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Messages - Brygun

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Just starting to poke at the 3.80 files

Regarding raft construction this is 3.80 vanilla

.Raft.  [effort:3] [phys:stance,arms]   *COMMON* [assist:2]   /80/
{Tree trunk}     (3)       [remove]   
{Strong cordage}  =12=     [remove] [nominlen]
{Cutting weapon}  <Axe>

So its the same as BAC, rather BAC didnt change construction. You could use 3 x waithe which are 4 ft. When you deconstruct though there is no memory in the game of what was made to make it. Thus the need to have some form of strong cordage be the result.

Looking those over.


Birch-punk firewood is used only to keep a small fire going to heat the pitch glue to apply it. So it wouldn't be 3 woods put on all at once but added 1 at a time over the time. Query on how long one added fire wood last. Secondly the glue being sticky to seal isnt the whole 6 hours either. Its a sealing step after the tying is done. So that slow fed fire need not be burning for the whole time.

Will add that note to the explanation.



BAC raft doesn't use waithes but {Strong cordage}      =12=   

So while you might have used waithes its not the only option.

The recovered rope is an honor item meant to reflect carrying the tying resource with you to the next time you need tree trunks for a raft.


Ribbed bark hull

Good idea for the 3.80 version. This thread is still on 3.73


Speaking of which

3.80 hasn't yet been incorporated into this BAC which is still using its own arrow system.

Im estimating it won't be too hard to update BAC for 3.80 but it will take some hours of mental clarity to do it.

Likely a new forum thread will be posted for the 3.80 BAC.

3.80 will

Development News / Re: Version 3.80 released
« on: June 02, 2023, 03:22:49 AM »
When arrows break we get broken arrows.

It seems it would be good to have the different head types such as "broken broadhead arrow" to facilitate recovering the high quality ones and not have the low quality ones bumped up to average.

I'd make it so that if the arrow breaks the head might remain useful and recoverable, so we would get arrowhead + broken arrow shaft. The shafts are unsable anyway if they are broken, and can be basically used only as firewood.

That works. I've been a bit baffled with 3.72+BAC getting broken arrows. Looking at the broken wood shaft, my huge piles of feathers that I keep discarding to keep counts down that the only thing I'm really looking for is the arrow head.

Development News / Re: Version 3.80 released
« on: June 01, 2023, 07:00:11 PM »
When arrows break we get broken arrows.

It seems it would be good to have the different head types such as "broken broadhead arrow" to facilitate recovering the high quality ones and not have the low quality ones bumped up to average.

Suggestions / Re: Changing items to new Miscellaneous category
« on: June 01, 2023, 06:19:00 AM »
I've played the game for years and didn't know TAB was a thing.  ::)

I also think Misc is a good category. As a mega mod BAC has a lot of things that to put in stages of time on big things like helmets or complex boats are stages of work. As a stage its usually not useful for anything other than the next stage.

Suggestions / Re: Containers need an Unpack command
« on: June 01, 2023, 06:17:57 AM »
If your purpose is sacrifice it consumes the entire thing, including the container!

If you are cooking you will use contents by weight.

If you are eating your eat contents to weight until full, which may be more the you wanted. Balancing a diet of edible leaves and protiens.

Calle likes to travel with a mix of heather, nettles, hemp and maybe flax leaves along with turnips and smoked/dried meats. With a farm the leaves and turnips are plentiful that he only needs to eat half the meat he used to.


Related issue I've come across is the # of things count. Calle  having done his second year's harvest has a huge count of leaves and things. 800 Nettle leaves is 800 out of that count. Add in the 100s of other leaves. Its making him drop carried things ALOT.

If I could put things in and take out portions be amazing. Easier to code would be the suggest empty to inventory not discard. The player could then use his little portion then "apply" the container to store them.


Might make a recipe for smoked meat salad and dried meat salad that brings in leaves.

Doesn't solve the sacrifice problem though.

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 31, 2023, 02:18:10 AM »
Continuing to work Calle was debating the well or water collector in the courtyard again. One reason for it is to have lot of water for major hide work. Really running water is better and lake volumes second. The risk had happened of not checking the lake shore at the right times. The courtyard water would avoid that. However, there is another way. At the table workstation he put the large elk bones. They were there to remind him to check the shore.

