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21-03-07, 02:57 PM

Treasured are the skills of those that can turn simple materials into complicated tools, goods to simplify life, weapons or any other things that the human mind can devise and hands can craft. Famous are those that become masters of their art, whose sign on a ware is a mark of quality and value.

Far to the east the crafters bustle und the searing desert sun, making space and plans for the construction of new wagons. Many things will be needed and frowns cross their face as the lists grow longer with every passing moment. Plenty are the needs of men, yet scarce the supply of goods in such a wild land, where towns and traders, crafters and gatherers are scattered and few.

Still they make new discoveries, devise new things and brood on new inventions; for the human mind loves to see the fruits of his labour grow and shine at the end of a day. Some go further still, enjoying with childlike glee to try and tinker, to play with what they find and make things work. A simple stone, a heap of ore, can make their minds forget the world and set to work on prying out its secret, its use and its weakness. As soon as the gypsies arrived with their samples or ore and stone the Citadel began to hustle and bustle like a heap of ants. Tests were made, samples hammered, heated, dunked, pinched, pierced and tasted, broken and reassembled, twisted and turned, cursed and praised.

To the west, the inhabitants of the Forest Home set to work as well, trading ores for bows and arrows, fresh supplies and even a falcon for the hunt. And having waited long for new materials their crafters, too, set to work on making new knifes, heads for arrows and spears, nails and bolts. The gypsies laugh and sing and remain to spend the night, another celebration staring around roaring fires, roasted meat and casks of ale. On the morrow they shall wake with sore heads like their brothers and sisters that left the Pass today to return home, still thinking of the great feast the night before.

Only in the south do the nimble hands of miners and crafters rest as they stand before the yawning mouth of the Lakeshire mines, daring not to set a foot into the darkness that claimed not one, but two of them by now. They who live from the treasures of the earth now fear its embrace. Such is the fate of those who know how to craft: that their goods are used by all, yet that they need the help of all to make their goods at times.

Game meeting tonight at 7:45pm GMT in the Trinsic tavern.

21-03-07, 02:57 PM	#11 (permalink)
Ariss Guest Posts: n/a	Day 10 - First Moves Treasured are the skills of those that can turn simple materials into complicated tools, goods to simplify life, weapons or any other things that the human mind can devise and hands can craft. Famous are those that become masters of their art, whose sign on a ware is a mark of quality and value. Far to the east the crafters bustle und the searing desert sun, making space and plans for the construction of new wagons. Many things will be needed and frowns cross their face as the lists grow longer with every passing moment. Plenty are the needs of men, yet scarce the supply of goods in such a wild land, where towns and traders, crafters and gatherers are scattered and few. Still they make new discoveries, devise new things and brood on new inventions; for the human mind loves to see the fruits of his labour grow and shine at the end of a day. Some go further still, enjoying with childlike glee to try and tinker, to play with what they find and make things work. A simple stone, a heap of ore, can make their minds forget the world and set to work on prying out its secret, its use and its weakness. As soon as the gypsies arrived with their samples or ore and stone the Citadel began to hustle and bustle like a heap of ants. Tests were made, samples hammered, heated, dunked, pinched, pierced and tasted, broken and reassembled, twisted and turned, cursed and praised. To the west, the inhabitants of the Forest Home set to work as well, trading ores for bows and arrows, fresh supplies and even a falcon for the hunt. And having waited long for new materials their crafters, too, set to work on making new knifes, heads for arrows and spears, nails and bolts. The gypsies laugh and sing and remain to spend the night, another celebration staring around roaring fires, roasted meat and casks of ale. On the morrow they shall wake with sore heads like their brothers and sisters that left the Pass today to return home, still thinking of the great feast the night before. Only in the south do the nimble hands of miners and crafters rest as they stand before the yawning mouth of the Lakeshire mines, daring not to set a foot into the darkness that claimed not one, but two of them by now. They who live from the treasures of the earth now fear its embrace. Such is the fate of those who know how to craft: that their goods are used by all, yet that they need the help of all to make their goods at times. Game meeting tonight at 7:45pm GMT in the Trinsic tavern.