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Messages - Brygun

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Suggestions / Re: CAPS LOCK indicator
« on: May 24, 2023, 02:21:46 AM »
Simple is best

A simple screen display for capslock would a be a nice non-critical feature

an ignore capslock isnt desired.

When Im playing im often also writing like for Calle and other long stories. Started with needing to journal when smoked and dreid meats were ready. Some keyboards can be prone to bumping or in the excitement of a battle.

My keyboard is lighted and of course has a capslock light. My game setup though is a 28" (?) monitor so I have a lot of visual real estate and the tiny keyboard lights dont register much.

Its just a simple request for a simple feature to have an on screen "capslock".

Perhaps the weather system might have a light or heavy rate for rain or snow. Most rain is wet but viewable through. If the winds (do we have those modelled?) are really heavy then the existing dense format is used.

One way to do winds would be to check if there was a large change in temperature in the past 2? 8? 12? 24? hours.

Overall its is pretty thick. It does also inspire to think of the crap the character is in.

Mod Releases / Re: ModernNorseman's Portrait Mod 1.0 (AI Portraits)
« on: May 23, 2023, 11:35:52 PM »
It may be a bit necro to post...

Wanted to say really enjoying this. For one there was a lot more options for picking out my new long play character (Calle, see the story forums).  It wasn't yet another of the same 4-6 that I like but a whooooole lot of options. so I could get into his head space better.

also meeting people now feels like meeting new people. The limited selection of vanilla (understandable as its just one part of the complicated game) meant seeing the same person after many days of travel. How did they get here before me? Well they didnt but it looked like it. Now its always new people.

I have occassionally seen the vanilla pics pop up which I'm fine with. Those now rare moments remind me of earlier play throughs. Also there is a history of fans submitting pics of themselves which made it into those protraits. AFAIK I wasnt one of them... my kit was a bit after the time period of unreal world.

for discusison:

Based on quick mention by Saami is he expected the helms to take longer to make. Currently it is set at 8 hours as in a game with eating and drinking that's about the max any one step can do.

I've been thinking about how to add time especially to the spectacle helm.

there is already iron shape which could simulate making the eyes and nose guard

There is menu space in smithing where you make the steel dome. So Im thinking of adding an "armor plate" or such. This would be different from lamellar which is lots of small plates. The armor plate would add time based on flattening the steel billet and drilling some holes for rivets.

Then the basic helmet would call on a few armor plates and nails (as rivets).

Spectacle helmet would then call on the basic helmet, more plates, nails and "iron shapes".


In real life I have made some "crude" metal armor for medieval re-enacting that I fought in. Also made a steel dome (like in BAC) for a shield boss. Starting with a circular plate the dome was pounded out in an afternoon as that's all the time I had with the guy who had the stump and clamps. Drilling holes came later (with modern electric drill thank you very much).

The BAC uses the steel dome as stair stepping to the top of the helms, elbow guards and knee guards.

My own fighting helm was made by someone else as I wanted a skilled craftsman to trust my brain too. Did need to be around the workshop for measuring and for working on my knees and elbow cups at the time.

So though I didn't make a helm I've seen some building styles like the spaganhelm. Basic is that you have a wide sheet of steel that makes a cylinder for the base, the upper half gets upright U shapes cut out, the remaining columns are bent inward to join on the dome top. Those columns are single axis bends so not very hard.

To fill in the gaps you need other tear drop plates (slightly larger than what you just cut out) that are shaped to a shallow bowl. Their sides overlap with the columns to which rivets join them. Collectively the tear drops (4 - 6) collectively make the shape of helmet.

I may look for links letter to show.

A cross bar than tear drop method at:


Any way opinions welcome.

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 22, 2023, 05:05:44 PM »
With the summer having started getting wet was safer. Calle used this chance to dig up more clay at the lake bank. The iron headed shovel could actually cut not just mush the clay. It went so much faster. By evening the two amphora, for setting aside planting stocks, and a large amphora were complete. The large would simplify being in the workshop area by refilling a quenching tub as needed.

The night was the straining work of stretching out the rinsed and dried battle bear hide. It proved to be even more exhausting than the fight! Calle passed out on top of fur at the work table.

Come morning he snorted to clear out a bear hair that gone up his nose. One last blow struck upon him!

He laughed.

