metal wire rings into a small oiled leather pouch in the basket, and sighs, reluctant to give up so easily on a project that fires her determination to master her craft, but bound by oath to protect the people of Thurland, she is even more reluctant to bring harm down anyone out of impatience.
That said, she seeks out Famh at breakfast to ask one question that might help her know what questions to ask Gregor later, as she puts it to the craftier woman "What manner o'enchantment would tha folk who forged this flail originally be likely ta lay upon it? Ye know more of their tales than I. Even a wild guess would help narrow it down a bit."
Vardi glances briefly to Ori as if to reassure herself that he is recovered from the fearful blows he was struck, then explains to Famh "If it were a baneful one, I nae felt it enough ta know it fer sure, and Ori seems well enough ta me tha' I think it unlikely. My aching back is nae proof o'a curse in tha carrying of it, only tha' it be a heavy load."
Seeing the girls as he was leaving breakfast, it got Ori thinking. "Oi, Vardi, where did you leave that giants ball and chain? I want to see what that thing is all about, aye?" Ori wanted to try and whip the thing around and see if that monstrous flail was wieldable by him.
Probably not with any sort of skill but that would be quite the sight, Ori running up to foes swinging that around his head. Time to show these locals why they needed to likes of Sir Almeric's services to handle this problem. See if any of them could handle the weapon any better then him. He wasn't feeling short this day, despite the size of their hosts. Ori used to like to do these test of strength for others to see back in his performance days,, it got the creative juices flowing as well as keeping the awe factor up!
Cainneach sleeps well and rises early. It had been a bit since he'd been able to properly exercise Salt, given their various duties to the northerners, so he takes the opportunity now, before they head out on the road once again. The hound is slow to rouse, though thankfully quiet until the forester can usher him out of the comfy home. Unsurprisingly, Cainneach finds most of Rory's household up and about, for chores wait for no one. The cold is bracing, but Salt enjoys tearing about the frosty grasses, sliding as he chases sticks and is occasionally distracted by a bird or vole hardy enough to stay the winter. After wearing out the hound for now and sending him in to warm up, Cainneach takes some time to help out their gracious hosts and chat with Rory about what keeps him out in these lands when an easier living could be made closer to the settlements to the south. Cainneach absolutely sympathizes with the "frontier" mindset, or however Rory couches the notion, and is grateful to find others who might find this sort of life appealing. Mostly, he plies the older man for tips on how to make a good life for a family in these circumstances.
After these discussions while assisting with the work, the forester heads in to pack and enjoy breakfast before returning to their travels.
Most of Rorys advice boils down to not giving up when facing failures, working as a team to support each other and doing what your told even if you don't quite understand it at the time.
Vardi sits in the sunlight, examining the links of the flail as she compares them to a series of assorted metal wire rings in her hand, attempting to match the metals as best she can by eye, Skoggi sitting on top of the bulky sack, washing his paws after breakfast.
"Nae blacked iron, oh no. Older than iron, Skoggi. A mixture o'three, maybe four metals in alloy..." she says in some chagrin at her inital assumption, but a little excited too "...But the amounts? Ymir's bones, tha' I cannae fathom here, but I'd wager Mastersmith Gregor would know where ta lay his hands on a wider library o'samples."
She looks over to Rory's humble but serviceable farmer's forge, considering if she should tax his supply of good charcoal so severely. The distinguished gentleman ceases his washing with a sneeze, recovers his dignity then jumps off the sack, tail high in the air as he heads swiftly towards his basket.
The Lyften lass nods in seeming agreement with Skokki's choice of direction, as she mutters "Aye, then there's tha' small matter o'something more than just smithcraft about it. Nae l putting anyone in danger out'o ignorance, or misplaced pride, least of all tha' folk we came here ta help."
She packs away the myriad of metal wire rings into a small oiled leather pouch in the basket, and sighs, reluctant to give up so easily on a project that fires her determination to master her craft, but bound by oath to protect the people of Thurland, she is even more reluctant to bring harm down anyone out of impatience.
That said, she seeks out Famh at breakfast to ask one question that might help her know what questions to ask Gregor later, as she puts it to the craftier woman "What manner o'enchantment would tha folk who forged this flail originally be likely ta lay upon it? Ye know more of their tales than I. Even a wild guess would help narrow it down a bit."
Vardi glances briefly to Ori as if to reassure herself that he is recovered from the fearful blows he was struck, then explains to Famh "If it were a baneful one, I nae felt it enough ta know it fer sure, and Ori seems well enough ta me tha' I think it unlikely. My aching back is nae proof o'a curse in tha carrying of it, only tha' it be a heavy load."
