Token Making
Mar. 18th, 2011 12:07 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kathminchin.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadowsInspired by the downtime reply I got from James
I hummed to myself as I slipped past the wards on the hollow; and slipped into the welcoming warmth of the main room. I hung my bright red hat up on the hook; and opened my bag to decant the supplies from my foray into the market.
The hob I had been dealing with only ever dealt with you fairly if you wore a red hat. No one knew why; except possibly Jack Door; and if he did he wasn’t letting that secret out. By knowing the trick I’d managed to trade the jar of eyeballs I’d carefully saved from non-venomous hedge beasts for a flint bladed knife. Three plastic bags, a length of nylon rope and the shell casing of a butter bean had been exchanged with another hob; whose name was unpronounceable unless you had the ability to change your vocal cords into those of a frog; for a “genuine piece of elfshot.” I had my doubts about it being actual elf shot; I suspected that it was actually a stone age arrow head; but it wasn’t important. It would do for what I needed it.
No one else was home so I didn’t feel guilty about shedding my skirts and clambering up into my workshop. I picked through the fetch corpse until I found a piece that was big and strong enough and settled in the web that served as a seat with the knife; the chunk of wood and my template.
Once the carving was complete the trick was to make it as hard as metal or flint; and capable of keeping an edge. A combination of ash made by burning the wood from a stab apple tree; oil from three glamour fruit and sandpaper made from the hide of a hedge shark (which swam through the thorns without water – go figure) rubbed in over the next two weeks gradually changed the colour from pale brown to slate grey; and gave it the sheen of freshly broken flint. When I was finally satisfied I carefully sharpened it and nodded in satisfaction.
More stab apple wood. For a tree that grew practically inedible fruits; although the thorns could be useful; the wood burnt beautifully with a long; low flame that kept going for hours. The main problem was getting the damn stuff to light in the first place. I layered the faggots into the old pot bellied cast iron stove and coaxed the fire into life with a smidgeon of elemental fire, and a lot of puffing. One day I was going to learn some elemental contracts to help with this stage. Eventually the middle caught and gradually the glow spread through the sticks until they were all glowing dull orange. I straightened up and clicked my limbs out one by one (and that takes a long time when you’ve got eight legs); and then arched my back until my spine cracked. A quick rotation of my neck and I was ready for the penultimate stage.
I laid out the equipment for the next stage and grimaced. The arrowhead was nestled in a small metal dish. Next to it was a skein of silk and a sharp scalpel sat in a dish of antiseptic; and then a jam jar covered in a disc of waxed paper tied tightly with red thread.
For some reason there was a lack of battlefields steeped in blood in the Hedge right now. There were two ways to make a Hungry Arrow. The first was to leave an arrow head; preferably shot into someone; buried on a battlefield for a few months. In the Hedge it would absorb the blood and pain; to become a thing capable of transferring that pain and damage to another victim.
So the second was to try to recreate the battlefield in a workshop. So ash and oil, sweat and power – and then blood. This one however was to be the more effective version and this was where I had a bit of an advantage. Most token makers needing venom would have to hunt in the Hedge (or get someone else to and pay them) to track down one of the poisonous creatures or plants (easy) and collect the poison (less easy.)
In my case I just needed to milk my own fangs. I bit through the waxed paper and let the poison cascade down the glass sides for a full ten minutes. I looked at the viscous liquid critically; tilting the jar so that the light reflected off the green shimmer. I’d managed to half fill the jar which would hopefully be enough. I licked my lips and picked up the skein of silk.
I wound the silk around my upper arm and watched as a vein plumped up. I took a deep breath, picked up the scalpel and made a careful nick to allow the blood to trickle into the jar and mix with the venom. It pooled sluggishly through the green and swirled gently.
Eventually the jar was almost full, and I swayed slightly, feeling light headed. I took several deep breaths before I was able to pick up the jar lid and twist it closed. I shook the jar vigorously and then carefully poured the mix over the arrow; before sliding the tray into the stove. I gave the fire a quick poke and then descended from my lair to the kitchen where I found that Lorcan had put the kettle on the fire and then fallen asleep in the chair. I made myself a cup of tea; ladling in sugar and then opened the box of chocolate biscuits I’d made sure to buy in.
The arrow would need more blood and venom before it was finished; baked into the fabric of the token; interspersed with the juice of another glamour fruit or two. I made a mental note that liver and onions for supper would probably be a good plan; but for now chocolate and sugar would suffice.
Two months of baking in blood and venom and the arrow was complete. Now the flint grey was veined in red and green; and the edges were razor sharp. Nestled in a velvet bag I put it in a small cardboard box. Labeled with the name of the recipient (a certain Gristle grinder in Birmingham) I smiled and looked at the second I'd made.
Two tokens for the price of one. Now I would be able to look at my next project … hopefully this one would use less blood.
I hummed to myself as I slipped past the wards on the hollow; and slipped into the welcoming warmth of the main room. I hung my bright red hat up on the hook; and opened my bag to decant the supplies from my foray into the market.
