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✅ Once Upon A Time On Primehiems

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Status
Not open for further replies.
Timestamp
Immanis 1, Era XXVI
Location
Across the Empire
Content Warnings
Holidays!
The months seemed to fly by since Vaurien ensconced himself in the Geargrinder's workshop. Could he call it a home? That wasn't what he thought of it, but it was certainly how Willowleaf seemed to make it. Leave it to a child to make a holiday a holiday; after taking in the flier posted on the shop door and reading it to her, Vaurien found himself gathering up odds and ends and assembling a small collection of simple whirligigs and trinkets. Small noisemakers that young children would delight in winding up, much to the dismay of tired and possibly hungover adults in the next room. Little figurines that performed flips, only sometimes managing to land on their feet. Things that would entertain, with Willowleaf as his test audience.

Their shop couldn't spare a lot of money or food, but there were plenty of junk parts that went into the ad-hoc toy production that went into the collection run by Wits' End.

Eventually, the young girl would have to go to bed (only after making sure the gnome and the dorin were also, most definitely, absolutely, going to bed). Vaurien waited until he could hear her breathing settle into a deeper rhythm, then crept back out to the workshop, carefully navigating the dark space only by the moonlight reflecting off the blanket of snow that covered the ground outside. Once there, he lit a low lantern and took out the project he kept on a shelf out of Willowleaf's reach (imagine that! Vaurien, the tallest person who lives here!) and very, very quietly put a few finishing touches on it. A small dog figure, with a pull cord on its back; pull the cord, and a mechanism in the body would wind the mechanism that moved the legs back and forth. It could waddle many steps at a time before slowing to a stop and needing another yank. Now she could go on walks with a puppy that wasn't Vaurien, who sometimes was really, truly in the middle of something that could not be put down because it might immediately explode if he did.

He wrapped the toy in plain brown paper, extinguished the lamp, left the package at the foot of Willowleaf's bed, then finally went to sleep himself.
 
Vaurien

When sleepy Vaurien rolled out of bed, he kicked a box that had not been there when he fell asleep. It was wrapped in scarlet and gold foil and a bright silver bow. The problem with the box? It was easily half the size of the dorin's bed.

Once Vaurien determined that it was not going to explode, he unwrapped it to find the most peculiar ... orb. But the gadgeteer's expertise quickly noted the strange metallic indentations and 'gaps' along the smooth surface. Prying it open did nothing. Knocking? Nothing. Saying 'Alexa' or 'Siri' -- still nothing. Just when the dorin was about to give up, he noticed a long cord of rope stuck at the very bottom of the large sphere. After struggling to roll it over, he recognized it as the same kind of wind-up mechanism that he used for the toys and trinkets in his workshop.

What was the worst that could happen? Vaurien pulled and a long, loud whirring and creaking sound filled his room at Wit's End.

There was a series of click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click as the sphere's surface opened and shifted, transforming into a mechanical giant spider. Between its bronze cephalothorax and abdomen was a space just large enough for the dorin to sit on. Next to the saddle was the pull cord. After some trial and error, Vaurien discovered that short pulls 'revved' the mechanical spider and it was able to slowly and awkwardly 'walk' some five to ten feet. But one loooooong pull caused the construct to shudder and began the long and loud process of 'folding' into a large silvery orb once again.

OOC: +1 MP.
 
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Willowleaf enjoyed helping her Uncle Vaurien around the Geargrinder workshop because it helped her to keep her mind off the fact that her PawPaw had decided to go on a trip without telling her where he was going or when he would be back. The young girl so enjoyed testing out the toys her Uncle made for the other children of Primos.

Thou one day while Vaurien was extra busy building toys and gadgets the young girl snuck out of the workshop and headed back to the house she had once shared with her now dead parents. She hadn't returned to her old house since the night her parents died at the hands of men who worked for her Uncle Davorin's former second in command. Entering the house she looked around at all the blood still on the floor and the walls not wanting to become sad she quickly went into a large chest her mother used to keep along the north wall. Taking out a large sack she placed it on the floor. She then went to a corner on the south side of the house and picked up a small tool box that had once belonged to her grandfather. Willowleaf smiled as she began to carry the small tool box as she drug the large sack back to the shop she now called home.

