Metallurgy is still a science in it's infancy. It is the age of Iron. In the far northlands iron itself is somewhat uncommon. The materials may be available but the skilled craftsmen and blacksmiths are in short supply. Although long-daggers, axes and spears are the norm only the truly powerful, rich or lucky own a sword that could be considered 'long' or 'two-handed'. The sword smiths that do exist are of an elite level. Working with inlaid silver, gems stones and other precious metals, some of the finest swords known outside of the orient are produced in the wild north.
Ianna shows Bodulf her hand. While munching a bit of food if any is nearby. "I think I need it stitched up.."
Sit by the fire making sure not to aggrivate my leg wound further and eat something.
Check campfire to see if it's still hot. If so, heat my axehead and use it to cauterize Ianna's wound, then stitch it shut. If not, then... start a fire.
Actions-Move back to the clearing and report my findings.
Actions, Talking="I'm back...okay...we got damn near the entire Helik village trying to cross up stream-they are all old men, children and women. I couldn't find Rame...but I think he got one of the scum, so he might not be dead. Captured or escaped more likely.
What do you guys wanna do? It's clear the Heliks are out for blood, maybe they even want to settle in our territory. We could go back and warn the village-if we stay here, we will get flattened for sure, especially when they realize their scouts are, uh "missing".
He sighs and casts a concerned look at Ianna-"Nasty scratch you got there Ianna. You all right?"
Everyone except Bodulf gathers around the campfire taking a seat on an old fallen log. Jon grabs a handful of snow and cups in over his badly swollen nose with a grimace. Smiling, the older kinsman says with a now nasally voice,
"Heh, I guess you aren't dogs anymore." Almost a look of satisfaction crosses his face for the slightest of moments. He glances at each of the gathered, all of them sporting some sort of wound.
"Been a rough day huh? Don't worry my youthful kinsmen.. You are now truly warriors of the Sundin, proven by blood, not just by birthright. I am proud to see the next generation is as strong as the last. Cause ya' know, I had my doubts" Vladimir runs his hand across the still blazing coals of the campfire. It was still plenty hot, the coals glowing a feint red under its ashen blanket. stoking the fire a bit with a longish branch the feint red turns bright with the helpful breeze that trickles into the clearing. The blade of Vladimir's axe turns hue slightly as the heat of the coals leaps into the iron. The beak of the axe luckily<?> seems as if it would fit the bow shaped wound on Ianna's hand perfectly. Ianna reluctantly spreads her fingers and turns her head while Tarn holds her arms still.
"Oh shit!" escapes Jon's lips as he turns his face, cringing. Ripples of heat waft from iron as Ianna begins to feel the heated axe blade approach her skin.
<sizzle><crackle><sizzle> Ianna's thin frame bucks in natural reaction to the searing of her flesh. <?(-2)=?> She traps the shrieks of pain in her chest as nothing but mouthed curse words escape with no breath behind them. She suffers in self-imposed silence. Jon uncovers his face that was hidden within a web of fingers, revealing a look of complete disgust as a thin trail of burnt flesh was turned into smoke and wafted towards him. Jon nearly vomits<?(-2)=?> but maintains control of his stomach. The wound was almost closed.. Vladimir produces his needle and sinew and prepares to knit up the remaining opening.
'Wait, Vladimir.. I have something better for that than thread.." His nose no longer bleeding but still swollen the man begins rummaging through his pack..
"Here, give her this.." He hands Vladimir and Tarn both a blue mushroom poultice prepared by Old Matilda. Vladimir recognizes it right away<?(+4)=?>. The smell is that of what was in the broken pot with the slingshot debacle. The horrid odor was hard to forget. Vladimir wraps the poultice around Ianna's hand, finishing it off expertly with a fancy knot.<?(+4)=?> The active ingredients begin to work immediately as a tingle slowly replaces the pain of the burn and the gash. A soft analgesic works it's magics as the agony of the incident is quickly forgotten, replaced by Bodulf sprinting out of the undergrowth as if the devil himself was chasing him. *
read what Bodulf says in his quote*
Jon looks at Bodulf in shock...
"There are KIDS? and ELDERS? What the hell is going on here?!?" He casts a concerned eye at Tarn's leg..
"Can you move? I am going to be a bit slow with my knee.. but, damn it.. I am going to die trying. How about you?" Jon looks Tarn straight in the eyes for the first time in years.
"We need to move now! Bodulf is right.. back to the village in all haste. Rame told me about the bear.. it should keep where it is for at least a week weather permitting." He shrugs in understanding.
Jon gathers his scattered belongings and stuffs them into his pack. He pries his blade from the dead grip of Arttuik and spit on the corpse.
"Someone douse the fire please." The four of you come to complete stop and exchange shocked looks. This was the first time you have ever heard Jon say please. Tarn finishes wrapping the poultice around his leg. The wound closes almost immediately as the clot is reformed almost on contact with the cloth.
"Finish up, what ya' gotta do quickly and tell me when yas are ready." Condition:
Bodulf:
Ianna:
sprained wrist, poultice working on wound, hunger staved off through munching
Vladimir:
Gash on right side of forehead, Mostly cosmetic. Going to make a cool scar.
Tarn:
Covered in gore. Ribs are sore but nothing is broken. wound on leg closed, poultice working
Jon:
Broken Kneecap?, swollen/broken nose
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Topic: "Do you have a couple hours to waste?" Chapter 2, Page 1 (Read 18898 times)