Bright_Ops

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Oh I'm still alive. I really should work on a post in the next day or two.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Sorry Dark. Depression, sickness and the possibility of starting a new job has been wrecking me for weeks now.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

The Craftsman & The Hammers of the Dragon

The Craftsman froze.

This was somewhat noticeable, since he had been partway through a demonstration of a technique with his team of 'rookie' blacksmith of the Hammers of the Dragon and his students had noticed Old Man Hamarr suddenly stop talking and freeze in place. As Hamarr's head slowly started to turn so he gaze landed on what was to his students just a random piece of wall in silence, one of his prize pupils Hildaburg dared to speak up as she asked "Master Hamarr? Are you-" only for Hamarr to raise his hand to cut her off.

"I'm fine, but something big has just happened and I need to speak with Droka immediately." When Hamarr spoke it was with a... softness of tone that was generally only reserved for those students that were clearly trying and putting in effort but were just not quite getting the lesson. "I'm afraid we'll have to postpone this lesson. Go and take a break but... don't go too far. In fact, try and alert the other groups that I'll want to talk to them all shortly. You're all dismissed." Not once while he was talking did Hamarr look away from the spot on the wall that his gaze had been locked onto, even as he gently enforced his dismissal with a small wave of his hand.

While most of the students did as told and left the longhouse, if in a somewhat nervous and confused manner, Hildaburg remained with a look of worry but a bravery in her eyes that was hard not to respect. "Master, might I stay and hear the voice of Droka alongside you? I promise I won't speak..."

At last, Hamarr's gaze turned from the wall towards his student. For a second the old man looked like he was about to chastise the young woman for her question but... he paused for a moment as he looked her in the eyes. A moment of thought... before at last he shook his head. When his spoke his tone was still soft but there was a degree of affection to it; A teacher speaking one on one with a beloved student "Not this time. However, I can promise you that you will get to speak with the Craftsdragon directly before I depart from Scawick. Now run along Hildaburg."

With her boldness and bravery somewhat rewarded, even if she was disappointed that those rewards would come later, Hildaburg finally followed her peers out the door, leaving the Craftsman in private to talk to his master silently. "Droka, what just happened? I felt... something happen in the Westfold and I don't know what."

It took a moment for Droka to turn his gaze towards the Westfold and discover exactly what it was that had been detected by his Avatar, but once he had that information it was shared freely. The conversation about what to do about it lasted for a time... but as it drew to a close a grim expression settled on the Craftsman's features. Droka was focused on refining the details of his project down south and was content to leave how the matter was handled up to the Craftsman, even approving of the plan that he had suggested... but for the first and hopefully final time, Droka had growled in anger at him.

"Never make a promise on my behalf without speaking to me first ever again! The one you've made is a small thing and I'm happy to follow through with it, but do it again and there will by consequences."

.......................................................................................

When Hamarr had thrown open his door to invite all the students who either could attend or had been found and informed of the meeting, he did so with a dark expression on his face. The somberness of their teacher resulted in the various members of the Hammers to find spots to sit or stand and listen relatively quickly and in near silence. The tension in the air betrayed their thoughts; They knew something had happened and if it was concerning Hamarr this much, it was something big and nasty.

It was only once the last person had found their place that Hamarr addressed them. "Earlier today, two men from Scawick performed an utterly horrific act in the name of revenge against Ha-Dûna and a woman named Hilda 'the Leoness' of Clan Ur-Gaard. Having bargained with a vile witch, they abducted Hilda's child and ritually sacrificed him in order to summon a destructive demonic entity into the world, using Hilda as a host to anchor it to this plane."

If Hamarr had let the crowd murmur and speak they likely would have, but he didn't as he continued "Regardless of your views and opinions of Ha-Dûna or of Hilda 'the Leoness', the thing that your countrymen have summoned into this world that wears her flesh is a bloodthirsty, rampaging beast of tremendous power that is almost unkillable by mortal means. If left to its own devices, it will rage across the Westfold for decades, if not generations before it runs out of life energy to sustain itself and the killing finally comes to an end. Scawick will not be spared from the slaughter that is to come, for a creature that was created only to suffer will inflict suffering upon the world blindly in turn."

"I have spoken with Droka... and he has decided to offer you the chance to spare your homes and families the grim fate that your kin have invited upon this land. This demon was called into the world with the spilling of innocent blood; The guilty blood of the two Scawick men who shed it is the key to its undoing. Any weapon infused with the blood of the two men will be able to bypass the demons defenses, fully able to injury and kill the host body and banish the demon from the world. Droka has desires for you to be the ones to deal with this threat. If you are able to do so, he will offer a divine boon to those men and women who cast it back into the darkness from once it came."

For a few moments there was a stunned silence... then a small wave of murmuring as people began to discuss among themselves what they had just heard. The murmuring ceased as a young woman stood up, a look of icy rage in her eyes. "Who did this?" Hildaburg asked with a restrained passion.

Hamarr looked... resigned as he answered "Droka did not deem them worthy of having their names spoken, but they are two men who have been away from Scawick for some time and whom will soon be returning together. You will be able to recognize them for what they are and what they have done because they will both only have nine fingers on their hands, the tenth being sacrificed in order to seal their dark pact with the witch."

