• Solo • ...and that is ex-sack-ly how it happened...

[Oram Mednix]

59 Ymiden 721

”For a humble hunter,” Osric observed, as he looked around his brother’s cluttered tent, ”you have an awful lot of stuff.” He kicked the nel-filled bag at the foot of Oram’s bed, which caused Choir to bristle, but Oram bid the wolf calm down; the hunter knew Os meant no ill. ”…and a fair amount of money, too, from the look of it,” the smith continued, still looking at the bugling sack. ”You really need to get rid of stuff you don’t need, and to better safeguard the things you do. Have you thought about putting some of that money in the bank?”

Oram was tempted to grumble something to the effect of: ”Yes, Signy”, but tamped down on it. Instead, he caught onto the last bit. ”The Bank? he asked. ”I know nothing about it. Do you know more?”

Osric shrugged. ”Not as much as my wife. You might ask her -and don’t look at me like that!” he added sharply. The older brother thought a bit. ”Perhaps you *should* talk to Signy about that. She’s from a merchant family; she probably understands as much about townie money matters as anybody else you know.”

Oram groused unhappily at that. Not because he thought it was a bad idea, but because he grudgingly saw that it was actually a good one. It was not, however, an idea he wanted a lecture on right now. ”I’ll think about that,” he said, trying to sound earnest to placate Os.

Osric had sense enough to know when his baby brother wanted to change the subject, but he didn’t let it go entirely. ”Please do. I mean it, Or.” He gestured around the tent. ”You may not have noticed, but you have something to lose now: reputation, responsibilities of office…” he nodded to the bag, ”and yes, wealth. And your neighbors know it.” The emphasis he placed on the last sentence unnerved Oram slightly. He didn’t like thinking about the possibility that someone he knew, like Clem or even Wig, might be tempted to rob him.

Oram sighed. ”Fine! I’ll talk to Signy.”

Os gave him a relieved smile. ”Please do. In fact, why don’t you stop by tomorrow, around midtrial?”

Wanting to end the conversation, or at least the topic, once and for all, Oram nodded and gave his best assurances.

”Right, I’ll tell Signy to expect you. Later, Or.” The tinker ducked through the tent door.

[Oram Mednix]

I wonder if that Container Store coupon is still good…

Oram let out another sigh once Osric was gone, as he sat down and started looking around the tent at all his accumulated “wealth”. He did have a lot of junk; the tinker had told it true. And it had been a while since Oram had needed to count his coins before buying basic supplies.

He wasn’t ready to deal with questions of coin and banks right now. But maybe he could go through some of his stuff to see what sorts of things he truly needed, and what things he didn’t. As he rifled through his odds and ends, he realized that he would need containers. Bins to sort things into, boxes and bags to pack and transport the items he wished to remove.

Some of those containers were already spoken for, of course, such as the crate his trap making tools and supplies had arrived in, or those for his books. Books he groaned. They were heavy, and he didn’t usually enjoy reading them. Yet, they were useful to have on hand for reference, and they were too expensive not to treat with care. Some of these crates were collapsed, and would need to be hammered back together, should the traveler ever need to use them again. Others contained interim things, including folded up sacks. Sacks he would unpack and…put other stuff into. He emptied one of the crates, spilling the bags onto the tent floor; dust and moth fragments wafted into the air as the sacks tumbled out silently. Oram began examining them one by one, grumbling as he tossed some of them aside; the moths had done some things before fragmenting.

One sack caught his attention. It was medium-sized, and seemingly untouched by moth or mold. It was not untouched by dirt, however, in fact, it was streaked on the outside with what looked to be wood ash, and the inside was fairly coated it in. Oram held the bag, frowning, puzzling over how it had come to be in this condition. He patted and flicked the sack a few times, licked his thumb and rubbed it on the ash experimentally. The ash did not want to come off. Unaccountably obsessed, the hunter persisted for several breaks, rubbing, wiping, shaking the bag in an effort to shake some of the ash loose, completely without results. He did not even have any black smudges on his fingers by the time he gave up.

Oram glared for some time at the stubbornly grimy bag, trying to figure out what could account for its state. Then, at least, he remembered. He recalled the sweltering, lava-filled chamber in the bowels of Faldrass; the air rippling and so hot it that breathing it was painful; the cracked, treacherous floor; the oddly out-of-place campsite in its midst; an ash-filled fire pit crowned by an abandoned cooking tripod; the stone glistening in the ash; the sack he used to transport it…

Cassion had given him a bag in which one might safely carry the otherwise dangerously and magically cold chainstone that he, Darius, and Yeva were to find. The traveler had given that bag in turn to Darius, and had thus had to improvise upon later finding a stone himself. This sack before him was not magical, so far as Oram knew; and yet, suitably filled with ash, it had born the chainstone the hunter had found without incident. And apart from these weirdly stubborn soot-stains, the bag seemed unmarred by the ordeal.

