Cold Forged and Ancient Magics
…..a bit of lore from your old friend, Piker
Ah, me dear friends, gather 'round and lend me your ears, for I have a tale to weave and wisdom to impart directly to ye. 'Tis I, Piker, a humble Druid of these lands, and proprietor of the Forest Inn. I’d like to share a bit of news about the realm of the fairy folk and the curious substance known as "cold iron."
Now, me brave companions, the fairy folk, as enchanting as they may be, possess a mischievous nature that often leads mortals astray. So, I says to ye that the need for a touch of cold iron upon yer journey to the realms of the fairies would be a wise thing.
"What be this 'cold iron' ye speak of, Piker?" ye may ask, with eyes wide with curiosity. Well, now, I’d give you a wink and a wise smile back at ye and I say back ‘Let me regale ye with the lore of cold iron. "Cold iron," says I, "is not your ordinary metal, forged by the fires of man. Nay, it is raw iron shaped by the hands of the moon herself, in the dead of night when her light shines fullest."
In me tale, let me paint a vivid picture for ye, me dear friends. Picture the silver hammers that craftsmen wield, dancing like moonbeams upon the anvil. Visualize the iron being forged under a torrential downpour, the raindrops hissing and steaming as they kiss the icy metal. 'Tis a sacred process, for the very essence of the moon and the rain mingles with the iron, imbuing it with unique properties.
Now, let me share with ye the wisdom of how this cold iron is a boon within the realm of the fairy folk. According to ancient folklore, cold iron possesses a power to resist the magic of the fairies, keeping them at bay and unable to cross certain thresholds. Thus, dear adventurers, with a touch of this wondrous substance, ye might establish safe havens, shielding yerselves from fairy enchantments and unwelcome intrusions.
In one such tale, we, meaning the mouse in my pocket and I, encountered a treacherous maze hidden within the fairy realm. The walls, woven with enchantments, seemed impenetrable to mortal minds. But with a single stroke of cold iron, a pathway was revealed, as if the fairy magic recoiled in fear of the raw, untamed metal. Through that passage, we found our way back to the realm of men unharmed.
Ah, but there's more, me friends! Cold iron may even have the power to nullify fairy contracts, rendering their binding words null and void. In another adventure, Squeakers and I faced a cunning fairy queen (so she called herself) who sought to ensnare us in her intricate web of bargains. But armed with the touch of cold iron, we forced the queen to speak only the plain truth, stripping away her deceitful words and ensuring we were not caught in her treacherous snare.
And let us not forget the wretched creatures of the fairy realm who sought to harm us. One be a Jabberwok. a fearsome and mythical creature of great malevolence, its advances against ye would be as wicked as the darkest of nightmares. Let me share an example of the treacherous tactics it employed against me and me tiny friend.
As we ventured through the tangled forests of one of the Fey realms, a shadowy figure emerged amidst the gnarled trees. Twas a Jabberwok it was! Its crimson eyes gleaming with malice. With a sinister grin upon its twisted visage, the creature opens its maw wide, and a torrent of riddles poured forth upon us, each word a cunning snare. The Jabberwok's riddles twisted and turned, wove a web with deceptive intent. They played upon our thoughts, coaxing us into a labyrinth of confusion and doubt. Each question, innocently posed, twas but a trap, ensnaring our aleady alcohol-sodden mind in a web of bewilderment! We found ourselves unable to discern truth from falsehood, as the Jabberwok's words danced like phantoms, concealing its malevolent intentions. It aimed to bewitch us with its riddles, rendering us helpless and susceptible to its dark designs.
As we struggled against the enchanting words of the Jabberwok, and a feel a creeping dread, the weight of its presence pressing upon me heart, and Squeaker’s heart a racing. Its malevolent advance twas not one of physical aggression, but rather an insidious assault on our very perception and what little sanity we still keep in our skulls! The Jabberwok's riddles will twist yer mind, leading ye astray and leaving ye vulnerable to its wicked grasp. We were in dire straits, I can tell you that!
In the confused state we be, Squeakers managed to scurry out me pocket with a piece of cold iron that happened to be just a left-over of ol’ Liam’s arrowhead-making that I like to keep about me as a toothpick, you see. With a bit of fear and mischief in his little eyes, Squeaker scampered up the ol Jabberwok’s trunk up to what we might guess is an ear of sorts. With all his strength, he poked the cold iron toothpick into the creature’s ear. Such a peel of pain ye never heard. I once stubbed a broken toe against a rock, and even that didn’t come close to the scream and yowls and the likely fairy curses it made through it’s babble.
