Bryon's face was "oh another married man." She blew up into her hair. It was a serious blow to her ego, she had been turned down four times in the last 24 hours. She looked down at herself as the nobleman walked away. Maybe she was old and used up. Maybe she wasn't attractive anymore. Maybe she was past the point that men would want her at all.

She was really just stunned. She looked at the backs of her hands for the tell tale spots of age and the loose skin of ware. She was rooted to the spot, fighting off a wave of dispair. Was she just having bad luck, picking nothing but married men? Or was it as she feared - she was a matron now, incapable of even enticeing a man into a trist.

  "My good Cirostis, I hope your dear Minerva has a stew simmering in the hearth when we bring you back to your home..." Tugdual said good-heartedly. "I want to try the finesse of dwarven cuisine !" he chuckled.
  "And to meet your boys, as they need to hear about their father's exploits from a travelled man. A too tall, as Arctos would put it."

 Catching a glimpse of the demonologist across the merchant's faire, the old druid almost choked on his pint. With a coughing and hawk, he recovered his composure and mumbled :
  "Well... she's everything you said and more... crafted by Venus herself from the finest bronze, yours would say. You could have mentioned though that she was, what ? Seventeen ?"

 The druid sighed and added : "She's of age to fool around and spin the head of young men... not comfort the needs of a weary old druid."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:03, Fri 19 Apr 2013.

Does Rita find a vendor who sells magical bolts and arrows, the type that can damage demons? If so, how much do they cost? She wants to buy the bolts for herself, now that she has a crossbow, and the arrows for Riordeg.

Aye - those will be good days ... Cirostis is wistful.

He chuckles at the Druids description of Julia.

Well, winter's here and we can't all just grow fur. I've been involved in some complex negotiations the last few days you know? Shopping had been a challenging business - I'm hoping to get everything worked out before out time here ends.
Cirostis looks at the Elvish cloaks.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:12, Sat 20 Apr 2013.

Bryon wandered a bit. She payed less attention than normal to her surroundings though she managed not to run face first into anyone. Scrumff sensed her soured mood and popped out of her bag then quickly made his way up to wind himself around her neck.

"There there love. You'll always have me."

Bryon smiled and nuzzled him affectionately. "If I were a she feret that would certainly be enough. I have an itch for a companion right now. I would especially like one with coin since I have my heart set on that elven made gown."

As luck fell for her she saw the woman she had suspected from before as well as the blacksmith lad. This time she doubted even her own prowess and thus could manage only to make eye contact with each as she meandered about.

Business done in the market, he walked up to his two familar companions.

"And to you, Second Cirostis." Heolstor returned the greeting. Tugdual was there, hairy and strong as an aurochs. Both had traversed the distance of this campaign in his company. Both had his unequivocal respect. As Heolstor Strang saw it: there was a bond shared between soldiers, battle-brothers, and all those who faced great danger together. One that was strong as steel.

"You and yours are welcome in Tullum and Lingones as you make your way South. I will send word before you. Homes will be made open for your men. My own villa, in Lingones, I will have prepared for you and Commander Dunduin."

"Tugdual," the Saxon followed "Does Lucimburic treat you fairly? Or is it the road, and the woods, for you again soon?"
There was perhaps a note of regret in his voice then. Not from Lord Strang, but from Heolstor. Something personal. He had gathered some thin wisdom from the old druid - but not all he might have, distracted with the day to day affairs of running an army.

And there was always the unstated truth that the druid's gods were his mother's gods. Talking of them, and of the woodland ways, had reminded him of her. Though he held Tiw in reverence that courageous god did not bring him the same comfort.

I'm honored by your kindness, Lord. I do not know as yet, what path lay ahead. I tried to get the wisdom of Owls in on the discussion. I'm sure there will be a meeting on our affairs after the wedding.

OOC- posting in two different time frames.

Meanwhile, back with Byron in the marketplace...

Byron seeks out the young blacksmith she saw before, and chatted with only briefly.

Blackmiths have a very special place in Frankish society.  The makers of armor and weapons, they are more or less excused from actually using them in military service.  (No lord wants to risk the loss of his blacksmiths!).

On the other hand, working iron builds huge muscles.  If they have to fight, they are powerful fighters.  Byron's interest is young, maybe nineteen or twenty, but has about a decade worth of iron work behind him, and has the big arms to prove it.

He's taken in by Byron's "lost and bothered" look.

But looking him over... Byron has a suspicion that he doesn't have much in the way of money.  Rural smiths are often "paid in kind" by the villages they support.  They might not get that much coin, but they never have to pay for anything.  On the third hand... he can't be completely broke.  He's here, isn't he?

And he does have a certain "kind and caring but naive" look.

