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Messages - Brygun

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Suggestions / Re: Containers need an Unpack command
« on: May 28, 2023, 03:52:51 AM »
Just had another incident.

After harvest I was filling amphora with seeds but accidentally put the sorrel leaves in it. I cant get the leaves out as the empty command is a destruction command.

Really suggest that "empty" not be destroy just move to inventory where the player can drop and discard if wanted

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 28, 2023, 12:48:44 AM »

Awakening at midnight Calle felt energy in his body. His body wanted to act. He could make some trade goods or what…

At the forge he selected one of the cleaner iron billets to become a long edge. Another bit of iron would be welded onto the back. Heating and pounding the large blade shape came out. The back was spread wide rather then thick. When he whittled up a handle he had forged a fine looking broad knife. A preferred tool for treating hides.

Calle chuckled. He should have made this earlier.

The sun was up now. Stocking wood in the smoke house fire was his last task before resuming the heather gather. Two stump blocks would be far more than enough, he hoped. A check for smoke flows found it well trapped. The trade bow he had left in reserve under the bed would come with him for trade. The better one from the south trades went there now. That warbow was now his main long bow with its great shape and reinforcing.

On the walk to the punt shelter a lynx was prowling the spruce. Calle would leave it to the traps at Swan Cabin to decide.

Paddling he stopped to study the depth of fords and the plants of river banks. A hare scampering was fun to watch. Another safe ford was found. Something to remember if he ever got trapped by spring melts. He hadn’t gotten to the villages yet when he spotted heather from the shore. It was about the same distance as turnip hill across the east river that made it a river island.

Exploring the heathland there was several swaths of his beloved heather. Also growing was berries, withering crow berries seems to mean heather in bloom. Bilberries were still filling up. Meadsweets and milkwoods were also spotted. A few of those gathered to add to the medicine stores.

There was so much to gather that night and rain came before he had a shelter up. Sleeping when its clear and awake in the rain was a rough night in the woods. He did get the shelter assembled enough in the early morning. This would be left up as a work shelter for gathering.  Since he’d be coming back at times improvements were started: trail markers, fire ring, firewood and kindling and guard traps.

A second night was spent then a trip back to restock the smokehouse. Now knowing a short distance to travel he could even get back to the wild harvest the same day. An over night gave a full day at Burbot Rapids medicine heathland.

A happy deep breath filled his lungs. He just discovered the river shore farther along had wild nettles. He wouldn’t cut these for straw. This was too precious a medicine garden with such a long list of healing plants in one spot. The nettle stalks should stay so future travelers could also have them. The leaves he gathered. On his great journey to the north river mouth heather and nettles had been a great power. When the nettles ran out it was good to find stone crops on the mountains.

A few stands of bear pipe were found as well. Truly a bountiful land.

On the next day Calle figured there would be enough smoke still in the smokehouse. He paddled south with the gather to the Maiden’s Stream homestead he had visited several times before. Aune greeted him and told him old Herppa had been hoping he would stop by. Konsta was there too, happy to see Calle thriving.

Herppa began telling of how to meet the water spirits. To stand naked on a lonely rock outcrop with water all around. To do this at deepest night. How they look would reveal how they felt. At least this didn’t require silver!

Checking for silver Calle didn’t find any in the trade piles. There was mail mittens, a rare armor for the hands. Calle traded the old trade long bow and assorted arrows for it. This he felt would be good addition to his growing battle gear.

<CALLE 120 Herbs, mittens and fish folk>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 27, 2023, 01:05:55 AM »

Now heading to the north river punt shelter Calle spotted a group of travellers. Approaching the signs of peace were exchanged.

“We are traders. Furs for goods,” one said in Calle’s language, “We here the villages and hunters at the north end of the rivers have good furs.”

“Yes we do,” Calle said, “Though mine are in storage.”

“We show goods,” the trader continued, “You like you get furs. You no like we walk.”

It took the rest of the day to travel back, collect, waddle the bundle back and debate.

Of the goods there was an elegant thick long bow browned with a deep oiling and horn tips for the string nocks.

“That one,” the trader pointed to the stack.

Calle started to drag over all the furs.

“No, that one,” the trader said, “Moon fox.”

He touched the winter fox fur with its gleaming white fur. That’s all he wanted.

Calle pulled that one small pelt out and laid it on the ground. The trader put the bow next to it.

“Trade yes?”

“Trade yes.”

Calle picked up the bow. It took a tremendous strength still struggling to string it. The trader came over and tapped Calle’s foot.

“War bow,” the trader said pinning against his foot and twisting his whole body to bend the top, “Use all body for string.”

With this method Calle could string it.

“Moon bow,” Calle called it, “for the moon fox pelt traded for you. A gift from the forest given abroad brought you to me.”

Having yet no silver Calle huffed the big stack of furs back to the cabin. His journey for heather was delayed again. The masterwork longbow was now his main bow. A war bow from distant lands where it was used to kill warriors even in steel armor.

<CALLE 119 Moon bow>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 26, 2023, 08:02:58 PM »
Awakening the next day Calle rubbed his face then combed his hair. The mind can be trapped in the tense horrors of “then” and slip away from “now”. Now was a time in late hay month. Its a time when a second set of turnip crops could be started. The ground is firmer then it will be in fall rains. So now is also a good time to shift in some trunks for firewood, crafting or building in the winter. With the waters wet he could punt across the bay for logs to avoid cutting too much down close to the homestead.

A load was delivered to the firewood stocks. Calle recalled starting last winter with sixty and now there was thirty. So what was needed was thirty and doubled for safety was sixty. That doubled number was put in stock. A few trees worth were brought in as boards. Bad ones would go to fire wood and better ones for crafting.