Now that the amphora had cooled from the firing he move the left over allotment for planting of rye and turnip. The clay inside the cellar would be safer from critters or bugs chewing on them and from temperature changes. His organization now was to store the planting allotment in those cellar amphora scooping out a wooden cup worth at a time for actual planting at the field. Edible allotments could go in other containers letting him know even if dazed which to eat. The ready portion of those would be in Swan Cabin’s kitchen shelves.

It amazed Calle how efficient clay was for storage containers. It couldn’t be shaped like wood and it was certainly more prone to breaking. For long term storage the clay works were great. The small kettles for teas was also such a handy thing in case of sickness abroad.

A routine cleaning and resetting the eastern pit traps discovered a hidden bird amid one of the supporting traps. It had already started to decay. To pay homage to the waste Calle made it a funeral pyre of firewood and let heather petals go into the flames. Sadder still was while resetting the west pit traps one of the support traps had a decaying Kuikka. The same pyre and petals homage was paid.

“This time,” Calle said, “I wasn’t here to let you go. I hope through the smoke you can rise to fly again.”

Thinking on the way back Calle had been debating what to do with the battle bear fur. He could use it as a blanket to rotate out the winter elk fur from being an upper. He did like sleeping with that one. The holes and cuts on the battle bear could be sewn. In the night a draft might get in or they stitches catch a finger or toe. The elk had come away smooth. It fur was finely combed now. The

He decided that the might of the battle bear would come him in battle! It would become a cloak. Even more weight would slow him though the extra layer would be great. In a winter hunt he could even take it off for a blanket below, above or as a wind flap on shelter. As a cloak its cuts and stitches gave it character. Being asked about them would let Calle tell his tale of battling the bear.

The left overs went to join the bedding area. As needed the small ones were curled for pillows, tucked under legs, supporting his back or hung from pegs. Calle gave a shiver. He had recalled those early nights in the First Winter challenge without all the extra layers and a simple shelter on the edge of a mire. Smiling again he gave himself the chance to sit up on the bed and feel proud of his progress. He dreamed of the battle bear’s spirit coming alongside the cloak to aide him in battles to come.

<CALLE 109 bear cloak>>>

Suggestions / CAPS LOCK indicator
« on: May 22, 2023, 04:51:25 PM »
With "q" for Quaff for drinking being a regular thing the pop up of "do you wish to die" is a bit alarming.. which comes from capital Q aka shift-Q. This happens if caps lock got pressed.

Small thing. Could you add a display in the game screen whether caps lock is on?

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 22, 2023, 07:45:21 AM »

A few simple days followed. Working iron blooms into billets for later use, adding a few ash turns, accidentally burning down another few trees, offering heather in an apology, catching birds, releasing birds and planting a few late season sees like nettle and sorrel. Calle could see how in a second or third year the fields would be bountiful enough for a large family. For himself it would be a good balance to his hunter-trapper diet with the benefit of straws for weaving.

Strolling for pleasurable hunting at times he saw distant figures that likely were traders. Returning the cabin to gather the seventy pounds of trade furs, trudging back to the area he kept missing meeting them. On one such attempt he spotted a bear. Evening was coming on. Best not to sleep in the wilds near the bear. Calle returned to Swan Cabin, offloaded the trade furs and slept.

Come morning Calle dressed in full layers including the bear fur overcoat. This armoring was the best he had for a deliberate close battle with a bear. Adjusting the strap on the spectacle helm was needed to fit over the thicker padding now worn. It would be hot. Filling his canteen and skin both with cool water would help. At the smoke house a fresh load of wood was started to continue the smoke for a night or two he might be away.

First day gave no sightings from the near hills. Calle explored farther west looking across different mires. Swinging south he used the iron gathering work camp to shelter in the woods. His eyes leapt and he laughed as a grouse flopped into a guard trap he had just reset. While away to avoid unnecessary waste, with the anger that can come, these were left disarmed though in place.

“Fresh grouse is wonderful gift!” Calle said letting loose heather petals.

With his veteran hunting knife and small knife set preparing the bird was easy. As a prepared camp site there was already a fire ring of rocks with a large stone opposite. It made life easier to have the tall rock edging the smoke to that side. Dressed in all the armor furs he could have done without the reflected heat! The camp was well stocked with firewood and spruce bed to lay on.