Famhs people live a little too far south and east to have much familiarity with the Fomoraig, but what little she has heard from Cainneach didn't really cover their metallurgy processes.
Seeing the girls as he was leaving breakfast, it got Ori thinking. "Oi, Vardi, where did you leave that giants ball and chain? I want to see what that thing is all about, aye?" Ori wanted to try and whip the thing around and see if that monstrous flail was wieldable by him.
Probably not with any sort of skill but that would be quite the sight, Ori running up to foes swinging that around his head. Time to show these locals why they needed to likes of Sir Almeric's services to handle this problem. See if any of them could handle the weapon any better then him. He wasn't feeling short this day, despite the size of their hosts. Ori used to like to do these test of strength for others to see back in his performance days,, it got the creative juices flowing as well as keeping the awe factor up!
Ori is, fairly astoundingly to most of those present, able to easily hoist the bulk of the multiheaded flail up the chest level and then over his head but there is no means of wielding it as it is built to be wielded by a limb three times the length of Oris body.
Ori: "Oi, Vardi, where did you leave that giants ball and chain? I want to see what that thing is all about, aye?"
"Sitting out front wi' ma basket, Sarge." Vardi replies, adding in quick assurance "I nae think anyone is likely ta carry that bit o'metalwork off!" then corrects herself slightly as she concedes "Well, nae in a hurry..."
She cheerfully pours the flail forth from its increasingly tattered carrysack, the din of metal on metal ringing like huge grains of golden wheat were being poured onto a giant's threshing floor to winnow. The lass who lifts gently picks the heads and chains apart as she observes "Glad I am ta nae have been further entangled in tha' lot. Far worse than getting rucked up in tha rigging by a long voyage."
Vardi offer no refusal to Ori's proposed course of action, only a caution that "There's some glimmer about about it I nae understand yet. Mayhap ye can riddle it out by putting it through its paces? If so, I would humbly advise ye ta stand well back from the farm buildings, Sarge. Been enough demolishing of late hereabouts, aye?"
Indeed, she paces out a safe distance from the nearest building after looking at the reach of the weapon once it has been untangled, and stands ready to interpose her shield in case she has miscalculated the length involved.
Despite Vardi's concerns, and all her calculations about grip and the longer poles that threshing tools are mounted on, she can see no way to give Ori greater reach without longer arms, in this case, arms some three times longer than his own! She does smile at his showmanship and his willingness to attempt the experiment, regardless of the shortness of his arms.
Likewise, when Famh admits she has little to offer on the matter of Fomoraig enchantments or smithing, and that Cainneach may know more, if there is aught to know of them that has reached the ears of men, the Joturn-kin girl smiles gently and says "Ye already have given me another person ta ask about Fomoraig crafting and fer tha' I thank ye, Mistress Famh. I will nae shame ye fer tha'. Far better an honest answer than a prideful fool's false errand."
Ori realized how much his false confidence got to his head when seeing the weapon again. Chuckling to himself, he still grabbed the weapons handle and tries hefting it upright and tries to get a few heads to swing about. Clearly not being able to do it with gracefully but he decides to try play around to get the heads off the ground. Still unable to make any real progress he just chuckles to himself again. "Better eat a few more pigs for breakfast before I get this thing going, aye?" Ori just calls out to a passers-by.
Cainneach sleeps well and rises early. It had been a bit since he'd been able to properly exercise Salt, given their various duties to the northerners, so he takes the opportunity now, before they head out on the road once again. The hound is slow to rouse, though thankfully quiet until the forester can usher him out of the comfy home. Unsurprisingly, Cainneach finds most of Rory's household up and about, for chores wait for no one. The cold is bracing, but Salt enjoys tearing about the frosty grasses, sliding as he chases sticks and is occasionally distracted by a bird or vole hardy enough to stay the winter. After wearing out the hound for now and sending him in to warm up, Cainneach takes some time to help out their gracious hosts and chat with Rory about what keeps him out in these lands when an easier living could be made closer to the settlements to the south. Cainneach absolutely sympathizes with the "frontier" mindset, or however Rory couches the notion, and is grateful to find others who might find this sort of life appealing. Mostly, he plies the older man for tips on how to make a good life for a family in these circumstances.
After these discussions while assisting with the work, the forester heads in to pack and enjoy breakfast before returning to their travels.
Most of Rorys advice boils down to not giving up when facing failures, working as a team to support each other and doing what your told even if you don't quite understand it at the time.
Vardi sits in the sunlight, examining the links of the flail as she compares them to a series of assorted metal wire rings in her hand, attempting to match the metals as best she can by eye, Skoggi sitting on top of the bulky sack, washing his paws after breakfast.