Next in smithing was an auger. That’s the name he knew for it. Its a larger drill for big holes like the thickness of man’s thumb. The kind for structural work with pegs hammered in. Like the pump drill it needed a steel cutting head, then a shaft but this time to a circle at the top of the shaft. In there would go a cross bar for the high torque turns. The drill was small and fast while the auger was large and slow.

“Build your tools,” Calle said.

He pumped the bellows onto the forge’s coals. Metal heated, hammer sang on anvil, eyes studied shapes and blows were struck again. The crossbar auger came to be.

That night was the fall equinox. Dirt month had begun.

A fancy took him to change the trail markers for the smoke house to hare bone stands. He had so many of them now. Then he realized they were so small the snow would hide them. So he changed them to elk rib bones.

Day 3 of the 13th week before midwinter

At noon Calle pulls the leather straps secure on the knee cups. Each a steel dome from a plate given a sphere with the hammering in the stump hollow and anvil, the pump drill to make mounting holes then bird leather to make the securing straps.

Deciding to do a test dressing Calle laughs. He had bought better knee cups than he made. He laughs.

“Well,” Calle chuckled, “I can sell these then and make elbows.”

Calle rubbed his head. He was trying to make the best of the mistake. Lonliness, isolation had a toll. If someone else was around they likely would have pointed this out much sooner.

A few days of hot smithing saw Calle often just sleep outside at the forge. Finally he had made the elbow cups, coudes as some foreigners call them. The same idea as the knee cups just smaller.  A fist shape with a dome over the joint center and the tail flaring on the side.

Now he did the test dressing for battle. Battle damaged spectacle helm, mail mittens, battle won lamellar torso, bought knee cups and made elbow guards worn with the bear overcoat and battle bear cloak. This over other furs, leather and cloth. Its great weight felt secure inside.

“Like a turtle that stuffed the inside of his shell with fur than put a fur wrap on,” Calle laughed.

Now what dangerous adventure might he try?

<CALLE 128 Armor dressing>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 30, 2023, 10:42:24 PM »
Maiden’s Stream homestead trade piles were stacked with a disturbing amount of armor. A mail harbegon, spectacle helm, another helm and more mail pieces. Shields and weapons as well as grains and meats. There was a decent looking wool overcoat that Calle admired.

Herppa explained, “We just met traders. One of their company passed away from eating bog mushrooms. They traded his goods for valuable furs to take him to his family. They just went north.”

Calle did catch up to them but once again none had anything of silver to spare. They confirmed the poison story.

Calle pointed out a spirit mushroom, “Those take you places. Most mushrooms don’t provide any where enough nutrition to be worth the risk of getting it wrong.”

Moving north another group of traders was on what Calle was understanding as a trade route. One called Bevisin had a silver necklace to trade but all of Calle’s furs were back at the cabin. Calle started hurrying to get them and return but it wouldn’t be in the same day.

“Woah hey!” shouted a man.

Calle was startled. His hand shifted for an arrow to notch. The man made the signs of peace.

“I am Herppa,” the man said, “Herppa the younger. Safe guarding these lands. Many foreigners about and they sometimes draw trouble behind them like when a wolf has caught the scent of a kill.”

“Trouble isn’t may name. I am Calle of Swan Cabin,” replied Calle making the signs of peace, “Yes there are many foreigners this time. Just passed two groups of them south of here.”

Calle decided to give them man a bowl he’d made while passing the hours to meet the water spirits. They departed peacefully.

Hurrying on to Swan Cabin the recent berries were set to dry. Importantly a greater amount of wood was put in the smokehouse. He needed to make up for having not tended it that day between the two overnights to meet the water folk.

A fox was caught in the paw trap, its winter coat already in. By the time that was skinned and the tanning started evening was starting. It would be risky to try to rush out in the darkness. Instead Calle went to bed early and rose in a few hours while it was dark. He trudged the stack of furs to Maiden’s Stream but couldn’t find the trader with the silver.

Called decided to trade away some of the lesser furs for the woolen overcoat. It would be warm without being as heavy as the bear overcoat. It wasn’t as protective but for around the cabin that should be fine.

In the morning Calle checked on chores.

He let out an angry howl.

He had forgotten about the bear leather. The leathering hide of a whole bear was ruined!