Come morning he walked the way east to the Dreamwood punt shelter. In the spruce shelter turned over was the punt and a few mice. They were given a quick toss out. Spruce was used to sweep out their wastes for it is said that they use their fresh poop to tell other mice the place is safe. Still it wasn’t that anything bigger can along. There wasn’t signs of chewing on the punt.  A little care and a small fire was made nearby to confound the scent.

Making the way north he saw the foreigners. Closing on them failed. Its one thing to see them a many bow shots away. Its another thing to find their camp especially when they might think you are a bear! Giggling Calle shambled with a waddle in his layers of cloth and fur under the bear overcoat.

His game had him turn around a pine to see a bear off to the north.

“Ha!” laughed Calle, “This time Im ready for a battle!”

With great care he measured the distance and patterns between pine and spruce. This guided him across the several bow shots of length. He saw the bear again to the side of his direction. He walked at a steadier pace.

Through the pines he gained on the bear. He guessed it to be a she bear with no cubs in sight. Several trees were in the way. Confident the bear was mulling about at berries. Calle slipped closer the bear moving near attracted to his shuffle.


A self made broadhead cut into a fore leg’s shoulder. Howling her paw swiped at the wound snapping the arrow with the head still inside. Limping the bear turned this way and that in confusion. It must have seemed that Calle himself was a distorted bear in all the fur yet not quite nor a man with the spectacle helm and gear. Three more shots were fired with two hits. Thick is the nature of what makes bears good for armor. Her hide was truly thick. Each hit dropped off without burbling wounds.

On she came now. Her foe could lash at her from a distance. She had to strike him down.

Calle wrangled the bow away to bring up the shield. First and second blows fell on the shield as he worked a moment to get the river sword free. As he was trained Calle twisted about his leg, rolling the shoulder that side forward to lash out with the edge. It carved down and forward at the same time across the she-bear’s skull. She fell dazed. Calle thrust getting a light strike on a shoulder.

She rose again, rearing up on her hind legs. Her mass outweighed Calle as it slammed his shield. Twisting his arms took all his strength. She was without restraint making it hard to have the range for the sword. A thrust is made but she falls to the side dragging his shield side low making the sword go high.

Its enough for a cut that lashes her fore leg. She’s stumbling. For a moment she looks too the trees as if wanting to flee. Calle steps back with a debate to try the bow if she makes distance. She rolls her head to the left and right. Plodding steps bounce her toward Calle.

Calle catches the scent of his own blood. She smells it too! Looking to his upper left arm there is a shallow tear as she fell. She knows Calle can bleed and if it bleeds it can be killed as food. His worry is a moment of distraction she gains on him.

Once more oaken shield confounds bear with splashing river sword. Her courage had her readying to rear up when like a snake snapping the sword sung onto her chest. Dense fur and thick skin resist with only the energy left for a shallow cut. Horrendous roar of hate bellows upon Calle. Stunned by the painful noise his shield arms moves slow. Her blows are sloppy as her wounds make her limbs fail to respond as they should.

Calle pants. He is also tiring.

Its a mighty beast bearing many wounds still full of power. Calle is tiring. He slows the pace of his swings, she doesn’t.

Fear beats his heart like a woodpecker when tired leg skids on bloody grass. She wallops striking the ground his ankle was at. Stones fly pinging off the trees. Twisting and pushing with his shield Calle gets back up. He might yet die in this!

Fearing indeed the risk of falling he moves from the bloody spot between a pine and a spruce. She waddles with eyes of death and hunger. Stopping in this gate Calle times a swing to duck under the shield slashing across what would be a man’s waist. He cleaves across her unboned belly. Burbling blood splatters forth. She bleeds continuously from the many cuts of a slash through the intestines.

Calle steps back and she waddles bleeding. He steps back again and again into a clearing. She follows bleeding. Backing up Calle’s pant rush in air to feed his tiring body. She pauses too. Whatever breath she is catching is being lost to the blood blobbing out her belly. She licks her paw and squeezes her belly. A soft moan as matting hair is pushed into her wound. Around it the blood flow slows.

Lumbering forward dragging her hurt body Calle paces his energy chopping on her as she reaches step forward range. By the time of her paw swipe he already stepped back.

Patiently Calle backs up. She is dragging along the ground now. Sword to scabbard and shield to back. The bow is brought out. Before he can fire he backs up to regain distance. Now he can pelt her from a distance. A hit, a miss and broadhead to the belly leaks blood.