When she was outside the shop Willowleaf put down the large sack before walking around the side of the shop looking around to make sure no one was looking the little girl quickly stashed the small tool box behind a large trash bin. Once she was sure her Uncle wouldn't see the small box when he throw out the garbage the little girl headed back to the front of the building. Opening the door of the shop she drug the large back inside all the while singing Primehiems carols. Smiling the little girl dropped the bag on the floor and immediately opened it up and began taking out her families old Primehiems decorations. As she continued to sing Willowleaf went about decorating the shop for the holiday season.

Willowleaf went to bed somewhat early that night extra tired from her little excursion back to her families house to drag back the decorations her mother used to put up in the house she used to call home. Early the next morning Willowleaf woke up out of bed. The little girl wanting to get outside to bring the small tool box inside so that she could place a bow on it before Vaurien woke up didn't notice the small package sitting at the foot of her bed. Quietly sneaking out the door as to not wake her Uncle up Willowleaf quickly went to the side of the shop and retrieved the small tool box. Bringing it back inside she set about wrapping red and gold ribbon around it and placing a red and gold bow in the middle of the tool boxes handle. She then carried over and placed it at the foot of Vaurien's bed.

Turning back to her bed it was then that she saw the plain brown paper wrapped present at the foot of her bed. Letting out a loud squeal of delight the young girl ran to her bed and quickly opened up her gift. She let out an even louder squeal of delight when she saw that it was a toy dog with a pull cord in the middle of it's back. Placing the toy dog on the floor she began to pull it around the shop all the while singing carols to it as well as talking to it.
 
Rimia leaned up against the bar inside of the inns in the city of Portshire a large mug of ale in her hand. Primehiems had come once again to the area everyone around her was celebrating the season. Looking around the young lady couldn't help but roll her eyes as at all the decorations inside the inn as well as those along the street's in the city. Taking a long pull from her mug she emptied it, setting it down she motioned for the bartender to bring her another. At one time she could remember loving the season of Primehiems but not anymore now she hated it and only she knew the reason why. Taking her now fourth mug of ale the young lady quickly drank it down, placing the mug on the bar she stood up and walked slowly out of the inn.

Not wanting to be around people at the moment Rimia slowly walked down the main street of Portshire no real destination in mind. As she walked her mind wondered back to that Primehiems not so long ago that changed her life forever. Little did she realize that as she walked tears had begun to trickle down her cheeks. Seeing a deserted alleyway Rimia entered it. walking down the alleyway she soon found a small alcove in between two buildings. Without a second thought she entered the alcove and sat down letting her mind continue to wonder back to the Primehiems that started her hated of the holiday.
 
Willowleaf Starchaser

Just as the little girl was contemplating sleep (yes! even on Primeheims!), she'd look up to see a strangely discolored patch of floor moving towards her - fast! She'd see a pair of red eyes flash before the Arium chameleon kitty leapt up into her arms. Looking down, Willowleaf could only see the red and blue ribbon tied gently around the little cat's neck; though she could feel it's warm purr just fine. Over the next few days, she'd find that the little cat had no interest in Mortimer whatsoever.

OOC: And +1 MP!

Rima Summernight

Sometimes you just needed some time alone; away from the rancorous crowds and the trappings of a holiday that seemed more torture than celebration. When Rimia finally decided to leave the alcove - for bed, to friends, back to the tavern - her foot would bump into a heavy bundle wrapped in green and gold paper and tied with a red blow. Inside was a suit of thieves' armor somewhere between a brigantine and lamellar armor. The outside of the pieces - gloves, pauldrons, and coat - were covered in mottled dark grey leather that blended better in with the shadows than adventurer's black. Inside the suit was sown steel plates, cushioned in such a way that they'd make no sound but still provide good protection.

OOC: And +1 MP!
 
It was Primehiems Silvantas favorite time of the year with a smile she stokes up the fire in the fireplace. Once the fire is blazing she goes into the small kitchen area to make herself some dinner. Getting all of her ingredients together Silvamtas began to sing carols as she chopped, diced everything before putting it into a pan to cook. While the Chicken Stoltzfus was cooking she began to measure, and mix the ingredients for the crackers to eat with the Chicken Stoltzfus. Placing the dough on the table Silvantas rolls it out thinly before slicing it into small squares. She carefully places the squares on to a baking pan, putting the pan into the small oven once it is full. While all this is cooking the young lady quickly puts together some pepper relish. Once everything is done Silvantas takes the crackers out of the oven and places them onto a serving platter. She takes the pan off the fire and places it onto the table. Getting herself a plate she sits down to eat.