"Where is this magical bitch?" Hildaburg snapped in anger, clenching her hands into fists as she tried to restrain her fury. Her master shaking his head at her request confused her.

"The witch has fled back to her lair now that the deed is done. She will remain there until another fool disturbs her forest home. She is far away, well protected and truthfully too powerful at this time for any of you to have a hope of success at even harming her, even if you were given a weapon that could do the deed. Her time will come, but not today Hildaburg. Focus your rage towards undoing the demon that her vile magics have brought forth instead." Hamarr explained truthfully.

For a moment he seemed.. conflicted by something before he rallied and continued "Droka will also offer a second boon to anyone brave enough to perform a task he deemed suited for a true champion of the Craftsdragon. However, he will only revel what this second quest will be to those who slay the demon infested Hilda. Before you all ask, he did not tell me what it was. There is only one way to find out. Any further questions?"

Summery

The Craftsman detects the summoning of a demon in Ha-Dûna during a lesson, but is unaware of what exactly he is detecting. Ending the lesson early to talk with Droka, his prized student Hildaburg requested being apart of the conversation with the deity, promising to be quiet. While her request is turned down, her boldness prompted the Craftsman to promise that Droka would speak with her at a later date, much to the annoyance of Droka for having a promise being made on his behalf. Droka then informs the Craftsman of what happened in Ha-Dûna, alongside making it clear never to make promises on his behalf again without talking to him first or there would be consequences.

Summoning the member of the Hammers of the Dragon, the Craftsman informs them of some of what happened in Ha-Dûna and the actions of two men from Scawick that caused it. He also stressed that Droka wants his followers to be the ones to take down the demonic Hilda and informs them that weapons infused with the blood of the two guilty men who sacrificed an innocent child to summon the demon in the first place are able to hurt and kill the physical host body, banishing the demon back to the dark pit that spawned it. The witch involved in the scheme has returned home, no longer a factor in events to play out and thus isn't their concern for the time being.

In return for slaying the demon, Droka has offered the slayers a boon, alongside the chance to earn a second boon for a task they will be informed about by him personally after the demon is dealt with.

When asked who the two men who summoned the demon were, the Craftsman couldn't give names but offered a description of them; Namely that there are two of them, they have been away from Scawick for a long time but will be returning together and that they both have only nine fingers.

Prestige

The Hammers of the Dragon
Over 7500 characters in the post= 4 Prestige.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

As much as Draco would have liked to make a witty response, he paused his exit of the building to look at the hunter that was talking about questioning the men. The look on his face matched his words and the tone of his voice perfectly as he responded "What happens to those men isn't my concern, but I would prefer you save it until after I've gotten as many innocent people as possible out of the way first."

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Laying the Seeds

Droka's time with the Craftsman had been rather productive.

There had been so many plans lingering in his mind, wishing to come into existence and grace the mortal realm below but... steps needed to be taken. They couldn't all come at once and even the powers and mind of a deity had its limits to what it could process at a singular time. The meat of the discussion between deity and avatar had largely been to work out the order of things, alongside where they should take place.

The presence of the Hammers of the Dragon in the Westfold region had been more then enough justification to turn his gaze elsewhere for these later projects. The Westfold highlands was in for a chaotic period of time with factions visaing for dominance among mortal kind, but it was also a field in which deities were fighting for dominance and prestige via proxies. Their attention would be focused on it and thus it was likely they would attempt to intervene if he overplayed his hand in the region... and at any rate, he was curious to see how his followers in Scawick did without him actively doing something to harm their interests.

The dragon's gaze traveled south, drawn towards the brightness of the south-eastern part of the continent. Even from his perch in Antiquity, it was a beautiful sight to behold. Somewhere to be witnessed at the ground level to be sure, but the longer he gazed at it, the more he couldn't help but notice the darkness of the lands next to it. No major civilization had had a chance to grow in the shadow of the Luminant...yet.

Focusing his attention on the unnamed, somewhat ignored regions around the Luminant, Droka raised his hands and brought them together in front of his face, index fingers held out and pressed together before touching his lips in thought. West... or North...

Both were good options really... but there was only one was to really fairly decide in order to give the story he was about to start a proper beginning. Without even a thought, a metal disc the size of a small coin of a pleasantly silvery metal manifested in his hand. On one side was an 'N', while on the other was printed a 'W'. Without pausing, the old man flipped it, watching the coin spin in the air before coming back to land in his palm.

Glancing down, he saw the proud 'N' face up. A small thing, but it was generally on small things that the universe turned.

Selecting a location, even once the area of search had been limited, took time. In the end he decided upon a somewhat vacant, sheltered valley to do his work. A hundred kilometers away from the Luminant's glow, with plenty of room to expand in all directions. The valley itself was relatively easy to miss if you were ground bound and didn't know the local area... and in truth the whole region had largely avoided settlements or much more then the wandering mortal soul desiring to see more of the world they inhabited and just found themselves passing through.

When the ground rumbled and divinity touched the world, the local birds took to the skies and the ground bound animals fled in whatever manner that they could. Pits started to shape themselves into the ground as if something was pushing the soil down, whatever plant life and animals who either couldn't fly or were too small to flee in time going down with it. When both pits had finally reached a size and depth that was deemed suitable by their creator, the pits went no deeper... but the earth continued to rumble.

