Armor and Armaments (Pre-Veil & GF'd)

[Eir'helm Mithania]

17th of Cryxatum. Spring

Things were a mess. The young elf’s world felt ready to just topple, and though his father had driven the last wedge between them there was a little peace to be found. Once where Eir’helm would dance and indulge till the early light of the day now he spent his body in another way. Most days he would spend at least some time, mornings as the baron preferred, working in the forge and attached foundry.

The heat and heavy lifting was slowly helping to tone the bard where his past habits never could. On occasion he’d return home at midday just to sleep the day away and recover. It was easier to waste himself on work then think about what was happening on all sides in Silrosia. On occasion he’d even just spend the night in the back store room on the bedding hidden away there.

The human’s wife was a charming sort, and the young Mithania had, on more then one occasion joined her in the city markets. He would go to help her sample the fair, carry items and perhaps even barter with the merchants. The ‘son of a dwarf’ had a loyal apprentice and among the calm of the forge Eir’helm hadn’t complained. He had been given the chance to experiment on his own, apply what he learned of the base materials, and even produced a few simple crafts, but in the end one grew or died.

It was mid-cycle when the human had one of his rare bouts of temper. He started yelling, curing out everything that was born with ‘pointy ears’. It was all for the sake of some little ‘elf made’ political choice regarding trade that the once merchant prince took personal offence to. Work slowed to a standstill, and everyone had been sent off, everyone except the one elf who had managed to worm his way into the shop.

Master Reganzi had a few choice words for that one.

“I’m not stupid, you know that right?”

“Yes master.” Eir’helm responded respectfully and honestly, half expecting what was going to come next.

“I know perfectly well how you buttered up my wife to get her on your side. I can say I was never pleased by that, quite the opposite. It shows that you have the same conniving underbelly as every other elf in this city and I don’t like that.”

“Yes master...” the bard responded softly, pausing as he was explained by the human, pausing before he offered to leave “... if you like I’ll leave.”

“No, it’s not needed. You might have the double-faced skill of your kin but you have a clue, you came to learn from me. I assume you knew I was the best and wanted to learn from the best, and I can understand that. You seem to have wits enough to know quality and aren’t as lazy or stupid as I had expected. You surprised me.”

“Thank you?” He asked, honestly not sure if it was a compliment.

“You’ve been here, what? Two cycles?”

“Nearly that, yes.”

“And has anyone actually shown you how to make a sword, armor or the like? Someone has taken a few minutes correct? If I needed you to do this work for me, could you?”

“No master.” Eir’helm responded, only to draw out an annoyed sigh from his teacher. Clearly he was a tad annoyed, but had no option but to try and correct the situation.

“Fine then, suppose that means I should. If you are going to go to the effort you have, I may as well do it myself. We’ll start with something easy, chain mail. Get a hammer wait by the anvil; I’ll get some steel lengths.”

He wandered off, leaving Eir’helm to wait for the show to start.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

“I’m sure you’ve seen ring mail before. It’s just armor made out of a lot of little interlocking loops, and while most people aren’t smart enough to realize it there are a fair few variations on the same type of armor. Lets start simple, to the west there is a variation you may well run into sooner or later. It involves rings like all the others, but the difference is the use of these central rings.”

John went about drawing a ring on his open palm after he set down the uncut strands of processed and drawn steel. Then, he went to show four lines coming from the ring, connecting links. “Each of these primary links is hooked into four other links, which only connect to other primary links. I suppose you could make a pattern hooking it into three, some people do, but its usefulness as armor is much reduced. Thing is, these tend to be a little easier and cheaper to produce, so sometimes even the legion will outfit soldiers with this style if funds are tight.”

”Stupid sword swingers sometimes buy this style of chain without knowing any better. It is light, so can be a benefit to scouts or archers, and tends to create less noise, so has its uses. In a real battle though, don’t get stuck wearing it.”

He paused for a moment, making sure that the elf was indeed following along, and as soon as he went quiet a question popped out from Eir’helm. “Can other, cheaper metals be used in the connecting links? I mean, they will take less weight from any blows, wouldn’t they?”

“You could do that, but it had better not be for a friend you plan to keep alive long.”

“Oh... and stronger chain mails?”

[Eir'helm Mithania]

“Stronger chain? Fine, same basic idea, just interwoven links, but here there are no central rings. You start with a row of links going across. One link on top of the next, but not connected. Then you try a row above and below, bending and bring the links together. Each link should still be connected to four others, in the upper and lower corners or matching rows of rings.”