Calle paced along the shore. He had gotten distracted. Was it … a week over due? More than that. He really had no one to blame but himself. The reindeer hide had been dehaired as leather well enough. That bear leather he had planned for many big pieces for.

Calle took a breath then another. Had to focus on what’s working. The bear’s meat had been smoked up now. That was an important success. He had plenty of meat for deep winter. The reindeer was almost done.

Calle also decided that for the next while to travel with the more valuable small winter furs. Those might trade off a silver thing for the spirit ritual. Silver for that was a big thing on his mind that he was missing. Meeting the traders was uncommon but finding them with silver to trade was rare. He had see it offered only twice since his First Winter challenge. The other thing to try would be take more furs and seek the traders or maybe the Driik. Winter and skiing season was coming. Traveling meant carrying the skis or just wait until then.

For now Calle needed to focus. Crafting helped get his mind on producing. Back to the smithy. He began bonding steel to an iron shaft. Then flattening the steel to a rectangle, then flaring the corners, then twisting it for an even turn. This would be the cutting part of a drill. Attached to this would be the middle weight fly wheel, a top handle, cross bar and the cords. By twisting the top bar then pushing it down the steel would both turn and be pressed. A pump drill.

That drill was the tool needed for making a steel dome. Iron turned to steel pound over the hollowed stump and the iron anvil. Holes then worked in by the pump drill. It was a rather wobbly looking piece and he’d need a second.

Striding to rest his arm Calle saw across the lake an elk. He’d got a lynx at the same spot before. Circling the land Calle closed in only to result in two arrows onto the lake and one broken on a tree. Shaking arms shivered with frustration.

A determined wrath came over him to get the lake arrows. Circling the lakeshore back to the cabin he brought the punt down to the water. With his hand axe he smashed the thin ice inch by inch into yard by yard. Slowly the punt crept through the band of forming ice into the central lake where the waves still lapped. From here he recovered at least two of the arrows.

Shifting around he saw the elk again.

Gritted teeth and glaring eyes shined as he chipped ice to beach the punt on that shore. He stalked again on the shore pinned elk, fired and the arrow broke.

A strange idea came to him. It would be his strangest hunt yet.

He slide quietly as he could to the peak of land the animals kept trying to cross at it. He crouched among the trees and just waited. A blind spot to them. Half an hour went when the elk bawled, probably smelling him it was that close. Calle fired and missed. The elk trotted away.

Calle slipped back nearby to a different hiding spot. He waited. He hummed tunes in his mind. He waited.

Before him the green spruce turned brown. The brown of the elk’s fur!

He raised but they were so close he hadn’t got he bow fully up when his instincts said to shoot as the elk had seen him too. It scarred a leg badly squirting blood. Confused where to run and flopping a leg Calle swung up not his bow but a leg and kicked out. He kicked it again and again. The battering, startled, wounded confused elk took several before making for a path out of the pocket. It flopped now dragging its hind quarters. Calle pulled out his round headed smithing hammer to smash its skull once and twice to be done.

Now he crossed through his cuts to take the skin back to start dehairing to replace the lost bear hide. The next day two more crossings were needed. Each time he had to chip the ice at each shore. The freezing was quickening indeed!
Into the smokehouse the elk meat went. The reindeer meat had finished. Calle’s food stocks would be quite deep now.

<CALLE 127 shore elk>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 30, 2023, 08:29:31 PM »
Peaceful days again. Staying close to the cabin and fields to avoid new injuries until the current one healed. Cleaning with heather in water and binding with nettle on bandages brought him out safely. Amid the treatment he had taken one of the herbal blends when just quickly taking things to eat. His diet may have helped too. A mix of turnips; leaves and flowers from nettles, hemp, and flax; bits of smoked meat and most days roasted meats from fresh kills.

Local chores did have to be done. Daily stocking the smokehouse fire kept the bear and reindeer meat progressing to preserved. The reindeer’s hide had been worked through dehairing and tanning to useable. As his arm healed he worked on more iron building up stocks and bringing in wood for the smokehouse. There was a large store of wood by the main cabin. That was reserved for the deep winter.

Lingonberries grew on the pennisula in such quantities that several days of wild gathering hadn’t gotten them all. Calle was sure he could keep gathering form the forests farther out. They made a nice treat. Unless dried they filled you up too much without the other things the body needed. Dried as part of the mixed diet they did well.