What was taking days was building up for more charcoal burning. A good amount was left but that might not make it through the ores now on hand. By sled and water getting the tree trunks felled and delivered was a pretty easy step. It tooks days of splitting to break six trunks down into a mass of firewood. Then three days to get them mounded and started. Those mounds needed tending for a few days. Having set the mounds inside the workshop area Calle set to work on iron blooms right next to them. The village smiths must have someone working for them on making charcoal. That would let them focus on the metal working.

Those days were hot from the bloom fires in front of him and the warm wounds behind. He splashed badly in the waters wondering how people could swim across rivers. When the time came to uncover the mounds it had gone well. Without the blustery shifts of winter winds the wind screen had guarded them well. Piling them up it could be guessed the charcoal was over half a ton now. Plenty for many projects by a solo smith like Calle.

It was a pleasant enough time. Hard work reminded Calle of his last few years at home. Having grown from boyhood to an early man he had been called on more and more to heavier chores. There would always be more chores.

The spirit came to him to travel to turnip hill. Those plants that nourished him were again in bloom. The collections would aid him in the next winter coming. What he brought back would be in a good company with the coming harvest from the Linenfell fields of the Swan Cabin homestead.

Days of ringing the anvil. First the ore stocks from fetched around Swan Cabin then the special ores of Darncliff’s perfect bog basin. Muck roasted, bloom pounded to drive away the clinging things and hammer to simple shape. The stack of billets grew yet it was only a fraction of a small child.

Harvest had marched into its ides, a foreign word for the middle times. Crops were raising up. Calle had put example patches near the cabin. These let him see the rate of growth of the crops. He compared them to the memories from his youth. Flax seemed now ready. He had planted it here and there in main fields amid the ash turnings. These he gathered. It wasn’t a huge yield but it was a start and would give seeds for later years.

Gathering the flax Calle noticed a pea pod had an opening. Turning the green sheathe in his hand he looked closely.

“No scratches,” Calle mused, “This is from the inside. By the plant. So you peas are ready too.”

Peas were a tougher crop with their growing time. Here they were growing. They were added to the harvest of the 9th week before winter. Plants were inspected across the plots. Calle recalled now that he had done the planting over time. It takes so much work to do an ash turn that it was spread out over weeks. It was the plots turned last year or early this year that were ready. The rest would come along in time.

With the passing into fall the wild plants were in their cycle. It occurred to Calle to get the heather he preferred in rituals he should go soon to the south. Last year he learned they did not seem to grow this far north.

Crossing the mire and spruce edge he made for the northern river where he had a punt shelter. He stepped onto the mire to look closer at what the berries were doing. From another bush a lone reindeer rose up. Calle made a plan for this hunt. The river was near to the east. He kept to the west of the reindeer in a drive hunt.

When it got near dense spruce Calle was worried he would lose it like he had lost so many elk in spruce. He fired but missed.

He walked over to search and pull his arrow from a spruce branch. Knowing he had food stocks this wasn’t desperate. Experience taught him if not today then soon he’d get game. He took a drink from his water skin and started to pull out smoked meats to eat. The reindeer came back to view.

Steady and calm for shooting… ah… meat put to the bow string. Calle flustered at himself. Meat away and arrow notched the reindeer had moved. Calle crept. It wasn’t far. Crouched in lowing ground, around a spruce he followed on the sounds. Raising up bow string was pulled back. Broadhead flew. True to the thorax with a thrash the reindeer fell.

With his free hand Calle drew his hunting knife as he approached. Kneeling down he moved his bow hand down about to swap to pulling tight the neck fur.


Antlers swirled by his head. Onto his bum he flopped. His right arm instincts lashed out stabbing the reindeer. Bleeding the reindeer floppy stumbled eastward.

Calle cursed. It almost had him with those antlers. If he had to keep stabbing with the knife he might ruin the fur.

Grabbing his longbow, so as not to lose it, Calle now ran at the reindeer. Chased by its predator the reindeer galloped, stumbled and waddled with blotches of foaming blood splattering to the ground.

A lung. The arrow had gone into a lung. Deeply too. The wobbly running would have the broad head edges cutting the inner lung over and over.

Calle shifted south or north to keep forcing it over the last rise to the river.

The crossed over trail markers to the punt shelter. Calle knew those trees a stone throw away, thats where the punt was.

The reindeer bawled at the flowing river.  Its weak legs wobbled turning to push past Calle. Calle swung up leg and thrust kicked it back toward the river.

Calle sneered, “Stay there!”

As it stumbled to the river bank Calle ran closer slapping in another kick. Whenever it tried to move past him he kicked it again. All the while the broadhead arrow wiggled with more foaming blood falling on the river bank.

It stumbled to the ground this time to rise no more. By the hunting knife pressed into tightened fur it was sent through the gate back to the other world.

Calle laughed. It was the first time he had done kick hunting! Then he placed a hand on the reindeer’s head. He sung a tune of hums that came to him. It wasn’t any particular words. Just a soft melody to calm the reindeer’s spirit.

Skinning and butchering were started in the deepening night. One the morning it was a short walk to Swan Cabin. The meat went up in the smokehouse and the hide tanning was begun. While waiting for the hide to tan Calle wandered the nearby forest gathering berries.

The next morning the hide was finished. In the smoke house two block stumps were added to the fire. He would a good deep smoke while he was away. Calle watched the fire get started and burn a while. Surrounded by the stones it was burning well. Stepping outside the smoke was well contained with only a few wisps. There was no signs of sparks fluttering.