He showed the bard again on his hand, taking time to draw out the rings, using a little spit to make the image in the ash the fires had caked on. “Another thing you need to keep in mind is how you connect the links. I have always found that passing the top ring under and then over works well, but it doesn’t really matter.”

“What does matter is that you keep it uniform for the armor. Yes you’re going to alternate from row to row and that’s fine, but if you make a mistake in your pattern you can create stress points. A poorly set link can add extra pressure on the connected links if struck hard enough.”

“It’s true a blow like that would likely kill a person, but well, if you’re going to make something make it right.”

“You, you’re going to have some time to do just that, make it, and make it right.”

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Taking up one of the thinly drawn lengths of steel the elf looked it over closely. He took a moment to observe each of the two sides before extending the metal into the fire to let it heat. Waiting the elf prepared a round shaft to shape the links to, and as he pulled the steel out again set to hammering the metal into the intended ring. It was hammered together as solidly as he could manage and cut from the remaining material. The next ring was made, then another, and another, until he had the single row ready. Then came the difficult part, and as he started a row of rings above Eir’helm had to take his time to try and hook the first link into the two below. He tried to have the rings running opposite the first set but it was a difficult thing for one to adjust to, and the baron, after the first few quiet candle marks of watching he set off home, leaving the boy to work.

There was only the instruction that Eir’helm have the fires set early in the next morning.

Left alone, the youth worked well into the darkening. He created two small samples one of the supposedly kermite design and one of the four linked to each link, that was apparently the norm.

It wasn’t pretty, and going over the two works they both had a fair few flaws, but it was a start. Prying links apart and trying to reset them helped a little too, though the next brightening his master could see where corrections had been made easily enough.

With the morning each one was looked over.

“I’ve seen worse, but then I’ve seen a goblin trying to make chain mail so maybe that doesn’t mean much. You had an easier time with the lighter armor, but that’s expected. Next thing for you to try is going to be banded mail, but I want you to spend the next few brightenings in your spare time to get a chain shirt done. I’d suggest you get the practice with the harder design, but it’s your choice. After that, we are going to be setting a number of metal bands across the front.”

“It’s a step down from real plate mail, but it moves a little better. Problem is that banded mail also tends to wear out if you wear it a lot. The bands rub against each other, and it causes them wear and tear.”

With a little shrug Baron Reganzi left Eir’helm to his own devices for a few minutes, before the call went out.

“Get to the bellows boy!”

[Eir'helm Mithania]

It took Eir’helm a few days, and a few ugly mistakes before he was able to get anything like a real chain shirt done for himself. It was however for him, even though he had limited interest in ever being stabbed or beaten the armor had been tailored for him and the elf wore it proudly that day it was finished.

He just didn’t wear it for long, the damn thing was uncomfortable.

Once he was done though, and managed to pull it off, there was the matter of bands. Now, far as Eir’helm figured it would likely have been easiest to start with a steel band and punch a few holes in it to feed the rings through that would bind it to the chain. Doing just that the elf went to find something suitable, but not finding anything pre-made was forced to actually pour a few simple copper casts in sand for his purposes. Perhaps it wouldn’t last forever, and likely wouldn’t take too many blows, but then, he didn’t plan to test it in person.

Hammering a few little holes into the solid but reheated metal Eir’helm was left with nearly a dozen lengths, each of which was carefully attached to his chain mail with a iron ring.

In all, it was done over the span of a few days and he was feeling rather good about the results. Eir’helm was very happy with the simple fact that he had made banded armor, and with minimal help at that. Oh yes, he was very proud with himself, standing outside the forge fists on his hips and posing in the sunlight. Sure, maybe things sucked, and life was a mess, but his chest was shinny. With a shinny chest in mind the eccentric bard stood outside, trying to bounce rays of light off his copper bands and into the eyes of those who wandered by.

He was pondering the use of shinny things in making armor, and how pretty he likely looked, though his face was caked with soot, when someone slapped him upside the head.

“It’s fine and good, it’s good armor, but where’s that clay I told you to get?”

“Err... I was working on my armor... I forgot...” Eir’helm responded sheepishly.

“You use my steel, my copper, my forge and you forget my clay?” The human yelled “Get down to the shore and get me a couple hundred pounds now!”

One very public and unforgiving kick to the arse later, Eir’helm was sent running for the waterfront. Sure he’d be covered in soot and clay before the brightening was over, but he enjoyed the work, even if dragging clay though Silrosia wasn’t glamorous.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

He slept in the forge’s back room that darkening. One needed the strength to stand if they wanted to walk, and they needed the strength to walk if they wanted to walk home. He didn’t have the strength to do any of those, so he hovered in the back, a candle for light as he poured over some notes on different styles of armor that were drawn up for him.

