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Apologies gang - will get a post up on the morrow... just clocked that the boards ate a large post that would have seen the majority of you reconvened at the Baron of Mutton and I've not the energy to try and rewrite it tonight. All good - will get everything back on track shortly.
Yeah the store credit gives you better value, but the cash will also bring you XP (to be shared) as treasure. Tis a trade off of sorts. Remember also that expert items confer a bonus - so in the case of a weapon it could be +1 to hit or +1 damage (or in the case of exceptional items both). Worth remembering when you weigh up the trade value vs the adventuring value.
Walright grins at Mos' story and nods toward his apprentice; "Sem here has had his fair share o' run-ins with the little basterds afore..." The hulking man nods also flashing a wide toothed grin; "Uh-huh. See Gobelins, they mostly pick up broken arms and armour. Cobble it together. Rusty an' run down like this helm." Walright picks over the rest of the booty; "Pot helms, cleavers and daggers are all likely for the smelt. Give you 6 gold for the lot... Ringmail is rusty and has some loose links but we can fix that... so 15 gold. Them 3 dirks are decent - 2 gold for all of them... So 23 gold all in." Semeren lifts the two remaining daggers up, feeling their weight and checking their edges with an appreciative nod. "Good ones these Master." The Smithy takes them, smiling in agreement at the assessment; "Aye Sem. That they are... Back to the forge lad, keep them bellows going..." He turns his attention back to Mos; "Poignard and Baselard are both expert crafted Little Master - good weapons. Them we'll take for what they're worth - 20 Gold each... So 63 Gold for the lot." Walright eyes the haefling expectantly...
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C&C Clothing: Belt 6 sp 1 lb * Belt, Baldric 2 sp 3 lb * Boots, Heavy 1 gp 4 lb EV 1 Boots, Soft 4 sp 2 lb * Caftan 3 sp 2 lb EV 1 Cap/Hat 4 sp — * Cape 8 sp 1 lb * Cloak 5 sp 3 lb EV 1 Cowl 2 sp 1 lb EV 3 Dalmatic 5 sp 4 lb EV 2 Doublet 1 gp 3-5 lb EV 1 Frock 5 sp 1-10 lb EV 2 Girdle 7 sp 3 lb EV 1 Gloves, Cloth 2 sp — * Gloves, Leather 8 sp — * Gown 1 gp 5-20 lb EV 4 Leggings 5 sp 0.5 lb EV 2 Mantle 1 gp 3-5 lb EV 1 Robe 1 gp 4 lb EV 2 Scarf 5 cp 0.5 lb * Shoes, Normal 2 sp 1 lb EV 1 Skirt 4 sp 0.5 lb EV 1 Smock 3 sp 0.5 lb EV 1 Trousers 4 sp 0.5 lb EV 1 Tunic 3 sp 0.5 lb EV 1 Vest 2 sp 0.5 lb EV 1 Winter Clothing, Set 5 gp 6 lb EV 4 * Items marked with a * have no appreciable EV. If carried in bulk (more than 10) treat the EV as 1 per 10 items carried.
Walright eyes the diminutive Haefling laden with sacks that clank and clatter with a brow raised in curiosity and scepticism. "Sem. Help the Little Master eh." The hulking apprentice ambles over, easily relieving the rogue's burden, then offering up each sack to allow Mos to array the assortment of weaponry and armour out upon the ground. Walright leans in, casting a critical eye over the arsenal. Semeren picks up one of the dented pot helms; "Gob." The huge man's rumbling tone is flat, with a hint of ire as he tosses it to his Master Craftsman. Walright catches it, tapping the metal with a look of disdain; "Mmm. Interesting wares Little Master. Where exactly did you come by these?"
@Hûƞidark: You'll likely be back in Milborne a couple more times, leastways while the campaign is topside focussed, but once you start delving there will be less focus. Meantime you should be able to make use of the store credit, but totally up yo your collective of course.
As Mos approaches he draws the eyes of the two men working the forge and benches. The older man, burly hefts a hammer against a lump of glowing ore he is flattening, while behind him a huge man tong-grips another lump of glowing metal from the forge as if it were nothing. The hammerer smiles and hails you with a hint of Jenneleth's mother about his features... similar eyes perhaps... "Well met Little Master. Welcome to Carmen's Smithy. I am Walright... chief smith. That giant there is Semeren my apprentice.... Both here to serve. So what is it we can do for ye?"