“Frabjous fuddlesticks! Frickimonious flibberflabbers! By the mimsy twiddlewinks of Jabberland, that cold iron lodged in me earwumpus sends shivers through me snicker-snack! Blibbering bandersnatches and crumpetty fluffernutters! Thou impudent mouse and thy cursed sliver of moonlight and frabberwockery!”
It screamed so loud it did! The touch of cold iron in its woody flesh brought forth a rotten hex…a kind of necrotic curse…making the ol’ Jabberwock shutter and sway, sapping its strength and sending it fleeing away in a babbling state. 'Twas in this way that we defended ourselves against its malevolent advances, for the dark fairies, despite their enchanting allure, are not to be taken lightly, nor is the bravery of mouses!
One more tale I will tell ye, not of me own, but I shall regale ye with a tale of a great warrior named Caelan and his harrowing adventure in the realm of the fairy folk. Tis a tale of love and bravery, where the ingenious use of cold iron proved to be the key to his triumph. Ahh, but I be no bard but I’ll tell it how I knows it.
Once upon a time, there lived a gallant knight by the name of Caelan. His heart, as steadfast as the ancient oaks, beat with an unyielding love for the fair maiden Elysia. But alas, Elysia and her two sisters were in the woods once evening, and Elysia unknowingly wandered into a fairy ring of mushrooms, a sly trap laid by them tricky fey. (But I still says she was a stupid bit of a girl who likely stumbled into it after too much drink she was hiding from her pa!) In the blink of an eye, she vanished, spirited away to the foreboding castle of Gorvax, a fey lord of fearsome might. Her two sisters running to tell her love, Caelan. Now let me pause here… what be three girls be doing dancing around in the woods at night? Sure as rain is wet they stole a bottle of their fathers hooch says I! But let me get on with it…
Driven by a love that blazed hotter than a dragon's breath, Caelan embarked on a treacherous quest to rescue his beloved. Through tangled forests and treacherous marshes, over whimsical bridges to the realms of the fey, he ventured, until at last, he reached the towering fortress that held Gorvax.
That castle, it stood tall, veiled in an eerie mist, its walls guarded by strange creatures of the fairy realm. But undeterred by its daunting presence, Caelan devised a plan, knowing full well that his mortal strength alone wouldn't be enough to face the perils that awaited him and his fair Elysia.
Armed with wit and weapons of cold iron, forged by the finest craftsmen of legend, Caelan donned armor fashioned from that same raw metal. Clad in the might of moon-forged mightiness, he pressed forward, prepared to confront whatever challenges lay ahead.
Within the castle's treacherous halls, Caelan encountered tricks and illusions spun by Gorvax's fey followers. Yet, with each attempt to snare him with their enchantments, the cold iron repelled their magic, leaving them in disarray, their spells naught but mere whispers in the wind.
Finally, after a perilous journey through the labyrinthine fortress, Caelan arrived at its heart, where Elysia remained captive. There stood Gorvax, a cunning fey lord, grinning with a wicked gleam in his eye. The destiny of Caelan and Elysia hung in the balance, their love tested to its very core.
But Caelan, resourceful as a leprechaun with his pot o' gold, called upon the power of the cold iron. With a swift and decisive strike, he thrust his moon-forged blade into Gorvax's shoulder. The fey lord recoiled, his magic wavering as the cold iron disrupted his ethereal essence.
Amidst the ensuing chaos, Caelan took hold of Elysia's hand, and together they embarked on their daring escape. The castle shook with the fury of the wounded Gorvax, his minions scrambling about like scatterbrained pixies. Through winding corridors and across treacherous bridges, they raced, their steps echoing amidst the fey's malevolent laughter.
Under the moon's radiant gaze, their path illuminated, as if guided by the light of the fairies themselves. Moonbeams danced upon their faces as they made their way out of the realm of the fey. The cold iron, now their stalwart shield, rebuffed the fey magic that sought to entrap them.
