Again Ankih rises early and goes outside to commune with Sarenrae. It seems the power of his goddess comes thru clearer now, for he has a few more spells than before.
Apparently, Milady approves of what I am doing. I must push us forward into the cold. We cannot rest here too long and lose our way...
He then walks to the Apothecary to check on Bugsby, and to find Elder Natharen.
" How are you today, my diminutive friend? Feeling better?"
When he finds the Elder..."Good morning Elder, the mayor said you might be able to scribe a scroll or two for me? Some curative or enduring elements would be greatly appreciated. I can pay of course. Soonest would be great, I'd really rather not leave the portal unattended. Who knows what might come through."
After his discussion with the Elder, he heads over to the Smithy as well.
" Afternoon, my fine Smith. It appears we are beleaguered by Fey. As is the case, might i inquire about cold iron bolts? They seem to be effective against such critters."
Kalt rises early and eats a simple breakfast at the Stoat, a stout with an egg in it, a piece of thick toast alongside. He then heads off to the smithy to acquire more appropriate equipment for doing battle with his fey kin. Never do like the smell of that cold iron, sets my teeth on edge. But I saw how little we could harm those ice-sprites with our common blades, so I've little choice. They'll like the taste less than I, I'd guess.
He arrives at the smithy to find it already somewhat crowded by his friends. Friends, did I just call 'em? Not used to having too many of those, aside from Sven. Could get used to it, I suppose, if I manage to not drive them away.
A bit distracted by these thoughts, he calls out gruffly, "Here, smith! Can a man buy a weapon around here? I'm looking for arrows, some sling bullets, perhaps a blade, all in cold iron."
Avora spends the day reporting to her Circle and reporting what little she has learned.
Bugsby smiles wanly to see Ankih visiting, "B'es, I'm b'eeling much better. B'anks." he holds up a small list for the Cleric to take. "B'I ma'b'ed a b'ist. B'ould you b'ind?" and waves it hopefully for Ankih to take. It's a shopping list, most of the things specifically requested to be more in the gnomes size. As Ankih looks up from the reading, the gnome is holding out a pouch of money and the light crossbow he'd procured, presumably to sell or trade.
Cold Weather outfit 2 lbs 8gp
Furs 1 lbs 12gp
Snowshoes 1 lbs 5gp
Cleats .5 lbs 5gp
Ice Skates .5 lbs 1gp
Snow Goggles - lbs 12gp
Light Crossbow (small) Please trade medium sized light crossbow if possible.
Thanks Ankih! You're a true friend.
PS - Say hi to my trusty mount Scarab please.
"Of course Bugsby. I think Scarab misses you too."
replies Ankih as he takes the proffered items.
" Listen to the Apothecary and get better, yeah?"
He nods at Kalt when he enters, and Sven if still present.
" Also kind sir could I trade this light crossbow for a smaller sized one? Say, fitted for a gnome perhaps?"
He will then spend the rest of the day (after the Smithy) shopping for the remainder of Bugsby's requests.
From behind a stall comes a man that dwarfs Sven for size and girth. A middle aged man going slightly bald, his eyes brighten over the look of his customers. "'Lo there. I be Isker, master of this forge. A man can buy a weapon here, armor and shield too. Ain't got much in Cold Iron, just a few magical sling bullets. If ye give me some time, I could make some for ye. Got anything fer barter or will this be a straight gold transaction. Aye, I know ye, whole town does, and everyone knows the reward ye got too." Looking to Ankih, he continues. "Bah, just come out and say Bugsby wants a crossbow lad. I figured he would want something his size when he first arrived, so I have one already made. I'd take a trade, but I'll want to see the thing work first." He present a massive paw, waiting for Ankih to hand over the crossbow.
The Elder Natharen greets his brother of the cloth with a firm handshake, "Welcome back lad. Congratulations on your first adventure being a rousing success! The missus will be wanting to see you too, I don't do Sarenrae's prayers justice, my hearts just not in it. Now you wanted some scrolls. I don't have any magical inks on hand right now, but I expect to get a shipment in a few days. I thought you might be asking about something like this and took steps to rectify my lacking supply."
Avora is greeted and her tale listened to. The other Druids inquire about the nature of the snow and abominable weather, ready to research potential fixes.
Isker shakes Sven's hand with a firm grip, one of roughly equal strength as the ulfen. "Ye want me to spend a week of sweat and toil for an equal trade as what ye got? Why would I not just sell what I made and guarantee it's never been used and of the finest quality? Pay me 35 gold for my time and skill, and ye got yerself a deal. Another option be yer blade and 250 gold and I'll cold forge it like yer pal wants it."
" Thank you, Elder. I would surely buy any healing or weather enduring scrolls you could make. I haven't the knack myself."