Having finished her quite late supper the young elf cleans up her dishes and tidies up around her house before heading to bed for a nice long snooze. Silvantas climbs into bed after changing into her nightshirt. Sitting up in bed she says a prayer to all the deities before laying down and falling asleep.
 
Silvantas
When Silvantas woke the next morning it was to the sight of a new sword leaning against the wall across from her. It was sheathed in beautifully crafted brown leather, green vines and leaves crafted dyed neatly into the leather with a glimmer of what might have been golden threads seen when shifted at the right angle. The sword itself was made of fine Arium steel, the pommel similar in appearance to a rounded medallion on which was chiseled a beautifully wrought blossom, its petals newly unfurling. The grip was wrapped with leather made to match the sheath itself and the sword guards met at the middle to show another smaller version of the flower emboldened on the pommel. A fancy new blade for a swordswoman to flash as she cut through her enemies.

OOC: +1 Material Point
 
Enjoying the festive atmosphere of the Inn he's residing in Arthulec can't help but chuckle at how the people are celebrating it. From festively drunken dwarfs who sing so falsely to the other patrons hugging or otherwise celebrating his mind returns back into the past when he was celebrating Primehiems with his Father.

A younger Arthulec walks inside the house watching his father putting all the decorations up again. Smiling he walks over to him and tries to help him which his father appreciates. After being done they both sit down onto the couch and talk about everything that's been happening. "You know son I think it's time I gave you something I was meaning to give you but never got the chance for it. And I know she would want you to have it as well." Andyrion says as he fishes out a pendant with the picture of a beautiful girl with Red hair green eyes pointy ears and a beautiful smile.

Looking up at his dad the question dancing in his eyes, Andyrion smiles and nods his head. "Yes son, that's your mother. And yes, she wanted to have you a memento of her not just the spell books you've been reading all the time."
Looking down towards the picture in the pendant he can't help but let out a tear which he wipes away before putting the pendant around his neck proudly.
"And between you and me I always have the feeling like we aren't truly alone now are we?" Andyrion says after a small while with a small smile and Arthulec looking back at his dad and on the cusp of replying back notices a silhouette of a person standing behind his dad blinking his eyes a few times he looks back only to find that silhouette gone.
Finally nodding his head slowly with a smile on his face he replies back towards his father who was curiously looking back and forth "Yes you are right we aren't truly alone."

Returning back from his reminiscing Arthulec looks around and after taking another sip of drink grabs both the pendant and the hilt of the sword on his hip resolutely. Promising himself that he will do his best not to lose anyone else be it his future friends or anyone else close to him.

With that promise on his mind he heads upstairs into his room and lies down on the bed before slowly falling asleep.
 
Primehiems night. Primehiems Eve. La veille de Primehiemmes, some locals called it. A day both dreaded and anticipated in equal measure.

For the nobles of Jaedaxia it was a day of festivities. Merriment and wine and dancing. Glittering decorations and the echoes of laughter. Glasses clinked together - those delicate and ornate things. Jewels sparkled on hems and feathers floated in elaborate hairstyles. Gordyn didn't like to think how much those things cost. He had more pressing things to think about instead. Like... how-to-avoid-being-sworn-at-by-the-head-chef-tonight. Gordyn bowed his head and hurried along to try and not pay attention to the luxuries he couldn't afford.

With merriment and festivities came the demand for food. And Gordyn was an aspiring chef. All tradespeople worth their salt were working this evening. He was no exception. Morden was a working man, who went by Gordyn in the workplace. People liked 'Gordyn' more for some reason.

The kitchen that Gordyn worked at was familiar by now. He had started as a dish pig after finishing his formal education. Promoted from washing dishes, he had been allowed to cut the vegetables. Then he had been allowed to cut the meat. Then he had been allowed to accompany the chef when he bought the supplies. Now, four promotions later, he earned a tidy coin preparing the soups and sauces and gravies. One day he'd get to cook something real. Like the side dishes. But for now his life was a routine of liquid textures and fragrances. Stocks that boiled for hours. Simmering. Sauteing. Deglazing. All the words that a basic cook needed to be familiar with.

There were other words, too. Like 'what the f**k' and 'you f**king fool' and 'I'm not paying you to be a disappointment!'. When the head chef raised his voice, it was always a blessing to not be on the receiving end. Alas, sometimes you were. Those days, Gordyn prayed the head chef was only wielding a wooden spoon at the time.