The hob I had been dealing with only ever dealt with you fairly if you wore a red hat. No one knew why; except possibly Jack Door; and if he did he wasn’t letting that secret out. By knowing the trick I’d managed to trade the jar of eyeballs I’d carefully saved from non-venomous hedge beasts for a flint bladed knife. Three plastic bags, a length of nylon rope and the shell casing of a butter bean had been exchanged with another hob; whose name was unpronounceable unless you had the ability to change your vocal cords into those of a frog; for a “genuine piece of elfshot.” I had my doubts about it being actual elf shot; I suspected that it was actually a stone age arrow head; but it wasn’t important. It would do for what I needed it.
No one else was home so I didn’t feel guilty about shedding my skirts and clambering up into my workshop. I picked through the fetch corpse until I found a piece that was big and strong enough and settled in the web that served as a seat with the knife; the chunk of wood and my template.
Once the carving was complete the trick was to make it as hard as metal or flint; and capable of keeping an edge. A combination of ash made by burning the wood from a stab apple tree; oil from three glamour fruit and sandpaper made from the hide of a hedge shark (which swam through the thorns without water – go figure) rubbed in over the next two weeks gradually changed the colour from pale brown to slate grey; and gave it the sheen of freshly broken flint. When I was finally satisfied I carefully sharpened it and nodded in satisfaction.
More stab apple wood. For a tree that grew practically inedible fruits; although the thorns could be useful; the wood burnt beautifully with a long; low flame that kept going for hours. The main problem was getting the damn stuff to light in the first place. I layered the faggots into the old pot bellied cast iron stove and coaxed the fire into life with a smidgeon of elemental fire, and a lot of puffing. One day I was going to learn some elemental contracts to help with this stage. Eventually the middle caught and gradually the glow spread through the sticks until they were all glowing dull orange. I straightened up and clicked my limbs out one by one (and that takes a long time when you’ve got eight legs); and then arched my back until my spine cracked. A quick rotation of my neck and I was ready for the penultimate stage.
I laid out the equipment for the next stage and grimaced. The arrowhead was nestled in a small metal dish. Next to it was a skein of silk and a sharp scalpel sat in a dish of antiseptic; and then a jam jar covered in a disc of waxed paper tied tightly with red thread.
For some reason there was a lack of battlefields steeped in blood in the Hedge right now. There were two ways to make a Hungry Arrow. The first was to leave an arrow head; preferably shot into someone; buried on a battlefield for a few months. In the Hedge it would absorb the blood and pain; to become a thing capable of transferring that pain and damage to another victim.
So the second was to try to recreate the battlefield in a workshop. So ash and oil, sweat and power – and then blood. This one however was to be the more effective version and this was where I had a bit of an advantage. Most token makers needing venom would have to hunt in the Hedge (or get someone else to and pay them) to track down one of the poisonous creatures or plants (easy) and collect the poison (less easy.)
In my case I just needed to milk my own fangs. I bit through the waxed paper and let the poison cascade down the glass sides for a full ten minutes. I looked at the viscous liquid critically; tilting the jar so that the light reflected off the green shimmer. I’d managed to half fill the jar which would hopefully be enough. I licked my lips and picked up the skein of silk.
I wound the silk around my upper arm and watched as a vein plumped up. I took a deep breath, picked up the scalpel and made a careful nick to allow the blood to trickle into the jar and mix with the venom. It pooled sluggishly through the green and swirled gently.
Eventually the jar was almost full, and I swayed slightly, feeling light headed. I took several deep breaths before I was able to pick up the jar lid and twist it closed. I shook the jar vigorously and then carefully poured the mix over the arrow; before sliding the tray into the stove. I gave the fire a quick poke and then descended from my lair to the kitchen where I found that Lorcan had put the kettle on the fire and then fallen asleep in the chair. I made myself a cup of tea; ladling in sugar and then opened the box of chocolate biscuits I’d made sure to buy in.
The arrow would need more blood and venom before it was finished; baked into the fabric of the token; interspersed with the juice of another glamour fruit or two. I made a mental note that liver and onions for supper would probably be a good plan; but for now chocolate and sugar would suffice.
Two months of baking in blood and venom and the arrow was complete. Now the flint grey was veined in red and green; and the edges were razor sharp. Nestled in a velvet bag I put it in a small cardboard box. Labeled with the name of the recipient (a certain Gristle grinder in Birmingham) I smiled and looked at the second I'd made.
Two tokens for the price of one. Now I would be able to look at my next project … hopefully this one would use less blood.
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Date: 2011-03-18 10:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-18 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-18 03:16 pm (UTC)I really enjoyed all the detail you added in. It seems to me like pieces such as this get around the main problem crafting LARP characters encounter: the things they're most devoted to never happen in uptime. It was really nice getting a window on Nancy doing what she does best.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-18 07:31 pm (UTC)Now I have three token ideas ... beware ...
no subject
Date: 2011-03-21 03:16 pm (UTC)