It occurred to Calle to attempt the water spirit meeting. Not seeing a standing lone stone near Swan Cabin he hiked out along the north river system to the good fords he found. They were shallow spots of rock. As part of preparations he prepared to warm himself by building a shelter, making a fire ring, laying in a fallen log and preparing kindling.

He started the fire around the appointed time. Naked he went onto the nearby rock. He waited for hours. Numbing cold was starting to take his wet exposed body. He slid into the water the short distance to the still burning fire. He wasn’t sure if the water wasn’t deep enough, the time was wrong, the fire had scared them or that the spirits of this river just didn’t want to meet him.  After all this wasn’t Swan Cabin’s lake where he lived.

Calle setup to try again. This second night he planned his timing better he hoped. With the fire making light near the shore a farther out rock was picked. Calle was still out there getting numbed and dazed. He felt a presence and still held himself shivering. He wasn’t almost as bad as struggling against North Wind when he fell through ice.

Calle turned himself to at least see the warm fire to give himself hope. There between him and the shore was a man with long black hair. The man was in the shallow water but not standing. He floated as if bent or without legs at all. He was looking to Calle and had been for some time. The man was smiling. An acknowledgment of the respect shown. Calle made the open hand signs of greeting and the man lifted a hand palm up then palm down into the water. Calle didn’t understand what that meant but it seemed friendly.

“Thank you,” Calle said, “For fish, for travel, for safety. Water spirits you are stronger than Calle. Thank you for letting me be among your waters. Now my body is that of a land thing. I need to go to my fire. Please do not be offended.”

Calle slipped into the water. The man swam closer steering for the rock Calle just left. Not understanding Calle climbed back onto it. The man than dove under the water… head… arms.. body… but thats all Calle saw in the moonlight.

Back into the water naked Calle went. He waded waist deep in the same waters. Pulling onto the shore he scrambled shivering arms and legs into the shelter next to the still blazing fire. Drying and dressing into fire heated clothes Calle curled up on spruce to sleep in the shelter.

Morning came with snow falling outside. To learn what the meeting met Calle took the land route to “Maiden’s Stream”. There Nyri, who he had traded a bow to, waved to him.

“Your bow has done me well,” Nyri said, “It needs an equal in arrows. You made fine broad heads too? Let me us trade. Those arrows for hunter teachings.”

Calle agreed.

Nyri explained a strange method. To carry a capercaiillie feather. When hunting a lynx when it first starts escaping on its very first escaping tracks to put the feather. The spirits will then burden the lynx to soon tire. These ways confused Calle but they were the ways of spirits not men.

Calle went on deeper looking for Herppa who had told him of how to meet the water spirits.

Herppa now told how to share hospitality with the water spirits. When the first fish of spring are caught out on a lake in open water to make a fish soup or boil them right after returning to shore. Leave the pot and give them space. Then the water spirit can come to try what you made. Sharing in a meal is part of the ancient traditions of hospitality.

Calle thanked him for his elder teachings.

<CALLE 126 water spirit>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 29, 2023, 11:29:11 PM »
“Preparation is all it takes to live,” said Calle.

They are close the Swan Cabin homestead. The smoke house ready means the meat can be treated. Medicines, food and water are in stock.

With his own made broad knife Calle is able to be more delicate in removing the fur. Its holes from the fighting are almost all small. The leg and abdomen hits are straight enough to be sewn up easily or just planned around. It will make a decent fur.

His left arm is in a sling when walking. It has to be out to butcher, work the hide and hang the meat to smoke. As tradition the teeth are pulled for their strength and the skull is hung from a pine tree. Calle wishes the bear spirit to enjoy the berries it was foraging for when they met.

It aches in his left arm. The wound of the bite worries him. He can clean it but it will surely scar.

Calle debates on the hide. Its looking good enough for trade. Though he could use good leather too. Its not a winter fur. The battle bear fur is pretty ragged. The ice is coming and going. Calle decides takes this to the lake. With rocks weighing it down he sets it to soak. He will dehair this one to become leather for large piece crafting. Later furs might not have the water access needed.

A day of tending to himself, the hides and meats.

