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Post by manto on Jul 1, 2010 18:27:29 GMT -5
Mark swung down on the hot iron again, finishing the shape that was to be a birthday gift to one of the shop owner's son down the street. He had become fast friends with the son when he started working here, but this past year they hadn't talked once. In three months Mark was going to become a full blacksmith, but he had very few plans for the future. All he knew was that he was suppose to go to Redmont to teach and learn from a few of the blacksmiths there. He needed to find something for him to do. He was so engrossed in his work and thoughts of the future that he didn't notice the man enter until he spoke. "Exuse me," the man said making Mark jump. "I have an order to place." "Well you'll have to wait for another hour, my master will be here then," Mark said seething. He hated not being able to take orders even though he was just as good as his master. Looking up finally he noticed the door opening as another figure walked in.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 25, 2010 12:10:31 GMT -5
The figure paused in the doorway to let his eyes adjust from the bright light outside. He was of medium height and average build with shoulder length, wavy, dark auburn hair. He was wearing black trousers with a black wool under tunic. Over that was a dark gray tunic with long sleeves made of leather and dark gray riding boots that laced all the way up to his knees. His hands were covered in black gloves and overall he wore a black woolen cloak that hung all the way to the floor. He had it clasped at his neck with an elaborate cloak pin in the design of a falcon with a tiny sapphire for the eye. Around his head was a circlet of a narrow band of brass with knot-work etched into it. At regular intervals were tiny sapphires that matched the one in the cloak pin, as well as the color of his startling blue eyes.
He stepped forward into the light and cleared his throat, gingerly rubbing a bruise on his cheek with two gloved fingers. Upon closer inspection, though his clothing was of obvious superior quality, it was rather travel worn and covered with road dust. Closer inspection revealed a rent in his tunic and a bandage on his left arm and if one was paying particular attention, one could notice the slight limp on his right leg and the tell-tale bulge of a bandage beneath the trousers just above the knee. A white belt adorned his waist and spurs jangled on the heels of his boots.
"I have an order to place." "Well you'll have to wait for another hour, my master will be here then,"
The man frowned in irritation as he overheard the exchange between the apprentice and the other customer. "I hope that does not include repairs." He said in a melodious baritone voice.
He stepped forward and gently placed a large sack on the workbench near the apprentice and began pulling out some very beautifully wrought armor. The armor had taken a severe beating, though it was obvious the man took great care of it. It was well oiled and the leather straps had obviously been regularly soaped and were soft and supple, except for the two that had been cut in half by a sword blow.
There was a chunk missing from the left arm-brace and a hole pierced through the right tasset over the thigh. The chest armor had a long slice diagonally from left shoulder to right hip, that nearly cut the armor in half.
"I need this repaired as soon as possible, and no short-cuts on it. I want it to be as good as, if not better than, when it was new." He looked at the young man doubtfully. "I have heard that there is an apprentice here with a great deal of skill," he smiled, but only briefly. "I hope that is you. You think you can fix it correctly? There is an extra gold piece in it for you if you can do it in the next four hours while I restock my supplies and if I am satisfied with the workmanship."
He then pulled out his sword from its sheath and looked it over. There was a notch in the blade about 8 inches from the hilt, but the rest of the sword was razor sharp. He sheathed it and shook his head, "Perhaps I will have you fix the sword after, depending on how you do on the armor."
He fished his pouch out of his tunic, "How much does your master normally charge to repair a suit of armor?" he asked the lad, his hand poised over the coins.
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Post by Ringulf on Oct 16, 2010 8:56:11 GMT -5
The little blacksmith shop seemed to be the only sign of activity this morning though Yule could smell bread baking somewhere he notice a large horse outside the shop. He hitched up his large green sack on his shoulder and entered to find a large darkly clad knight who was a bit beaten up it seems talking about pricing with the blacksmith to repair some jousting armor.
"Good morning folks My name is Yule Valkotuka I have goods from all around the country, if there is anything you may need or desire I have, can make it or find it for you!"
"What of you Sir knight!" The mans spurs and white belt gave his station away, "it seems you might be in need of some medicinal help those bandages don't look all to fresh may I assist you with them?"