At the bottom of both pits, the earth cracked... and out from the depths poured liquid fire. Metal so hot that it was completely molten, the heat and glow so great that just the sight of it on the unprepared eye was strong enough to burn itself into its vision. The flow of the molten metal was a torrent, filling up the pit within less then a minute (and granting those poor creatures caught within those pits a mercifully quick, if fiery death), before the 'ponds' of molten metal had reached their brim and the flow ceased. The bright, glowing whites with the odd flicker of orange and yellow radiated their heat into the air, setting fire to what plant life happened to have not been dragged down into the pits turned molten lakes, burning away what had once been the local fauna and flora in a blaze that didn't care what it burned.

Once all the former life had been cleansed from the valley (either by fleeing or dying), new plants started to grow from the ashes left behind from the old. These new plants looked much like the old but... there was a key difference; They were clearly made of metal. Exactly what metal seemed to vary depending on which of the two ponds they were near. The plants that grew near the southern molten pond shone brightly in the sun as the light reflected off of their almost polished looking bronze gleams, seeming to favor the forms of flowers or bushes. The plants of the eastern pond took on a variety of grays, their iron forms favoring trees and stalks of bamboo. Those plants that seemed to grow on the border between the two ponds tended to be a beautiful mixture of both bronze and iron worked into different parts of the same plant.

Taking a deep breath, Droka smiled at his work. It still needed a name of course and he was more then willing to confess that names... really weren't his strong point. In time he intended to add to his creation, so whatever name it was given needed to remain true not just in its current state, but later own after it was improved. After all, there was more room in the valley for future ponds and more of his living metal plants. Something that captured it's essence...

The Burning Valley and The Molten Valley sprang to mind of course, but they were dismissed from his mind as a different name presented itself and brought a smile to Droka's face. "Valley Forge. I like it."

Summery

Droka, having talked with the Craftsman previously, looks for a location to start stage one of his future projects. Deciding to do it far away from the Westfold to let the Holy Order he made have room to grow and be their own thing, Droka turns his gaze south. Admiring the Luminant for a time, his attention turns to the dark, empty lands around it and decides on a direction via coin flip.

Deciding on a sheltered valley about a 100 or more kilometers from the boarder of the Luminant, Droka creates his first holy site which he names Valley Forge. The creation of the two molten Ponds of Bronze and Iron purge the valley of its natural wild and plant life in fire and heat, allowing for metal plants of living bronze, iron and a mixture of both to start growing in their places.

MP Summery

Holy Site: Valley Forge.

Valley Forge is a large, sheltered and somewhat hidden (at least from the ground) valley that is about 5 kilometers wide and 4 kilometers tall . Due to Droka's 'blessing' of the region, it is currently made up of two large ponds. The Pond of Bronze, located at the southern end of the valley and the Pond of Iron located to the east. The creation of these large ponds resulted in a large fire that cleared the valley of life... with the expection of the metal plants that started to grow around the ponds in the ashes of the former wilderness.

-2 Free Titles, Pond of Never-ending Bronze II - Is a Pond filled with Molten Bronze. If the metal can be drawn out of the Pond, it can be treated as normal molten bronze and shaped. The Pond will refill with molten bronze and never run dry

-2DP, Pond of Never-ending Iron II - Is a Pond filled with Molten Iron. If the metal can be drawn out of the Pond, it can be treated as normal molten Iron and shaped. The Pond will refill with molten Iron and never run dry

-1DP, Living Metal Plants I
Due to the holy nature of the site, living plants made out of bronze, iron and a mixture of both will grow around their respective Ponds. The exact nature of the plants seem to depend on their location to the Ponds, with the plants growing like their organic counterparts with the exception that they do not seem to require water and they are made completely out of their respective metal.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Alright. Got a post up. Sorry for taking so long.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eastern Yharnam, Hunter's Clinic

Victor was not the only one who was clearly confused by talks of blue lights and lanterns. Unlike the brass, crass hunter dedicated to the protection of a blood saint through, Draco had enough common sense to keep his mouth shut on the matter. Hunters could be rather weird folk after all, the process having some kind of effect on their mental state alongside the physical 'improvements'. He wasn't honestly sure exactly what those were, but as long as these hunters kept sane enough to escort him and his civilians to safety before heading off into the night that was good enough for him.

"I don't know who those men who attacked you are or why exactly they did so. Their logic and reasoning is completely their own. However, I suspect at the core they are driven by fear. Despite all the good that Hunters do, there is an old saying of 'Power corrupts'. A hunter that decides to use their... 'gifts' for purely selfish desires or who goes insane can do a great deal of damage." There was... another possibility and Draco's hand seemed to nervously trail up and down the haft of his weapon as before he committed himself to saying it "It... might also be a sign of the beast plague... twisting the mind before the physical signs appear but please don't take my word for that. I don't have that much experience with the beasts or their plague myself. I was in Hemwick dealing with the witches when the plague was first flaring up."