Eir’helm read over the notes, the messy scribbles on dirty paper and nibbled on biscuits the lady Reganzi had supposedly made, biscuits and jam. He was still wearing his armor, and had worn it all day down on the beach, though showing off the finest woven robes. In truth though, he was too damn tired to take it off now.

Eir’helm read over the papers, paying special attention to the part on leaf mail and its many little overlapping scales. The next brightening, if he could find a little time he promised himself he’d melt down the copper bands and start making some scales. Plate however, that looked a little intimidating, though as the day’s weight took its toll his eyes kept drifting shut.

He was too tired to stay awake, and blowing out the candle, he went to sleep.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

“Eir’helm!” Someone poked the elf in the chest, seemingly checking to see if he was actually alive.

“Eir’helm it’s midday, Reganzi is outside and has been working most of the day, we let you sleep but he wants you up now. He said that there is something he wants to show you. Come on!” With another sharp prod, the human left, letting one very dirty and half-asleep elf stumble out on his own a few minutes later.

It had been one of the worst night’s sleeps he had ever had. It was worst then that time he fell asleep naked in the Imperia graveyard, worse then that time in Daltina, and there was a simple rule for the future; take the armor off. Still, he was up, if you could call the zombie like state awake.

Eir’helm stumbled out, still wearing his banded mail. He was covered in soot and clay, and dotted with the rare biscuit crumb, but didn’t say a word as he walked up beside the baron. When he got there though the only thing from his mouth was a low moan, more a animal’s grunt then intelligent word. John however had a secret to share with his ghoulish apprentice. Before them were two clay pots, each one little larger then a man’s head. One was white hot and covered with a glassy surface and the other was half filled with processes steel.

“Here” The human said softly, looking about to make sure that no one else was watching “This is something that will honestly set you a mark above so many of the others of our craft. When filtering the steel, use glass in the clay pots, the clay will help catch impurities in the metal as it floats to the top. The smaller the container the better too, it can breathe a little through the clay, assuming it isn’t too thick.”

“Oh, and the glass, you want the best quality you can find. I tend to use clear glass shattered into dust, imported from out of province, but you can reuse it a few times; if you remelt it and clean it right.”

“Anyways, you look like a half breed necrosan, go home, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

With a slight grunt, a growl and soft moan the elf wandered home.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Eir’helm had received a short note later that brightening, only a few lines, telling him to be back to the forge at midday to follow. There was seemingly work to do, some task that demanded all of their attention, but he took the brightening to rest. The bard slept, relaxed and took quiet refuge in his music. He let the day prior slowly melt away with song and sleep, and as his strength returned he visited the woods. Eir’helm wandered the forest and moved out towards the hot springs, sparing with his shadow as he went.

After a few hours soaking it was time to head back. He was clean, stronger, and very much himself, and while it hadn’t been called for, he went back to the forge that darkening. Securing a key a cycle before so he could open and light the fires, Eir’helm went to work on his own.

Lighting one fire near the anvil he set to trying to prying off the bands. After close to an hour fighting with opening the rings to let the strips fall, the half-dozen belts of copper were placed into a crucible to be melted down.

Leaving the fire to work on the bands, he was forced to scheme the scales. Scale mail was seemingly superior, so, the simple matter was how was one supposed to make the best scales?

It was true that he could bend and cut it out of the copper, but it was such a long, bothersome process. He opted for the easier way; casting. Taking the time to search the store room, half expecting he’d need to use sand to make a mold of sorts, there was a wondrous time saving tool. To the side, in a shelf of steel, was a number of reusable molds and among them a beautiful plaster imprint of leaves. They looked like real leaves, almost, with the little veins and all. By pouring a few drops into each of the shapes he could make a few dozen of the scales, which even included small holes in the upper corners where rings could be fed to bind it to a chain shirt.

Carefully taking the new find out, out to the forge proper, the heavy set frame was placed on the wooden work table, and then he waited.

He was forgetting something. Did someone say something about treating such a die? He could hardly recall. Part of him said grease; that he should grease the pan, but then that seemed more suitable for baking bread. Another little voice said ash, a dusting of soot, and he went with that, though it may have only been intended for use with iron and not copper.

Either way, little more then an hour later the metal was being poured.

This would likely make a good gift for that half elf brother, with a mother like his he could likely use the protection.