As the rangers shared tales of tombs and dark-spirited folk, the man Garyld hailed as Elder Haldelar approaches. The burly man's face is beet read, in stark contrast to his flour whitened paws; "Garyld! Ranger! Where are they!? The basterds who set upon my Jenneleth!" Within the cell, the sounds of stirring can be heard, as Marko begins muttering his innocence. For his part, Garyld merely tilts his head toward the gaol; "Good day to you an' all Elder. The villains are in shackles an' in the gaol. I'll send for the Squire on the morrow, so he can pass judgement sharpish. Save us feedin' an' waterin' 'em more than is necessary... Ulf here one of the party protected your lass. He knows more o' their nature than I... or you..." At the ranger's comment Marko's praying intensifies, punctuated by sobs. Haldelar's face remains beet but he pauses his quest for justice, his eyes turning to the dwarf; "What say ye Master Dwarv? Who are these blackhearts that set upon my fair lass?"
Who knows Adam - no idea what the ripple effect will be over here as yet... various theories but we'll soldier through. This too shall pass... is the mantra I seem to follow in these strange times. Regardless I'm thankful for some clear air and get you lot on track. You want to carry on with more Milborne RP or prefer me push things onto the road again? (Caveat: Do have Mos at the Smithy and Ulf at Garyld's to finish up this evening)
Jenneleth nods with a smile; "Aye Mama, I'll guide them there, then I'll return here for the night... Hopefully Da will'ave calmed." She rises and beckons the remainder of the group to follow. Parella passes a small sack to "Masters. My thanks again for your guardianship o'er my daughter. Some work-bread for your next road... It is honey glazed with nuts, berries and seeds. Popular with the miners, but equally so for farmers, travellers and vagabon... adventurers such as yourselves. Half a dozen loafs as our appreciation."
Seeing Spiro is ready for some more food, Andren approaches with a smile; "Ah a clean plate! I will be sure to tell my brother. So something sweet... We have honey cakes from the Bakery - fresh this very morn Master." In the background Dirkaster demands more ale... and soup... and ale...
The stick thin storekeep mulls Ping's request for a second, then grins; "Haha! Of course-of course! I have some items that might be more suited to your petite frame yes!" As his big dogs watch Mos depart he beckons her to a nearby corner when piles of clothes sit in barrels. Each one is marked up: Little Folk/Children, Big Folk/Adults and Huge Folk/Giants. The third barrel is empty save for a huge slipper. Rastifer feels the quality of Ping's robe; "Robes. Always in demand... Wizards and Holy folk... tho' not as much as they used to... Heh. No matter, I'll take the robe in part trade for what you choose!"
Right gang - have weathered this work storm, and taken a couple of days off to chill and enjoy some rare Spring sunshine her in Scotland lol. Appreciate the patience - will get some posts up and move us along.
Work levels kicked up a notch here in Bonnie Scotia gang - posting might be spotty at best until end of the week. Please bear with the delay.
Rastifer pauses, mulling the offer, then looks to the hunds; "Otus? Erol? What say ye lads? Should we accept...??" Both mastiffs impassively watch proceedings, stalactites of drool dangling. The shoppe-keep leans in with a wink and a whisper; "They like you little folk an' say yes." He nods toward the arms and armour collected; "Carmen's Smithy is yer best bet. They make 'em but also buy and sell... mainly for smelting!"
The raggedy merchant skips through his shoppe, then pauses with a toothy grin; "So what has taken yer fancy Little Ones? Can I interest you in some new stock? Belt pouches, authentic from robbers! Only 6 Silver each! Hehehehehehe!"
Have put Rastifer's offers for the belt pouches, pipe & baccy and wooden ring with silver inlay onto the Loot Sheet comments.
Baztán looks over at Dirkaster, eliciting a hard stare from the half-blind, all belligerent old man; "Ah... Dirkaster. He owns this place, purchased with coin from his mercenary days so the tale goes, so pleases himself how he behaves. His grandsons do the grafting while the old goat grumbles and glares at anyone who crosses his eyeline. Harmless unless you try and wrest a drinking horn from him - grip like an ogre!" The half-aelf claps Elyan's shoulder with a smile; "Nothing to be concerned about Master Botanist. Gentlemen I bid you both adieu until we meet again. Supper is one me." He bows and departs, leaving a pair of gold coins on the table.