Today, like every day, Gordyn stirred large pots of gently bubbling liquid. He salted them, seasoned them, and set them beside the head chef's bench when they were ready to be ladled out. Sometimes he had to take them back to the stove while the cook on the meat station was screamed at for incompetence. Other times he got a grunt for his trouble.

Grunt was good! A grunt meant Gordyn was having a good day. Gordyn began to receive grunts like praise. Not bad, for a former dish pig.

By the end of the shift, the streets would be silent as most of the merrymakers were tucked into bed. The stoves were cooled, the pots scrubbed by the new dish pig - some skinny teenager - and benches were wiped spotless. Some of the cooks smoked in the alley behind the restaurant, while Gordyn trudged alone in the darkness. He was eager to put his aching feet above his head for a bit before falling asleep. He shivered as tiny white flakes began to fall. One didn't need a coat in the kitchen, but the walk home could be brutal. Tomorrow promised the same work - perhaps more, as hungover people of means sought broths and soups to ease their stomachs.

Gordyn was not a man of means. He crunched on a leftover carrot, tossing his clothes into a washbasin, and began to scrub them with the same soap he used for his face. Hanging the cleaned linens on a thick string in front of the fire pit in his hovel, he pulled on his sleeping gown and fell roughly into his cot. Before long he was snoring, sound asleep with his head on a thin pillow boosted by the thickness of his grandmother's cookbook.
 
The brightenings around Primeheims were busier than usual for the Church of Faith. The faithful came in droves, either seeking blessings and advise as the turn of a new era approaches, or for penance and counsel as the current era drew to its end. On top their routine activities, the Church joined in the celebration with a special ceremonial mass, festive choirs, a break from the usual chants, and performed bountiful acts of charity. The soup kitchens were busy all around the clock, with gifts given to the poor and needy, and as ever a patient ear for souls too burdened for celebration.

Father Iori McKenzie had been up before dawn, helping out and participating as much as he could. He prepared the incense, thurible, candles, the sacred oils, holy water, and other items of worship. He helped carried the supplies, ushered the crowd in the kitchen, before taking over gift giving duty. One of the faithful had brought a sick frenzied family member, which he had to wrestle to a private room. Gold Fever, Advanced Stage. Two candlemarks of prayers, rituals and healing could only calm the ailment, but still not provide the cure. The Bishop warned him that Primus Gaudeo's faithful were more Cetheron inclined. The dwarves sure had their own problems. But overall, be it dwarf, human, elf and so on, in the end most people just wanted to talk to someone about the problems in their life.

"Merry Primeheims, Father."

A young couple and their child wished him as they took their leave. It was already very late into the darkening, and the cathedral will be closing its main doors soon, while his rumbling stomach reminded him then he had not ate since rosyun. He had just finished counselling a woman with marital problems. The irony of it was not lost on him as he stood at the entryway, watching the family walked down the streets, laughing, hands in each others, and a peck given on a cheek. Unconsciously, he fiddled with the knots on his cincture, that symbolized the Vow of Celibacy he once made.

He helped fix the relationship issues of others, but could not fix his own. The faithful came to him to find solace, yet there was nobody he could reach out to for help. Such was the life of a priest, self sacrificing their own needs for others, yet always overlooked or never appreciated. But unfair treatment was just part of his life by now. He has served the Church since childhood, for that was what he had been trained to do. Perhaps one day the years of servitude would be rewarded with fulfillment, on top of power, prestige, wealth, glory, and the favor of gods and kings. But some days, such as today, he wondered if all that was worth it, if the price to pay was... loneliness.
 
Arthulec

As Arthulec pulled back his blanket, he found a large package wrapped with golden paper studded with small blue bells and topped with a red bow. Inside he would find a long black leather duster coat - the sort worn by caravan guards, travelers, and less savory individuals like adventurers. It looked for all the world plain and simple; certainly not the sort of thing Saint Noel was known for. But on deeper investigation, he'd find that patches of gravel silk sown into around his upper torso to give him a light (and unexpected!) layer of protection.

OOC: And +1 MP!

Morden

Ah, the exciting life of a culinary professional! As Morden dreamed his Primeheims means, Saint Noel snuck in and left a rectangular package wrapped with red and green paper decorated with little trees. When he awoke, Morden would find a set of kitchen knives tucked securely in a long leather metal roll. Chef knife, pairing knife, carving knife, sharpening steel, fish knife, and any other the young man might need for his future career. The metal on each blade had a wavey pattern like the breaking of the North Sea against the sands, the handles solid pieces of dark walnut wood.