Then, after putting out the fire Eir’helm locked up for the darkening.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

It was midday when the call went out from the forge and foundry’s master. “A dear friend of mine has a birthday fast approaching. I intend to celebrate it well, with a gift fitting a king, with a sword and breastplate as fine a quality as any this empire has ever seen.”

“You two will be serving in this, and I intend to see the both of you here till I say we are done. My wife will be sending meals and there is bedding enough in the back.”

“Eir’helm, get to melting a few dozen crowns down, Isaac, find for me a suitable length of steel of what we poured yesterday for a sword, and start a fire to melt four more lengths.”

Tasks were handed out quickly enough as the baron himself pulled a messy scrap of paper from one of his pockets and unfolded it out onto the central work bench. On it was a design for a gold and ivory laid blade, a sword marked by a crest Eir’helm didn’t know to see. He didn’t have much time to study it though before getting a flick to his pointed ear and pointed back to his job.

Not saying a word though the youth charged off, to set the crowns in a container among the fire. Soon enough they’d have his molten gold. Finishing that, Eir’helm went to watch Reganzi with his steel in one hand and a hammer in the other. As the master noticed his audience he had only a few things to share.

“The metal needs to be heated, red hot to make it shapeable. Then you hammer the length, hard but evenly, being sure that the strikes overlay. Do this down the blade, adding a little more pressure to one side as you go. Then you fold it, and alternate the pattern with the hammer. Once folded and solidly beaten together, you cool it in water, helping to make the sword harder. As you go you flatten the metal again so it can be folded again, though any more then four or five folds tends to be needless.”

“You can see if and how a sword was shaped, you can even see how skilled its maker was by the waves the hammer strikes can create in the finished product. Most people don’t take the time to look that close though, you should.”

“You should also go get your arse to making me some chain-mail so we can use it under the plate.” He hinted as only a human could, to which, Eir’helm gave a nod and did as told.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Working on the chain he was told to make Eir’helm would glance back to the human and his sword every so often with a marked curiosity. After a hour or two though the elf had something finished, though it was only the top section, enough to perhaps cover the shoulders, though the neck hadn’t been closed over for the simple fact that no one had said what the wearers stature was like. Because of that Eir’helm had to stop for a moment.

He wandered back over to look at the messy writing and drawings that were their intended plans. Cocking his head to one side, and then the other, it didn’t really suggest the size of the man who’d don the armor. With no other choice he had to go ask.

“Master, how large is the man who’ll be wearing this?”

John had to pause then himself as the important but simple part of information had gone unnoticed by him. Then, with a shrug, he said “My size, a little taller, but come here; my arm’s getting tired.”

Passing the hammer off to Eir’helm, the baron stood to the side watching his apprentice trying to flatten the edge, solidifying the folded metal by force and heat. “Keep it straight, I need to take a piss.”

Left alone Eir’helm took his time hoping the human would hurry. He didn’t, and even when he did come back it was just to watch. “You’re doing fine, but we’re going to need to carve out that pattern on both sides. Doesn’t need to be perfect, just the best you can. I’ll hold it, you make the imprint, and a few holes through the center at points.”

“We’ll fill it with the gold.”

It was poured one side at a time, while the other was set into a simple mold to help the gold inlay keep the swords shape. They were heated though so the metal would all cool together, seemingly to help avoid it from pulling apart from the temperature differences.

“There is a certain rule to keep in mind; the finer the blade and edge the more fragile you’ll find it tends to be.”

[Eir'helm Mithania]

That was it. The three did little more then that, folding a sword a dozen times, setting a gold pattern into the blade, and creating half of a suit of chain, the under layer for the plate to come. They worked for the day through, and into the darkening, and while the baron retired home for the darkening his students were left to stay with the forge. Eir’helm and the other human were left to eat, and sleep in the small back room.

There was a little discussion, mostly the human asking about Moonwillow; it was a topic Eir’helm didn’t want to go in to. The human kept asking stupid, uncomfortable questions, and in the dark Eir’helm was quiet. He didn’t want to talk about his father, or what home was like. He quietly cried himself to sleep.

Eir’helm woke up with the sun. His skin was smeared back and his cheeks were marked were tears had washed away the filth; not that the youth noticed. He simply woke and went to work, lighting the fires for the day.

A few candlemarks later the master Reganzi arrived, with food for the two. They ate bread, fruit and hardboiled eggs and talked about the day to come and the plans he had made in the darkening.

Eir’helm had the sword to play with, the blade and a hand turned grinding machine. He got to hold the blade, gently running it across the edge of a spinning stone wheel as the other assistant turned the massive crank. It wasn’t complicated, but the bard was given the job of starting to create the true cutting edge. His directions were clear though; use the same pressure on both sides, all the way down the metal edge. It had to be balanced, even, and once he was done Reganzi promised to show him how one honed the bevel.