Despite Ping's haggling attempts being charmingly persuasive, the Shoppekeep does not seem mightily swayed... The scarecrow like merchant picks over the loot with a protuberant eye as his two burly hunds warily watch o'er the negotiations with drooling indifference; "Mmmm. Lots of weapons an' armour... Gob too... Was it I did trade in such... but I don't. No arms 'ere... Save me own! Heheheh!" He waggles his stick thin arms in the air to accentuate the joke, then points to several items; "I'll take the belt pouches off your hands. All 6 fir 2 Gold. Pipe an' the baccy fir 3 Gold." Rastifer holds up the wooden ring with silver inlay; "Nice piece. Rustic charm... Jus' as well we live in the country then eh heheheheheh! Tells ye what 50 Gold for the ring in coin... or 90 in store credit... Mmmmm? What ye say Little Mistress?" He extents a hand to shake on the deal...
Baztán flashes a wry smile; "Compensation? My Master is the richest man in the realm. I'd wager his coffers are fuller than the old Count's... Rest assured you and your companions will be rewarded for any... problem solving required." He pauses before continuing; "When you complete your current charge then do call at the Mansion House and ask for me. The Squire will assuredly have work that requires urgent attention and skilled individuals."
So it would be a standard check as normal. ▪ If the associated attribute is a primary attribute, the challenge base to overcome is 12.
Looking at Ping it'll be a check vs challenge base of 18 to use. CHA is attribute and level bonus would apply (so +1). The successful use of this skill allows a modification of 10% of an item’s cost per bonus point of charisma the skilled appraiser has. So 1d20 check +0 (CHA) +1 (LVL) vs Challenge level 18. Success means you get 10% +/- per CHA point bonus you have... which is zero (at the moment)... Okay I'll also add in 5% modification per every 4 level bonus the appraiser has to make it worthwhile. Clear as mud? :) So if you succeed vs Challenge Level 18 you gain 5% mod of price (selling items would be upward price most likely, while buying you'd push the shoppekeeper's asking price lower) - separate rolls for buying and selling please.
Baztán listens intently, then smiles knowingly; "Knowledge of the Wyld... Excellent. As I said, I represent the interests of Squire Carmen who is influential and industrious both. He owns much of the realm's mining operations and farmland around Milbourne." The half-aelf takes a sip of his cup as he continues to watch your reactions; "My master cannot abide problems that affect his interests and when they do he charges me to find individuals who can solve such problems for a discerning fee... I may have a proposition for you both... However perhaps this should be put to your collective, or can I presume you represent their interests also?"
Parella blushes slightly at Eireachdail's praise, while Jenneleth merely smiles at her companion's charm. She nods towards their home; "Alas we cannot put up all your number... and besides your Da will want to hear all about your studies and The City League... We can however recommend The Baron of Mutton for room and board. T'is humble in fare and bed but I'm sure our daughter will happily guide you there!"
The well groomed Half-Aelf raises an eyebrow appreciatively at Spiro's catalogue of experience; "A Jakke of All Trades it would seem... interesting. And what of your... rustic companion? Where do his skills lie?"
Updated Map Slide 2 with The Gleaming Glade as a location. Will continue to RP as much as you want in Milborne - some events and NPC triggers, but much of Haranshire is sandlot so you've a decent level of collective freedom in who/what/where you all go.
No worries man - enjoy.
No worries Adam - appreciate it'll be as/when mate.
Hope you lot are enjoying the various interplays as much as I am. The splitting of the party is allowing me to work in various plots and subplots into the mix (and allow NPCs to come into their own). We'll spend the night in Milborne then the journey will begin anew :)
Garyld enjoys the interplay, clearly at ease with someone akin to himself. At Ulf's questioning about the Gleaming Glade he nods slowly and opens a drawer upon the work table. Pulling forth some scraps of parchment, he sifts through them, then places a map of the region upon the table. His calloused finger taps the map "There or there abouts... 20 miles out of town and into the wild. But be warned my friend, the place is haunted. Accounts say Ahlaksız's tower was sundered by the Holy Count's forces and consumed by the earth itself as the druids buried the living and the risen dead..." Garyld takes a deep puff as he contemplates his words; "Amongst us Rangers even the more powerful like Schyreaz the Swanmǣden, avoid there. We watch but rarely enter. Heed my words brōþor tis a baleful place." He passes back the pipe, then tilts his head curiously as the sound of distant shouting draws closer; "Sounds like our Elder Haldelar! Wonder what's got his flour lumpy!?"