The gaps in his knowledge and theories offered, he took a deep breath as he turned towards the door and... paused as he looked over his shoulder. "I'm going to go and try and convince the people I'm escorting to come out of hiding and come here. With the incense burning it'll give them a relatively safe place to catch their breath and for us all to figure out how we're going to move to the nearby shelter... it'll hopefully also mean you won't have to kill those men that attacked you in front of them. I'll be back shortly."

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

I'm sorry for the lack of posts. I've just... been going through a lot mentally the last... well, while now.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

The Legendary Craftsman
&
Droka

One of the signs of a good craftsman was how they treated their tools.

As he gently ran a rag against his hammer to remove some of the blemishes that had gathered on it over the course of the day, the Craftsman let his thoughts wander. His work in Scawick was coming to a close. The blacksmiths that he had educated and trained and adopted the title 'The Hammers of the Dragon' as a tribute to their new deity Droka had been wonderful students... but they had reached the point where there wasn't much more left for him to teach.

Well, that was a lie. He could teach them a great deal more if he wanted to, but he didn't. Iron would be a major upgrade in the Westfold region, but it was far from the peak of the metalworking craft. After all, if you just gave them everything on a silver platter they wouldn't learn or grow on their own and the stagnation would grow boring rather quickly.

Closing his eyes as he considered where he would travel next once he packed up in a day or so, the Craftsman couldn't help but notice a change in the world around him as it seemed to shift ever so slightly. Opening his eyes, he was not seated in the small, once empty longhouse in Scawick that he had borrowed to stay in during his time in the village, but instead an impressive looking study, lined with shelves covered in books, parchment and stone slabs of all shapes and sizes...

Looking around carefully, he quickly noticed the comfortably roaring fire nearby... but what truly drew his attention was the appearance of Droka himself, seated comfortable across from him in all his radiant glory, towering over him in the form of a dragon. For his part, Droka gazed back down at his Avatar... and smiled gently as he greeted "Aw, good to see you. Sorry for the random invitation, but you didn't seem busy and I felt the need to bounce some ideas off of you. How are you going by the way?"

For the Craftsman's part, he merely shrugged as he relaxed into his seat. "Can't complain. I admit I don't really see why you were so interested in Scawick, but it's not a bad place nor are they bad people. But wouldn't you know that already?"

It was an interesting thing, listening and seeing a dragon chuckle. The scales seemed to glide along their body, glistening in the firelight as Droka's wings seemed to ruffle like a leathery sail in the wind. "I admit, it would be rather trivial for me to figure such things out, but I did rather want to practice this all conversation thing a little before I attempted to speak with my fellow deities and risk making a fool of myself. Besides, I don't believe either of us is in any particular rush so there isn't any harm in taking our time to be civil. Might I offer you something to eat or drink?"

The Craftsman politely shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm good right now." When all Droka did was make a gesture that suggested 'suit yourself', the Craftsman continued as he asked "So what ideas did you want to discuss?"

"Getting right down to business then?" Droka joked gently... before conceding the point and turning so that he could grab something that had been behind him. "Kind of a minor thing really to start with but... what do you think of this?"

At first, the Craftsman looked at the potted plant that his master had planted in front of him with confusion. The first impression he got was that his Master had taken a living plant and coated it in bronze and capturing the details perfectly, but a closer inspection reveled the truth; The 'Plant' was in truth made out of what appeared to be dozens of strands of bronze, rolled into fine, long sticks of the metal that had been twisted together and shaped. The trunk of the plant, the branches coming off of it, even the leaves were all apart of the combined strands of bronze. "It is beautiful. Is it alive?"

Droka shook his head at the question. "I considered it. Maybe have them grow naturally at metal veins in order to revel where they are located but... I decided against it. Didn't seem right, you know? Besides, considering how deep some metals go it seems like a bit of a tease. But... it does seem too good just to completely abandon as an idea, you know?"

The Craftsman slowly nodded his head in agreement, his eyes remaining on the metal 'plant' carefully as he suggested "Maybe... have them grow naturally only in areas you've decided to offer your personal blessing?"

There was a small moment of silence before Droka made a 'Hmm' noise, clearly contemplating the idea. "Wouldn't be a trouble thing... I'll have to give it a bit more thought first through." Shaking his head softly as he reminded himself of something, the craftsdragon flapped his wings as he moved on "At any rate, this was a minor thing. What I really wanted your opinion on-" Shifting his massive bulk with surprising flexibility and care so that he could pick up a series of parchments and offer them to his smaller Avatar. "-are these. They're still somewhat in the development stage but... feedback is highly welcomed."

The Craftsman did as asked and looked over the designs that he had been given. His eyes widened in surprise.

Summery

Droka decides to have a small chat with his Avatar the Craftsman within his Grand Library. The conversation is civil and Droka revels a plant crafted out of metal. Originally intending to have them grow around metal veins, Droka decided the idea was a bit foolish, but at the advice of the Craftsman is willing to entertain having such plants grow in blessed ground in the future. Droka also revels a mystery project to his Avatar.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

The Legendary Craftsman

Uneven wooden creaking seemed to fill the air as the cart rolled along the uneven, wild ground.