"Nae blacked iron, oh no. Older than iron, Skoggi. A mixture o'three, maybe four metals in alloy..." she says in some chagrin at her inital assumption, but a little excited too "...But the amounts? Ymir's bones, tha' I cannae fathom here, but I'd wager Mastersmith Gregor would know where ta lay his hands on a wider library o'samples."
She looks over to Rory's humble but serviceable farmer's forge, considering if she should tax his supply of good charcoal so severely. The distinguished gentleman ceases his washing with a sneeze, recovers his dignity then jumps off the sack, tail high in the air as he heads swiftly towards his basket.
The Lyften lass nods in seeming agreement with Skokki's choice of direction, as she mutters "Aye, then there's tha' small matter o'something more than just smithcraft about it. Nae l putting anyone in danger out'o ignorance, or misplaced pride, least of all tha' folk we came here ta help."
She packs away the myriad of metal wire rings into a small oiled leather pouch in the basket, and sighs, reluctant to give up so easily on a project that fires her determination to master her craft, but bound by oath to protect the people of Thurland, she is even more reluctant to bring harm down anyone out of impatience.
That said, she seeks out Famh at breakfast to ask one question that might help her know what questions to ask Gregor later, as she puts it to the craftier woman "What manner o'enchantment would tha folk who forged this flail originally be likely ta lay upon it? Ye know more of their tales than I. Even a wild guess would help narrow it down a bit."
Vardi glances briefly to Ori as if to reassure herself that he is recovered from the fearful blows he was struck, then explains to Famh "If it were a baneful one, I nae felt it enough ta know it fer sure, and Ori seems well enough ta me tha' I think it unlikely. My aching back is nae proof o'a curse in tha carrying of it, only tha' it be a heavy load."
Famhs people live a little too far south and east to have much familiarity with the Fomoraig, but what little she has heard from Cainneach didn't really cover their metallurgy processes.
Seeing the girls as he was leaving breakfast, it got Ori thinking. "Oi, Vardi, where did you leave that giants ball and chain? I want to see what that thing is all about, aye?" Ori wanted to try and whip the thing around and see if that monstrous flail was wieldable by him.
Probably not with any sort of skill but that would be quite the sight, Ori running up to foes swinging that around his head. Time to show these locals why they needed to likes of Sir Almeric's services to handle this problem. See if any of them could handle the weapon any better then him. He wasn't feeling short this day, despite the size of their hosts. Ori used to like to do these test of strength for others to see back in his performance days,, it got the creative juices flowing as well as keeping the awe factor up!
Ori is, fairly astoundingly to most of those present, able to easily hoist the bulk of the multiheaded flail up the chest level and then over his head but there is no means of wielding it as it is built to be wielded by a limb three times the length of Oris body.
Ori: "Oi, Vardi, where did you leave that giants ball and chain? I want to see what that thing is all about, aye?"
"Sitting out front wi' ma basket, Sarge." Vardi replies, adding in quick assurance "I nae think anyone is likely ta carry that bit o'metalwork off!" then corrects herself slightly as she concedes "Well, nae in a hurry..."
She cheerfully pours the flail forth from its increasingly tattered carrysack, the din of metal on metal ringing like huge grains of golden wheat were being poured onto a giant's threshing floor to winnow. The lass who lifts gently picks the heads and chains apart as she observes "Glad I am ta nae have been further entangled in tha' lot. Far worse than getting rucked up in tha rigging by a long voyage."
Vardi offer no refusal to Ori's proposed course of action, only a caution that "There's some glimmer about about it I nae understand yet. Mayhap ye can riddle it out by putting it through its paces? If so, I would humbly advise ye ta stand well back from the farm buildings, Sarge. Been enough demolishing of late hereabouts, aye?"
Indeed, she paces out a safe distance from the nearest building after looking at the reach of the weapon once it has been untangled, and stands ready to interpose her shield in case she has miscalculated the length involved.
Despite Vardi's concerns, and all her calculations about grip and the longer poles that threshing tools are mounted on, she can see no way to give Ori greater reach without longer arms, in this case, arms some three times longer than his own! She does smile at his showmanship and his willingness to attempt the experiment, regardless of the shortness of his arms.
Likewise, when Famh admits she has little to offer on the matter of Fomoraig enchantments or smithing, and that Cainneach may know more, if there is aught to know of them that has reached the ears of men, the Joturn-kin girl smiles gently and says "Ye already have given me another person ta ask about Fomoraig crafting and fer tha' I thank ye, Mistress Famh. I will nae shame ye fer tha'. Far better an honest answer than a prideful fool's false errand."