Andren nods in acknowledgment of your request; "Good choice Master Aelf. I'll return shortly." He leaves you both to your toasts and heads to the kitchen. Dirkaster continues to lick bowl and ladel clean of the soup between draughts of his ale, with a jaundiced and milky eye occasionally looking your way... As you sit a smartly dressed half-elven man approaches and bows; "Good day Gentlemen, new in town? I am Baztán, humble valet to Squire Carmen. If I may enquire what line of vocation are you both in..?"
[ooc]The Bakery/Mill-House Parella smiles politely at the interchange between the companions, noting Ping's emotion; "Best perhaps I do not know the dangers you encountered on the road... At least the villains you encountered left your beautiful cloak unblemished, if not your pretty head daughter..." Jenneleth rolls her eyes between bites of a pastry, before brushing crumbs off the aforementioned cloak of sky blue with a silver clasp; "Mama always brings up the cloak. A gift from the townfolk to celebrate me being accepted as Apprentice to the Maester... Blue cloth with clasp of silver mined from the Blanryde Hills. I love it, but am always being reminded by a certain someone to keep it clean and tear free!" She shakes her head with a chuckle as her mother now rolls her eyes in a mirror of Jenneleth's earlier reaction. Parella smiles with satisfaction as you collectively tuck in; "So how long will you stay daughter? One night? More??" Jenneleth looks to you all; "We are tasked to deliver Maester Tausthäuser's goods Mama. Best we continue onward on the morrow... So one night."
Jenneleth sits nearby Ping, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she introduces the group; "It was quite the eventful journey Mama. We have been charged to bring a box to Maester Tausthäuser. My friends here protected the package and me along the way. Eireachdail is a skald, already well met. The shy one seated here is dearest Ping. The big lad is Brother Hûƞidark, and next to him is Master Mos Smallbarrow. There are more to their number but some are at the Baron, whilst one watches the criminals they brought to task at Garyld's gaol." The young apprentice smiles at the group; "They are all good folk to a fault Mama. And I am proud to call them friends." Parella nods as she passes a jug of buttermilk; "I can see that Jenn. You keep good company daughter... hungry too..." She laughs as Eireachdail stuffs another warm scone into his mouth - the skald temporarily silenced save for sounds of satisfaction!
Awarding everyone 25XP for roleplaying and 25XP for story awards of meeting key NPCs thusfar :) Totals have been updated!
Andren nods in agreement; "Alas Master, the Picklin' is still underway, be a few weeks before they're good and ready for customers. Two portions of jellied it is. Is that for you both or will Master Aelf be ordering his own?" In the background a man identical to your host, save for his food stained apron hands the cantankerous old man a fresh bowl of chowder and and horn of ale. Both are consumed voraciously...
Face flushed Haldelar nods in thanks to Hûnidark before storming off toward the gaol. As her husband lumbers off, Parella smiles nervously; "He'll be fine once he blows off some stream. My thanks to you all, Jenn is our only childe an' her Da is fierce protective!" She hugs her daughter then becokons toward the spread of fresh bakery; "Please eat... and tell me of the misadventures you have all had!"
Parella continues to hug her daughter, who nods in acknowledgement at Eireachdeail's account, while Haldelar rubs his chin with a heavy hand... "Well then Master Skald, seems I owe you all for saving my daughter's life... As for these bounders held in Garyld's gaol... I'd see them for myself afore pillorying Master Carmen to punish them most foul." He beckons you all toward a heavy table sitting nearby, the contents of its surface sitting under linen cloth. "There's fresh bread and pies there for all of you. Parella dearest, see they have buttermilk or water an' wine, whatever is their fancy. I'm off to see Constable Garyld... Gods willing I'll not be long."
Will do mate - appreciate the heads up.