The cart itself was mostly wooden, the wheels rimmed with a metal that simply had been seen or taken advantage of in this part of the world. The cart itself appeared to be relatively new and well made, but the journey over the Westfold's hilly, unpaved terrain had clearly taken a minor toll. The back of the cart was covered and tied down securely, while the stag pulling the cart did so without much in the way of complaining about the conditions.

Leading the elk on foot was a man, hooded and cloaked. From a distance not much could be discerned of his appearance under the cloak, but it was easy to see the beard that was dangling for all the world to see. The edges of it had gone grey, but near the flesh was still a strong, rich black. For a time, there was nothing but the hills but soon he spied the signs of civilization. A relatively small town, but for the region still a solid one. One that his master had taken a keen interest in shortly after he had gazed upon the world for the first time.

It wasn't his place to judge where his Master deemed suitable to send him on a mission like this, but he had to admit that there were worse places for a deity to focus their efforts on reshaping the way the world worked. They didn't even have dirt roads between settlements yet. A little bit of forging would do them the world of good.

As his cart finally arrived at the broader of the settlement, he was greeted by a large, burly looking man wearing some kind of multi-coloured dress and a beard you could nest a family of birds in with a rather gruff "Alright, ya Dûnan wanker. I don't care if you're here to trade, you can turn that bloody cart right around and shove ya wears straight up ya ars-" that was about as far as the man got before the Craftsman had calmly brought his elk to a stop, walked calmly up to the vulgar gentleman that was in the process of insulting him several times and proceeded to deliver an uppercut to the chin that lifted the somewhat taller man off his feet, into air and into the land of dreams before he landed on his back upon the ground.

While the act of a smaller, clearly older gentleman knocking out a young, bash man in his prime had clearly caught the attention of those nearby, after the Craftsman made sure the man was still alive and breathing he calmly returned to his horse and started to lead it again, looking at the nearest human (a woman this time) and asked "Is this Scawick?"

The look of shock gave way to confusion as she seemed to shudder back to a start. "Wha-"

"Is this Scawick?" The Craftsman asked again, keeping the same calm, collected tone he had used before. "I'm fairly certain I was heading the right way, but after a while the hills start to look the same and it would have damned annoying if I had gotten turned around at some point." He admitted with a small sigh.

The woman, clearly on edge at the civil but very clearly dangerous man that likely could cause her a great deal of trouble before help arrived if she started screaming, gulped as she nervously nodded her head. "Y-Yeah. This is Scawick. I-Is he going to be-"

"He'll be fine. He's just knocked out. Likely have a headache when he wakes up, but he's young. He'll recover... and hopefully with a rather important lesson about bad mouthing one’s elders." The Craftsman answered before she could finish the question. "Now, could you be a good lass and point me in the direction of... I'm not sure what the local word would be... the ones who work metal here?"

A rather timid "W-Why do you want to see the gabhas?" escaped her lips as the young man on the ground started to return to the waking world with a groan... and promptly got a swift kick to the ribs for his troubles as the hooded old man lowered his cloak... and offered her a smile like a kindly grandfather.

"Because my dear, I'm going to make it so that the fools in Ha-Dûna are forced to acknowledge your people as equals, if not be forced to look up to you as their betters and I need the assistance of the gabhas to do that. Would you kindly lead the way? And if you knew a good place I can water my elk that would be lovely."

“Don’t you move one inch, you fiend!” came a yell, and the groan of at least ten bowstrings. Seventeen men and women had lined up with whatever arms they had, pointing them threateningly at the stranger. A pair of young girls hurried over to the passed-out man on the ground, shouting, “Uncle! Uncle!”

The Craftsman blinked slightly as he turned to look at the sudden wall of bowstrings pointed directly at him and his elk. Honestly, considering that despite the fact that he had just laid out a taller, younger man he still appeared somewhat elderly, the show of force would honestly seem comedical to an outside observer.

Clearly not afraid of the promise of injury and death before him, he still remained still as he answered “Is this how Scawick greets visitors these days? Insults and threats towards those who happen to have a few gray hairs? Where I’m from if you’re going to insult a man to his face, you shouldn’t be surprised when they take offense. I mean really… assuming I’m from Ha-Dûna.” He actually spat on the ground at the utterance of that sentence, as if the assumption was more insulting than the rest of his vulgar behavior.

The militia exchanged baffled looks. “Visitor?! You just beat down a respected man in the street! Lerda is none other than Burud’s brother, he is!” Bowstrings whined deeper with tension. “You have until the count of three to turn away and never come back, outsider, or you’ll be finding yourself pushing up Jennesis’ daisies within the hour!”

For a moment, the Craftsman seemed to ponder the situation… before closing his eyes and muttering something softly to himself for only himself to hear. After a moment, a grunt escaped him as he let go of the rope of his elk and took several strides to the side so that he was clear of his cart, before opening his arms wide. “Go ahead. For reasons I am struggling to entertain, my master Droka seems to have taken a shine to your people and if a small demonstration of one of the gifts he wishes to offer you is what it takes to get you to take both of us seriously, then by all means, open fire.”