She lays. Calle breathes.

Calle breathes.

She rose up before.

Calle breathes.

She is still laying.

Calle takes a deep breath and stows the bow.

Eyes locked on her closed eyes for any glimmer of movement Calle advances sliding the clip pointed hunting knife from its sheath. A quick tug by his free hand to tighten the skin of the neck and thrust. Then he steps back. 

Her breathing is faint. The blood still flows from her neck.

Circling facing her Calle lets her go calmly. Taking the time to gather the nearby arrows when she checks she has passed in her own time. Calle blows heather petals with the wind in thanks.

By hunting knife and small knife the guts are lets loose and skin removed. As her body cools Calle tends to his own wound. A wash with nettle mixed in then a bandage with heather mixed in. Pondering Calle wonders if perhaps the other way around would have been better.

Chuckling Calle sees the evidence of the sword cuts and stabs in the bear fur. It will be hard to craft with now. 

An ant hill is nearby. Calle decides then to commensurate the battle with a shelter that he might come do the silver gift to the ants here, should he ever get silver. Trail markers are laid to point the shelter’s very hidden spot, to the ant hill and four stands of three branches to honor the bear’s final resting place.

Amid the places they fought is a pine tree standing in the bottom of hollow. It is well spaced with an easy walk between it and birch or it and other pines. It is here that Calle places the bear skull. Her tracks pass right by here already. Before leaving Calle added a stack of stones and rocks to her death place.

“How fitting,” Calle said.

Its now that he notices next to the stone cairn is a spirit mushroom. He’ll leave it for the bear. A part of him wonders is this was a trial or a test? How would the spirits see what was done here? How he hunted, how he fought, how he let her breath out quietly, followed the skull ritual and the honored her with other works.

It was still that evening when Calle returned to Swan Cabin. Smoke still lingered in the smoke house. Checking the texture Calle figured the elk meat had a week and a half to go. From the next set of rafters Calle went about hanging all the bear meat. With this stocks of food plenty to make it to the elk’s readiness all of it could be preserved. Again his bench was useful to stand on while tying the meat up high to be in the thicker smoke.

Working the hide would take more energy Calle had in the one night.

As he slept he dreamed of the Swan carrying him flying over a forest where at the circle of ground all the bears he honored danced on their hind legs as Kuikka sang.

Kuikka sang in the bird language with her chortling cry. Calle didn’t understand it but the bears new the tune. They shuffled around in a circle, the circle of life.

Come morning contentment led Calle to go back to chores with more smoke for the smokehouse. Tending his wound he remembered to do heather first for its cleaning powers then nettle for binding. Its look was pink with little red. He felt safe from infection if he kept to the practice.

Inspecting the clothing the damages were minor. The bear had tried to claw through the bear fur overcoat, a leather shirt and a nettle undershirt. Thinking of how much the she-bear’s own fur had protected her he wondered how deeper the gash would have been had he not worn the bear overcoat. It truly was an important piece of armor for him.

<CALLE 108 bear honor>>>

Bug reports / Re: [3.72 p1] Material Iron failed to be Iron
« on: May 22, 2023, 12:58:36 AM »
We ran some experiments and it wasn't fully confirmed.

Eventually I was seeing iron protection when specified.

Oddly it was grabbing the type of leather used to add to the spec helm's name thus I got a "tufted duct spectacle helm"

At that point I just decided to take the leather out of that step in production.

That is currently:

//Spectacle helm
.Iron spectacle helm. *CARPENTRY* %-60% /8h/ [effort:3] [phys:hands, arms] |2|
{Steel dome} [remove] [ground] '+for initial frame'
{*steel billet} #2# [remove] [ground]   '+add curved plates'
{Iron nails} #0.25# [remove] [ground]   '+as rivets'
//{Leather} #0.25# [remove] [ground]   '+as suspension and head band'
{Ball iron hammer}    [ground] '+needs advanced hammer for complex shapes'
{Pliers} [ground]      '+to hold while hammering at odd angles'
{*anvil*} [ground]       '+to hammer on'
{Medieval drill} [ground]    '+to drill rivet holes'
[ARMOUR_COVERAGE:skull face]
// reference showed price 520 torches = 30.6 squirrel hide
//2023-05 no edits applied
//2023-05-08 restore tool name from tongs back to pliers
//2023-05-08 affirming protection properties
//2023-05-11 leather commented out as was changing protection
//2023-05-14-B testing finding protection okay now but leather
// source gets added to item name like "tufted duck iron..."
// so leather being left out for that anyway