  "I will spend some time in Lucimburic. Not too long, but I feel I could learn from a society so well-versed and deeply rooted in shape-changing... Druids have a very empirical approach, but no Celt is born with it. I think I may learn of the blessings of the Moon here.

  Besides, I would like to keep an eye on you, if you were willing to keep me around."

This blacksmith fellow has many things going in his favor. A physicality that is very male at its core and very attractive to any woman. He is young - which usually means viral another good quality. He also seems a bit naive, which is exactly the kind of "mark" Bryon can take advantage of.

She chats him up, learning his name, apologizing for being drawn away earlier "I thought I knew him, but I was mistaken."

She slowly probes him, learning what she can about him. People like talking about themselves and young men are prone to this sort of narcissism. The more he talks the more she has for later and the more she will know whether she actually likes him or is only interested in a passing fancy.

She only mentions the dress in passing. She has nothing to wear to a royal wedding and of course no one to attend her. She does not come out and say - as she did with Heolstor - that she is willing to trade. She figures he should be handled more delicately.

08:44, Today: Bryon rolled 26 using 1d20+14. Bluff - hide her intentions .

Byron walks through the market with her new friend.  The smith is Tireg, from a tiny little hamlet she’s never even heard of- Mons Hermes.  It’s a few days away, along the Meuse River, in the heart of the domain of Theoderic.  The name, though… Byron can tell it has some significance.  Hermes is the ancient name of Mercury.  But the name wouldn't have been used by anyone who would have settled this region.  Unless… wizards, and similar people who make use of ancient lore will sometimes still use the name.  Mons Hermes would be a hill of some kind of arcane significance, then.

And it seems to go with the place as Tireg describes it.  The village is on a hill, and there are really just two families and a few assorted “others” there.  There is the smithy, and there is the temple to Mercury.  And unless Tireg is making boasts, his father, the smith, made the armor for Theoderic, and weapons and armor for many warriors.  Tireg sees nothing at all unusual in a small, rural smithy turning out weapons and armor for a king and his retinue.

Byron’s concerns about her outfit evoke some sympathy.  But to Tireg, “fancy clothes” are what nobles and rich people wear… and Elves.  The village girls and even his own sisters own nothing more elaborate than what Byron is wearing now.

“I could make you some buckles and baubles,” he says, “if I had my tools.  And maybe some brass.”

But he is willing to accompany her.  He seems very sympathetic to the plight of this poor woman traveling all alone, and asks how that came to be.

Bryon flirts, "Brass, eh? Where should I put something so grand on an outfit like this."

What she is thinking is Brass? Celts invented smithing brass.

Bryon tells him a short version of the story. She had a thing the Elves needed to help them teleport from Geneva. She possessed the thing, though she avoids telling him how she came about it. They only had room to teleport here from her own family, though she makes it clear that Celtic women can handle themselves. She simple does not want to be the only one going alone.

His offer to escort her brightens her mood considerably. She does not have to feign being impressed by his credentials, she is actually impressed that the armor worn by the king was smithed by this man's father - and likely as not he helped.

Scrumff, on the other hand is unimpresed. "Really? Your slumming about with this country bumkin?" He chitters. Bryon is cross. This young man is the first to really pay her attention today and she is not going to let him mess things up. She shoves him back in the bag and scolds him not to come back out without permission.

Now she must of course explain how she can speak to the creature. She gives him the short version. Her family has longs ties to fey and fey magic is in her blood. She bats her eyes, treads her arm through his, and hopes there is no unfounded pre-judging her based on that heritage.

Tireg may be from a back woods, rustic place, but that makes it more likely, not less, that he knows people who talk to animals.  People in the big cities don’t need the talent nearly as much.  In fact, he knows at least one quite well…

“Philus’s daughter Fica… Philus is the cleric of Mercury who lives up the hill.  She’s a cleric too, but she’s dedicated to.. Diana, I think.  And she talks to animals, and she has a ferret she calls inkspot, it's pretty smart."

Rural people have a very peculiar take on the world.  To them, everyone they know is a celebrity.  In the string of villages Tireg calls home, "everyone" knows who Philus and Fica are.  And most will know who Tireg is.. at the very least, as "Walchau the smith's eldest".

And here, they are unphased by magic, or talking to animals, or Fey blood... because they live on the fringe of the Ardennes.  It's out there, and it's no use pretending it's not, so you just take it into your life, and live with it.  All it means to Tireg is..

"So you can do magic?"

Scolo continues to seek traders in knowledge and lore, books, scrolls, spells, histories, and funny tales.

He will look for merchants from the town and find out where their regular shops are located that he can return if he gains any money later.

