Blood-sweat Hauberk

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Description

Whether constructed of mithril or tanned leather, the most important step in crafting a blood-sweat hauberk is the removal of all impurites. The metal to make the rings, or the leather from which the armour is created, are extensively treated with beggar's lye to ensure the highest possible degree of purity is achieved.

This armour comes with an obvious cost - the wearer is left physically exhausted by the experience of burning the venom out of their system. In the right circumstances, however, it can be a life-saver.

Rules

• Form: Light armour.
• Effect: Once per day you may spend 5 seconds appropriate roleplaying that includes a self-inflicted cut to remove VENOM. You are immediately subject to the WEAKNESS effect..
• Materials: Crafting a blood-sweat hauberk requires eight measures of beggar's lye and four ingots of orichalcum. It takes one month to make this item.

<ic>It was past dark in the tavern again, and the old wardens were telling tales of death again. Narrow escapes, the deadly breath of monster in the trees, and how they'd once had to leave one of our own behind.

I remembered one night a time ago, when they'd been telling the same tales and Karys had leaned in and whispered "Oh, they _imply_ they know it all, but don't listen to them. The old ones, that is. There's never been a Vallorn anywhere near here, for one thing. Next time a Brand comes through, you listen to them about the deep woods and the things that live here..."

So, next time a Striding came though, I asked one of their warrior-artisans about poisonous air, and what to do about it. They told me how to burn beggarwood, and what metal to use to make the mesh, and I spent every spare moment making myself what that Brand had called a blood-sweat hauberk. Common thing to wear if you're fighting Vallorn-monsters, he said, and he told me there'd be a price to to pay for using it.

Next time we went out hunting Sovereigns, in that bit of the forest where old Marushka had fallen, I was decked out in my new armour, ignoring the old ones' funny looks. The Sovereign came, and the poison took a few of us, and it burned me but it didn't kill me, and through the pain I could put the last knife in.

And next time we were out drinking, the end of their tale was about me, and how I'd been just a normal warrior, with not a spit of magic to call on, but I'd still been able to fight when I should have been dead, and that's why I wear a thick-furred animal-pelt round my shoulders now. Cos I earned it.

It's a good story, is that one.