OOC: And +1 MP!

Iori

Primeheims was a busy day in the churches across the length and breath of the empire - though not without it's benefits. As he turned away from the entrance, the young priest would notice a gift left in the pews. It was wrapped in black paper with the symbol of the Holy Church in gold. Inside, Iori would find a half-dozen swords of curious construction: reinforced edges, thin and almost hollow in the middle to save weight, with a light cross-guard. They were designed and crafted to be thrown, allowing a swordsman to give an enemy a few feet away a very big surprise.

OOC: And +1 MP!
 
Talindra…Tali had no idea what she was doing.

She stood before the place that once upon an era she called home, staring at it through blurry, tear filled eyes. At the end of an era, the murderer mourned her victims and came back to honor their memory. Was that appropriate? Perhaps it was best if she just walked away and never returned as she had originally planned. The elfess released a heavy sigh, falling to her knees. She knew this would be hard and one helluva brightening to do it. But it had to be done.

Two wooden stakes were placed in front of the abandoned home, each with the name of her lost parents etched in. Once they were settled proper into the ground, she laid a single lily in front of it. “Mother. Father,” she began, her voice quivering as violent sobs threatened to consume her, “I…I ask that you forgive me. I know that I have no right to ask, but,” Another shaky pause as Tali desperately tried to keep her thoughts in check, “I loved you. I may not remember everything, but I know that I loved you both. I miss you everyday. I dream of what Mother’s face might look like and…the memory of my Father before you came to hate me.”

The sobs began, curling her into a heaving ball as she collapsed into the cold snow. She had brought a decent jacket, but the icy chill penetrated through and brought a quiver to her slender frame. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry..” As she laid there, lost in sorrow, a single hand rested upon her cheek. Talindra glanced up, eyes wide in surprise before a smile broke past the streams down her paled cheeks. Two big pumpkin eyes stared up at her with a little bean hand resting against her cheek. No sad mama. Niko darted into the opening that became available, burrowing himself under Tali’s chin and began to purr. The elfess hugged him close, feeling her pain slowly subside.

It took only a few minutes before the woman’s body couldn’t handle staying among the snow. She stood up slowly, scooping the purring void up so he could be held close to her chest. One hand broke from the embrace, wiping her frozen face dry as best she could. “Until next era, Mother. Father. Rest In Peace.”

Tali scooped up a satchel of gifts that had been resting in the snow and made her way toward Ziel. She had a few friends to visit and a dracon waiting for her. 🧡
 
Tali

Saint Noel saw everything: the triumphs and tears, the good and ill. When Talindra finished handing out her own gifts to friends and family, she'd find a long package in the bottom of the satchel: a long, cylindrical black silk bag with the mark of one of Zinn'sunn's foremost blademakers before the Xet had destroyed Kemite's ancient homeland. Inside she'd find a matching pair of masterwork blades: a katana and wakizashi matched perfectly to the elf's size and reach. Each blade's folded steel - light and strong - was stamped with a rising phoenix. The wakizashi's edge was gilded with silver; a ward against the undead she hunted.

OOC: Feel free to adjust appearance to your liking. And +1 MP!
 
Primeheims! Primeheims! Merry Primeheims!

A time of the era that everyone knew, above land and below. A beautiful brightening to celebrate loved ones and friends and-

-gasp! Meridian darted up to the surface, eyes wide in wonder and excitement. Was it-? It was! “Snow! Mama, it’s snowing!” She shouted, twirling in circles as she burst with energy.

Another Mer, longer and a bit more slender with a few distinct features similar to a siren trailed up slowly behind her. [Indeed, my starfish. Do you recall your first snow?] her voice was deep and warm, soothing to the ears. She bore vivid bright coloring like her young daughter as the pair shone brightly beneath the falling white snowflakes.

[I do! Father took me up on his ship and we danced on the deck. It was so cold!] Meridian giggled, thinking back on that wonderful brightening. The smile faltered as she looked up at her mother, tears filling her wide, beady eyes. [I miss him.]

[I miss him as well.] Her webbed hand came up and wiped the tears from Meridian’s cheeks. [Do not cry on Primeheims, my starfish. He would not want you to be sad on this brightening.]

Meridian nodded, sniffling as she came into her mother’s comforting embrace. [Yes, mama.]