The Scawicks did as told, loosening a volley of arrows upon the stranger. Some of the arrows missed the target completely, either going slightly wide or above where the craftsman was standing. Some clearly gazed, but it was also clear that that clothing he wore was a little loose on his frame and thus didn’t actually do anything beyond slightly ruining his attire. Most however stuck true… and either bounced off completely, had the stone heads of the arrows shattered or even had the full arrow itself snap from the impact without doing any damage at all.
Without a word, the old man reached up and calmly removed his ruined tunic, casting it aside and leaving himself wearing his trousers… and what appeared to be a coat that covered his chest t, all the way down to his upper legs, appearing like overlapping scales on some kind of reptile or fish that were crafted from a gray metal of which had never been seen worked in the Westfold before. “People of Scawick. My master, Droka the craftsdragon of the gods, bid me to come and enlighten your people of the gift of his knowledge of working metal, but also to teach you the secrets of how to work iron… the first settlement in Westfold and beyond to be gifted such knowledge. It is your decision if you decide to accept it or not.”

Immediately, the mood shifted. Shocked by the ineffectiveness of their arrows and moved by the gospel of the stranger, the villagers descended to their knees and lifted their hands to the heavens. “Have our prayers finally been answered?!” came a cheer. “Have the gods finally seen our suffering?!” came another. “Praise be to the Craftsdragon! Scawick shall rise again!”
.....................................................................

With the incident at the gate squared away ratherly cleanly (If Lerda felt that the matter hadn’t been settled properly, it had been made rather clear to him that if he wanted to try fighting him again, the Craftsman would be more then willing to whoop his arse in round two), the figure that had introduced himself simply as Hamarr (Since mortals were so strange about the whole ‘name’ thing) had quickly arranged for a gathering of the gabhas of Scawick… which was honestly not that large a gathering.

Even with the insistence that apprentices should also be present the numbers were still rather low… so Hamarr had also allowed several of Scawick’s youngest adults who hadn’t quite found their calling in life to be present as well.

Somewhat happy with the numbers now, Hamarr was finally content to speak with the inhabitants of the longhouse selected for this meeting. “I will start by saying that I am aware that many of you have responsibilities and duties that you have to attend to outside of the lessons I intend to teach. Droka is a working god and is well aware that for a settlement the size of Scawick, every man, woman and child is required to pull their weight.”

To that end, before this meeting is over I will be dividing you all into groups. Not only will it allow me to be able to focus on educating and training you all better as individuals, but it also means that while I’m working with one group, I am not depriving Scawick of people from fulfilling their obligations. I trust that will be acceptable for all of you?”

Giving a moment to allow the crowd to raise any objections, Hamarr continued easily. “With that out of the way, I believe we can get started. I’m sure you’re all interested in learning what iron actually is and why you haven’t heard of it before my arrival. The sad truth is that the reason iron is unheard of is quite simply because the world is currently focused on bronze.”
“That isn’t to say that the focus on bronze is unwarranted. Has anyone here ever had the pleasure of seeing a bronze weapon before? But alas, bronze is difficult to produce. In order to produce bronze, one requires copper as a key ingredient, but also tin or arsenic to mix with it… neither of which is present in the Westfold in any meaningful way. Truth is, Tin is rather rare and while arsenic is much more common, it is also incredibly dangerous to the health of the gabhas using it. Even if you do everything correctly, it will slowly kill you over time.”

His small warning given, Hamarr moved on to the point with his hands behind his back. “So while distant civilisations fight over control of tin and copper deposits, iron has been ignored. It is generally somewhat deeper in the ground then the former two, but I will teach you how to locate it from the surface… but the real reason that iron is ignored when compared to copper and bronze is that by comparison, iron is much more difficult to work with.”

“The flames hot enough to melt copper and bronze are nowhere near enough to melt iron. One of the secrets that Droka wishes for me to impart on all of you is how to create a furnace that can produce enough heat to melt iron into a workable form. Now, are there any questions before I split you all into groups and get your training started?”

One of the workers raised a hand. “Now forgive me for asking this, but we can hardly get kilns that melt copper in this land - how will we make anything hot enough to melt something even harder than that?”

Hamarr actually offered a small grin at the question. “That is a very good question. The answer is surprisingly simple once you know it, but if you were starting from scratch with trial and error it would likely take generations of hard work, refinement and mixed degrees of success and failure to figure it out. However, we’re going to get around all of that because Droka decided to let us in on that little secret… as well as teach you a little something that’s… well, a little magical.”

For a moment he seemed rather eager to offer a demonstration of what he meant but… Hamarr paused to think for a moment as he glanced around at where they were. Reeling himself back in, he sighed as he admitted “As much as I would like to offer a physical example at this moment, I confess that would be a poor idea. It would be better to have already taught and produced the new furnace beforehand first. That said, I guess there is no harm in telling you what you’ll be learning.”

Taking a breath, the older man had a fire in his eyes as he explained with a clap of his hands as he suddenly brought them around to his front “You see, Droka had a look at Westfold before he sent me here. Normally, he would have taken a more natural approach like teaching you how to turn wood into charcoal or locate an alternative resource to fuel the furnaces to burn hot enough but even if Westfold had enough resources to sustain such a thing, Scawick at this time simply doesn’t have the numbers or strength to safely secure such things. So instead he’s going to teach you how to enchant stone to burn hot enough for our purposes.”