<CALLE 118 kicked a reindeer>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 25, 2023, 06:16:27 AM »

This is the list of figures. The wood carving is in the BAC thanks to Iago and the clay ones are from IIRC older sources

<list of figurines>

Elk = fine wood figurine, inspired by elk that became a bear, at Swan Cabin bed
Bear = wood figurine, inspired by elk that became a bear, at Swan Cabin bed
Fox = wood figurine, guards Swan Cabin exterior cellar, put at exterior cellar of Swan Cabin
Lynx = wood figurine, inspired by trouble maker at the field, put at fields shelter near Swan Cabin
Swan = wood figurine, inspired by the homesead, blessing spirit of Linenfell, hung over bed
Reindeer = wood figurine, from the pre winter hunt and all reindeer, given hare bone antlers, at Swan Cabin bed
Badger = wood figurine, guards Swan Cabin courtyard cellar, put at courtyard cellar of Swan Cabin
Upright bear = clay figurine, inspired by the battle bear though for all bears too, at Swan Cabin bed

Man = clay figurine, Swan Cabin bed
Woman = clay figurine, Swan Cabin bed
Tree = clay figurine, Swan Cabin bed
Cloaked figure = clay figurine, Swan Cabin bed
Armored warrior = fine wood figurine, inspired by battle of Darncliff after visiting the Old Ones, Swan Cabin bed

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 25, 2023, 05:21:53 AM »

Almost leaving his heart wanted to leave a sign he was here. On the shore he assembled a stack of rocks and stone. Other people would call this an inukshuk. The deliberate stacking of stones with or without gaps showing that it was assembled making the presence of a person mandatory.

“Someone was here,” Calle said.

A trunk and rock were setup on the shore for tanning hides, if it ever had to be done. A half curve of pines was the backdrop for a shelter. A pair of guard traps and fire ring would close it in. The sleep was a broken once by sounds of moving. The sea knocking things on the shore was strange to Calle. Had it been that? Or a spirit? Sacrifices had been out to show respect.

On the morning the trip began. It would a parallel and scout the coast, from hill tops at times. Eastward is the first coastline he found.

Calle could travel looking for that to know when to turn south. Along the way a cave was found and checked. Different paintings had to deal with seal and something much bigger than a seal and a lumpy head. Was that a whale? Heading out he saw a person in the distance. They were moving south east. Didn’t seem like they wanted to talk.

Evening had Calle at that first coast finding. A shelter was erected but not much time to improve it. A single set of trail markers was set. His wounds were healing well. However the supply of heather petals  had long since been depleted. Stonecrop being recently gathered continued to help with the bandaging.

He knew these lands a little. Another cave was explored. He noticed how they didn’t scare them now. Whatever might be in there he had been into the bowels of the Old Ones presence and defeated a foe that tried to crush their powers. Sure it might be scary if he walked up to a bear inside a cave. It was no longer that he was afraid not knowing what could be in the caves.

He reached Calm Cave before the sun touched the evening horizon. This added to his sense of bonding with the caves. He had slept it in once already. His spruce mat was still there.

Next morning he made south east. Again a person was seen. Standing on a hill top in plain view Calle are a meal. He was giving lots of time to be seen. Robber’s didn’t do that. It was chance for them to decide if Calle was real. Moving down to the area they weren’t found. Calle didn’t search for too long. If they didn’t want company they didn’t have to have it.

The first Old Ones cave was visited next. Calle almost silly about how afraid he had been the first time. He still respected the place. He just felt settled with it. Nearby was the iron camp. Thoughts of digging were dismissed. It must be like two weeks since he was at Swan Cabin. He really should get back to the crops.

On a mire he was able to actually walk into a reindeer herd. Reindeer grazing on each side of him. Only when he even started to think about hunting to did they get frightened and run. That felt magical. Having them all around him. It was a throwing distance to each. They really had thought he was a tree or a man of the forest.

After sleeping on spruce, having collapsed on them while gathering exhausted, Calle was still moving south east when he finally met someone. This was Olesa a woodsman.

“No particular tribe. Not since my wife died in a sickness. Kids grew up already,” Olesa said, “I’ve just wanted to be in the woods. Been out here for years now. Always keep a dog though. Good to wake you if a bear is prowling nearby. Confuses the wolves too.”

Calle passed Olessa the mittens from the warrior,  “Something to help you along next winter.”

Carrying on the hike took him to a lake he knew. On the south east side he passed one of the traveling shelters. He was back in the ring of camps around his homestead. Come evening he was at the Tarwide travel camp. It felt good to slide inside a premade shelter.

Day 1 of the 12th week before wintered

Finally a parting spruce bough showed the logs of Swan Cabin. Bits of needles and wind blow dotted the roof lightly. It was looked like an established place not a brand new one. Wall logs were bleaching to the sun light. There was a perspective to this place now. It was a station amid a wide world full of different people. Mysteries still exist out there. Here is a safe place to rest, gather and prepare.

“A moment is all it takes to die,” recited Calle, “Preparation is all it takes to live.”

Circling the cabin he collected three birds in traps. This would also mean checking the pit traps soon too. Storing things needed to be done.

First the perfect place ores were set aside near the forge works. A reindeer and forest reindeer hide were added to the trade fur stack. The warrior’s leather shoes were put under the sleeping bunk. He’d study them later for how they were made. The warrior’s woodsman axe went there too as a spare tool in case of robbery or loss in the field. Berries and Owl preserved foods went into the cellar. Heather petals were added back into his travel bundle. He took off the battle bear fur cloak shaking it outside the door to loosen all the weird things it had picked up.

Calle stared hard at the neck cover, niska, of his full gear. He rubbed the neck wound that had healed. There was a string feeling of a scar. He pulled the niska off the wall peg to fit it around his neck. That wound was a warning. From now he would pretty much always wear fur around the vulnerable neck for protection.

As he slide the fur niska into place he hands touched the steel of the lamellar prize. Now this would matter in future fights. It was missing plates even before Calle had killed the previous wearer. Its funny how iron goods out last their users. Looking at it showed the plates at different colors of patina. It had been repaired several times. Another good piece to study. In principle the idea is simple. Make steel into flat plates and drill holes. The armor comes from using the holes to sew them onto each other or onto clothing. As he was at home the metal armors came off: the lamellar, knee cups and spectacle helm.