Despite the Cailleach's injunction, the only work Famh does on her e'en on this particular morning is to keep them closed as long as possible. But she dreamily notices that Cainneach is talking to Rory Mor on this particular morning; and she nestles down into the covers with a happy smile as she guesses that their future as a couple is on his mind too. She is roused from her sloth a little while later by the premiere of Vardi's second flail carillon concerto. She comes out and watches curiously. When the Lyftenwoman addresses her, Famh nods at first but then holds up her hand.
"Thon's true, Vardi, but I'd be tae blame also for na sharin whit A dae ken thon micht help. Metalcraft's yer mastery, sae I wouldnae be sae bold as tae counsel ye thare. But as far as the dweomer goes it coud be another story. Thare are enchantit arms aplenty i the tales baith north an south, anyhou; and perhaps the piseogues an glamours placit upon thaim micht be mair similar than the ways o their forgin'. Gin this ane is enchantit i any way like tae the dagda's flail which is the closest among the southron tales o ma girlhood, then... "
"... thare are several possibilities. His flail -- the Dagda's, I mean, thon some wad hae a greet club -- coud slay folk wi' a touch an then bring thaim tae life wi' another. I dinna ken gin we'd be thon lucky, but thare are other things it did i other stories." (insert DM's response to Arcana roll here)
=========
After she finishes her comparative discursion between southern coastal and northern moorish folklore of Thuland, Famh looks with a twinkle over to where Ori is now hefting the giant flail. "Ye workit sae weel together i the battle against Fingal MacTethra, Vardi. Perhaps ye coud forge twa items oot o' it, weapons which coud be usit tae dae battle apart but which are suich as coud also be wieldit side bi side on t' field i sic a way as tae support ilka other?" There is now very definitely a warm and teasing sparkle in Famh's eyes; there is also a deeper thoughtfulness that goes on. "And gin ye found ye coud dae thon cannily I'd want tae hire ye tae design a like pair o weapons for Cainneach and me thon we coud use i case we iver find a foe thon we're forcit tae ficht i the mellay. Some creature wi' a hide o' steel thon neither his arrows nor ma stanes can pierce nor crush. Needna be frae the flail's metal unless thare's enouch ower after yours are made, but I'd be willin tae wait till ye hae enow materials suitit tae the job. Somethin we coud protect ilka other wi."
After peering at the flail some more with a puckered brow, Famh shurgs. "I'm sorry, Vardi. Aw thon comes back tae me is a word. But I ha' a vague inkling its a word thon has tae dae wi' smithcraft, sae perhaps ye'll recognize it. "Adamant," thon wis it. But gin ye don't, then perhaps yer Master Gregor will have heard o such whan we get back. Which shoud be soon, I hope: Cainneach an I have a wee weddin' tae arrange sae soon as the retinue's business is wrappit up, after aw." The dimplng blush that follows this last is about what one might expect, knowing the parties involved.
=========
(OOC: Sure, don't see any reason why not.)
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Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Famh:"... thare are several possibilities. His flail -- the Dagda's, I mean, thon some wad hae a greet club -- coud slay folk wi' a touch an then bring thaim tae life wi' another. I dinna ken gin we'd be thon lucky, but thare are other things it did i other stories."
Vardi looks pensive for a moment then offers "Tha' would be a great an' powerful enchantment indeed. I am glad ye nae reckon this one holds such a mighty dweomer as tha', fer such enchantments command a heavy price of mortal folk in some o'tha tales I have heard tell of..." even as her gaze lingers on the metal, fascinated by the play of colours in the alloy in the sunlight.
Famh: "Ye workit sae weel together i the battle against Fingal MacTethra, Vardi. Perhaps ye coud forge twa items oot o' it, weapons which coud be usit tae dae battle apart but which are suich as coud also be wieldit side bi side on t' field i sic a way as tae support ilka other?"
The Lyften lass turns from the material to considering what weapons might best pair in such a way as she replies "There is much wisdom in what ye suggest, and much ta work wi' in tha original flail's metal." with a gentle smile.
Famh: "And gin ye found ye coud dae thon cannily I'd want tae hire ye tae design a like pair o weapons for Cainneach and me thon we coud use i case we iver find a foe thon we're forcit tae ficht i the mellay. Some creature wi' a hide o' steel thon neither his arrows nor ma stanes can pierce nor crush. Needna be frae the flail's metal unless thare's enouch ower after yours are made, but I'd be willin tae wait till ye hae enow materials suitit tae the job. Somethin we coud protect ilka other wi."