“Any other questions?”

The crafters looked at one another. “What… What if someone takes this knowledge from us? What if the Dûnans get their hands on this and use it to enslave us?”

“What, are you going to tell them?” another accused.

“Of course not, but what if someone does?! Or what if they put a spy among us? Fìrinn sees all, as we know - they could be watching us right now, and their druids could be listening in!”

The look of amusement on Hamarr’s face would have been priceless if they had truly known of his true nature, rather than just as the priest of Droka. “Oh, I have heard of the druids. They would not be able to replicate the trick I am going to teach you for a rather simple reason. The method that druids use to gain access to their magical abilities means that they can’t really access forms of magic outside of the abilities they gain access to. I could literally have a druid here and explain in great detail how to do what I’m going to teach you all to them… and they wouldn’t be able to do it.”

A sigh… did escape him as he conceded “The furnace itself… Truthfully, figuring out how it is made would not be difficult. How to use it effectively, even more so without understanding how to fuel its flame properly… that’s a whole different matter. The reason I talked about turning wood into charcoal first is because wood by itself wouldn’t burn hot enough. It needs to be altered into another state to be able to create flames hot enough… and fun fact, turning wood into charcoal is incredibly wood intensive. Ha-Dûna doesn’t have access to enough wood to be able to sustain iron production on a scale large enough to properly arm itself.”

The crafter didn’t seem convinced, shaking his head and pointing to the west. “I’m not afraid they’ll figure out how to do it - that’d be the best outcome, ‘cause they’d leave us alone if that was the case. We know these people - if we have something that could give them an edge, even if it’s just a rumour, they will come for us - and unless we can give them the knowledge, they will take us alive and make us wish we were dead by forcing us to make these stones for them!” He looked around at his colleagues and received supportive hums and nods. “How can we avoid that?”

Hamarr went to open his mouth to respond… before he stop himself. Instead of answering right away, he reached up a hand to stroke his chin through his beard as a look of contemplation arose on his features. After a few moments, he finally decided to answer “Would you mind if I discuss the matter with Droka before I give you all an answer?”

“Do what you wish, of course.”

Nodding his head, he decided to press on. “Now then, I guess we can organize groups now. Let’s do this by experience shall we? Fully trained gabhas in one group, apprentices in another and those who are just starting to learn in a third.”

…………………………………………………….

In the days and weeks to follow, Hamarr proved that what he may have lacked in public speaking skills, he made up for by being a masterful teacher. Splitting his students into smaller groups of around the same skill level allowed him to tailor his lessons for each in order to better get his points across.

For the gabhas’ themselves, he respected their experience at the craft, treating them more like peers that he was merely showing new tricks and ideas to rather than as a straight up teacher. For the apprentices he treated them as a stern but fair instructor, making sure that his instructions were clear, the reasons behind them explained cleaning and expecting them to be able to do great things.

The third group was the most interesting. Since they lacked the basics that the other two groups had, Hamarr was able to set the foundation that these young adults could be building their life’s work up from.

The first step for all three groups was the new design for the furnaces. Stones were used to produce a chimney looking structure that on completion would be just shy of most shoulders of the men of Scawick, with earth being used to provide a shallow layer of covering in order to better contain and focus the heat within. Near the bottom, small pipes made of clay (through Hamarr did suggest that pipes could also be made of metal) were present through the side walls to allow air to flow into the furnace.

Hamarr taught two different versions of the furnace, with one having an opening at the bottom that would allow the gabha to remove the metal within and a version that could be made with clay that could be tipped over so that the metal could be removed from the top. When asked why, the Craftsman easily explained that both options were valid since they did the same thing and it was more a matter of personal taste and what resources were at hand which design was used.

The second step was the creation of the forge-stones. It was a simple name, but it suited their needs for the short term (and Hamarr did make it clear that if they wanted to change the name at any point they were more then welcome to, naming things wasn’t his strong point). The idea behind the forge-stone was, as the Craftsman had explained, an enchantment… and a rather basic one at that.

It consisted of three runes that had to be carved into the stone that you wanted to turn into a forge stone; The first was a simple ‘heat’ rune that, once mana started to run through it, would start to heat up the thing it was connected to. The second was a rune that naturally drew mana towards it to infuse into the object much like the first did.

The third rune was what made the forge-stones actually worth having through, due to the fact that it was brand new and not just a shape ‘borrowed’ after Droka took a quick glance towards the pre-existing shapes he could spot when he looked at the mana of the world. The third rune was designed to, once the forge-stone was activated by the addition of the other two runes, to collect just a small ember of Droka’s divine power to empower the other two to better serve the servants of the Craftsdragon. This was what would allow the stones to produce enough heat to ‘soften’ iron enough to be easily forgeable without actually melting it into a liquid.

It also had a somewhat… strange side effect in that the third rune would only activate when the forge-stone was within a furnace. While this did, in theory, mean that if something went wrong with an active furnace that the forge-stone could be removed in order to deactivate it, in practice some very special tools were going to have to be designed and made to be able to safely do such a thing.