[Come. Let’s go and see how Gran is doing with the meal. I’ll race you.]

[You're on!] The Mer forced up a smile and both creatures raced back to their home along the ground floor of the ocean.
 
"And then they said his heart grew three sizes that day. Talk about unrealistic. That would kill him! There is only so much space in the chest cavity after all." Dr. Bones shook her head and rolled her eyes. The stories the kids tell nowadays. She wiggled her hands around in the tight warm confines for a better grip and pulled again. It was almost out. "Nothing that your cheating husband will have to worry about, Mrs. Higgins." The petite vixen squared her shoulders and yanked again. This time the wet, dripping mass of flesh and tissues that comprised the internal organ commonly referred to the heart, slid out of the hole in Mr. Higgins' chest, still faintly beating. Her arms matted in gore, the dorin moved quickly to clip off the severed arteries and jab a full Diffusor into the pulsing muscle. The heart, though outside the body, continued to beat.

"Kind of a strange gift, ma'am. If you don't mind me saying. I think the eyes are much prettier." Byxlle glanced at the disembodied heart before handing it over to Mrs. Higgins. "Now, remember to do exactly as I told you, and it'll last at least an era before I'll need to see it again. And don't worry about your husband. I'll fix him up rightly, real soon." Widow Higgins dropped the heart in a box with a big bow on the top and quietly left. The gift was slated for her, Mr. Higgins' "friend." The vixen sighed. Some customers just didn't know how to talk. Usually the ones with the "more creative" requests. Byxlle thought it was a great gift idea.

"It's almost as if they want to pretend they aren't dealing with a grafter." The plushie Miss Squishy pipped up from her corner in the operating room.
"I know, right! People are weird."
"As long as we get paid."
"That's what is most important. ... And cake."
"Why yes, of course. Happy Primehiems, Dr. Bones."
"Yes. Happy Primehiems, Miss Squishy." The vixen tried to wipe off some of the excess gore from her fur and apron before she took a sip of champagne. Holidays were great. She could really get to know people on the inside. Speaking of which. "So then. Who's our next patient?"
 

​

Primehiems, a time whereby families gather to have a meal toegther and spend time together. So it is for Kate to spend time with her family. However, every time Kate had a meal with her parents, Kate always has apprehension. This sense of apprehension would become greater as time went by.

The reason was simple, Kate was trying to make her own living and moved out of the family house. Kate explored her interest. She had interest in painting and sculpting. So far, she had no progress. This created stress as her parents had called for her to move back and they could provide further guidance. The fact that her father came up with the money for her to get a small house provide more pressure on her.

The only thing that was in Kate's favor was that she seemed to have some talent in Ikos. That somewhat gave Kate's mother some time to give Kate more time on her. Kate also stayed nearby was another factor that helped Kate to persuade her parents to lessen the pressure.

At the end of the meal, Kate spend some time interacting with her parents, discussing the techniques involved in painting and sculpting. They gave Kate some more tips. Her mother also went through some Ikos and enquired about Kate's practice in Ikos. There was some hints behind why the Smudgenose always had the female practiced Ikos. Kate did not push her mother for more. She had tried and her mother always said that when the time comes, Kate would know.

After the meal, Kate went to her house and pondered upon her future once more.
 
Meridian

How does Saint Noel wrap presents for a mer? Carefully of course! As Meridian swam into her room, she'd find a trident wrapped in a narrow length of fishing net decorated with Primeheims ornaments. The trident was a work of art; the three bladed prongs of the trident emerging from a moray eel's mouth, a long handle made of light elvish steel and inscribed with fish scales, and a balance weight carved like the eel's tail curled around a sapphire. It was beautifully balanced and perfectly suited for a friendly treasure hunter!

OOC: And +1 MP!

Byxlle

A medical professional such as Bryxlle couldn't exactly take Primeheims off! Accidents and mishaps waited for no holiday. But as she returned home to her family and a meal by the fireplace, Byxlle would find herself stumbling across a black leather gladstone bag with a big red bow and a tag that read: For Dr. Bones. On opening the bag, Byxlle would find a grafter's toolkit that - while plain in appearance - was of the highest quality of craftsmanship. A bone-saw with sharp teeth that could saw through a troll's femur. Shears that could slice through a dracon's breastbone like leather. Needles as sharp as a politician's smile. Anything and everything she'd need to gather specimens and perform field grafts, all in one handy bag.