"I would be most sparing wi' tha material for each piece. If it is as strong as ye say it may well be, that will allow fer even small scraps ta be worked into things that will help ye both in tha thick o'battle." Vardi answers cheerfully "So if ye nae had a warqueen's greataxe in mind, nae doubt something smaller an' easier ta carry on yer persons would be possible."
Famh: "I'm sorry, Vardi. Aw thon comes back tae me is a word. But I ha' a vague inkling its a word thon has tae dae wi' smithcraft, sae perhaps ye'll recognize it. "Adamant," thon wis it. But gin ye don't, then perhaps yer Master Gregor will have heard o such whan we get back. Which shoud be soon, I hope: Cainneach an I have a wee weddin' tae arrange sae soon as the retinue's business is wrappit up, after aw."
The Joturn-kin falls silent as she ponders the word, thinking hard on the word Famh has uncovered...
(OOC: Vardi considers Smithing's lore for a total of 20, and then Arcane lore for a total of 15. I am also good to go and my apologies for not posting sooner.)
Vardi recalls hearing tales of southern gods and heroes from sailors that on occasion used a similar word it usually referred to something of diamond or perhaps lodestone, regardless she would determine the material would be incredibly hard both in terms of the damage it could take and the damage it could deal.....
Seconds pass, and Vardi grins as she says "Wha'ere can be made o'it will be a fine piece, long as I nae strike it ill in tha making of it." then looks slightly embarrassed as her mind catches up with matter of a different sort of alloying.
She offers in haste but also honesty "And ma congratulations on yer eye in finding a fine fella ta pledge yer heart and head ta. Cainneach be a most fortunate man ta win yer favor."
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Famh colours a little at Mael's last point. "i've nae haed reason tae learn thon recipe erenow; thouch A remember a wee bit o whit wis rumorit frae whan A were a girl i the farmlands o' Brymstone an the herb ladies cam' around. But A'v hait tae mix other cures for sheep an man i ma wanderings, sae gin someane were tae teach me the proper herbs an ways o' mixin' thaim A' sure A coud manage... thon ane." She smiles appealingly at the older woman; then goes on.
"A'm na sure aboot the crone, thouch the faeries dae... favor me frae time tae time. But whan we met the auld Cailleach o' the muirs. aw she tauld me wis thon ah haed tae work on ma e'e." Her blush deepens at this last as she tells Mrs. Mor the full story from her perspective and what she imagines Cainneach experienced from what he has since told her and her momentary glimpse of the Cailleach's benevolent face. "Whit dae ye suppose she meantit bi thon?"
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
" Yer suil?"
" Sounds like hag-work ta me. Seeing the truth o' tings and the like, ye ken?"
" I not knowing much about witchin' 'cept the usual ye need round broch."
Rory: " Well, them that woud be doubtin' yer seanchaidh wo' hae a hard time noo."
Vardi nods then puts her hands to the small of her back and winces as she replies "Fra tha sake o ma aching spine, I certainly hope so." then smiles ruefully as she concludes "I have heard it said tha' honor is a burden nae ta be taken lightly, but I did nae expect it ta be this sort o'load!"
The Lyften lass looks with a metalsmith's eye at the blackened iron links spilling out of the sack in several places as she ponders just what manner of iron the Fomori flail is wrought of, and just how it was wrought...
(OOC: Smithing check total 23.)
Famh: "That were beautifully tellt, Vardi. And it were refreshin’ tae hear a tale o’ the seafolk – whae we call ‘maichdeann-mhara’ i' Thulish Madhir – where nae ane tries tae steal her changin’ shawl sae he can compel her tae become his bride. Althouch I must say it disn’t sound lak this Gotha woud be like tae stand for much i thon way. Gin she were ane o’ our giants frae doon Brymstone way she’d hae a fence.i’ the back o’ her castle wi’ a hundrit spikes, an aw the spikes but ane wad be fillit wi’ the heids o’ thae thon she’d caucht tryin’ tae steal her shawl.”
"Nae doubt she would. Fra all her cruelty, they dinae call her daft." Vardi offers in fair reckoning, then blushing a little adds "I thank ye fra tha compliment, as I highly value yer opinion in tha matter o'tales an' their telling."
It crosses her mind that someone should see to it that the cloak broaches with clan designs are at least returned to their clan. Even if their kinfolk are long gone, at least someone will know of what became of them.
...Small comfort to the living, aye, maybe so... she thinks, but her heart pleads that the dead should be remembered regardless. The Lyften lass decides to discuss the matter later on the morrow, after she has slept on the idea and given it thought in the light of day.