Ankih pauses and thinks for a moment.
"But mayhap you can teach me at some future date. And I will definitely come and pray with the Missus, I have much to thank Sarenrae for."
"As you say, Isker, is it? Bugsby wants something to fit his hand. This one works, we tested it in the field." he hands the light crossbow over to the man." If you decide to spend the time cold forging iron, arrowheads and bolts would definitely be snatched up by my friends and I. I' will check back when I can." He says , then with a nod to the two warriors heads off to only a partial successful day of shopping.
" Hello Bugsby, here is your crossbow. Be careful it's a little thing." He says as he starts setting down bundles around the gnomes bed." They didn't have most of what you wanted, but said they could order it and have it in a week. Wasn't sure if you wanted to do that, so I didn't order anything."
"Aye, I can take some stuff in trade. With the weather being what it is, many a folk been buyin something to protect themselves with." he says as he examines the weaponry presented him. "Would ye be wanting a steel axe or the cold iron one?"
Bugsby smiles happily, manages a few weak claps in appreciation of Ankih's efforts and what he'd managed to get. "B'ank you B'Ankih. B'ets b'ut in b'e order b'lease." He then looks around to make sure they are alone, "B'o you know who'b b'ight hab some b'ieves tools? I b'ant some'b." he says with a little gleam in his eye, clearly remembering the locked strongbox they brought back with them.
The gnome entertains himself by tossing a little presidigitated light back and forth in the air, making it acrobatic little turns and dips and spins. If any of the others come to visit, he'll ask the same question of them, looking to get his hands on a set of thieves tools to get chest open.
Saving the best for last, Ankih pulls out the small crossbow and hands it to Bugsby...
" There you are my friend. It won't do as much injury to someone, but will be much easier for you to use."
After He struggles for a moment to decipher the gnomes meaning...
"Ahh, sorry Bugsby, I wouldn't know where to acquire those, even if I was a resident of these parts. Maybe one of the others might know... But I will go put that order in now for you." So saying he dparts to find Oppara's and order the supplies for the gnome.
Isker ponders a moment, scratching the stubble of a beard, "I could probably have yer axe done in a week, if I focused on it." A young beauty emerges from a second stall. Her dark hair tied up, her aqua blue eyes reflecting the glow of her nearby forge. Though slender, her form is chiseled and well formed from years of smithing. "Pa, I could work on the blue feller's cold iron goods." she purrs, gliding over toward Kalt, "But you'll have to tell me exactly what you want." she adds breathily, her full lips forming a wicked grin. Behind her, a small vein begins to pulse on her fathers forehead, and the sound of grinding teeth can be heard.
The blacksmith seems incredibly torn for a moment, his eyes darting between his daughter, Kalt, and his work bench where multiple leather, wood, and steel samples lay. Finally succumbing to the duties of his job, he trudges over to the bench taking a scrap of parchment out and beginning to sketch some options. "Would you like one edge or two? Clean edge for easier removal, or fanged for more damage?"
Kalt's eyes widen briefly as the smith's daughter, a creature of muscular grace and surprising beauty amidst the smoke and heat haze of the smithy, approaches him and offers to craft a blade for him. Can she be real? Does she mean to mock me? It wouldn't be the first time. But I've seen in the last few days how easily I can jump to the wrong conclusion about people. Perhaps it's worth a chance.
Though he is used to fighting side by side with Sven, both of them skillfully playing their parts in the dance of battle, Kalt is not so well schooled in this dance of courtship. Strangely enough for such a perceptive man, he is thus oblivious to Sven's adroit distraction of Isker, as all his attention is focused on the man's daughter.
"Um. Yes," he manages to say awkwardly. "Exactly what I want. A blade. A longsword, that is, or even a greatsword, of cold iron, for striking down the fey that dwell in the unnatural cold that has sprung up nearby." As he begins to speak about a subject he understands, Kalt grows more comfortable and natural in his speech. "And like all things fey, I've no doubt the creatures have a love of beauty. So they'd not mind being felled by a sword crafted by such a beauty as yourself. My name is Kalt. Might I know yours?"
Then, wondering if he's stepped too far, Kalt grows a bit awkward again, not giving the young woman an opportunity to answer. In an earnest, almost eager voice, he says, "But how are you a smith? A girl, with a hammer and anvil? But it must be so, as strong as you look! I guess we're alike, proof that you don't have be a great, lumbering ox to be strong!"
Realizing what he's said, he looks quickly over at Sven and Isker, saying "I meant Sven, of course!" before he realizes the two giants are far too involved in their own conversation to pay him any mind.