OOC: And +1 MP!

Kate

Down the chimney came good (citation very much needed) Saint Noel! A package appeared as if by magic on Kate's bed; a large rectangular box wrapped in traditional red and green striped paper and tied with a big golden bow. Inside the Cether would find a repeating crossbow of gnomish design: the bow double-bent like a recurve bow, a small magazine that could hold five bolts, a lever in the back for reloading, and a pistol grip and trigger for firing. It was certainly less powerful than a normal crossbow (the acquaintance of an alchemist or some clever ikos runes were highly recommended!) but as for filling the air at short range with bolts? Incomparable.

OOC: And +1 MP!
 
"And what would you do then?" Baynard pinched the pipeweed with two calloused, round fingers.

"I would tell you," Ina's voice broke, "may the law of three tear me apart if it means I will find retribution for how you've crossed me." It was a rather wordy denouncement, even Ina could admit to that. She huffed a stray piece of hair from her face and it fell haphazardly back to her cheek, dry as the straw that lined her cot.

"And why would you spend energy on that, Ina?" Baynard's voice was tired and edged with mild irritation. His hair sprouted wildly out of the two sides of his head, but Ina would always find this a comfort.

"Because you infuriate me."

“Good.” Baynard took a long puff from his pipe, the kind of breath that drew laboriously slow. “That means I still own you.” He reclined casually against the back of the velvet chair. “Let that be a reminder to you, Delina.”

Ina snatched the cards off the table. Their time with them was over, but she'd shuffle them anyway.

"What is the point in all this if I can still beat you in these mundane psychological games? You will be better."

"I do not know how." Ina was not a talent. She knew how to identify plants and read cards. Not this.

“The strongest drug that ever might exist for a human being,” Baynard said, pushing the pipe weed down, “is another human being.” He took another long puff, and the smoke from swirled and danced in carefree trails. “You must learn to detach yourself from these addictions, mexr. Only then will they not hold power over you.”

“And then I will leave you Sizbax. And what will come of you then?”

“Yes.” He replied. “And what a brightening worth rejoicing when it comes.” He crossed his leg in a square over his lap. “But it is Primehiems, mexr. Let us check the stoop for what Saint Noel has brought us."
 
Haku had no good memories of Primeheims, his youth had been spent in the refugee camps amongst the desperate masses fleeing the Xet and the darkness, or wandering from port to port, sleeping where he could and fighting for whatever scraps he could get. It was only the the care of the woman he called grandmother that had kept him alive during that time and once he was old enough she had sold him to a Whaling ship captain.

For the whaling crews Primeheims meant the start of their season, soon the ice that locked the northern sea would melt and the ships would set out to follow the paths of the migrating sea mammals. Haku would be put to work, stowing the rope coils, bing the harpoon heads to their long shafts and ensuring chuckers were primed and proper, before setting out for the long cold watches when a spout or a rising fluke would be seen and the long boats would be put out in pursuit.

Now, sitting at the tiller of a boat on the Eunesian Sea, making his way from Tulos to the Arium coast, the tattooed pirate wondered just what Primeheims might offer him now that he was free …
 
Ina

If he were a more wrathful deity, Saint Noel may've taken offense to his name taken in vain. The stoop contained just mundane gifts; the run-of-the-mill gifts that spoke more of human kindness and decency than the ethereal. But when Ina lay down to that sleep, sweeping her hand under her pillow, she'd find her true gift: a beautiful ring of white gold with a large, oval bezel crafted around a flat emerald. The jewel were surrounded by constellations writ small: the Hare, the Bear, The Wings. A clever mechanism - a scroll on the outer edge, could be shifted ever so slightly to allow a discreet poisoner to slip a dose of poison into an unsuspecting target's drink or meal.

OOC: And +1 MP!

Haku

What was this floating by!? Saint Noel had left a long package wrapped in whaleskin adrift; secured by a small length of rope to a very festive bouy. On snagging the decorated barrel and unwrapping the package, Haku would find a trio of masterwork bone harpoons. Their "blades" (so to speak) was crafted from a large bone that belonged to deep-sea monster - large and broad, scrimshawed with scenes of whaling and the sea, and with a long jagged hook so it'd stick into a whale's muscle. The poles were long and straight; more utilitarian than the harpoon heads. At the bottom of the spear, he'd find a length of strong, thin rope that would serve him well through many a whale (or something bigger!) hunt.

OOC: And +1 MP!
 
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