I made add iron shape for the eye holes to also add a production step to slow down the creation of the best helm in the game

Not bugs / Re: [3.72 p#1] Sauna Stove not an Oven for baking
« on: May 22, 2023, 12:54:17 AM »
Thanks for the fix

no, hadn't thought of that. Been off unreal for a long time and back now. Character in question also had a fireplace so I just used that but it may simply have been he was accidentally doing it right. Over night fire in the fireplace, waking up with the "burned out" but not active fire in it from that. Then baking worked (for the fireplace).

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 21, 2023, 08:47:55 PM »
Calle went to the outdoor smithy. In front of him was the bloomery, forge, anvil and just there the kiln. The center of production for using heat to shape the world. To draw iron from the mucky lumps or turn wet clay into shape.

Hands on his hip he turned to the trap guarded cellar hidden amid the spruce, east to the sturdy walls of Swan Cabin with its three sections, north east to the smokehouse with trickles of smoke hiding so much more and over his shoulder to the fields to the north west.

Today heating iron was being given the shape of another stair step in tools, a ball headed hammer. Getting it round is difficult. Its purpose to add round shapes to other work. Where the stone anvil’s flat is the most used today it is the inconsistent portions that matter.

Heating, hammer, heating, adjusting take for hours. Hours that Calle can proceeds on with the confidence of both current and future food stocks in good order. The result still not final. Thinkingo f the breast of the Swan spirit he smoothed the metal with a whetstone. A previously crafted handle is taken from the tool stores of the cabin.

“Victory!” shouts Calle.

Over his head he holds the resulting tool. Its ball head curves as gracefully as the inspiring swan.

<CALLE 107 ball iron hammer>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 20, 2023, 11:28:45 PM »
This spruce forest hunting was madness. He caught sight of them again trailed and gave up. Going to a hill top he looked around. Couldn’t see them yet when he came back to their trail he soon saw them. A bone tipped arrow gut wounded a doe leaving a trail of blood. Briefly it bleed before it made off. That’s two of the herd wounded now. Would the forest spirit be pleased or angry with Calle?

A lone doe was seen on heathland. Being out of the spruce Calle had hopes. He ran and walked in alternation. The reindeer seemed to tire but it was still evading him. When he lost sight of it then it could rest.

From a hill top to try locating again Calle spotted a figure. Approaching it was a member of the Owl tribe.

“I’ve been tracking that herd for a week,” he said.

“They are all yours,” Calle replied, “Wounded two but still the forest shrouds them.”

“They are truly beloved,” the man said, “But you give me hope to catch them yet. It is my quest. To follow that herd, no matter how far.”

Calle and him waved as the man continued the hunt of the moving herd.  Calle went father north to a lake whose name would become known as Whitemire. There he built a shelter for the night. He would now have to return to add more fire to the smokehouse. In the morning he traveled into the evening yet still not back. He was now worrying about the smokehouse. A shelter at Tarwide was near giving a place for Calle to shelter. A preparation made in long ago for just such a chance need.

It was only an hour or two from there to Swan Cabin. Perhaps if he had pushed but that can be dangerous in woods. At the smokehouse the meats hadn’t spoiled though certainly the smoke had thinned. A full stump block was set into the stove works and started with kindling. Two birds had been caught in nearby traps. Coming home to fresh meat pleased Calle. He made sure to make a sacrifice of heather petals to the spirits for his safety on the long trip.

“Spirit,” Calle called out, “Swan, Kuikka and the ruler. I am the thankful Calle of the Reemi to the south. My First Winter challenge was won. The trip to follow led me where the Swan showed herself. My ways are what I brought with me. I am learning yours. There are many who live in the forest. Let us know peace, health and travel the circle of life together. Thank you for bringing me home. One day if you are kind that hunter chasing the herd could use your help that he might too return home as you have let me to do.”

Calle wondered a time if that hunter had been one of the spirits. There are tales of those who are on unending hunts. Impossible quests to follow the game. A lesson taught to remind hunters to break off to come home. Had that been such a one?

