Day Four of the Odinsleep (The Spoils of War)
Day Four of the Odinsleep (8pm)
One by one the adventurers take their leave of the mead hall and return to the home of Völundr the Smith. The Einherjar, being dead and having no need to rest continue to carouse and drink and chase after the Valkyries in hopes of conquests of a more romantic nature.
Idunn walks the group back to the home of their host. Cedron remains close by her side and asks what the next day will hold. She smiles slightly and replies, “If I knew the answer to that question, I would be a Norn instead of the Orchardkeeper. Still, if I was to hazard a guess, I would say that we can expect more of the same. Loki’s forces will throw themselves against our defenses and we will do our best to hold them off. Hopefully, the All-Father will awaken soon and we can leave this foolishness behind us for another year. I would much rather garden than go to war.”
Bragi trails along beside the group, speaking with Arthur as he walks, “I am told you fought well today. You are a valiant warrior and my wife is well protected in the presence of you and your companions.”
Kysek remains awake engrossed in deciphering his tome of ones and zeroes. As he translates each set of numbers into a corresponding letter, he feeds his intellect. He feels his mind expanding as each new integer falls into place.
When Raven reaches the smith’s house, he is surprised to find Ivaldi is still up. The dwarf has his feet up on the edge of the hearth basking in the glow of the fireplace, puffing contentedly on a pipe with a large flagon of mead within easy reach. “I would like to show you something if you do not mind, Master Dwarf,” he begins as he pulls one of the chain shirts taken from a Svartalfar off of the treasure pile.
Ivaldi nods as takes a long drag on his pipe. Raven continues, “There is some sort of wire threaded through the links in this armor. I have never seen anything like it.”
The dwarf scowls, “I ain’t heard a question yet.”
“What is this wire and its purpose, then?”
Ivaldi leans in close, cocks his head to one side and peers intently at the armor, holding it up to the light, touching one of the metal links with the tip of his tongue. “Looks like Asgardian Heartwire ta me – reinforces the shirt and makes it harder fer an enemy ta land a telling blow again’ ya. Not as good as any number of enchantments I kin think of off the top of me head, but for a no-magic approach, jus’ ‘bout as fine work as ye kin git. We could pull the wire and reweave it through what ye’re already wearin’ but it’ll take a good couple hours. C’mon, I’ll git ya started and ye kin tell me aboot taday’s fightin’ as we work.”
Raven smiles, oddly pleased to fall back into the role of apprentice once again, reminded of his first days spent among the Riders of Mistledale nearly fifty years ago.
As the dwarven smith shows Raven how to work with the wire, Ra’ziir pours himself a goblet of wine and crushes a pearl, mixing it with the leftover vintage and places an owl feather in the mixture to steep as he prepares himself to identify the mystic properties of the items taken from the battlefield.
First, he turns to the spears of the Svartalfar. Each of the weapons is identical to its brethren and bears enchantments that make their edges sharper than normal. In the hands of a skilled user, they will allow their wielder to inflict deadlier wounds on foes taken unawares. The cloaks and boots have magic that muffle the sound of footsteps and allow their wearer to hide more easily and the shirts are all interwoven with the Heartwire that Ivaldi spoke to Raven about.
The brass ring allows cast spells to be stored inside of it for release when the wearer so desires and the shield is heavily warded against cold in addition to being a potent defensive barrier against physical attacks.
Still, it is the dark green studded leather that holds the greatest protective enchantments. Each of the metal studs is marked with protective runes, allowing the leather to turn blades and arrows as if it were made of the heaviest steel plates while absorbing and dissipating nearly every form of elemental attack directed against it.
One by one the adventurers take their leave of the mead hall and return to the home of Völundr the Smith. The Einherjar, being dead and having no need to rest continue to carouse and drink and chase after the Valkyries in hopes of conquests of a more romantic nature.
Idunn walks the group back to the home of their host. Cedron remains close by her side and asks what the next day will hold. She smiles slightly and replies, “If I knew the answer to that question, I would be a Norn instead of the Orchardkeeper. Still, if I was to hazard a guess, I would say that we can expect more of the same. Loki’s forces will throw themselves against our defenses and we will do our best to hold them off. Hopefully, the All-Father will awaken soon and we can leave this foolishness behind us for another year. I would much rather garden than go to war.”
Bragi trails along beside the group, speaking with Arthur as he walks, “I am told you fought well today. You are a valiant warrior and my wife is well protected in the presence of you and your companions.”
Kysek remains awake engrossed in deciphering his tome of ones and zeroes. As he translates each set of numbers into a corresponding letter, he feeds his intellect. He feels his mind expanding as each new integer falls into place.
When Raven reaches the smith’s house, he is surprised to find Ivaldi is still up. The dwarf has his feet up on the edge of the hearth basking in the glow of the fireplace, puffing contentedly on a pipe with a large flagon of mead within easy reach. “I would like to show you something if you do not mind, Master Dwarf,” he begins as he pulls one of the chain shirts taken from a Svartalfar off of the treasure pile.
Ivaldi nods as takes a long drag on his pipe. Raven continues, “There is some sort of wire threaded through the links in this armor. I have never seen anything like it.”
The dwarf scowls, “I ain’t heard a question yet.”
“What is this wire and its purpose, then?”
Ivaldi leans in close, cocks his head to one side and peers intently at the armor, holding it up to the light, touching one of the metal links with the tip of his tongue. “Looks like Asgardian Heartwire ta me – reinforces the shirt and makes it harder fer an enemy ta land a telling blow again’ ya. Not as good as any number of enchantments I kin think of off the top of me head, but for a no-magic approach, jus’ ‘bout as fine work as ye kin git. We could pull the wire and reweave it through what ye’re already wearin’ but it’ll take a good couple hours. C’mon, I’ll git ya started and ye kin tell me aboot taday’s fightin’ as we work.”
Raven smiles, oddly pleased to fall back into the role of apprentice once again, reminded of his first days spent among the Riders of Mistledale nearly fifty years ago.
As the dwarven smith shows Raven how to work with the wire, Ra’ziir pours himself a goblet of wine and crushes a pearl, mixing it with the leftover vintage and places an owl feather in the mixture to steep as he prepares himself to identify the mystic properties of the items taken from the battlefield.
First, he turns to the spears of the Svartalfar. Each of the weapons is identical to its brethren and bears enchantments that make their edges sharper than normal. In the hands of a skilled user, they will allow their wielder to inflict deadlier wounds on foes taken unawares. The cloaks and boots have magic that muffle the sound of footsteps and allow their wearer to hide more easily and the shirts are all interwoven with the Heartwire that Ivaldi spoke to Raven about.
The brass ring allows cast spells to be stored inside of it for release when the wearer so desires and the shield is heavily warded against cold in addition to being a potent defensive barrier against physical attacks.
Still, it is the dark green studded leather that holds the greatest protective enchantments. Each of the metal studs is marked with protective runes, allowing the leather to turn blades and arrows as if it were made of the heaviest steel plates while absorbing and dissipating nearly every form of elemental attack directed against it.
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