Calle chuckled by the time he would add all his furs in winter fighting he would like quite the sight! Armored bears! Imagine fighting armored bears! He laughed.

Well nothing had fallen into the pits. On the good side nothing had ravaged the crops. The traps and fences had done that much at least. The turnips had ripened being the fast growers. The first sorrel plants were also ready. Over a hundred turnips went into the cellars. It was important that some were harvested to have seeds for next year.
Before going to bed there was one solemn thing to do. He took out the wooden figure of the warrior. In stories this could be an enemy or Calle or someone else. He studied it.

His mind drifted, “now to then”. Calle shuddered as the warrior was rushing up the hill with the initial limp yet still at speed. The stab that caught his arm. The wildness of blows. Calle’s head jerked when his neck was hit in the fight. His hands were shaking in the now. Hips twisted to power arms for blows. The near death when Calle was on the ground. Eyes of panic in the now. Death had been so close to him! In a few seconds of “then” the warrior’s axe hit the ground released by a stunned hand. Calle’s leg lashed in the “now” like it did to scatter the axe. That decisive moment. The warrior turned to flee. Then the shooting.

Arrow, notch, draw, steady, release.

Calle became calm again in the now. Thoughts of anger that filled him in the “then” when he raised the river sword to chop the neck were now sadness. A person had died.

That person had almost been Calle.

Calle’s shaking hands wobbled the wood figure among the others.  Sliding between the furs he pulled the upper fur over his head. Calle wept.

<CALLE 117 Back at Swan Cabin>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 25, 2023, 01:07:12 AM »
Having collecting the enemy warrior’s gear Calle wore the lamellar vest. Like the rest of the enemy’s clothing it was damaged and worn. It wasn’t just from fighting Calle. How long had they been out here. Had he been here on a quest from his people to stop powers like Calle’s quest?

Exploring the cave found it only a few of the old paintings on the walls. Debris was limited to a few bones and fur. There were several dangerous drops. It would be tricky to live there without an accident. The bear he saw might live here well enough.

It was time then for the funeral of the warrior. The body was carried to a dip in the hillside. Two trees were felled to burn on top. The ash would flow over the warrior sealing them in the underworld. Animals moved about the work. Two hares seen at the same time and a pole cat. This seemed a good sign.

As that fire took Calle shook his empty water skin. He would need water. The bear was still to the north east. Calle would give it ground. Let it have the cave. If there was any of man meat left from the fire Calle didn’t want to be near a bear that had a taste for people, even if it had been an enemy.

Nestled in the mountains was a bog felled by creeks. Its simply beauty a contrast to the harsh battle. When he arrived Calle found it oddly shapped. It was a giant bowl filling from the ring of mountains and hills. Oily slicks played in many place.

“Iron,” said Calle, “All the ring flows down here to one bog pit. This place is a natural net for iron.”

It was a long trip from Swan Cabin and he had no shovel this time. Evening was coming on.

Injuries require rest too. Calle assembled between two the slow water falling pools a shelter. It was far less guarded then he normally made. Roseroot medicine herb was growing there too. Mountain water fall pools tasted of clean water. It felt right for a healing shelter.

Come morning there was only a four days to midsummer. Striding west along the ridge Calle spied a reindeer herd moving. Thinking as a balanced hunter Calle pondered what would come of a successful hunt. The Owl village at Darncliff was a half day to a day away. He would take the meat there for it to be used. In trade he’d take other goods.

The hunt on the mire wounded one then they scattered. Trailing them they took to rest amid a cluster of pools and creeks. As Calle approached the reindeer were reluctant to enter the water. A little disappointment was in Calle’s heart as the wounded one was far to the side. What were pinned in a notch was another reindeer and a yearling. He volleyed into the older of the pair.

When Calle did come into the Darncliff camp old Rikkar took one look at the foreign armor and bandages then began shouting over his shoulder. Another old man nimble in his jog hurried over.

“There’s been fighting,” he said, “Call me Jouna. I am a sage. The spirit guides have been keeping me up. Reindeer don’t normally put up a fight like that.”

Calle laughed, “No it wasn’t any reindeer. An enemy warrior maybe on his own quest came upon me. He attacked. We fought. Calle won. The reindeer came the next day.”

Jouna said, “You can tell us the story after I see to your wounds. If you are the ones the spirits have been singing of stay a few days to heal.”

Calle liked the sound of that.

Rikkar scowled, “Its dangerous if he is attracting them.”

Jouna barked, “He’s not attracting them! He’s stopping them.”

Rikkar looked between them all, “Well… he deserves hospitality. For a short time.”

Four nights Calle stayed healing at Darncliff. There was certainly lots of food to go around! It gave him time to tan the felled reindeer’s hide. Rikkar even came to give him advice. Jouna was looking on. The enemy’s extra clothes were traded with more meats for one of the vilage’s own reindeer hides.

On the latter days Calle carved up a wooden shovel. It would let him return with ores from these special places. Passing time he carved the figured of a man. Cross marks on the chest denoted this as an armored man. A chuckle came from Calle. This was much like finding the wounded travelers in villages.

The last night with them saw the summer solstice. Many songs were sung. They shared their solstice cooking with him which included portions of the reindeer he had felled. Nearing full recovery Calle decided now was a time to depart. Rikkar shuffled his feet with a pout as Calle left.

First on the destination was the healing shelter in that perfect place for bog ore. Enough was gathered for two good blooms. From there he went on west. A part of him wanted to meat the Seal tribe.

It was a triple run of rivers flowing to the north coast that Calle found. They created a pair of land strips in side. In there sat a community in two clusters. It took three scoutings of the ford to find one the miserable swimmer Calle could attempt crossing. Finaly he found one where it didn’t take more than a few strokes to swim across.