Calle then set to the chores. As well as those two there were two more birds at the field traps he kept. Kuikka the singer was again freed from a trap. None of the pit traps had a capture.
<CALLE 106 back at cabin>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 20, 2023, 10:11:47 PM »
Broadhead flying fast skimmed the leg of one of the reindeer. It tipped off on impact skipped by a bone. Its bleat alarmed the herd. A bone head arrow flung out missed to rustle into the spruce. The reindeer darted into the spruce.

Calle recovered the broadhead with not seeing the bonehead. He let the herd shift around. With the young they weren’t going to run far at speed. His hope was to locate the leg wounded one and focus on that. He even took the time to eat a dried cut, turnips and nettle.

Searching in spruce frustrated Calle so much. Even if he did get a sighting the chances of deflection was very high. With the herd you can track the herd but the herd keeps hearing you and moving. It was the leg wound he hoped would be slow enough to catch. Calle was also angry at himself. He hadn’t dropped the three sticks as a marker where he fired. He’d never see that arrow again.

If it wasn’t right there dangling in a spruce!

Calle laughed hard holding his stomach.

<CALLE 105 found arrow>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 20, 2023, 09:53:02 PM »
It was a long but still one day hike to Badmire. Their Doaivu and Doaivvot greeted him. It was good to be among familiar faces. A cousin Eaddji had joined their camp. They told stories all night long. They two were glad to hear that Swan Cabin was doing well with a sauna, courtyard and detached smokehouse. Trade was simply a spool of nettle yarn for a bone tipped arrow. Likely a generous offering from Calle. It was in part a gesture for their hospitality.

Next morning Calle still didn’t feel like returning to the Swan Cabin. A part of him wondered into worry that Swan was in trouble or held back by him needing to meet the ruler of the forest. Food on hand was good though he was without is full furs and battle gear. It was a hot summer day. This would be good time to explore even more north, maybe to another Owl village or the coast.

On this walk Calle spotted a distant herd of reindeer on a mire. Moving in he got to within range. He counted seven adults and one young. This was a mire good for tracking not the spruce woods he lost game in.

<CALLE 104 reindeer herd>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 20, 2023, 07:39:36 PM »
Calm days now mixing trades. Roasting ore and getting a bit more. Adding small amounts to the fields… and burning down trees and a section of fence!

“That was careless!” said Calle.

He pulled away the rest of the fences on both sides. The fire spirit had leapt to find its pleasure. It had no where to go now. Two trees were lost. Troubled at the lost Calle consoled himself with turning their ash into the new fields.

Stocks of reserve dried elk Calle counted his stacks at one hundred left. That’s still a month of half or more of food. It is however a good time to keep an eye out for big game.

From the lonely mountain outcrop on the south west of lake an elk cow was seen to the east. Contacted wasn’t established. It was good to see the game was around.

Day 7 of the 7th week before midsummer

Another sighting of traders, passing the forests north of the lake passing close to the cabin. Calle gathers up the trade furs and heads out.

With signs of peace are made with open hands.

Calle mutters through, “Trade furs, show goods, two blankets.”

The traders agreed. One put down his cloak as a trade blanket. Calle mirrored with his own woven nettle cloak.

Calle became surprised that there various goods didn’t interest him. There was a mail cowl though he could trust to the spectacle helm, damaged as it is. A crossbow was offered though with no experience in it Calle doubt it being productive in hunting and a liability in combat. Fine broad head arrows were offered to which Calle pulled from his quiver their equals he had crafted. As always there was a huge mail harberk for the torso that is well beyond the furs Calle had to trade.

Puttering for a few hours Calle felt the desire to be among people. Trade goods were minimal with a few bone tipped arrows, light crafts and a decently made gaming set. He chose to go to the north east Owl villages.

Having explored the lands a few times he had first reached them by boat. This time he hoped to use his increasing knowledge to travel by land. Cold as it was Calle crossed at a ford. Now on their side of the water it was growing dark as he neared the village. Ahead a shape in the distance was moving that had to be very large… and it had wide antlers! A bull elk! A stag!

Calle’s heart filled with joy. It was a challenge so needed after the month of ash turning. Instead of snorts of fine ash dust in his nose he inhaled the scent of the wilds.