The companions allow themselves a sleep in the following morn to ease tired muscles and bruised bodies and then pack to be on their way back towards Marrowglen and Beltayne once more.
Vardi-
Vardis examination of the flail leads her to three conclusions- the metal is an alloy of silver and perhaps copper along with other trace metals she cannot identify, it is incredibly hardy ( far stronger than any silver alloy she has come across before) and likely carries a very mild dweomer of sorts.....she is fairly sure if she took a couple of lengths of chain she could forge at least two weapons from the material. She advises Rory on the best ways to temper, and shape the metal for his own purposes.
She's sure she could knock out a weapon in 3-4 days in Rorys rudimentary forge but the work would be easier and better quality back in Beltayne.
Cainneach sleeps well and rises early. It had been a bit since he'd been able to properly exercise Salt, given their various duties to the northerners, so he takes the opportunity now, before they head out on the road once again. The hound is slow to rouse, though thankfully quiet until the forester can usher him out of the comfy home. Unsurprisingly, Cainneach finds most of Rory's household up and about, for chores wait for no one. The cold is bracing, but Salt enjoys tearing about the frosty grasses, sliding as he chases sticks and is occasionally distracted by a bird or vole hardy enough to stay the winter. After wearing out the hound for now and sending him in to warm up, Cainneach takes some time to help out their gracious hosts and chat with Rory about what keeps him out in these lands when an easier living could be made closer to the settlements to the south. Cainneach absolutely sympathizes with the "frontier" mindset, or however Rory couches the notion, and is grateful to find others who might find this sort of life appealing. Mostly, he plies the older man for tips on how to make a good life for a family in these circumstances.
After these discussions while assisting with the work, the forester heads in to pack and enjoy breakfast before returning to their travels.
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
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Vardi sits in the sunlight, examining the links of the flail as she compares them to a series of assorted metal wire rings in her hand, attempting to match the metals as best she can by eye, Skoggi sitting on top of the bulky sack, washing his paws after breakfast.
"Nae blacked iron, oh no. Older than iron, Skoggi. A mixture o'three, maybe four metals in alloy..." she says in some chagrin at her inital assumption, but a little excited too "...But the amounts? Ymir's bones, tha' I cannae fathom here, but I'd wager Mastersmith Gregor would know where ta lay his hands on a wider library o'samples."
She looks over to Rory's humble but serviceable farmer's forge, considering if she should tax his supply of good charcoal so severely. The distinguished gentleman ceases his washing with a sneeze, recovers his dignity then jumps off the sack, tail high in the air as he heads swiftly towards his basket.
The Lyften lass nods in seeming agreement with Skokki's choice of direction, as she mutters "Aye, then there's tha' small matter o'something more than just smithcraft about it. Nae l putting anyone in danger out'o ignorance, or misplaced pride, least of all tha' folk we came here ta help."
She packs away the myriad of metal wire rings into a small oiled leather pouch in the basket, and sighs, reluctant to give up so easily on a project that fires her determination to master her craft, but bound by oath to protect the people of Thurland, she is even more reluctant to bring harm down anyone out of impatience.
That said, she seeks out Famh at breakfast to ask one question that might help her know what questions to ask Gregor later, as she puts it to the craftier woman "What manner o'enchantment would tha folk who forged this flail originally be likely ta lay upon it? Ye know more of their tales than I. Even a wild guess would help narrow it down a bit."
Vardi glances briefly to Ori as if to reassure herself that he is recovered from the fearful blows he was struck, then explains to Famh "If it were a baneful one, I nae felt it enough ta know it fer sure, and Ori seems well enough ta me tha' I think it unlikely. My aching back is nae proof o'a curse in tha carrying of it, only tha' it be a heavy load."
Seeing the girls as he was leaving breakfast, it got Ori thinking. "Oi, Vardi, where did you leave that giants ball and chain? I want to see what that thing is all about, aye?" Ori wanted to try and whip the thing around and see if that monstrous flail was wieldable by him.
Probably not with any sort of skill but that would be quite the sight, Ori running up to foes swinging that around his head. Time to show these locals why they needed to likes of Sir Almeric's services to handle this problem. See if any of them could handle the weapon any better then him. He wasn't feeling short this day, despite the size of their hosts. Ori used to like to do these test of strength for others to see back in his performance days,, it got the creative juices flowing as well as keeping the awe factor up!
Most of Rorys advice boils down to not giving up when facing failures, working as a team to support each other and doing what your told even if you don't quite understand it at the time.
Famhs people live a little too far south and east to have much familiarity with the Fomoraig, but what little she has heard from Cainneach didn't really cover their metallurgy processes.