Garyld nods his head and chuckles in agreement at his fellow ranger's words. Pausing he rubs his stubbled chin; "Thrall takers? Slavers an' the like... Been an increase in folk being accosted by bandits but not any news o' kidnappers or the like. Though travellers going missing need to be missed. The Count's youngest has been lost for a few weeks, though word is he just absconded on account o' being the runt of a famous family." Garyld pulls forth a pipe and retrieves a pouch of leave, packing his pipe before offering it to Ulfbrecht; "Smoca?" As he lights up, he gestures again; As for the cult o' the God-Ripere. There are some damned souls who fall under his sway. Them that do tend to gravitate to what we call The Gleaming Glade in the Northwestern Hardlow Woods. Its where the Necromancer Ahlaksız was put down my the Count's ancestors. His fell energy petrified the woods there. Made 'em bone white and they shimmer in the gloom. Nothing there anymore, but like I say its a curio for them who wish to serve darker masters..."
Andren smiles and nods as he pours Elyan an ale; "Excellent. A shared room it is. 5 Silver well spent my friends... Now what fare can I get you from our kitchens? Our menu is written up on slate over there... Let me know if you have any questions..." Andren points toward a large slate piece upon which has the following: Jellied æl - 5 CP æl in the Green - 3SP Spiced ælver chowder - 3SP Broiled æl - 3 CP Smōken æl - 2 SP Goat's Cheese & æl pie (Serves 2) - 8SP Bread and Cheese - 3 Silver Side of Mutton and Vegetables - 1GP As you peer at the menu, the ancient man fighting a losing battle with ladel and soup bowl, glares back and grumbles; "BleedinBuggerincomingin'ereanmySoup!MINE!" While the air turns blue, you do note a fishing tang coming from the kitchen and permeating the dining hall.
You collectively recall a old Haefling proverb "that business is something that should never be undertaken on an empty stomach"... and follow As you approach it would seem word has gotten around that Jenneleth is back and travelling with new friends. Outside the partially thatched stone building, a small crowd yokels stand expectantly nearby the mill's impressive water wheel. By the door Jenneleth's parents: Haldelar the Miller, a strong fellow, ruddy cheeked and barrel-chested sporting a pair of floury flecked side-whiskers. Her mother, Parella the Baker is dark-haired, slender and shares the same disarming smile as her daughter. Parella rushes to Jenneleth and the two embrace, while her father smiles with dewey eyes. "Welcome back lass. Will you be staying? What of your friends..?" Her mother shoots Haldelar a withering look; "Husband! Mind your manners! Bread and pies for these hungry fo-Oh My! Jenneleth whatever happened to your head lass!?" Parella brushes her daughters hair clear of where the bandits club left a bruise. Her father peers in, face flushed; "What happened! Does she need to see the priest!? What kind of dangers have you lot been getting my lass into!!??" His tone while concerned, is blustering also. All the while the heady aroma of pies and freshly baked goods scent the air...
Plan to continue with our aelf-blooded contingent in The Baron of Mutton and presuming rest of you will be at Rastifer's Stone then onto meeting Jenneleth's parents? After the overnight stay in Milborne it'll be the onward journey onto Thurmaster and deliver your package.
The hound master nods in reply; "An' you Brother of the Brawler." He calls his hounds to heel, then retires to the compound. Hûnidark hefts the loot then catches up with the group who have reunited with Mos outside of Rastifer's store
As Spiro settles in, the twin host who hailed him wanders over, just as Elyan enters and joins. Unlike when Spiro entered, more patrons seem to note the druids arrival with muttered whispers and hands straying to ears. The young man smiles weakly; "Welcome... Andren at your service. Firstly my apologies for the stares Master Aelf, we do not see many of your ilk in these parts." In the corner, the ladel wielding ancient grumbles and bellows in equal measure; Itelltheethemtreefollkcurdlemilkanleavegnomziplaceobairns!" Andren frowns at the old man, then continues; "My Granfa... Dirkaster. He'll quiet down when I give him more eel soup and ale... So a room. We have the common chamber, a bunk and blanket will set you back 3 Silver a night. That includes a humble breakfast of hard bread and small beer... You'd be sharing with bargers and merchant's men. Some of them can be... (ahem) rough and a little light fingered..." He pauses, looking around before continuing; "For Gentlefolk like yourselves I would recommend one of our five two-person rooms... They costs 5 Silver per person and you'll have a comfortable bed with actual sheets! Or for 9 Silver a night you can have one's own room, with clean bedding and door locks. The breakfast repast is sweet cured bacon and one of Parella's fresh loaves... An excellent way to start any day!" Dirkcaster continues to grumble and rant; Shouldbecharginthembloddyvagabondinotbloddysilvercoinssss..." At Elyan's question he smiles; 'Of course. We have local fortified wine Master Aelf. A favourite of any follower of The Green Man. 5 silver for a cup."