At the village he spoke with Tiinna. She said they called themselves the Kuikka tribe. Though surprised they weren’t “seal” people the Kuikka was to Calle a friend of the Swan Spirit. They had both tents and a log cabin. A child’s birthday party was roaring with laughter.

Twins, a boy Biitho and a girl Riida, were the birthday kids. Calle laughed.

“I am Calle,” he began, “A questor who has been to the underground of the Old Ones and back again. I defeated a warrior on a quest to stop our blessings with the spirit. I fought, we won. There are new blessings to be in the land. The forest watched us as bear who sent a messenger in the form of a hare in congratulations. Later they let me keep a reindeer whose hide is here. It was tanned while the Owls of Darncliff helped me heal. Now for you…”

Calle trundled around his baggage.

“These two bowls are twins,” Calle said handing each child one, “They come from the same mother stump. I made them while healing at Darncliff. They are part of this quest. Here is a gift for each of you.”

A woman stepped up, “I’ll hold onto those. I am their mother Heide. This is my husband Hegon.”

Hegon gave the signs of peace, “We are happy to have you adventurer. Such deeds keep the lands alive with the spirits of all our peoples.”

Calle joined the party trading stories and playing in the games. Hours of laughter tired him out. He slept in a Kota again. They were rather comfortable in the summer. Up high the vent was wide open to let out the heat.

Come morning Calle followed the rivers in the north east paths. They joined and continued as even mightier flows. Finally he came to the mouth of the river opening to the sea. This felt like an accomplishment. His heart had wanted to see the coast and meet the peoples. He had gone into the under world and come back. An enemy power was defeated to keep the land safe. Ores were found for the blessing they would become. Life had been celebrated at the party of the twins. Now he stood at the river’s mouth. As waters flowed they entered the endless possibilities of the future.

Calle smiled. Content.

<CALLE 116 river mouth content>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 24, 2023, 11:25:18 PM »

The enemy coming at him held a roundshield forward to protect from arrows and a pointed hunting knife. That is not the signs of peace! An axe was slung over his back. He was without a bow. Steel glinted off his lamellar vest.

Calle had traveled with a bow in hand in case of game. Though without his full bear fur layers he had brought the damaged spectacle helm and iron knee cups.

The first quick arrow went wide. Thunk an arrow hit the attacker’s shield. Thunk the third. It was going to be knife and shield versus sword and shield. Time to apply the lessons he had!

First blows. Madness! The attacker counter thrusted skipping a cut on Calle. A poor trade! Calle’s sword cut deeper into the warrior’s hip.

Screaming in a foreign language the two struck at each other. Calle backed up judging if the new limp would let enough distance happen to use a bow. It wouldnt be enough. It did let the warrior switch to his axe but then back again.

Both were uncertain of the other.

A blow by axe thudded haft onto the oak shield that Calle dropped it. Frantically he swayed and snapped it up. Next swing Calle shield punched the haft scrapping a finger. The axe dropped to the ground. The warrior jolted his shoulder as the momentary pain lashed through then grasped for the axe. Calle was faster at sweeping his foot to send it flying down the mountain side.
To the hunting knife and shield against Calle’s sword and shield. A swing by the warrior then he turned to run. To his bow Calle switched with a miss then a broadhead stuck into the warror’s left calf. It dug in deep and hard, a bone strike. He fell the ground wailing.

Arrow, notch, draw, steady, release.

Arrow, notch, draw, steady, release.

Misses, misses, then a broad head into the right hip. Even more leg struck the warrior knew flight was worthless the warrior elbow crawled up the hill.

Calle had fought bears up close when he was layered in furs. That gave him a wound that taught him the danger of that.

Arrow, notch, draw, steady, release.

Travelling with his full quiver and trade arrows as well Calle kept up the bombardment. After more hits the warrior laid still. Respecting the danger Calle switched from bow to the river sword and oak shield. He approached cautiously less the man rise like a bear once did.

Standing next to the unconscious man Calle sneered angrily down. Was this from the underworld? No.

When Calle had completed his First Winter challenge the Nerjpez had moved camps into the lands near there. It was said by sage the were trying to stop him. The stirring of worlds would mean Calle was strengthening the tribes. The foes had wanted to stop Calle. Continuing his journey meant not facing them right away. He had more to learn. They had tried to hunt him young.

Now that he had gone to the Old One’s and crawled into their depths and return one of them was here. They were trying to stop Calle. Whatever strength Calle was forming between the worlds they didn’t want it. Without it his family would be in danger, his village and maybe even the Swan Spirit.

From calcutating battle to fury Calle put the river sword in a high guard. Its rippling textures shimmered as it swung to a low guard and beyond. It cut into the enemy’s neck. To high guard, low guard and beyond river sword cleaved half way through the neck. As the blood withdrew Calle saw the enemy’s neck bones. Life left the enemy.

Calle stepped back. His rage was numbing the pain of his wounds. Looking high to the sky then scanning for more dangers.

In the distant north east mountains a bear shape was moving. Did it just look to them?

Adrenaline rage was still flowing. Deep breaths. Calle took deep breaths. The bear was too far to attack. Arrows from misses and blocks dotted the Darncliff hill side. Pain gained the attention of Calle’s thoughts.

The scariest was a cut to his neck!

Shallow was the cut on his neck, without hitting an artery. A fraction deeper and he’d have been dead!

Minor stab wounds started with the first one to his upper right arm, a one to his left upper arm and a skip off the left knee iron cup to his knee. That one too could have been so much more dangerous.

“Clean with heather,” Calle reminded himself.

The early wounds had taught him that. First he dosed water and crumpling heather to swap his neck. As he began a hare scampered along the mountain to them then turned and bolted.  Had the bear spirit sent it as a messenger? The other wounds were heather cleaned.