Shifting to where he last saw it he began thinking like the elk. A few minutes later he had the tracks. A few minutes more they were within bow shot amid the large pools of the mire. A self made fine broadhead arrows lashed out from his best trade bow. It caught a leg and a bleeding wound.

Closing at run Calle was ready for it collapse when it started to run off. Lots of blood was pooling on the mire. Compared to the great beast it was only a weakening. He closed again and it moved off. The next time he started shooting. A broadhead over its back, one under its legs and other arrows until one more connects. As the bull elk sways off Calle took from his tinder pouch a few of the sticks setting three of them down in a supporting triangle. This to be a marker from where to hunt for the missed arrows.

Blood pools and its slow speed left the elk easy to track now. It finally fell over on one side with a soft baying moan. Approaching careful, for it was a great beast, Calle skulled it to dispatch it while he slept. Quickly now came the work. With his replacement small knife he made a shallow careful cut from chest plate to circle the butt. The digestive track as a whole be spilled out and was pushed across the mire. None of the meat would be spoiled and the cooling began. His hunting knife joined in for the removal of the hide.

Calle blew heather petals toward the fallen elks nose. A gift of thanks for its life joining the circle.

A few first cuts where removed to cook by a small smoky fire while Calle had to give into sleep.

In the morning we awoke undisturbed. Animals are naturally afraid of fire. That fire had been hoped to add confusion to the scent if any big animals had been around. A search found three of the stray arrows, a decent recovery.

Calle patted the bloody skinless shoulder of the beast. Now came the quartering of meat and edible organs for transport. With an Owl village in sight this meat would feed them mightily. Three hours it took with the sun already passed noon. Though slow in his pace Calle was a broad shouldered man. The hide containing all the meat was hoisted high with the large bones and magnificent antlers tied to the outside.

So bundled Calle trudged across the mire to Hanging Wide.

Ahkejuoksa was on sentry. He gave signs of peace with open hands, “Greetings hunter. A worker saw your fire. We wondered what was going on. Elder Hiege says if you brought us game to send you to him. Let me help you with the stacks.”

“Grateful,” said Calle rolling the bundle that weighed as much as large man off his back.

Elder Hiege was nearby leaning his back on a tall tree, “The forest has sung to that the time has come.”

“Time?” asked Calle, “Chores to be done?”

Hiege patted the ground in front of him as he slid down to sit at the base of the tree.

Looking to the bundle Calle saw a young woman came to hold up cuts of meat to be seen by a grandmother at one of the tents. They were already planning their feast.

Hiege began, “There was a time when man and spirit where in one real world together. Where we are is separate from them. They are not easy to see when they come here to this unreal world. There are those who learn to live in harmony with the ways. Oh they may get angry but when you know the way you make peace with them again, as you have. This is the way.”

“We aren’t the only lives out here,” said Calle, “I found my home because of a Swan spirit. She has visited me many times as a welcome guest though perhaps I am her guest.”

Hiege took a sip from his water skin. The water seemed scented.

“Young Calle,” Hiege was speaking softly now, “The spirits have their head men too. Their rulers. Their kings though their ways aren’t our ways that is a word that can be used.”

Halle nodded listening quietly to the elder’s wisdom.

“Rulers are busy eve spirit rulers,” continued Hiege, “Only some are worthy to met them. They might let you be in their court. Their court is the forest in which they stand. Any part of it can be should they chose to come. For a hunter or a homesteader it is a way to know how the spirits feel about you and make peace if needed.”

Calle listened, “If its the Swan spirit or this ruler she answers too then yes. I would like too. To tell them how kind she is and thank her for her protection. Her friend the Kuikka has been by several times but she hasn’t been seen in a while. Is she all right?”

Her fate isn’t known to me, “Hiege said. My ties are to the ruler of the forests are herd are in.”

“There are different rulers?” asked Calle.

“Of course. Just as we have different tribes in different lands the spirits of different rulers of different places. I’ve heard of only a few and met only one. Now to meet them you must do a certain thing in a certain way, a gleam of silver on an ant hill for as they travel between the above and below they can travel to the spirit realm with your gift of moon like gleam. Do this in deep night that the sun is farthest away so its light doesn’t hide them.”

“They want silver because it looks like moon light?” asked Calle.

“That is how it was told to me when I was young,” said Heige, “Now then they want to start the feast. Go make a trade with that fresh game you brought us.”