The wild looking shoppekeep mulls the request, eyes seemingly scanning seperate corners of the store at the same time. "Hair die? Mmmm. Not got much need for hair of the dead Little Master... Unless your one of them necrowhatsits... Hehehehe!" He giggles to himself, then stops and slaps his own thigh; "Heheh. You meant hair dye! Silly me! I think I may have a small pot lurking somewhere... Will take some finding mind... Otus and Erol are in charge of inventory, so I will need to consult their expertise!" Both burly hounds for their part merely continue to watch Mos' actions and produce chop slobbers. Rastifer nods to himself, then to Mos; "Off you pop then Little Master. Bring back your wares and I'll recover the dye from the niche it now dwells in! Bring your friends if they have coin or trade too! Heheh!"
The stocky houndmaster accepts the coin, then eyes big half-orc; "My thanks Brother. They'll be well rested and fed for the morrow. Supposing you'll be heading to Thurmaster Jenneleth? Hope you'll be seein' your Da and Ma and not mooning o'er that lad all night!" Jenneleth coyly smiles, but says nothing as she is dragged off by the gregarious skald!
Garyld nods at the toast, then grins at the dwarv's critique of his barley beer; "Always enjoyed tyme with your folk. Honest words and hard work... good oaths to live life by I reckon." He too takes another cup, eying Ulfbrecht's scar not as a curio but as one who understands what it symbolised. "Alas you've nay left gobelins underground neither. Plenty of them round these parts. Was a big tribe, north of the Blanryde's but its splintered... likely smaller bands scattered all over. If we turn o'er enough stones we'll come across 'em. Got some hobbes too an' orcs. Mostly in the Thornwood, Hardlow and the hills. Not too many. Not since the Battle o' Bitewinter 7 years past.."
The stocky houndmaster gruffly chuckles at Hûƞidark's wry comment; "I like this one lass. You keep good company. Rough, but good!" Still chuckling he approaches the mule and horse; "Uh-huh. I'll stable the mule and mare together for 7 silver a day. Food and grooming included. The big lad will be double that! Har!" Nafton chuckles to himself again, then beckons you lead follow him as he ambles toward one of the stable buildings.
Rastifer seems to look Mos up and down, but its hard to tell as the shoppe-keepers eyes seem to wander ; "Well there Little Master... Alas the hounds are not for sale... everything else pretty much is. Heheheh. They're two of Nafton's finest they are. He always has dogs for sale..." He rubs his sharp chin and mulls Mos' request; "I do indeed purchase items, especially those obtained from afar. Odds and ends do have worth... in either coin... or perhaps trade heheheh."
Haha. Had to slip that in - no such thing as "nameless hounds" in my world lol.
As Mos approaches he notes the store is protected by sturdy walls, barred windows, and a fine heavy lock upon its front door. He opens the door to a tinny tickle of a bell, followed by the low menacing "wuffs" from a pair of heavy-set hounds who guard the hall. "Erol! Otus! Customer!!" The two dogs dutifully silence and sit, eyes affixed on Mos. The owner of the thin voice, and shoppe appears; a scarecrow-like figure with wild hair, and bulging eyes; "Greetings Little Master! Welcome to Milborne and my store. I am Rastifer, best prices in town..." He chirps a laugh, revealing a mouth of rotten teeth; "Actually only prices in town! Heheheheh! Don't mind the mutts, they've just been fed so you're in no danger unless you're light fingered... Heheheheh! So what can I do you for..?" As you survey the store you find the place a cluttered treasure-trove of curios, though also note it seems well stocked with basic equipment such as waterskins, packs, rope, lanterns, oil, basic clothing (belts, boots, cloaks, etc.), and the like. The store strikes you as an equally bizarre place: Hanging from the ceiling you note clusters of partridge tail feathers, smoked eels draped like decorations, a pungent sack marked as herb cheese, a sinister-looking collection of heavy meathooks, lengths of leather strapping designed for no obvious purpose and a heavy wooden sled seemingly hanging precariously.
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