The only ‘flaw’ that could be considered about the forge-stone’s design was that it would melt. The sheer heat produced by the runes would, over time, cause the stone they were carved into to melt and turn molten until the runes themselves stopped working and it could cool back down into warped rock with a metallic sheen to it. The stones still tended to last a fairly long time (long enough at least that a decent amount of iron ore could be worked before a decent quality stone was used up) and as long as the furnace was made of materials that wouldn’t catch fire it wasn’t an issue. Plus it meant that the stones could be traded independently.

Once the tools were in place, step three could begin. Actually working with iron ore itself. Hamarr’s cart had been full of the stuff, alongside a bit of copper so that the newer students of the forge would have a chance to broaden their education a bit. By the time the furnaces and forge-stones were ready, Hamarr had spent enough time around his groups of students that he understood how to explain the methods of working the new ore with them so that they understood.

Progress was slow at first all the same, because while the Craftsman was willing to teach and guide his students, experience was something you gained after you needed it. This was a new type furnace, with a new method of working metal with a brand new ore. Mistakes and errors happened, through thankfully nothing that threatened life or limb. But within a month of Hamarr’s arrival, tools made of iron were available for use by the people of Scawick. Not in great numbers and the original ones were somewhat crude, but enough to demonstrate the difference between the old stone tools and the new iron ones… and each day the gabhas’ got that little bit more experienced and the things they were making got a bit more refined.

While the slow and steady increase of iron goods was easily a boon, there were concerns that it would be a short lived one. After all, the only source of iron ore that was currently known was Hamarr’s cart. With no new supply to be seen for the foreseeable future, there were fears that Droka’s blessing was little more than a show.

That was… until the ground started to shake one day around noon.

The ground rumbled, clearly moving enough to let the residents of Scawick know it was moving and freak out the animals, but not to the extreme that it endangered buildings or people. A loud crack of stone being split and torn asunder rang through the village like a roar of thunder, echoing from somewhere just outside of the edge of town.

In what had been an outcropping of large stones, one of them had clearly been shattered by something that had burst out of the ground underneath it with a great deal of force. There was some confusion at first… until one of Hamarr’s students got a good look at it. It was a massive slab of iron ore that had just burst out of the ground. Some light excavation around the base of the mass proved that the part that had broken the surface was merely the tip of the vein. It ran deeper into the ground.

As the Craftsman himself would say when he finally joined the crowd to look over the new development. “A gift from Droka.” It seemed only fair that if he was going to teach his people how to work with iron, they should have enough of it to start with to actually benefit that knowledge.

Summery

Making use of the name 'Hamarr', The Craftsman arrives at the village of Scawick. After a... somewhat rocky introduction which gets him shot at by arrows that do nothing due to a suit of scale armor (and the fact that he's the Avatar of a god), Hamarr preaches the name of his master Droka and informs the towns people that the Craftsdragon Droka has deemed them worthy of being the first people in Westfold (and the world) of the knowledge of how to work iron.

Gathering the local blacksmiths, Apprentices and young adults who haven't committed to a craft yet, Hamarr organizes them into groups to be taught and answers some basic questions.

Over the course of several weeks, this new holy order of Craftsman are taught many tricks, trades and secrets of blacksmithing, as well as a small amount of enchantment with a minor divine twist. When concerns started to rise that Hamarr's cart was running out of iron ore and that soon the town wouldn't have anymore, in the middle of the day, within easy walking distance of the town of Scawick, an iron ore vein partially burst out of the ground.

MP

The Hammers of the Dragon

The Hammers of the Dragon

A holy order of craftsman originally developed and trained by the Avatar 'The Legendary Craftsman' in the village of Scawick in the Westfold area. While primarily a union of Blacksmiths that share a number of tricks of their of their trade, it also doubles as a following for the god Droka since some of the order's secrets (namely the creation of a Forge-stone) requires the active worship of Droka to happen.

Master Blacksmiths III (1 DP, 2 Free)
Having been taught and instructed by the Avatar of the god of blacksmiths himself, the Hammers of the Dragon has access to some of the greatest mortal metal workers that the world has to offer.

Blooming Furnace I (1 MP)
One of the secrets that the Craftsman reveled to the Hammers is how to develop a Blooming furnace. These furnaces are important in that they allow for the working of iron.

Forge-Stones I (1 MP)
Due to the lack of fuel to run the furnaces with, Droka and the Craftsman developed what has for the moment been titled as 'Forge-Stones'. While they are mostly the work of enchanting and taking advantage of local mana in the air to operate, one of the runes used to enchant the stone results in a small spark of Droka's power to enhance the stone to let off enough heat to actually soften up iron ore to be worked. The stones themselves only get this divine power boost if they are both A) Placed within a furnace and B) The person who crafted the stone is an active worshiper of Droka.

The heat generated does eventally cause the forge-stone to melt a bit, disrupting the runes and causing them to stop working, thus allowing the stone to cool down in a new, warped shape with a metallic sheen.

Gift of Iron (2 DP)
Desiring to give his new chosen people a good leg up, Droka pulled a vein of iron ore up from the ground within walking distance of Scawick. While the amount breaching the surface is merely the tip of the vein, there is enough there to give them a good head start, as well as let them locate new sources of the ore before they have to worry about running out.