Searching his travel stash produced the four bandages he washed after uses to have them for the next time. Calle had used nettle as a follow up to heather and stone crop was also good that way. It was stone crop that had come on this journey. He choose this time to use the stone crop as a part of this quest.

In that hour of wound tending no more attacks came. The hare had meant the forest was calm with him. The bear was hard to judge. Calle felt that now the distant bear was a fellow warrior of the lands. Perhaps the enemy had been hunting the bear when Calle found them or was this all part of the new ties to the Old Ones. Both could be true at the same time.

Bandaged now Calle stepped to the fallen warrior. He unhooked the lamellar torso protection. Now this had come to Calle. It joined the iron of his damaged looking helm and knee cups. This lamellar represented a huge amount of labor. From the mounting it had come from drilling plates those from forming plates those from mixing to have steel those from iron billets those from iron blooms those from iron ore.

<CALLE 115 Battle of Darncliff>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 24, 2023, 10:08:00 PM »
Awakening among the living Calle went to complete the preparations here. Since he would be leaving the guard traps were disarmed. It is not right to kill the animals without using them. That’s waste.

Exploring the side a few rocks were lined up as they had been old trail markers. Any wood ones must have rotted or been knocked away. Calle was hardly the first person to use this cave. He was just the current visitor. Pondering to live here was only brief. The Swan Spirit was his guide and she had not appeared here. This was a place for journey.

Laying out fresh trail marker branches Calle spotted flowers on the side of the hill. Coming closer he sniffed them, rubbed their leaves in his fingers and opened the petals. These were rose root. A good medicine. Boiling it restores health from many illnesses. What Calle wondered is which came first the shamans or the flowers? To him the current steward it didn’t really matter. He was just curious.

When they were set he began to head back south east. Yet his heart pulled on him. This was the time of travel. To enter the underground and return to the same right spot seemed to miss a phase of the journey. Calle turned west.

Knowing roughly where the coast was he stayed where the reindeer herding Owl peoples would prefer, south of the Northern Spine Mountains. He found the herders at Kilncliff. Their dogs barked briefly at his approach. There would be no wolves here today. To their head woman Ailitza was traded the wooden tub for foods. 

“Whats the flavoring? It seems familiar,” asked Calle.

Ailitza said, “Stone crop. The mountain we camped next to has them. Its a medicine herb. Sometimes I add medicines to foods for travelers. Keeps them well.”

“Thank you wise woman,” Calle lowered his gaze respectfully.

He strode up there gathering for his own stocks. From there he saw a really wide set of the Northern Spine mountains. Hiking father west he found another “Old One’s” cave. Painted and used by generations like the first.

This one had a very pinched entrance that a single door could cover. Inside was like two houses, one north and one south. Both wide and only a little slope. There was no deep pit here. The paintings were different too. Same styles just more focused on animals and hills. There were moons amid some drawings. Plants were blooming or just twigs in others.

“A hunting guide!” Calle shouted, “Where to find animals by what the plants are doing. A seasonal guide to find them.”

The old ones had been making notes to teach on how to find the animals.

Carrying on Calle found another cave of the Old Ones. It had a small straight opening both easy to walk and build a door for. There were slopes inside with only a few spots needing climbing. Paintings and hand prints were here. Animals, plants with more people but not as much as the first Old One’s cave.

Hiking further west he came to the Owl folk camped at Darncliff. Giving them the signs of peace with open hands they let Calle sleep in their great tent, a kota. They were eager of news. Calle told them of the growing number of Owl tribes he met. They grew happy hearing familiar names of kinsfolk and friends.

“There are caves of the Old Ones. Are their stories of them?” asked Calle.

Old Rikkar spoke up, “Best be careful with those. The old ones left guardian spirits. Some have gone mad sleeping in them. Others had visions. It will shelter you from a storm if you show it respect.”

Calle nodded, “There are teachings in them.”

“You’ve seen them?” Maarit an Owl mother asked nervously.

Her boy Askel snapped, “Is he a spooked man?”

Maarit pulled the boy close, “He didn’t mean disrespect.”

Rikkar leaned to look closer at Calle, “I don’t think this one is spooked. He might have… hmm…”

“Learned something,” said Calle.

“Yes,” Rikkar said, “Learned from the old ones. Please be safe tonight in our kota. In case something followed you don’t stay on. Continuing your journey.”

“That is fair,” Calle said.

When they slept Maarit kept Askel at the far side of the kota.

Carrying on Calle was hiking to another cave. It was when circling it he heard a human snarl.

A nerjpez warrior was rushing at him!

Old Rikkar had been right!

<CALLE 114 Nerjpez attack>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 24, 2023, 09:26:31 PM »
Gotta say the random name assigner really came through today with "Old One's mountain"

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 24, 2023, 09:24:17 PM »
Heading back he slept in the Calm Mountains cave.

“Might as well call you Calm Cave.”

Simple improvements were made. Guard traps for the entrance, which caught a grouse. Stones for a fire ring as odd as that to have in a cave its still useful to contain sparks and raise smoke. A mat of spruce to sleep on as well.

Carrying on a bull elk was met at short range through the spruce. Calle didn’t take a shot knowing how poorly the attempts of hunting elk in thick spruce had gone.

A bit more hiking took him near the work camp. He made to a mountain with a crock to the east of it. Sure enough it had a cave. As he came to it there was steps next to a steep notch. It was seemed odd how steep the notch was there. As he took the steps he came into the cave. Inside there was bits of debris, rotted wood and just visible on the walls reverse hand prints. The kind made by putting you hand on something them spraying paint on it. Sketches of animals with that one there having antlers of a bull elk.

This was Old One’s Mountain. The old one’s cave.

