Mankar and the Wind

NOTE: Bronze as a mineral CAN be mined in Glorantha... I’m not some science n00b! 

Though the Orlanthi runelord was very rarely in the stead, it was not as if he were NEVER present. His comings were unannounced and his departures even more rapid. It took a keen eye, a quick wit, and no small amount of luck to see the man. And, truth be told, nine times out ten, he was only ‘seen’ by the women in the outer huts.

Not having this method, Mankar did his best to just keep an eye on the dwelling where he most often slept in: the hut of an Orlanthi lay member that was just outside of the village near the Wind Stones. The connection between Orlanth and the Wind was hardly trivial and doubtlessly, this is where he felt most comfortable!

Of course, his family and friends knew about his obsession and would tell him of any sightings of the man but, always, he would learn too late and would only see the swirling dust for his efforts.

He was returning from a fairly successful foraging run through the hills nearby: he had found a small bronze ore deposit but it was pure enough that he could just gather the rocks and carry them back without needing a large cart or to smelt them on the site. After only a half day of digging, he had more than enough to fill a largish sack.

In the past few years, he had grown from a short child to a tall -- though slender -- youth. His frame hadn’t caught up with his new height yet making him look underfed. His strength, though, continued to advance with little problem and he found redsmithing a pleasant way of exercising his muscles since he wasn’t allowed to join the warriors yet. Still, he imagined at times that he was swinging a sword and not a hammer!

As he came within sight of the stead, the twins – Mia and Tia – rushed up, panting with the effort of their exertions. Mankar felt a momentary panic but since the two didn’t seem upset or injured, he calmed down. “What made you two run all the way here? Surely nothing is amiss?”

Barely catching their breath, they managed to get out. “Th-the runelord!” “Orlanthi!”

After a brief moment of shock, he threw his sack to the pair and yelled, “Take this to the forge!” He was running even before they managed to catch it. From behind him he heard, “Eeeek!” “Ow!” as the two were tumbled over by the 150 pounds of rocky ore inside!

Though apparently scrawny, Mankar’s newly longer legs helped him eat up the distance to the hut. He briefly thought about cleaning up a bit before meeting the man and quickly discarded it. To delay was to lose again!

He skidded to a halt at the hut, took a moment to calm his breathing and then called out boldly to the door. “I am Mankar! I wish an audience with the Runelord!”

After a few seconds of silence stretched to nearly half a minute, the door opened to reveal a broad-chested man holding a helmet under one arm. “Mankar, eh? What’s on your mind, boy?” The dust of the road was still heavy on the man and he obviously had just arrived. Most of his gear looked well-worn by countless battles but was in good shape. In fact, most of it was iron other than the helmet he was holding!

“Please teach me about Orlanth! I have thought deeply about this and wish to follow him!”

Though tired from the road, the man was moved by the earnestness of the youth. He rubbed his chin, “Do you now? The path of Orlanth is not easy, especially in the shadow of the Red Moon as we are here! She cannot stand the virtue of the Lightbringers and has to corrupt our light or extinguish it. As King of the Gods, she hates Orlanth most of all and will commit any deed, no matter how wicked, to slay his followers. Are you still certain of your desire?”

“I am! If she hates Orlanth, I take that hate and spit it back at her twice! One day, her twisted moon will be dragged to the ground and trampled beneath our feet!”

The runelord laughed inside but didn’t let it show on his face. “Bold words, but does your resolve match them?”

“If my words are not good enough, then propose a test. If possible with mortal strength, I will not fail!” he said stoutly, absolutely confident in his abilities and will.

The declaration sounded comical coming from the skinny kid, but the Orlanthi took him seriously. Who among them hadn’t started young and inexperienced? “Fine, then. My helm here is cracked and likely beyond repair. I’ll need a new one before Windsday. Do that and we’ll see.”

“At once, runelord!” He took the helm and sprinted the community forge just as Mia and Tia reached it carrying the heavy sack between them.

Tia grumped at him. “Mankar, really! You had us carry this heavy bag of rocks! This was not a trivial event!”

Mia, looking past that grievance, saw the helm in his hand. “Oh! You got to see the Orlanthi? Tell, tell!”

While fueling and stoking the fires, he explained. “I’m on a mission from him!”

“No!”

“Yes! Humakt strike me if I lie! I need to repair this helm by Windsday.” He worked the bellows and examined the helm with an experienced eye. “Hmmm… more likely I need to replace it. This has been too damaged to repair easily.” It was a full helm and obviously had seen many battles. The final blow had almost cut it in two and Mankar could see blood still along the gash on the inside. “Mia, you are clever with leather. Can you fashion a replacement for the lining?”

She peered inside the helm. “Nnnnn, I think so. Yes, I’m sure of it. In fact, I have some supple hide that is too stiff for normal clothing but too soft for armor. It might work just right here.”

“Please work on that while I get the shell completed.”

“What will you give me?” she asked with a trace of shame.

“Mia!” Tia said, scandalized.

“I want a fish, a big one, and you cook it for us!”

“Ha! That’s fair. Don’t worry, Tia, this is fine. She is helping me out a lot, after all.” He pulled the lining out of the helm, being careful not to damage it further. “Use this as a template, but bring it back afterwards.”