Awakening at the dark of night Calle was off gathering when he saw an elk skeleton near the shore. He gathered the bones and antlers. How it died he didn’t know. The fish surely enjoyed the meat. Maybe it fell through the ice but that was a full summer ago. Ah! It tried crossing the recent thin ice and drowned.

A rock outcrop is nearby. Calle swims out a second time. Climbing up he makes a small warming fire. Undress he stands naked through the midnight hours. Nothing came to him. It wasn’t an ideal spot as it was a T shaped amount of land. He had stood on the tip of one arm with room enough for a fire beside him. It wasn’t quite like the lore given him. Hopefully they would appreciate he had tried.

He delivered the antlers and elk bones to Swan Cabin. They could be used in deep winter crafting. Strolling out in the dim small hours a reindeer glimpsed then it disappeared. Calle suspected that was the fields. Stalking over indeed it had been. The reindeer had been lured by a few of the unharvested turnips in what state they were. Then it had fallen to one the pits. That is two large animals caught close to the cabin!

Soon dispatched its hide is set to soak next to the bear. He like to have good stocks of leather for whatever projects would come. Part of him wished the bear was kept for fur now but really he had a whole stack of trade furs.

<CALLE 125 add a deer>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 29, 2023, 10:36:29 PM »
Weapon check… bow in hand, arrows in quiver, river sword, axes and knives.

Defense check… oaken shield on his back,  layered in cloth, leather and furs. Missing was the metal armor, battle bear cloak and bear overcoat. He was in a middle armor state.

That roar was close. His heart pounding he wasn’t sure from which trees the bear was.

Calle backed up watching the spruce. It could easily charge from another direction.

“All right,” Calle said, “These are your blueberries.”

No sounds. No roar. No foot prints. No spruce brushed by fur.

Calle steadied his breath. He turned south staying alert. A patch of heathland could yield preferred berries. Approaching a mix of bilberries and lingonberries a spruce sapling rolled over into fur.

A bear!

It was rolling over to waddle amid the berries.

Thinking Calle pondered. He must have startled it before. With lots of food around bears tended not to attack. Tended doesn’t mean never. It was content to move away to gather berries. Calle though began following with a broadhead notched.

Fire, miss. The bear’s head turns to the thud of the arrow into a spruce tree trunk. It knows someone is around.

Positioning for a long shot Calle fires. It goes skimming clipping needles to fall onto the bear. It turns and rushes him.

A frenzy attack getting the shield up. Pounds and swipes trading to the sword.

Howling roar of pain.

It came from Calle. The bear’s teeth tugging out of his left shoulder.

River sword cuts and slashes. Blood seeps from the bear’s abdomen. Cut legs give out.

Calle circles away. It can’t keep up.

“Porcupine time,” Calle says.

As he fetches his bows he begins the barrage of arrows.  Pulling to fire Calle twists in the pain of the shoulder bite. This can’t be good for the wound. Crippled the bear drags after him. Fire, miss… miss… hit… more misses than hits. Arrows are fetched, fired, some go long.

Calle grabbed a large stone and hurled it at the bear with a thump into the ground beside it.

Finally by sword and arrow wounds countless the bear passes.

Calle looks to himself. A serious bite to his left shoulder. There is blood on his chest too from a shallow claw tear. His left upper arm is bruised from the pounding. No wonder he could hardly shoot.

Its a painful necessity to tend himself. Heather in the washing water and nettle in the binding bandage. He’d only brought two bandages, both were on his left arm. He’d redress the torso cut once back.

<CALLE 124 Bear brawling>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 29, 2023, 10:01:49 PM »

Day 1 of the 4th week before winter season

It was now mid Fall month of the latter summer. Homesteads have a yearly clock. The harvest and the threshing are just some.

Calle turned over in his hands berries in the cellar. Crowberries from the early summer had spoiled and had to go before that spread to others. Experience taught him he should do something for the berries to last through the cellar winter. The only method known to him was to dry them. Their water would be driven out with the nutrition still contained. So dried the random things like fungus couldn’t easily start.

Thinking of the berries Calle went berry picking on his pennisula. He did want to get an animal but like the turn of a wheel each season has its priorities. Wild harvests gave you food without the need for ash turning, planting and guarding. Lingonberries while not his favorite raspberries did have a distinct taste he found rather run. These grew in many clusters within a short walk. On this day the lake waters laughed with waves. The ice was in its come and go dance.