Calle touched around to get to know the place. His hands found chiseling of initials and runes. They weren’t all one style nor all one language. One branch of the Old One’s cave almost too him. It dropped off in the dark like into the bowels to the underground. He might try climbing this exceptional steep part or he might just be trapped down there.

This place was a mystic one. Placing heather out he felt unsteady. Was he really worthy of this place? It was a place of knowing. It had learned things. People had taught here and the stones had heard.

Taking a breath Calle lowered down. Hoping there was a place for him there. A place for him in the two worlds. As his feet felt down they felt something soft. Gropping down he found bones and fur. Was this the sacrifice pit? Or a waste pile? Prodding back he found stones again. It was a strange place. Old knowing, growing and turning back to stone.

Humming old songs this lower gate echoed back.

Calle reached to find the spot he came from. Was he coming back from the underworld? Dead and reborn? He heard some shamans take such a journey. To be undone then remade with the powers of the other place coming with them. By swimming, by caving like this or being shoved under the water.

His hands prodded and feet slipped. He slid back down.

“Am I worthy?” Calle asked.

“If I stay we will never know,” he answered.

Calle’s finger found notches to hold. A foot stepped on a large round skull barely made out in the dark. On pulling Calle’s elbow found a ledge. Heaving by them he rose up from the underground.

Respecting this as a place of power Calle went about setting up a mat for sleeping, a fire ring and guard traps. Instead of branches the small fire was made with spruce. Deliberately to fill it with smoke.

Curls floated around the cave paintings dancing in the flickering light.

As Calle slept he trusted to Swan Spirit and the ancestors he was walking close enough to the right path to be led on.

<CALLE 113 Old One’s Cave>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 24, 2023, 08:42:57 PM »

A thin curve of sun was ascending on the horizon with a deep notch of moon descending. In this strange mix of silvery orange light Calle began his trip for the coast. Limited trade goods were with him with most of the value in arrows and an extra wooden tub.

Which direction to go? Due north might be the shortest though he heard there was a gap in the Owl migrations this year. North east would go to the villages he knew. North west was probed once and should hold more villages. There were hills running north west. Calle decided that using them would let him see more of lands. At time he would bear more north while at others to visit the Owl settlements.

The moon was down and sun only half above the horizon when he reached his travel shelter at Munchwood. It was embarrassing to have trouble finding it. He hadn’t taken the time before to leave trail markers. This was corrected as he watched goldeneye birds play about in the lake water.

Carrying on the sun was just beyond its highest when he arrived at the camp at Lynxwood. There old Bilzi was in need of herbs from the mires. His own joints were in a pain that he feared might leave him stuck in the mud. Tromping through mires was how Calle gathered berries. This was a simple chore soon done. Bilzi mixed up a healing brew. It felt good to have a second mix. Instincts wouldn’t be so afraid to use at them now.

Strolling to enter the spruce a wolf was prowling their village! Calle’s broad head went past to strike a spruce. The wolf slid off. Checking a few steps in there were at least three wolves! Calle was quick to warn the village.

Bilzi asked, “Could you stay the night? You scared one. You staying may scare the others from attacking our herd?”

A woman Ladja added, “I’ve have some dried meats for your trip if you’d stay in our tent. There is use for your strong hands.”

Calle blushed, “All right. Yes. It would be dangerous for me to try camping soon with them near. It is good for all of us.”

Ladja had minor chores to be done like resetting one of the long tent poles. Maybe it was just an excuse so she could watch them. They sat together listening to Bilzi tell stories. Calle told them of the battle with the bear. Ladja padded at all the wounds in the cloak. She took out her sewing kit and stitched the worst tears tighter than Calle had.

Come morning Ladja and Calle were curled up under the battle bear fur cloak. Calle stroked her forehead as he slid out. She smiled bleary as Calle quietly took the cloak away replacing it with one of their trade furs to cover her.

Coming into the morning light Tobejas an adventuring Owl was on look out.
Calle called, “Tobejas. As you heard last night I’m heading to see the coast. Will you join me in the trip?”

“Not with wolves near,” Tobejas said, “Ladja is my cousin. If you aren’t staying to protect her then I must.”

“She is kind lady,” Calle said, “and a good cook.”

Tobejas added, “It might be dangerous out there. You carry a sword. I’ve been training in swords over the years. Let me see what guards you know. Then at least my lores can travel with you.”

Tobejas gave lessons on sword fighting, with and without a shield. On using different guard positions, how to strike from one to return to another. Just past a half hour in one of the wolves again prowled the camp.

Tobejas said, “Lesson over. I’m needed. Stay safe. We’ll set up torches tonight.”

Calle nodded. It troubled him to be continuing on. The Owl had lived in traveling tents for the ages. Their lores should handle the wolves. That is what he told himself.

Calle made his way north north east through forest and mires. At noon he took a meal. He debated setting a travel shelter but decided to carry on. Onto late afternoon he hadn’t seen tall hills for a while. He check a little west. He could see across the mire a bear and father over a small lake. Giving the bear a wide peace he went to set up a shelter at the lake.

The next day bore north north east again. He was delighted to see high peaks poking up through the woods. Around them water flowed into mires. Iron bogs! He could come here for more iron. He hadn’t brought his shovel this trip so that would be for another time. There were several mountains and mire patches here. This was worth exploring!

It took a few hours to set this work camp up properly. The lean to shelter was only part. He dismantled the first one recalling that wolves and bears are in the area. He moved to a more defensible spot harder to find. Being harder to find meant adding multiple sets of trail markers to find it again. A thick bedding of spruce was added and extra spruce for the sides. A fire ring is simple though takes walking to find the rocks and a good smoke stone. Guard traps were set and an offering to the spirits made. A lot of work now preparing for future trips or should he wounded on this one.

Further north he saw more mountains than he had ever seen before.

“The northern spine!”