Ori is, fairly astoundingly to most of those present, able to easily hoist the bulk of the multiheaded flail up the chest level and then over his head but there is no means of wielding it as it is built to be wielded by a limb three times the length of Oris body.
Ori: "Oi, Vardi, where did you leave that giants ball and chain? I want to see what that thing is all about, aye?"
"Sitting out front wi' ma basket, Sarge." Vardi replies, adding in quick assurance "I nae think anyone is likely ta carry that bit o'metalwork off!" then corrects herself slightly as she concedes "Well, nae in a hurry..."
She cheerfully pours the flail forth from its increasingly tattered carrysack, the din of metal on metal ringing like huge grains of golden wheat were being poured onto a giant's threshing floor to winnow. The lass who lifts gently picks the heads and chains apart as she observes "Glad I am ta nae have been further entangled in tha' lot. Far worse than getting rucked up in tha rigging by a long voyage."
Vardi offer no refusal to Ori's proposed course of action, only a caution that "There's some glimmer about about it I nae understand yet. Mayhap ye can riddle it out by putting it through its paces? If so, I would humbly advise ye ta stand well back from the farm buildings, Sarge. Been enough demolishing of late hereabouts, aye?"
Indeed, she paces out a safe distance from the nearest building after looking at the reach of the weapon once it has been untangled, and stands ready to interpose her shield in case she has miscalculated the length involved.
Despite Vardi's concerns, and all her calculations about grip and the longer poles that threshing tools are mounted on, she can see no way to give Ori greater reach without longer arms, in this case, arms some three times longer than his own! She does smile at his showmanship and his willingness to attempt the experiment, regardless of the shortness of his arms.
Likewise, when Famh admits she has little to offer on the matter of Fomoraig enchantments or smithing, and that Cainneach may know more, if there is aught to know of them that has reached the ears of men, the Joturn-kin girl smiles gently and says "Ye already have given me another person ta ask about Fomoraig crafting and fer tha' I thank ye, Mistress Famh. I will nae shame ye fer tha'. Far better an honest answer than a prideful fool's false errand."
Ori realized how much his false confidence got to his head when seeing the weapon again. Chuckling to himself, he still grabbed the weapons handle and tries hefting it upright and tries to get a few heads to swing about. Clearly not being able to do it with gracefully but he decides to try play around to get the heads off the ground. Still unable to make any real progress he just chuckles to himself again. "Better eat a few more pigs for breakfast before I get this thing going, aye?" Ori just calls out to a passers-by.
Despite the Cailleach's injunction, the only work Famh does on her e'en on this particular morning is to keep them closed as long as possible. But she dreamily notices that Cainneach is talking to Rory Mor on this particular morning; and she nestles down into the covers with a happy smile as she guesses that their future as a couple is on his mind too. She is roused from her sloth a little while later by the premiere of Vardi's second flail carillon concerto. She comes out and watches curiously. When the Lyftenwoman addresses her, Famh nods at first but then holds up her hand.
"Thon's true, Vardi, but I'd be tae blame also for na sharin whit A dae ken thon micht help. Metalcraft's yer mastery, sae I wouldnae be sae bold as tae counsel ye thare. But as far as the dweomer goes it coud be another story. Thare are enchantit arms aplenty i the tales baith north an south, anyhou; and perhaps the piseogues an glamours placit upon thaim micht be mair similar than the ways o their forgin'. Gin this ane is enchantit i any way like tae the dagda's flail which is the closest among the southron tales o ma girlhood, then... "
=========
\Arcana (with advantage from Tides of Chaos) 25
++++++++++++==============================================--------------V-------------============================+++++++++++++++++
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
"... thare are several possibilities. His flail -- the Dagda's, I mean, thon some wad hae a greet club -- coud slay folk wi' a touch an then bring thaim tae life wi' another. I dinna ken gin we'd be thon lucky, but thare are other things it did i other stories." (insert DM's response to Arcana roll here)
=========
After she finishes her comparative discursion between southern coastal and northern moorish folklore of Thuland, Famh looks with a twinkle over to where Ori is now hefting the giant flail. "Ye workit sae weel together i the battle against Fingal MacTethra, Vardi. Perhaps ye coud forge twa items oot o' it, weapons which coud be usit tae dae battle apart but which are suich as coud also be wieldit side bi side on t' field i sic a way as tae support ilka other?" There is now very definitely a warm and teasing sparkle in Famh's eyes; there is also a deeper thoughtfulness that goes on. "And gin ye found ye coud dae thon cannily I'd want tae hire ye tae design a like pair o weapons for Cainneach and me thon we coud use i case we iver find a foe thon we're forcit tae ficht i the mellay. Some creature wi' a hide o' steel thon neither his arrows nor ma stanes can pierce nor crush. Needna be frae the flail's metal unless thare's enouch ower after yours are made, but I'd be willin tae wait till ye hae enow materials suitit tae the job. Somethin we coud protect ilka other wi."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
( OOC- Famh has an arcane inkling that armour or weapons made from the substance would be " Adamantine". )
( OOC- Is everyone ready to venture back to Marrowglen? Mission Accomplished as it were.)