As Kalt talks, the girl notices her father is no longer paying attention, and with Kalt tripping over himself, seems to lose interest in the game. "Names Xanthippe. Would ye rather a Longsword or Greatsword? Any particular designs ye fancy?" Fetching a slip of parchment from her own stall, she begins drawing up designs. "I favor a gentle curve on a sword, but many like a nice straight edge. I could add a blood groove if ye want. If ye go with the Greatsword, would ye want the full blade to be edges, or should I leave the first foot from the pommel dull so ye can grab it if ye need to?"
The elder smith completes his sketching, and shows it to Sven.
Picture "How's this lad?" he says with his jovial mood returning now that his daughter is on task.
Kalt is still captivated by Xanthippe's beauty and strength, and it takes him a moment to notice that her demeanor has changed significantly. Wha...? Was she toying with me? Was it something I said? Was it just to get a rise out of her father? So I'd end up fighting that giant? Damn me, I'll never understand women, or people!
Attempting to take on a business-like demeanor to hide his disappointment, Kalt studies her sketches and says, "I'll go with the greatsword, then, lass. Straight edge, none of that Osiriani curved blade stuff for me. Blood groove for sure, and leaving the first foot dull makes sense."
Looking up at Xanthippe's face, his voice softens and he says, "Though your first foot to me wasn't dull, the way you stepped out with that lovely smile and those eyes blue as river ice in the sun."
Xanthippe smiles a bit at Kalts remark, but both ulfen get the sense that her show was more for her fathers displeasure than Kalts enjoyment. Finishing her drawing, she shows it to Kalt, "How's this?" Picture
Kalt’s eyes turn very cold as he realizes he’s been used in a one-sided game the girl plays with her father, and his manner becomes gruff and dismissive. ”That’s a fine picture you’ve drawn, lassie.” Patting his belt pouch, he goes on, ”But as I think on it, I haven’t the gold today for it. Let’s make it a longsword, cold iron, straight and simple.” And sharp as your tongue, and tempered with a glance from your icy blue eyes.
The girl shrugs at the change, "Easy enough to change. Ye mentioned ammo as well, ye got enough coin fer those, and how many be ye wanting?"
"Twenty cold iron arrows, twenty sling bullets of the same."
Isker looks at Sven for a moment, not quite sure what to make of his comments before he bellows out a hearty chuckle, ”Of course I’ll be able to lift it, but will YOU, little man. My daughter is Xanthippe. Her mother named her, Pharasma keep her, and she did a good job. She said it means “ill-tempered woman”, and that girl does have her a temper. Half the time she smiles when she’s mad, and pouts when she’s happy. Ask Bugsby about her if ye’d like, nearly every lad her age has a bruise or 6 from tryin to court her. I trust her I do, but there be something about yer only daughter that ties a fathers head in knots.”
”Very well, that can be arranged.” Isker responds, holding out a massive paw so he and Sven can shake on the deal. ”Anything else ye need?”
Isker smiles at Sven’s offer before moving to a distant corner of his shop. Pulling aside a cloth, he reveals a well-used, but pristine conditioned set of Banded Mail, shield, and warhammer. It is clear this was Iskar’s from before he set up shop here in Heldren. ”Lad, If ye want ta spare we can, but let it be known I was once a Taldan Captain working the Qadiran border. I seen plenty of boys think they are the next coming of a mighty hero because they were the strongest in their village only to be cut down in the first battle. Now, ye came back from the forest, so ye got some skills so I’ll humor ye. If yer Cleric be willing, I’ll beat ye like a piece of steel.”
Kalt smiles and steps over towards Sven and Isker, happy to be joining a conversation he understands. ”Why thank you, Sven – I think. Though I’d say I fight like a wolverine who studies his opponent a bit and uses what he learns to beat him. It’s not always about hitting the hardest, or carrying the biggest axe – though I’ve no doubt Isker’s will be the best you’ve held.”
Casting an educated eye over Isker’s armor and war hammer, Kalt continues, ”I do look forward to seeing the two of you spar. Can I take on the winner?”
Looking Kalt up and down, Isker nods, ”Sure, I’ll fight ye after I teach this whelp a thing or two. Though, it’d be more of a fair fight if I took both of ye on at once.”
Kalt's grin mirrors Sven's, and his usually grim face is transformed by it. "I can't think of a better way to pass the time. We just need to be sure to leave Isker enough time to work on your axe."
Turning to Xanthippe, he says, "Do you fight as well as craft steel? Perhaps we could teach each other a thing or two?"
Throughout the week, Ankih visited with Bugsby, went to the apothecary many times and spent some prayer and conversation time with the Elder and his wife. Every day he could be seen in prayer and meditation outside at dawn. At these times he would also do a type of kata, training with his scimitar.
Midweek he would return to the Smithy to have his scimitar sharpened and to inquire about the possibility of a few cold iron bolts for his crossbow.