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 16, 2010 11:07:37 GMT -5
Sir Timothy looked at the newcomer with interest. As he sized up the man with the green sack and determined that he was not a healer, at least he didn’t have the look of any healer Tim had ever seen before. However Timothy was never one to turn away assistance for one never knew when help would be offered again. In his trade as a knight errant, he rode around the country offering aide and correcting wrongs, settling disputes to the best of his limited ability. The fact that he was a fugitive from the Araluen government was lost on most of the people he ran across. His wanted posters were years old and his fears of being recognized and arrested were fading. Although he still took precautions. One thing in his favor was that his posters contained a very crude drawing of him at age twenty-four and he was now forty-two and looked nothing like the pictures on the posters. He had not seen one on a public board in the last six years anyway.
“Are you a healer?” he asked the strangely clothed man. His garb seeming to come from Teutlandt or maybe farther north and did not appear to be the normal clothing for Araluen, even here in the winter in Norgate. “Or do you have some skill with the healing arts?” His voice had a very pleasant baritone timbre to it. “I actually am in need of a few items and don’t have the time to wait around for them.”
Sir Timothy thought for a moment and held up a black gloved hand with which he ticked off a few items, “Let’s see, a new set of cook gear, a crossbow trigger,” he looked doubtfully at the tinker or peddler that had entered the shop, wondering if he would have the items he really needed. “Some ink, quills and high quality parchment along with a selection of pigments and some gum arabic.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, “oh yes, and some sealing wax and a good lantern, and some strings for my hurdy-gurdy.” That last item was a long-shot; he had been looking for strings for the strange little instrument he played for nearly a year now. There was one shop in Araluen City that had them, but other than that, he had not been able to find the right size for it. He had made two strings, but since he was not a professional, they were not quite right and it was throwing the notes off, making some of his chords sour.
Timothy sat down on the Smithy’s stool and pulled up the sleeve of his tunic to expose the bandaged arm. He figured he would start with the least severe wound and see if this tinker had some skill. “I suppose I should add fresh bandages to my list,” Timothy chuckled and winked at Yule.
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Post by Ringulf on Oct 16, 2010 12:13:20 GMT -5
“Are you a healer?” he asked the strangely clothed man. His garb seeming to come from Teutlandt or maybe farther north and did not appear to be the normal clothing for Araluen, even here in the winter in Norgate. “Or do you have some skill with the healing arts?” His voice had a very pleasant baritone timbre to it. “I actually am in need of a few items and don’t have the time to wait around for them.”
"The latter is more the case, I do have some skill and fresh ointment and bandages, have some liniment here too, seems like you may be stiffening some and it may help you. Here let me take a look, As for the items you need you might be surprised what I can help you with! Tell me what you need!"
Sir Timothy thought for a moment and held up a black gloved hand with which he ticked off a few items, “Let’s see, a new set of cook gear, a crossbow trigger,” he looked doubtfully at the tinker or peddler that had entered the shop, wondering if he would have the items he really needed. “Some ink, quills and high quality parchment along with a selection of pigments and some gum arabic.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, “oh yes, and some sealing wax and a good lantern, and some strings for my hurdy-gurdy.” That last item was a long-shot; he had been looking for strings for the strange little instrument he played for nearly a year now. There was one shop in Araluen City that had them, but other than that, he had not been able to find the right size for it. He had made two strings, but since he was not a professional, they were not quite right and it was throwing the notes off, making some of his chords sour.
"HMMMM...let me see cook gear won't be a problem, nor will the lantern have em both right here!" and he pulled them both out of the bag.
"Let me see now, ah yes! there they are, you said quills and here is the ink, no fine parchment though, doesn't travel well but I do have a nicely bound book of parchment leafs if you are interested and the pigments I don't have with me but I can get them given time which you say you are short on, shame really."
"Now I have no gum Arabic as I sold my last in Caraway, but I have sealing wax. There now the crossbow trigger if you have the old one and this fine young man will allow me to use a corner of his shop, (I'll cut you in for half of the repair lad) I should be able to take care of it and believe it or not I have several rolls of differing thicknesse of cat gut so if you let me see that fine hurdy gurdy I will restring stretch and retune it!"
"Two gold, two silver will take the lot! what say ye?" The peddler said with a bright smile.
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 16, 2010 21:16:52 GMT -5
Tim looked over the cook gear and lamp and nodded, setting them at his feet as the tinker tended to his other arm. Yule was correct in stating that his muscles were stiffening up from the battle he’d had two days ago with those Scotti bandits. He sniffed the lineament and wrinkled his nose at the awful smell. “Won’t be attracting the Ladies with that stuff on me,” Tim joked and then the ointment began to penetrate into his muscles on his upper arm and a pleasant warmth began to relax the stressed bicep. “But it sure does feel nice. Thanks!”