“Easy easy. Hey is that REALLY blood in there?”

Tia said, “Ick! Don’t touch me before you’ve washed your hands!”

Mia chased Tia out of the forge by threatening to touch her with the dirty leather. “Mia, stoooooop!”

Using the newly acquired peace, Mankar started work on the helm. It wasn’t a complicated design but, because of that, even the slightest flaw would be glaringly obvious. He saw that it had been mended many times so the runelord probably liked the shape of it a lot.

“So a new shell… I think I’ll use the bronze I mined up earlier. I can keep the old one to make sure it fits properly.” Mankar melted the bronze, again noting how it flowed and worked a bit differently from copper and tin bronze. Some redsmiths said there was no difference but the boy thought they might not be looking at it properly.

His first cast wasn’t quite right. He melted down the metal and tried again. His second wasn’t to his liking either. Nor the third. Nor the seventh. He seemed to recall one of the twins bringing him food now and then but he was too focused on his work to pay much attention.

After sixteen attempts, he finally got what he wanted. He spent the rest of the night with a fine hammer, tempering and strengthening the metal. The fine details of the eye and ear slits were harder as any impediment on the senses could be fatal. In the end, he looked at his creation with satisfaction.

He even introduced some minor ‘inaccuracies’ in the symmetry of the helm. It looked like the runelord had customized it slightly to suit him better. As a last step, he polished it to a mirror brightness so you might mistake it for gold. He set the old one and the new one side by side while the girls looked on. “So, what you do you think?”

Mia nodded rapidly, “They look like twins!”

Tia smiled slyly, “I agree! Except one of the twins is rougher around the edges, less clean, and hasn’t been cared for properly.”

Mia was about to agree and then clouded up, “You, you, you!”

Mankar laughed! Despite not having slept for almost 36 hours, he was in a fine mood. “I’ll take this over, then. I hope he likes it!”

“Good luck!” “You’ll have no problems!”

The runelord looked at the helm. At first, he was fooled into thinking it was his old helm repaired and polished, so close was it to the original. But closer inspection showed it was a new work altogether. When he put it on, it fit like he had worn it a thousand times. “Very good, boy! Did the stead redsmith do this?” The man had no problems if someone else did the work, honestly, the point was that the task had been carried out and done well.

“No, runelord. I did the smithing myself and my friend did the leatherwork.”

The man noted how tired Mankar looked but didn’t mention it. “You might be worth teaching! I can’t spend much time here but I promise to come back at least once a year and help your training. My time is limited but… let’s see what we can do!”

For the next few hours, they sparred with wooden practice swords and shields. Mankar was knocked and injured more than once but would get back to his feet time and again. The runelord kept healing him as necessary so their session wouldn’t end prematurely. They would rest every so often and the man would tell the boy about Orlanth… his history, his legends, his motivations and all the rest. There was no planned order, as he was no instructor, he just rambled on as he felt like it.

During one break, he said, “Do you know the hardest lesson a follower of Orlanth has to learn?”

Mankar tilted his head to one side… he had never heard of anything like this before. “No, what is it?”

“It’s not how to brave, or ferocious, nor fearsome! Anyone who dares walk our path is already ready for that. The hardest lesson is when to be quiet, meek and unnoticed.”

“Ehhh?! What do you mean?”

The runelord took a swig of wine from his skin before passing it to Mankar without thinking. “To throw yourself into battle is one thing, but to use your head and do it at the RIGHT time is more important! Be passionate! But be smart as well.” He pointed his practice sword toward the horizon. “The godforsaken Lunars are over there and they outnumber us 100,000 to 1 here on their very border. If you have to hide, you hide! If you have to lie, make it a good one! If you have to run, run like the Wind! When fighting those chaos-tainted monsters in human skin, results are the measure of success, not bravery.” He looked disgusted. “I’d like nothing better to just face them on a bloody field and cut them down but we can’t do that right now. One day though, one day…”

Mankar tried some of the drink and found it FAR more potent that the watered wine he drank on occasion. After choking for a bit, he finally was able to breathe normally. “It sounds… dishonorable.”

“Ha! It does sound that way, doesn’t it? But remember this boy: there is no such thing as honor from a Lunar. They extend an open hand so you can’t see the poisoned dagger in their other fist. They make pathetic mockeries of good gods to steal worshippers. And, worst of all, they worship of chaotic monstrosities means they can warp your very spirit even as the smile and mouth platitudes! Their riddlers can steal your soul with a just a few simple words… without you even knowing what had happened until too late! Trust neither their words nor actions—their only goal is the destruction of all that is good. Never forget that!”

Mankar branded those words in his heart… he knew one day he would face a Lunar or their servants and he must be prepared to do anything to defeat them! He dropped off to sleep that night, exhausted after being awake for two days with no rest on top of all the training he had received! Windsday (holy to Orlanth, of course) came and the Orlanthi conducted their ceremonies out of sight of non-members. Before he knew it, the runelord had left without fanfare. (Though, he heard later, WITH a visit to the outer huts.)

Still, Mankar was well-pleased. He had learned a lot, he had a promise of future training and, in a place of honor on the shelf over his bedroom table, sat a very well-worn helm with a thousand stories carved into its metal.