“Thank you elder,” said Calle, “As a sign of respect please take the elk hide.”

Calle was convinced to give up half the meat for a smooth coated winter fox fur. This was the sort of goods the foreign traders loved. He might need it to get silver. For the rest Calle thought it best to return the meat to Swan Cabin to try out his smoke house. If he tried for the village of Quarrel Forrest it or the hide might spoil before he started on it.

He made it back that second day out.

“Preparation is all it takes to live,” Calle said entering the smokehouse.
It had room to walk about for the meats of different animals to sort out when each was ready. He closed the shutters on the north and south for those were for airing when now it was to be filled. Stocks of fuel were ready from small kindling, bundles of scrap from logging, flawed boards and stump blocks. On wall pegs hung dozens of split spruce for tying up the meat. The bench was beckoning to be stood on to hang the meat high up from the rafters where the smoke was thickest.

Working the meat to thin cuts exposed more surface for faster penetration of the smoke. He remembered another youngster making the mistake of starting the smokey fire first that blinded him while hanging the meat. Calle made sure to hang the cuts first then start the fire. The chimney block stones were shifted inward forcing most of the smoke to find its way into the room.

In the morning the fire was restarted to make more smoke before Calle resumed his journey.

(I thought Calle had skinned the elk first but couldn’t find the hide. Gifting seemed a way to explain its lack. Sometimes as I write and play I may have written it but not hit the keystrokes in the game.)

<CALLE 103 meeting learned>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 20, 2023, 05:39:52 AM »
A happiness flowed in Calle’s heart like a river to a calm lake. From his memory of his grandfather he was now in harmony with memories of the village smith. Staying in that harmony Calle had brought to be another small knife with a good smooth clean edge with even wrinkles on the flat back to brace the thumb while whittling. Following the guidance to make your tools first Calle had been heating and pounding on a large mass of roasted blooms to bring them to shape, squashing on the smoothest part of the anvil stone then while hot refining with a whetstone. Finally he worked in a handle with good straight grain to make a well smoothed flat iron hammer with none of the bubbling of the first one. This tool would carry him onward farther.

Next Calle tried held the a wedge of iron in one hand with pinches of charcoal in the other. The balance needed to be slight but present like one part in a hundred. On heating the wedge of iron Calle pounded it out thin and wide. The carbon was dusted on like a gentle snowfall. Bending the iron flat onto itself trapped the charcoal inside. He pounded it into a pastry roll. Heating again he flattened it down, bent it in the other way and repeated this. This continued until it was mixed like a delicate after dinner sweet. As its bright glow cooled to a hue the smith had waited for Calle stuck it into the water. Steam hissed. Pulling the shape out Calle studied it by looks and tapping it lightly. This had been transformed from iron to steel.

After those days Calle took a hike looking for a source of iron. The lake was there though the search was time consuming. The drainage to it was slow making that source slow to replenish.

To the south west at the tip of the lake end of south river system he found it. A cliff joined by a bog. How this worked to Calle was limited to the knowing that it took a cliff with iron bearing rocks, rain, the flow to a bog and somehow the bog slicked the iron together. Oily slicks gave a seeing clue to dig for a muck of bog ore. Just such a combination of cliff to bog was found. This he would learned was had a name from the ancestors of “Iron Corner”. After depletion such places refill with ores after a time, perhaps half to a full generation.

Strong hands tilted the iron headed shovel to hoist out of the muck just such a bog ore. Calle smiled. This was close enough to Swan Cabin to come, dig and return in the same day.

Checking close by Calle laughed. This place grew heather, he used in rituals, nettles for yarns and even better wild raspberries!

Knowing he would be here often Calle took the time to locate a near complete close wall of trees, build a shelter, set guard traps, add a spruce floor mat, spruce sides, lay markers to the shelter and a marker for one of the pools of water to drink from. Stocking up on foods; dried elk, nettle leaves and turnips; from Swan Cabin would let the spirits and Calle have a break from the strain of the ash turning.

Over half a week was spent bogging at work camp. A truly well named place. No one had harvested there for a long time. Returning the load to Swan Cabin’s smithy his collected ores now weighed over a hundred pounds. That of course was a lot of muck around the iron. It was a great amount to work up kit with.

<CALLE 102 Iron corner>>>

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