by Water Hammer » Sat Jan 14, 2012 12:39 am
Because you asked to tale of Hammer lies below.
The Hammer arrives:
Born to the life of the north woods reindeer herders, Hammer arrived in the midwinter, just before solstice to the sounds of the hammer smashing iron at the forge. His mother’s screams timed to the beat of the clanging of the steel. Hammer would be his name and his name would be known throughout the kingdom in its time.
His life in the village and on the march from pasture to pasture-land each season built muscle, built skill and built patience. He walked for hours, he walked for days. He learned the woods, he learned the trails, and he learned that life in the north was cold and hard.
At the fall of his fourteenth summer, he made up his mind, that winter would own him no more. He pledged the smith his labor for the winter and labored in the forge. He mastered the iron, he mastered the hammer and for his labors, he outfitted his kit. He built knife, cart, spear and sword. He skinned the animals he caught and tanned the hides well. Provisioned from a winter of labor and gathering, he set out south with the spring thaw.
The Hammer finds his way:
The kit was heavy, but the cart was built well. He walked the trails and skirted the towns. He set his camp in the edge of the woods each night. He made no offense, offered no pretense. His goal was clear. He intended to travel south to the sea. He had seen the boats on the northern ice, sailing for fish. He had seen the boats on the sea to the west. Large dragons on their bows, men of war in their hull, hate in their throats. The land to the east had carried stories of flat cold land that went on forever disappearing into impassible mountains.
The sea to the south was the stories of warmth, stories of cities, stories of land brimming with people and towns close enough together to be able to travel from one to another and back in the same day. The idea of people, villages that did not empty each summer in search of pastures, the warmth of a sea that would not freeze drew him south.
Along the way, he grew, he learned, he worked. Many tales on his journey will be shared later, but it was six long years and two wars before he laid eyes on the sea of his youthful dreams. The sea was everything he had dreamed of, and it teemed with life. His skill with wood and skill with forge found him favor in the new land of his choosing.
Water tempers the Hammer:
Hammer settled in and build his circle of friends. The Crimsonwood villagers gather north of a large bay and share in their labors, they work hard, play hard and share their troubles. The land is troubled by raiders, and troubled by goblins, and troubled by beasts. Hammers skill in making swords is challenged for speed. Enemies seem to be at their walls each week with new challenges. He busied himself making swords day and night, he hung the swords out and about for everyone to use. It was soon known throughout the land that Crimsonwood was well armed and ready for anything. The villagers grew in skill. Several warriors schooled the youngsters and developed their talents. Eventually the youthful developed their own styles and student became teacher. The land grew in prowess and in skill and became the home of a large warrior cadre.
The time in the village, the time together in combat, forged a bond between the people that turned them into a family. No matter who lead them, they followed willingly and each grew as the group strengthened. The time for making swords passed and Hammer found time for subtler art. He began to cook. The forge and the oven shared the center of the village and time was on his side. He tried his hand, he mastered his skills and he reasoned out the combinations of food and spice that pleased the people. His time at the edge of the sea, away from the snow, gave him leisure, fun and camaraderie he had not known as a child.
He began to take more time in his tasks, to add art to his forging, to add art to his food. The village elders offered advice and watched his skills grow. The offered advice, experience and help. He built shield, he made garments, he made friends.
Crimsonwood grew and became a land of great repute and great accomplishment. They traveled to assist the neighboring towns when they were called. They went with sword, with food, and with friends, to fight great foes, to spend time sharing tales, and to feast together in celebration of the accomplishments of other lands. The rewards grew with their great feats titles bestowed. Lords have been named, households forged in combat and at feast.
Many feats deserve their own telling and with a good fire you shall hear all the tales. Lord Water Hammer is only beginning his adventures in Westmarch Principality and someday a song shall tell of his end. But not yet. Today he still lives in Crimsonwood and if your wander its trails late at night and remain calm and quiet, the sound of his forge, the sound of his hammer, the sound of the water setting the steel, can be heard late into the night as he serves his land, serves his friends, and always seems to be making or repairing one more sword.
Baronet Water Hammer, Stalwart of Crimsonwood
Crimsonwood Rocks!!! I am humbled by your friendships.
Amtgard is the greatest thing my kids ever dragged me into.