Fur clad strolling to the fields his face pouted. A deep sigh left his lungs. Low on the soil the leaves of the second turnip plantings were crackled, limp and lifeless. The brief snows and frost had done them in.

“They say,” Calle said, “That you can get turnips twice in a year. I didn’t. For this seeds I’m sorry.”

He blew heather petals into the winds to mourn them.

Taller crops were still surviving. Those that looked ready he harvested. There would be a mix in getting the other stands. This year had been a busy time of turning ash over weeks and planting. Next year this plots would all be started early next spring. He would probably add ash turns each year. Like learning the habits of animals you hunt he was learning the plants.

Peas weren’t for him. Hemp though… and nettle. Those provided in many ways. Hemp seeds ground into a flour for his swirl breads. Both gave leaves that he was munching on balancing his diet and extending the meat. They also gave straws for crafting.

Pit traps were tended to. Resetting their covers and making sure the baits were waiting. As North Wind would silence the plants these baits would become more and more tempting. For now there was so much food in the forests it was unlikely animals would wander to here.

Sorting the final harvest gave a gentle feel to the land. Off to explore what berry patches were about. A nest of grouse eggs was seen and left untouched. He’d rather they grew into birds  for meat. Blueberries amid spruce drew his attention. A few picked though he decided to move on for types he preferred.

“GARRRRAAARRRRR” a bear roared though the spruce.

<CALLE 123 Roar in spruce>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 29, 2023, 09:24:28 AM »

Calle decided it should be a short trip.

There was still risk to pushing for the perfect lands to the north west. The round trip to the far west would be four days of travel each way plus a week digging. The trip home being with heavy ores over many miles. The risk of being caught by the snows is there too. That could be a summer time trip like this year.

Over to the iron hill to the south west then. A half day hike at most. Working the mires Calle was reminded this place also had heather and other useful plants. Nettle, milkweed and heather were blooming right around the work shelter Calle had built last time. Swaying flowers amid prickly nettle stems, a beautiful danger, with the shelter, a snuggling safety, in the middle of it.

On the hill itself the view gave Calle reason to pause. Here was now a land he knew and land beyond it too. The main lakes, the rivers and hills were all part of his story now. There where he battled bear. To the far northwest the Kuikka village. To the south east the Kuama who had helped him build his cabin. The lake of Linenfell was just visible with its southern edge but his cabin was on was hidden by other rises and forests.

For three days he toiled in the bog to return with a heavy load of bog ores. Since there was no pressing chore he went back again. Then to return for another harvesting.

Calle was now pleased with his decision. If he had gone northwest he would only just be arriving. From here three times at least could be brought in before changing chores.

Bog flowers floated about a mire pond. Striving them might have ended Calle. Wading into collect them the water was deeply chilling. He struggled to get a shore fire going. Shaking hands and confused thoughts made him miss strike spark. The tinder had gotten wet to. Stumbling across the mire he made for the work shelter with its mats and stocks of wood. This could have gone through the black gate to the other world.

A blazing stump chunk warming the work shelter still when he returned from a more ore gathering. Sleeping over night the morning reminded him of the season. It was snowing.

“Don’t swim in bogs when its going to snow,” Calle reminded himself.

As the day progressed another snowfall, third of the season, convinced Calle to return. Checking the muck bog ores he figured nearly one hundred fifty pounds of the stuff. Its only a fractional yield to iron though that is enough for several projects.
“If I were a Driik village,” laughed Calle, “I’d have some of the people digging bogs, others making charcoal all to feed only a few iron workers.”

A happy return it was. The spirits had led a fox onto the paw board dangling by a fore paw and grouse into a deadfall. Fresh roasted meat after the chilling fright on the ore bog.

On the morning a hare was added to the recent trap captures. It was also time to add more fur clothing. The ones worn last year went on layering him up. The white hare fur of his mask off set the grays and browns of most of the rest. For now the heavy bear overcoat, bear cloak and metal armors were left on there pegs.

A day to heave in two loads of harvest from the fields. Much more to come. Then it happened. He woke to find the surface of the lake frozen. It was a thin layer. The dangerous kind. Enough to stop boating while not enough to ski on. This was the early winter time without travel.