"Let me see now, ah yes! there they are, you said quills and here is the ink, no fine parchment though, doesn't travel well but I do have a nicely bound book of parchment leafs if you are interested and the pigments I don't have with me but I can get them given time which you say you are short on, shame really."
“Let me take a look at the book.” Sir Timothy said when Yule was finished with his arm. He examined the blank book carefully, agreeing that it was of nice quality. It would not work for what he really needed, but he could use it as a journal perhaps.
"Now I have no gum Arabic as I sold my last in Caraway, but I have sealing wax. There now the crossbow trigger if you have the old one and this fine young man will allow me to use a corner of his shop, (I'll cut you in for half of the repair lad) I should be able to take care of it and believe it or not I have several rolls of differing thicknesses of cat gut so if you let me see that fine hurdy-gurdy I will restring stretch and retune it!"
Timothy fished into his large belt pouch and pulled out the trigger to his crossbow. It was broken in half and no longer would hold the bolt in place. “Darn bandit’s head was hard,” Tim looked at the two pieces and then handed them to the tinker. “Are you sure you can fix it? I figured a new one would probably be better. I don’t want it breaking when I am using it.”
He looked very disappointed at the lack of gum and pigments for making paint. That was going to be a problem if he didn’t get any during the next month. “Well, I can look for them at Norgate Castle in a few weeks.” He usually avoided the main cities and castles, but occasionally he made exceptions. “The instrument is out on my horse. If you can fix those strings, I would be very grateful. I tried, but I just don’t have the skill to do it right, it seems.”
"Two gold, two silver will take the lot! What say ye?" The peddler said with a bright smile.
Timothy hated haggling, but that price seemed a bit high. Of course if you figured in the reworking of the crossbow trigger and the doctoring, he supposed it wasn’t outrageous. He looked into his smaller pouch tucked inside his tunic and frowned at his dwindling supply of coins. He hadn’t earned much singing for the crowd at the last tavern, largely because his hurdy-gurdy was so far out of tune that he sounded like he had a wailing tom cat for accompaniment. If the peddler could get the instrument in fine working condition, he could earn the coin back and then some. Without it, he was doomed to mediocre performances and far less coin than normal. He would have to charge for his knight services instead of just helping people, and he hated to do that.
Sir Timothy pulled out the coins and dropped them into the tinker’s hand. “Sounds reasonable.” He said and then fetched the hurdy-gurdy from outside, limping heavily to and from his horse. He sat back down on the bench and carefully pulled out the strange looking instrument. He turned the crank and pressed a couple of keys, striking up a chord. There was a discordant sound and he winced. “See? I just didn’t get it right.” He handed the instrument to Yule.
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Post by Ringulf on Nov 6, 2010 17:47:15 GMT -5
Sir Timothy pulled out the coins and dropped them into the tinker’s hand. “Sounds reasonable.” He said and then fetched the hurdy-gurdy from outside, limping heavily to and from his horse. He sat back down on the bench and carefully pulled out the strange looking instrument. He turned the crank and pressed a couple of keys, striking up a chord. There was a discordant sound and he winced. “See? I just didn’t get it right.” He handed the instrument to Yule.
"A well that type of instrument is a bit tricky, the problem is these little doers are part mechanical and part natural! so you need to be a jeweler to deal with the mechanics and a cook to deal with the cat gut! Then after all that you have to be a musician to put it all together and make it sound like something other than a braying donkey!"
Yule took his projects over to the empty work bench. He gave Mark a wink as he put the items down. He had been this way before and the master smith had always let him work this way as Yule was generous and likable and always made sure he left things better than when he found them.
Yule worked for most of the morning and into the afternoon on the different projects and at around mid afternoon the sound of the hurdy gurdy filtered out the door of the shop.
The trigger was working perfectly and he took both the crossbow and the hurdy gurdy to the knight.
"Well good Sir I think you will find both these items serviceable now but why don't you take the crossbow out back and put a few rounds into those bales of hay just for good measure! After you are finished perhaps you will sing us a song as you play your instrument!"
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Post by Brandwyn on Nov 13, 2010 23:29:44 GMT -5
Sir Timothy looked them over and nodded, satisfied with the craftsmanship. He fingered the trigger of the crossbow and approved of the way it released. Taking the tinker’s advice, Tim limped through the shop to the back door and looked for a suitable target that had a clear space behind it.