Now, me ain’t much of a bard, but they tell it far better in the taverns. I think you gets the gist of what the story goes. And so, me friends, let this tale be a testament to the power not of love and the ingenuity of mortal hearts, but of the power of cold iron! Should ye ever find yerselves entangled in the enchantments of the fairy folk, remember the wise Caelan and the triumph of cold iron. With wit, determination, and a touch of moon-forged metal, ye too may find yer way back to the light, breaking free from the clutches of the fey's entrapments.
So, me dear friends, remember the tales of cold iron and the wisdom these tales hold. When ye venture into the realms of the fairy folk, be not foolhardy but come prepared with a touch of this raw, moon-forged metal. Let it be a shield against enchantment, a key to hidden paths, and a bane to those who would do ye harm.
Now! I still give you a few words of warning and I ask you to take heed! There are many fairy realms and many magics of the fair folk, cold iron, may work differently in each of their realms. I certainly have not been to all of them. I canno’ say if cold iron works the same against all fey or against all fey magics.
While cold iron may not prove to be a potent weapon against some of the fairy folk, ye must also heed a word of caution. All fey certainly dislike cold iron true as night is dark! They simply detest the metal. For the mere sight of cold iron can stir great anger and offense within the fey, for it is seen as an insult, a challenge, or even a threat to them to expose it in their presence or to some, possibly bringing it into their realm at all. The fairy-folk, with all their pride and delicate sensibilities, view cold iron as a symbol of the mortal realm's defiance against their enchantments. To them, it represents a barrier between their magic and the world of men. So, be mindful to keep yer cold iron hidden from their curious gaze, unless ye intend to use it to defend yerselves.
Should ye happen upon the presence of the fairy folk, be it in their realm or upon mortal soil, tuck away yer cold iron, concealing its glimmer and power. Show them respect and courtesy, for they are creatures of an ancient and delicate world, easily angered by mortal meddling.
With this wisdom in yer hearts, venture forth into the realms of the fairy folk, armed with cold iron, but also armed with the knowledge of when to reveal its power. May ye navigate the delicate dance between these worlds and emerge unscathed, with yer wits and cold iron at yer side.
So, brave adventurers, let me provide ye with a glimpse of where ye may find these skilled craftsmen and women in the vast realms of our world:
Liam the Woodsman, a member of the renowned Runda, can be found deep within the ancient forests of the East, where the trees whisper tales of old and the air is thick with the scent of nature's embrace.
Lehel, son of Ödön, hailing from the Ughor clan and also a proud member of the Runda, resides amidst the rolling hills and fertile valleys of the South, where the forge fires burn bright and the clang of hammers echoes through the land.
Gwendolyn the Shieldmaiden, known for her expertise in crafting sturdy shields (and the finest mead, I can tell ya that!) can be sought in the icy snows of the North, in The Frozen, where the winds howl and frost blankets the land, particularly in the regions above the lake Eerie.
Bran the Hammerer, a giant of a man, plies his trade in the rugged and mountainous West, amidst the land of the Durg, where the earth trembles beneath their mighty forges and the sound of anvils resounds through the valleys.
Elara the Enchantress, a mystical lady herself, is often found in the ancient forests of the East along the coast of Selsbury, where the ocean mists and fog veil be a thinning as it were between the mortal realm and the realms of the Fey. Seek her in the groves and glens, where whispers of forgotten enchantments linger.
Taran the Swift, known for his nimble hands, can be encountered in the mystical and enchanted mountains that rise to the skies. These peaks stand as a testament to the ancient dwarven craftsmanship, and within their depths, Taran hones his skills in secrecy.
Now, armed with this knowledge, ye may venture forth into these varied lands, seeking out the master craftsmen and women who will forge for ye the power of cold iron. Go soon, for yer journey to battle the ‘Ua is drawing nigh! Heed me words: these skilled artisans require time to fashion the weapons ye seek. Cold iron is a material that demands utmost care and craftsmanship. Ye must purchase these items soon, for the forging process is long and arduous, taking moons to complete. Let me say it clear as clear: The cost will be twice that of a standard weapon, but trust me when I say it's worth every precious coin. The protection and advantage these weapons grant ye in the realm of the fairy folk are priceless.
So, gather yer courage, seek out these master craftsmen and women, and arm yerselves with the power of cold iron. May the winds guide ye safely on yer path, and may the enchantments of the fairy folk wither before the might of yer newly gained weapons.
Until we meet again!