“Well that’s all right for me!” said Calle, “I’ve got work in my fields before the frost. I’ve got stocks of woods to burn. A warm house to live in. Large containers for water to only challenge the ice now and then. Thank you. Thank you North Wind. Strong fearful love at first to the dancing joy of beauty of the snow falls. You taught me much. Your lessons I’ll remember to practice this year.”

He was even happier he hadn’t tried that long trip to the north west iron mountains. He might not even be returning yet. These crops might have been frost taken before he could get to them after that long trip.

Now he had great mounds gathered. Gathered for the equally tiring task of threshing.

So far he completely filled the seed stock ampohoras for hemp seeds, barley grains, rye grains and broad beans. Partially fill were the ones for nettle and flax. Peas also partially filled but since thats the food portion as it didn’t really seem good to plant peas anymore.

Checking the food portions hemp seeds, hemp leaves, barley grains and rye grains had great amounts for storing. There was a few pounds of broad beans left after filling the seeding amphora. From his travels and trades he had several bags and baskets. The food portions filled up as:

Barely a bag and half
Rey as two and three quarter bags
Hemp seeds as two bags plus two and a half baskets
Broad beans for food was only half a bag

Edible greens like nettle and heather came to over two hundred and fifty pounds

As for turnips… nearly six hundred were here!

With smoked meat in the courtyard granary and exterior granary he likely could squeeze through the winter without stepping far from the cabin. One or two reindeer would be good to add as meats though. Just to be sure.

<CALLE 122 Harvest inventory>>>

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 28, 2023, 09:00:23 AM »
(((ARRRRGGG I forgot how many tool steps I put into BAC for getting the armor production going hahaha)))

Stories / Re: [Brygun] The Story of Calle (long story style)
« on: May 28, 2023, 08:59:52 AM »

His first gather brought in half the fields that had ripened. It took even his strong arms more than one trip to bring it in. Farmer’s days followed. Threshing and storing the large quantities. By then a few more had ripened needing threshing. All the while daily restocking the smokehouse. Birds were caught enough that half his diet was their fresh meat.

Taking on a smithing again he had wanted to make steel elbow cups to go with his growing collection. Making the steel decently he managed. To make the dome a stone anvil is a poor too. Its good to have both a deep bowl shape to hammer into and an actual metal anvil.

Well he had made block pots by charring and scooping with his stone axe. This time though Calle set to the task of making an iron headed adze with a steel cutting bit. This cut the top of the stump block so much faster. That proven his original stone head adze, made with a stone of about the right shape, was moved under his bed to the spare gear pile.

The metal from the perfect place will be used for the anvil striking surface. Below that the local iron with support the initial shock and take the shapes like the horn and holes to put inserts into. Below a stump block raises it to the right height. Abandoning the stump as needed one can much easier travel with such a small metal anvil. Smithing is such a lengthy process.

When it is complete it sits beautifully with light etching on the base of swan wings each side with a swan neck onto the horn. Its a good symbol of his journey and homestead. The ores from that perfect place are woven into this anvil. Each new shape he makes will gain from its blessing.

“Swan Anvil,” Calle said, “Singing your song with the ring of the hammer.”

Rotation of meats is needed. He has depleted the elk just now. A bit disappointed to have run out just before the rotation Calle ponders how often he needs to hunt. The smoked bear is moved into the courtyard cellar. The next day the currently smoking reindeer is done.

Striking away on the Swan Anvil the work for another important tool comes. Plies with a short jaw and long handle. This lets Calle grip with magnified strength. The first one has a crooked slant and and bits of waste show imperfection to the iron. Learning from that the next two take on swooping curves like a swan’s neck about a pivot short rod.

It is while resting from having forged the pliers that swan like flutters dance from the sky.

The first snow fall of the season! Too exhausted Calle climbs into bed worrying about the remaining crops.

In the morning the crops are still standing. It was a snow fall not a deep frost. That will be soon. Calle also realized that if he wants iron to work this winter he will need to gather more. He still needs more to make a drill. That drill will be needed to put the holes in the steel to have a way to tie it to about his knees.

Calle takes a deep breath. There is nothing in the smokehouse right now. The crops need a week or two or three if the frost holds off. He could take a trip to get ore.  A long one or a short one?

<CALLE 121 Anvil and tooling>>>

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