He will find a merchant with wooden hair pieces, the kind with wooden chopsticks that hold it together they can allow the lady to just decorate straight hair or hold it up in different shapes and he will speak with the merchant.

Dear fellow, I would like to get a piece like this with the flower design, but ... i would hope to meet you while you are finishing the cut and preparing to sand and polish, I would even sand and polish the sticks myself. in this way I can add ritual to the creation. You see ... I want to make it very special - I will pay extra for your time ... or perhaps instead of that I could help you make something special hmmmm?
This message was last edited by the player at 00:30, Thu 25 Apr 2013.

Cirostis has visited the Faire from time to time over the days of it. He stops by the Wererats with whome he has dealt and with the elves who are hopefully gaining great insight from the marvelous dwarven ammunition he has shown them and let them examine.

With the Elves he shares the name of the artisan and the location of his workshop on the sleepy boarder to Bergundy with the wilderness peopled by centaurs.
If you wish to send a lad to apprentice with him - we might be able to work it out or one of your masters could visit and you may learn from one another?

With the Wererats he once again engages to make a deal for the ghost hammer.

Seeing as how the wedding is over now and one of the only gifts given and accepted that others would be able to copy are the fine saddles that came from Cirostis the dwarf attempts to arrange a deal that will leverage the value of the last saddle in addition to all his fine ranch gear and grooming tools. It is the perfect gift for any young lad or lass of wealth.
A well balanced wheelbarrow, the Bergundian straight pitchfork, the finest grooms gear within 50 miles and a saddle to match the very saddles the queen and king got for themselves on their wedding day!
...
In addition I've got something else you and few others can appreciate - here are five very special crossbow bolts of Dwarven make - the break apart on impact with jagged bits of shrapnel they are excellent at wounding and the wounds resist magical healing ... Just the thing for slowing down the competition when you are collecting treasures eh?

Rita does not really know Haakon and Tawna, but in her mind, they are now part of the extended family surrounding Theoderic and Duke Barstow. Not knowing what sort of wedding gift they might like, she decides to buy them a nice bottle of wine.

Tireg makes her smile with this comment, a knowing smile. "Scrumff thinks I'm his woman. Its a complicated relationship. Emotionally I am attached to him, but I also need companionship of a two legged variety." She playfully bumps his hips with her own, "If you get my meaning."

While they are walking she tactfully steers him around the merchants fair. She keeps his attention on her so that he won't realize they are actually heading in a big circle, eventually taking them back to the elven clothier.

"So your strong, have horse sense, and you don't mind a girl with an unusual bloodline. What are your flaws, then. Be honest everyone has them."



He was still trying to to push her to talk about herself. She wasn't trying to obfuscate, merely wanted to hear about him, she knew all about herself already. "When the occasion calls for it I can perform a feat or two. I am not a wizard, though. I rely on my blood for my magic."

As they "find" the clothier again she stops him, feigning surprise. She goes over to the one she has her heart set on. Now its time for a little trap. Women have been manipulating men for centuries...for their own good of course. "Its so lovely. Don't you think I would be gorgeous in it?" Trap set. If he says yes, he is 3/4 the way to obligating himself to buy it for her. If no, then she has ample reason to pout and perhaps look for more encourage-able companionship. Her mother always warned her about these situations. If you want a mouse or man to fall into your trap you must lure them. Cheese works on mice, and you know what works on men.

She turned back facing him, giving him a coy smile, "Wouldn't you want a gorgeous woman on your arm for the wedding? I know you think I look nice now, but can you not picture me in it? Oh I would feel so feminine." She pretends to stare off into space, her fingers running from her throat down just to her cleavage.

"Then I count myself fortunate. For your company and your wisdom, Tugdual." Heolstor replied, the sincerity in his voice obvious. "I will make no secret of it - there's much for me to learn about the wilds and their power. If you are willing to spare some insight still, as you have before, I would not let it go to waste." The warrior promised. He saw Tugdual as the mentor his father's hate had always denied him. That and more... a friend and ally. Pwyll, the Saxon's crow, was nowhere to be seen. So too had his accompanying soldiers melted away.

Heolstor was no less safe or more lonely for it. If there was better company to find oneself in, Heolstor scarcely knew it.

"Now... I must find myself elsewhere, before Petra has me flayed from foot to forehead." Strong said his goodbyes and made his way to the ceremony.

In the last days of the Faire Cirostis is able to make his breakthrough deal. Perhaps the saddle idea worked or perhaps the wererats decided it was better to get something than wait around for another wandering dwarf warrior interested in magic spell smashing to make his way to Lucimburic. Who knows? But the dwarf trucked a wheelbarrow filled with fine farm implements including beautiful grooming tools and the twin of the kings saddle. He leaves it all and carries out his prize.