(Yup, ready to roll! Sorry been MIA, it's been one of those weeks.)
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
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After peering at the flail some more with a puckered brow, Famh shurgs. "I'm sorry, Vardi. Aw thon comes back tae me is a word. But I ha' a vague inkling its a word thon has tae dae wi' smithcraft, sae perhaps ye'll recognize it. "Adamant," thon wis it. But gin ye don't, then perhaps yer Master Gregor will have heard o such whan we get back. Which shoud be soon, I hope: Cainneach an I have a wee weddin' tae arrange sae soon as the retinue's business is wrappit up, after aw." The dimplng blush that follows this last is about what one might expect, knowing the parties involved.
=========
(OOC: Sure, don't see any reason why not.)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
(Ori's ready to roll)
Famh: "... thare are several possibilities. His flail -- the Dagda's, I mean, thon some wad hae a greet club -- coud slay folk wi' a touch an then bring thaim tae life wi' another. I dinna ken gin we'd be thon lucky, but thare are other things it did i other stories."
Vardi looks pensive for a moment then offers "Tha' would be a great an' powerful enchantment indeed. I am glad ye nae reckon this one holds such a mighty dweomer as tha', fer such enchantments command a heavy price of mortal folk in some o'tha tales I have heard tell of..." even as her gaze lingers on the metal, fascinated by the play of colours in the alloy in the sunlight.
Famh: "Ye workit sae weel together i the battle against Fingal MacTethra, Vardi. Perhaps ye coud forge twa items oot o' it, weapons which coud be usit tae dae battle apart but which are suich as coud also be wieldit side bi side on t' field i sic a way as tae support ilka other?"
The Lyften lass turns from the material to considering what weapons might best pair in such a way as she replies "There is much wisdom in what ye suggest, and much ta work wi' in tha original flail's metal." with a gentle smile.
Famh: "And gin ye found ye coud dae thon cannily I'd want tae hire ye tae design a like pair o weapons for Cainneach and me thon we coud use i case we iver find a foe thon we're forcit tae ficht i the mellay. Some creature wi' a hide o' steel thon neither his arrows nor ma stanes can pierce nor crush. Needna be frae the flail's metal unless thare's enouch ower after yours are made, but I'd be willin tae wait till ye hae enow materials suitit tae the job. Somethin we coud protect ilka other wi."
"I would be most sparing wi' tha material for each piece. If it is as strong as ye say it may well be, that will allow fer even small scraps ta be worked into things that will help ye both in tha thick o'battle." Vardi answers cheerfully "So if ye nae had a warqueen's greataxe in mind, nae doubt something smaller an' easier ta carry on yer persons would be possible."
Famh: "I'm sorry, Vardi. Aw thon comes back tae me is a word. But I ha' a vague inkling its a word thon has tae dae wi' smithcraft, sae perhaps ye'll recognize it. "Adamant," thon wis it. But gin ye don't, then perhaps yer Master Gregor will have heard o such whan we get back. Which shoud be soon, I hope: Cainneach an I have a wee weddin' tae arrange sae soon as the retinue's business is wrappit up, after aw."
The Joturn-kin falls silent as she ponders the word, thinking hard on the word Famh has uncovered...
(OOC: Vardi considers Smithing's lore for a total of 20, and then Arcane lore for a total of 15. I am also good to go and my apologies for not posting sooner.)
Vardi-
Vardi recalls hearing tales of southern gods and heroes from sailors that on occasion used a similar word it usually referred to something of diamond or perhaps lodestone, regardless she would determine the material would be incredibly hard both in terms of the damage it could take and the damage it could deal.....
Seconds pass, and Vardi grins as she says "Wha'ere can be made o'it will be a fine piece, long as I nae strike it ill in tha making of it." then looks slightly embarrassed as her mind catches up with matter of a different sort of alloying.
She offers in haste but also honesty "And ma congratulations on yer eye in finding a fine fella ta pledge yer heart and head ta. Cainneach be a most fortunate man ta win yer favor."