[Oram Mednix]

If you order now, Cassion will also include this oven mitt, absolutely free!

Supposedly, Oram now had, as a marked of Cassion, the ability to imbue items that had significant histories, items associated with important events from during his adventures and travels, with special powers. Could he do that with this bag, he wondered? First, he tried to put his mind in what he guessed was a suitably solemn and reverent mood. Holding the bag aloft, he intoned, feeling rather silly as he did so: ”Oh, Cassion, Man of the Roads, patron of my people, I dedicate this bag as a Souvenir, so that it may continue to hold otherwise dangerous items that I may handle and transport them safely, so that it will contain effects those items may otherwise emit, that would harm others”. He stopped. He’d probably been about to say “yea, verily” or something. He dismissed those thoughts; such worries about looking silly probably weren’t part of a suitably solemn and reverent mood, he guessed.

Oram took his knife and made a cut on his left thumb, deep enough to draw blood, wincing as he did so. When the blood came, he drew the thumb along the bag’s drawstring, smearing the red all along its length. It seemed like the sort of dramatic gesture Cassion would like. By the time he had cleaned off the knife and stanched the bleeding, the drawstring had changed. The blood smears had disappeared, but in their place, the string had taken on an oddly uniform reddish tinge it had not previously had.

Oram might have taken that as a sign that the dedication had worked, but he wanted to make sure. He did not have anything magical that would create intense heat or cold, but he did have the coals in his own firepit, and the warm teapot resting upon it. He knew already what the pot should feel like when handled by a cloth, so he decided to try with the bag. He placed the warm teapot carefully inside the bag, then gripped the ash-stained cloth firmly against the pot’s warm sides. He held it thus for several trills, then more. He could not sense any heat seeping through the fabric as he would if he were touching the teapot through a normal rag or bag.

The hunter then decided to try something slightly more daring. Turning the sack inside-out, he stuck his right hand into it and formed its floor around his fingers like a mitten. Reaching cautiously, he then held his bag-covered hand closer and closer to the hot coals, pausing from time to time to see what he felt. Although he could feel the warmth of the fire on his face, he could not feel it on his hand through the bag. Working up his courage, Oram then actually gripped one of the coals with his right hand. Nothing. He held it for several trills. Still nothing. Finally, he turned the bag right-side-out once more, wrapping it around the coal and closing its mouth. As soon as he did so, he could no longer feel its heat at all, not even on his face.

When, after a while, Oram emptied the coal out of the bag back into the fire, he found he could not see any signs of new charring on the inside of the bag. He looked carefully, turning the sack inside out once more to examine its interior closely. The bag was permanently lined with soot, but that soot looked faded, a shade lighter than fresh scorching. At last, the hunter satisfied himself that there was no additional charring from the coal he had just gripped with the bag.

The Sojourn could not know, from this limited test, whether the bag would protect against such magical effects as the chainstone had emitted, but that had been his intention. Until he could arrange a more stringent test, Oram would just have to trust in his abilities, and in his patron’s beneficence.

[Doran]

Oram:

Knowledge:
[Business Management] One can deposit money in a bank.
[Logistics] Organizing a quantity of stuff requires sufficient and suitable containers.
[Meditation] Adopting a solemn and reverent frame of mind before performing a ceremony or ritual.
[Sojourn Ability] Souvenir: Souvenirs need a suitable act of dedication by the Sojourn.
[Sojourn Ability] Souvenir: must have some special personal significance to the Sojourn.
[Sojourn Ability] Souvenir: Can be an item associated with the Sojourn’s past adventures and travels.

Loot: Insulated “Forge” Bag
Lost: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: A small cut on Oram's left thumb that should heal quickly.
Renown: -
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 10

- - -

Comments: I really enjoyed the first post where Osric talked to Oram and observed that he had an awful lot of stuff for a humble hunter. I liked the dynamic between Oram and Oscric (and Signy). I wonder if Oram’s neighbours would really take Oram’s stuff though as Osric implied though. Either way, talking to Signy and putting his money into the bank might be a good idea!

I wonder if he’ll eventually do it …

I like that you subsequently described Oram looking at all of his stuff as that makes it obvious that he really does have a lot. I wondered where he’d find the souvenir mentioned in the review request. I have to admit, I like the fact that it was just among his collection of sacks!

It’s a great souvenir in my opinion, and I like that you combined the process of dedicating it with a prayer to Cassion. I also appreciate that Oram decided to see if it really worked!

All in all, this was a very entertaining thread!

Enjoy your rewards!