He makes his way around the Faire and to the cobbler and tailors over the days and in the end he has a fine jacket made and a little fur hat.
His jacket is a quilted brown trim with a burnt orange pattern, he keeps his dark grey hide armor on but finds a brassy paint that he uses on all the metal parts. He finds repaired soft halfling style Boots with stitched yellow pattern that goes well with his Elvin flowery green quiver.

Cirostis seeks out Dunduin and hands his old friend a package in butcher paper.

Here my friend. It worked well.

Dunduin accepts the package from Cirostis with a raised eyebrow. "May I?" he asks before opening the package.

Ah, Mr D - if anyone can make the best of a spirit hammer it will be those close to Vulcan.
Now lets find the Patre of Mars!

Cirostis seeks out Arctos.

Good news comrade - the Elvin King has been kind and sent us aid for our future endeavors.
I have powerful magic crossbow bolts here to share with you.

He gives Arctos and Dunduin their share along with an explanation:

Dunduin: 2 glitterdust, 2 rust, 4 trapspringer, 6 +2 bolts
Arctos: 2 glitterdust, 2 rust, 3 trapspringer, 8 +2 bolts

Finarfel’s Glitterdust Flare.   This is the most peculiar of the bolts.  It is a normal +2 bolt, but when it strikes, it emits a spray of glittery dust.  This dust is magically attracted to hidden things, weather made so by magic (Invisibility, Displacement, Blur, etc) or skill (concealed) and negates these effects in a 20’ radius area.  The dust settles on both creatures and objects.  There are 5 of these bolts.

Rust Bolts.  These are +2 bolts that can cause metal armor to decay.  A hit causes metal armor to weaken and corrode, losing 1d6 points of effectiveness.  Against creatures actually made of metal the effect is more severe- the bolts have the “bane” effect.  A pinch of “ichor” from a Rust Monster is used in the fabrication- the most dreaded of all monsters, from the Dwarf point of view.  10 of these bolts.

Trapspringer Bolt.  This is a +2 bolt that causes all traps, physical or magical, within 20 feet of the impact point to be triggered.  (The unique Elven magic will cause even disarmed traps to reset and trigger, if a small simple motion and force will do it.)  Elves will typically use them in the defense, shooting a bolt to trigger multiple traps they have placed in the advance of an enemy, but they are equally useful on the offense, neutralizing traps in an area about to be assaulted.    10 of these bolts.

Basic +2 Crossbow Bolts.   20 of these.

How much would it cost Rita to get 20 +2 crossbow bolts? Are any of the merchants still selling them?

As Cirostis found out, crossbow bolts are hard to come by.  His had to be custom made by the Elves.  Rita cannot find any here.

 Tugdual had split the cold season in various activities.

 He went on a few fishing trips with Cirostis, during which they may both learn from each other's techniques. They could be off for a few days sometimes, and came back with enough trout and crayfish to throw memorable dinner parties.
 Lengthy conversation on druidic arts and philosophy with Heolstor, along with awkward bits of conversation about his future offspring...
 On a few occasions he spoke with Petra as well, in his usual blunt and down-to-earth style. Despite his sometimes coarse tone, there is some wisdom to gain from the seasoned druid.
 He took several little jobs in which he makes good (and reasonable) use of his magic and powers, in order to afford his suit of armour come spring. Mainly he uses spells that help artisans with their crafts, tends to difficult animals and offers council.
 Once he made a brief trip to his homeland, just to make sure their defences were still up and that no Hun was in sight.

 Eventually he learnt about the bold move that Dunduin and Cirostis were about to make, and offered his help in guiding and assisting the dwarven troops in their absence. Hopefully he could use this time to learn from Arctos and soothe his soul if can be.

 As march came, Tugdual was ready to get back to business.

Fortunately the was intrigued and agreed to work with the wizard - unfortunately for him, the wizard was Scolo. It took two weeks and several mistakes producing a variety of useless enchanted wooden hair pieces including one that makes the wearer always tell lies and believe them and one that can never ever be moved from its place on a certain table preventing even the table from being moved.

Finally the job is done, Scolo takes his gift and the artist gets a match as well as all the rejects, some of which he may find a use for, and of course his headache will pass with a resolution to avoid wizards in the future.

Scolo seeks out Melissa.

Uhm - here he says.
I uh was worried - you might be spotted and found. This, well it's very nice yes? It holds your hair up!

He is very proud of it, it is beautiful with light and dark woods mixing in a small floral cage with two carved chopsticks.

And if you focus while adjusting the stick you can disguise yourself like the spell 3 times a day - it lasts for an hour and a half.

See! If you don't want to be spotted you can be anyone.