About 200 yards behind the smithy, in a large pasture, was a single elm tree. The tree had been twisted by the weather and near constant wind in this far northern village on a high plateau. The tree had a lot of character though and Tim looked at it curiously for several minutes and then chuckled to himself at what he saw. At first glance it just looked like any old tree, but if one stared at it long enough, one could envision the shape of a very short man, or dwarf, sitting down and leaning his elbow on a huge forge hammer. He was stroking his long beard with that hand and the other held an axe suspended off to one side. The foliage was just right and the angle perfect to allow Tim to imagine the musing dwarf.
Around the tree trunk someone had tied a yellow ribbon which was fading in the sun and the ends were frayed by whipping in the constant wind. Tim took note of the strong wind and its direction as he loaded the double horseman’s crossbow, carefully placing a bolt in each chamber. He stood straight and tall, the crossbow hanging at his side after loading, his hand calmly resting on the pommel and his finger ready on the trigger. Taking account of the wind, bolt travel speed and distance to the yellow ribbon, Sir Timothy raised the crossbow to waist height and fired twice rapidly.
As the first arrow left, he knew it was going to be at least an inch to the left of his intended target and that the second shot had struck true. ‘Thud! Zwing! Thud!’ The two arrows struck the tree trunk and pinned one end of the yellow ribbon to the trunk. The other still fluttered, but there was a crossbow bolt in the ribbon tied around the tree trunk right next to the loose end.
He lowered the bow and reloaded it and stood again, not waiting more than a fraction of a second, he let fly again and the arrows thudded into the tree trunk. The first pinned the fluttering end of the yellow ribbon and the second skewered the knot. Nodding in satisfaction he looked back at the ‘dwarf’ tree and then groaned. He had forgotten he was going to have to retrieve his bolts, and he certainly didn’t want to walk that far with the wound in his leg. He gave a low whistle followed by two sharp high notes and waited. After a couple of minutes his horse trotted up to him. Timothy mounted and cantered down to the tree and retrieved his crossbow bolts, inspecting each one before he placed them back in the quiver on his hip.
He cantered back to the forge and left his horse in the pasture, still saddled and returned to the inside of the shop. “Fine job there, Yule. I believe it is going to work just fine.” He held up the bow right before clipping it onto his belt just in front of the bolt quiver.
He picked up the hurdy gurdy and turned the crank and then played a couple of chords. The sound was sweet and true and he looked up at the tinker in amazement. “I suspect you may be a true bard, Sir Tinker, for only a bard could make this ole gal sing like this!” He patted the instrument fondly as if it were an old lover.
Cranking out a few chords, he considered what he would sing until he finally came upon a song that he rarely got to perform due to most people’s dislike of the Skandians in this corner of Norgate.
The song was called ‘Seakings’
He cleared his voice, took a sip of water from his canteen strapped to his back under his cloak and launched into the intro for the song. Then his baritone voice rang out with the words to the old unfamiliar song.
Misting rain dropped down to meet Thick strands of smoke filled the air That rose up through the sky to greet The clouds that rested there.
The ocean’s waves curled up in the shore Where once great dragons lay, Whose smoldering hulks will sail no more As red fire claimed the day.
Winged demons pranced upon the field, Black birds that croaked and cried And perched on broken spears and shields, Great warriors here had died.
A Seaking knelt there on the sand And watched his life’s blood flow And soak into the sodden land That drank from his deathblow.
All round about him bodies lay: His foeman all had died. He stood alone on that grim day And “Odin,” came his sigh.
No more will he walk the oars Or share tales of his raids Unless it’s on some distant shore Where warriors walk as shades.
Through the clouds a spear of light, And distant horns did sound, Cold fire glowed both blue and white And bolted to the ground.
Rumbling hooves sent thunder ringing As upon that bridge there rode A Valkyrie, voice raised in singing Deeds of valor, SeaKing’s Ode.
From Valhalla did this maiden ride; A warrior she would claim, A son of Odin here had died, And great had been his fame.
Beside the Seaking she did kneel And spoke a mighty spell. Lightening across the sky did reel When back he came from Hell.
Her laughter reached into the skies As she offered him her hand. “No son of Odin truly dies,” and she raised him from the sand.
Upon her steed they sped away, Past the Watcher’s lonely eyes To feast by night and fight by day. No son of Odin truly dies!