The work was careful, using a rough stone to pull off the extra material and bring the two sides together.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Smoothing the sword’s edge, the elf tried to focus on the simple task. He tried to keep his eyes and mind on the feel and sound of the metal on stone. There wasn’t much else in his world but the spinning stone and slowly developing blade, but then the haze lifted with a hand on his shoulder and a ladle at his lips.

“You awake?” The middle aged human asked as he held the water to his student’s lips.

“You seemed to fade out there, couldn’t talk to you. We need to change the wheel, and I need to explain a few things. We use different stones, the smoother the stone the finer it tends to shape the metal. Thing with swords, this one is solid right though, it’s a good blade but sometimes it’s best to put a softer material inside, hard but softer then this steel. It helps soak the shock of blows.”

“Anyways, go get some air and when you come back set another stone. Keep working on this” taking a little look at the sword though, a frown formed “but lighten up on the left side a hair.”

With that he went back to finishing, and fixing the chain Eir’helm had started.

It’d all be done by the darkening.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

The next brightening the three had finished the armor’s chain. Rings of gold were added to the expected steel rings, doubling up the layers on the odd links on the joints. They didn’t add much strength, but they looked good, and Eir’helm spent some time that morning watching the odd addition. He pondered the chance of significantly increasing an armor’s strength by increasing the number of linkages, but perhaps one’s main worry wasn’t the blade but the crushing of bones that came with a heavy blow.

Either way, he didn’t get as long to scheme as he might have liked. They were pushed into the workday. A hilt and pommel was added to the sword, and the plate was started.

Reganzi did much of the plate himself, leaving the two to sit off on their own.

With little else to do, Eir’helm went to work on his own little project. With the scales all made, the elf went to set them against the chain. Starting at the bottom he worked his way up, reaching the shoulders, and then starting again just over the upper arms.

It seemed their work was all but done. Reganzi went it on his own.

Eir’helm just finished his own little project.

For the next few brightenings things went quiet.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

It was only after a few days, a few days where the youth was 'stuck' shoeing horses until his hands were nearly raw and he stank like a human. It was a shame, an annoyance, but in truth, the bard enjoyed the honest work. He liked using his hands to make something, be it a song or a sword, and so even shoeing horses had its moments. That however gave way to something else; it was a few days after the handling of the horses that the baron returned, seemingly in a good mood.

He'd smiled from the moment he entered the workshop. It was odd to see the human in a good mood, but Eir'helm wasn't one to complain. When Reganzi was in a good mood it meant he was less likely to be sent to the shore to gather clay or sand. When Reganzi was in a good mood his students often got a little more attention. That was the case on this brightening and the roundish master. He had them doing real plate for themselves, hammering out the metal, shaping it to the intended body. It was as much an art as anything else, creating a sculpture that was worn by a man at war. Much of the cycle was spent doing just that. Making bits and pieces of plate armor, and all the while the point was driven home that testing had to be done.

No arrow could punch through armor of any decent quality, and that a man had to have a mark to make the armor his. The craft had to be a matter of pride, not just business. This could equip armies, but the true masters of their craft were artists and no two pieces were ever exactly the same.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Days and cycles turned into months and the bard stayed with the baron. He learned little things and developed the skills he'd managed thus far, smelting, smithing and casting. He worked as quietly as he could, using the workshop as a respite from the madness of the outside world, and little by little the bard developed. His build had changed. It was heavier now, a little less fluid, and a little more defined. His wares were improving, little by little. The creation of plate had been a chore, but as time passed, it only became easier and the ability to shape a piece for a wearer, easier.

He learned how to inlay copper, silver or gold into a weapon to add his own little decorations and in the end picked a marker for himself. Eir'helm started using a personal crest, a ring with four downward reaching lines on the inside, right hand side. It was for the damaged or lost in his family. It was a little reminder attached to the armor and weapons he made, though most of them were simply melted down again. Eir'helm wanted to be a master, and didn't let the weak work with his mark exist, not for long.

One suit of armor was sent to his half brother. Another was made, intended for his master Reganzi, for when he left.

It was in the late summer when Eir'helm gave it to the human, a parting gift, and half expecting it, was given a letter in return. There were no sign of affection, just a letter outlining the human's respect for the elf, regardless of his birth. Then, with a snort, Reganzi pointed out that Eir’helm had best be there early the next day. He wasn’t running off till he was excused, besides, there was a little work still to be done.