The Heavenly Host

It was quite warm in here and he could feel his amulet growing colder as it kicked in to compensate. The smith motioned Tal Gor to follow him towards one wall. Tal Gor had to work to keep his eyes on the smith. This workshop was absolutely incredible! There were tools whose function he could only barely guess at. Many of the furnaces appeared cool. He assumed that prior to the volcano’s restarting, this place had been largely inactive.

“No. Not completely,” Völund said suddenly. The old man had turned and was smirking at him.

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying,” the smith said, “that I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that this place was dead while Doom slept. I am saying it was not completely dead. This is the Abyss. Fire is not in short supply here, nor are noxious combustible gases for forging and welding. My forges have not all been quiescent for millennia. Most, yes. But not all.”

The smith continued on towards the wall. “It was more work, not having already molten metal. I had to dig up solid metal and melt it. But mining here is still easier and better than mining anywhere in Midgard.” He chuckled as they came up to a set of shelves and the old man began scanning them.

Tal Gor waited patiently for the smith to finish scanning the shelves until he found what he wanted. Rather spryly, the smith grabbed a ladder, and propping it against the shelving, he swiftly climbed up about fifteen feet. He quickly reached in and began pulling out a very long, narrow wooden box.

Tal Gor blinked. Given how hot it was here, how could that wooden box survive? He would have thought it would have dried out quite quickly. The smith managed to wrangle the box down and then carried it over to a large table nearby.

“It’s Denubian wyrmwood. Compared to where it grew, this place is quite chilly.” The smith seemed to be able to anticipate Tal Gor’s questions. The smith grabbed a cloth from under the table and quickly wiped the dust off the box, which had three latches along one side.

“In the old days, Orcus issued staves of power to each of his shamans, each one with a mechanism for mounting the shaman’s contact stone. I expect Lord Tommus will want me to create new ones for his new shamans. We shall see.” The smith turned to look at him. “Call me an old softy. But when I see someone who shares my impediment, and yet still outperforms all the traditionally abled, I get sentimental.” Tal Gor did not know how to respond to this. Völund simply smiled and turned back to the box and began unfastening.

“Now, I have one shaman staff left. I was constructing a rather different staff for one of Orcus’s most trusted shamans. Unfortunately, he bought the farm before I finished it. As did Orcus, for that matter.” Völund shrugged again. “So I finished it and put it on the shelf. I think you should have it, as the first new shaman and one who has overcome much to be the first, and perhaps one day, the best.” Völund opened the box, and Tal Gor moved forward to look at it.

The box was velvet, or some similar material that was heat resistant, and lying in the box was a... staff? It was not like anything Tal Gor thought of as a staff. Yes, it was a long, rod-like device, longer than he was tall. At the base was a large ball, similar to the head of a ball mace. The shaft was intricately carved wood — wyrmwood perhaps? — with metal strands wound about it. At several points there were smooth areas. One was at what would be hand height, so Tal Gor assumed they were grips. At what he surmised was head height, the rod split into two paths, bending into a circular frame before rejoining.

Inside the frame were what appeared to be metal claws or teeth, presumably for mounting the summoning stone. The outer edge of the loop had sharp-looking metal teeth, aligned for slicing an enemy. Above the circle was a large blue sapphire set through another loop in the shaft, and then the shaft continued perhaps four more inches before melding into a large, double-edged metal blade of about two feet in length.

Tal Gor blinked. The “staff” was actually a pole arm with a double-edged glaive at one end and a mace at the other. “Is it a staff or a very unusual pole arm?”

“Both. Use it both ways. The gem there is a mana pool that you should link to; it is designed so that you can bind it as a true shaman’s staff in the traditional ritual sense. The large loop holds your summoning stone. With the blades, teeth and ball, you can stab, slash, eviscerate and crush your enemies,” Völund explained.

“It’s unbelievable! For me, really?” Tal Gor asked breathlessly.

“Yes. Just do not tell the other shamans. I will be making them staves, I am sure, but it will take time. I will put this with your bitch’s gear. I got a harness for the box, and a holding cup for the base, and saddle ties for the staff itself. I will tell the D’Warg handlers to keep it safe.”

“Thank you so much.” Tal Gor bowed deeply to the smith.

“Use it to protect my girl and her rider.”

∼