He heard of this. The ring of mountains of the north that kept the ocean back from the middle lands. Soon beyond it should be the coast. It was also full of mountains draining to mires.

“Spine iron,” smiled Calle.

He clambered up the mountain side to decide where to make another work camp. That’s when he noticed the deep cracks hiding hollows. There could be caves!

He soon found one amid Calm Mountain that even had an anthill just into the trees south.  It had a curving narrow entrance with a reasonable sized interior. A rear notch could fit a bed and a door for a secured placed.

Now that he knew what to look for there might have been one by the previous work camp. Debating for a while it could be checked on the way back or the next visit. He carried on mindful to look for possible caves. So focused on that he had forgotten to watch the sun! Rain clouds were hiding the sky and he had just thought they were the darkness. In the dark and rain he fumbled to assemble an emergency shelter.

At noon the next day hiking up a ridge of hills Calle saw a wide water. A few more steps and it was broad water with islands. The coast! With an elk strolling near the shore. Rubbing his chin Calle wondered about hunting the elk. He was at least two days from Swan Cabin now. Add in the time to butcher and so forth it would be three or four before he could get the meat into the smoke house. Too much time.

“Live today,” Calle waved to the elk, “I shall not risk wasting your gift. May we meet in the hunt again.”

Out on the farthest pennisula he could see Calle built a stack of stones and rock. A brief splash in the ocean waters. He swam a few strides to a patch of land and fished from there.

“Didn’t catch anything,” Calle laughed, “But I’ve gone fishing on the north coast!”

<CALLE 112 fished north coast>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 24, 2023, 05:58:14 AM »
Now in late fallow month the calendar of chores was in a freer time. It was in this summer time that they say other peoples made war. Certainly raiders could leave their crops less attended to have the manpower for the long ships of stories. Calle wasn’t near an ocean shore. He was deep inland though adventures could be done. For a few week any expansion work was optional. Calle chose that he would wait until the battle bear meat was done smoking. Then he could be away more than one or two nights.

Exploring found the berries were coming into season now.

“A sweet food,” said Calle, “but we can not live on berries alone.”

Which was a truth. The protiens of meats weren’t there. It was a great way to have sugars. There taste good be pleasing with the right berries. Raspberries were his favorite but what he found today was crowberries, blueberries, bilberries and lingonberries. He added the few pounds his general search found to the courtyard cellar. In the days ahead he would go scout the mire where he fought the first bear of the area. That mire had been full of different berries.

In those few days it was calm. A proud broad smile was on Calle’s face as he lifted up his first turnip harvest of the year. It was still the 3rd week before midsummer. There should be time for a second turnip harvest. From a seeding cup he pulled out turnip seeds to hand turn them into the spots he harvested turnips from.

On the mire gathering Calle remained alert to avoid the poisoning flowers. They had given him. Several clumps of them he cut the stalks off so they could whither without doing harm. What was useful is the bogbean that grows in the wetter and ponds of the mire. This would be handy herb to carry a few of.

Day 1 of the 2nd week before midsummer

Checking as the sun passes its highest Calle decided the battle bear meat had been smoked enough for storage. As planned it was moved to the original outer cellar. Now with good stocks of meat in both even if some disaster like a flood or fire destroyed one the other would survive.

“Preparation is all it takes to live,” proclaimed Calle.

The evening was spent in final preparations. Among them was ensuring the planting seeds were safe in their clay amphora in the outer cellar. The smoked bear meat was hidden there now. That might attract other scavengers. Guard traps were all in order. Calle felt confident of it all being here when he came back.

<CALLE 111 trip ready>>>


To add more production time to the helmet under Smithing there is now "steel shape" matching the existing "iron shape". This modding technique is a generic name to use in different projects. the intention is the player has in mind what the shape is for when making it rather than just stocking "shapes"

iron helm recipe no longer uses "steel billets" but "steel shapes" for more overall production time

iron spectacle helm now uses "steel shapes" and requires an "iron helm" as a starting point. Again, overall production time for this treasured equipment going up.

Skill penalty on helm and spectcale helm made not as bad though still there. The player likely hasnt years of crafting and may still want to trade for the best in the game.

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 24, 2023, 03:17:55 AM »

A happy summer day with a high sun and high temperatures. Inspired by his recent dream Calle shaped left over clay into the shape of a standing bear. As if it was dancing or fighting depending on how you sang with it. This would be good addition to the story telling set.

His wound was healing well with a scab over it with softening pink edges. His treatment today was to wash with water and heather. For binding he added stonecrop instead of nettle as a mixing of cures.

Attempts at swimming were floundering like a fish on land. At least he found swan feathers, a reminder of the long unseen Swan spirit. He tied a few to the loom inside the cabin. Those waters were horrendously cold.

To warm up he took to smithy a large blade with tangs on each end. This became a draw knife to add to his tool collection. Like this you could grip on either side to tug with all your body. This wasn’t useful for fighting nor for skinning games. It was great for removing bark and shaping concave wood shapes, that is outwardly round. The complement tool is an adze, like the stone adze he had dug out logs with.

The day came when the smoked elk finally looked ready. As he prepared to cellar it Calle decided that now was the time to make the courtyard cellar. Then ready foods could be stored within the over log walls in the unroofed area. This would cut down on many creatures getting at it. Having a two cellar system would also act as a safety if either should get damaged.

It may be a simple thing though Calle had to ponder how to rotate the foods. He decided the oldest preserved food would come to the courtyard cellar. The newest one would be stored at the exterior with the planting stores. Most of the medicinal herbs were brought to the courtyard. A reserve of very useful ones like heather and nettle were kept at the exterior.

Its at the exterior cellar that the fox carving stands guard. Debating what to carve for this guardian he settled on a badger carving, badgers are bold enough to try to enter anywhere. As the hope goes if one is already there then another won’t come.

<CALLE 110 badger figurine>>>

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