(OOC: (By Robert of Middleford) (aka Robert B. Giacomozzi) (June 22, 1987))
His hypnotizing baritone voice faded away and he sat still for a moment, remembering the woman who had taught him that song. She was a blacksmith, an unusual trade for a woman, but then she had been the most unusual woman he had ever met. He wasn’t even sure of her name. He remembered her as Glory for she had been a glorious woman with golden hair. She had said this was one of her favorite songs and she sung it for him. By the end of their one night together, he had it memorized. Now, on the rare times he sung it, he always remembered the woman, so like the Valkyrie in the song, who had provided some much needed comfort and care when he was in sore need of it.
Sir Timothy was wrenched back to the present by someone in the forge shifting their stance and he glanced up to see Yule and Mark watching him. He nodded his thanks to Yule and collected the items he had bought from him and the other supplies he had collected around the village while the tinker and the blacksmith apprentice had worked on his projects. “Very nicely refurbished, Yule,” he complimented him on restringing and tuning the hurdy gurdy. “Perhaps I can earn my supper, even with this bullfrog like voice that I must use to croak out the lyrics.” He jested modestly. He knew he had a very nice voice, but he always tried to downplay his skill and talent. He was many things, but a professional bard was not one of them. He only dabbled at the art, using his meager talent to gain food, supplies and coins whenever possible.
“Say, if you are going to be in Norgate Castle at all next month, and you can get your hands on that parchment and those pigments, could you leave them at the castle for me? There is a lady knight there, by the name of Katrina de Montgomery who will hold them for me and pay you for your trouble.” Sir Timothy held out his hand to the tinker. “I thank you for your help. Should you ever be in any trouble, you can call on Sir Timothy Baskerville for help, though I would appreciate you keeping that name to yourself.” He gave the tinker a knowing look figuring the man would pick up on the fact that he was running around the fief incognito for whatever reason.
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Post by Ringulf on Nov 25, 2010 13:18:15 GMT -5
“Say, if you are going to be in Norgate Castle at all next month, and you can get your hands on that parchment and those pigments, could you leave them at the castle for me? There is a lady knight there, by the name of Katrina de Montgomery who will hold them for me and pay you for your trouble.” Sir Timothy held out his hand to the tinker. “I thank you for your help. Should you ever be in any trouble, you can call on Sir Timothy Baskerville for help, though I would appreciate you keeping that name to yourself.” He gave the tinker a knowing look figuring the man would pick up on the fact that he was running around the fief incognito for whatever reason.
Yule put his finger up to the side of his nose to indicate his secret was safe, then gave him a wink with one of his sparkly blue eyes.
"Hey now, if you are interested in getting back a bit of your coin, let me write down the words of that song and teach me the tune, I enjoy such ballads and could use it in my repertoire."
Well now I am off to the local watering hole to see if I can nab a bit of ale and a few stories from the locals, care to join me?
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Post by Brandwyn on Nov 25, 2010 23:11:45 GMT -5
Sir Timothy gathered up his belongings and stowed them in his pack. He inspected the repaired armor and sharpened sword and nodded in satisfaction. "Good job, young man." He slipped him the promised coin. "I shall pass along the word of your craftsmanship in my travels."
Turning to Yule, he said, "I was planning to head there myself for a bit of dinner and to put your repair skills to the test and mayhap earn a bit of coin myself this evening." Timothy noted that the sun was setting as they stepped out of the shop and he stowed his bags on the back of his saddle. He led the horse down to the ale house and tied him out front, giving him his evening portion of grain in a nose bag that he hung over the horse's ears. He patted the horse and grabbed his hurdy-gurdy and followed Yule inside. "I hadn't planned to stay long, there are some nasty bandits roaming these hills preying on travelers. I need to get back on their trail, but I am going to need some travel ling money, soooo..." he tilted his head to Yule.
They found a table and Timothy ordered some roasted mutton and buttered turnips with carrots and a tankered of the local brewed brown ale.
"Now, pay attention and I shall sing the song again for you." Timothy winked at Yule and then strummed a few chords on his hurdy-gurdy. They had been in the tavern for about a half hour and already word had gotten out that there might be entertainment tonight and the place was packed with locals.
Timothy spread out the hurdy-gurdy case on the floor at his feet and then launched into the same song he had just sung in the blacksmith shop.
After that he sung three more songs and then took a break for another mug of the delicious local ale. He went over the lyrics and music with Yule until the tinker had them memorized. While they were doing that, he kept one ear on the local conversations, gathering news about any problems they were encountering. The local bandit problem was far more widespread than he had thought and Timothy wasn't quite sure what he could do about them alone. It was going to take a large troop of soldiers to bring in the huge group of bandits. Something needed to be done though, because their looting was getting far out of hand.
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