Thematic- Bastion OST- Bynn the Breaker
Stories are strange when they center on sticks. Â Follow where they fall and you'll find a weirder tale woven into the bark and bite.
It's dawn in Limsa. Â Sea bright sunrises pouring through hollow cliffs and chilly stairwells. Â Lighting up wide rooms and workshops.
It's in one of those workshops those sticks were waiting. Â They were laid out on an anvil. Clean and cleansed of the charnel pit they'd been buried in. Â It's where one of the blacksmith's forgemasters found them when they came in to start the day. Â
He was curious, picked them up, examined the long hawthorne lengths and the weight of the end. Â It was good wood. Â Being toughened and cured for a year in preservative peat and hellish affluence would do that to some kinds of wood. Â Make them stronger, harder, crueler. Â He was more curious who'd leave something like this behind but, when the voice from the corner rolled into the empty workshop, that curiosity flickered into fear.
"Like what yez see there Jan-boy?"
In the corner sat the monster from shit mountain, similarly clean and combed. Â He was pulling the fresh locks into painfully tight braids with a methodical precision. Â He was patient and waiting, his one red eye locked on "Jan-Boy".
"You don't see this kind of method used much Geezer. Â Wouldn't think someone your age would bother with something that takes that much time, given how little you might have left." Jan circled around the anvil the sticks were resting on. Â It put the metal between him and the giant
"Not many left call me Geezer Jan-boy. Â Outlived a lot of them. Â Might out-live you yet too, now you mention it. Â I figure, by that way of thinking, I got plenty of time t'do things right, like them sticks." Â The giant ducked his head as he spoke, continuing to braid the lengths of dull white and grey hair.
"You were pretty good at not dying. Â So you're. what. going to slather these with grease and shove them in your chimney to finish the process?" Quipped Jan. Â
"Something like that." Grumbled the giant, pinning one last part of hair in place. He kicked a bucket across the floor, the thing sliding on it's bottom side. Â Jan looked down into it when it hit his foot. Â In it's depths quivered a mass amount of lard. "Don't have a chimney though. Â Ain't for five years now. So I came t'see if I can rent one. Â Wanted t'borrow your guild's furnace stacks for a little bit. Â Give those a proper black treatment after I coat 'em. Â Figure I can buy you and the apprentices some drinks as payment for the rental. Â I can give coin for use of the furnace after that's done."
Jan stopped his check of the stick, looking back over to Hammersmith. "What do you need a furnace for? Â You know you're not allowed to carry a weapon in Limsa. Â Not after what happened. Â Not even if you make it yourself in house, here."
Hammersmith had reached up to one of the tool-racks and pulled a wood auger off. "Aye, well. Unless y'can make a sword or axe outta lead, that won't bother me much. Â Just need some weight." Â
Jan set the stick down and stepped away from the anvil, nodding. "Alright, but there's an extra cost on this. Â I want to know who you're after. And why." Â He kicked the lard-bucket back across to the massive Roe and tossed one of the blackthorne lengths after it.
"Simple debt unpaid Jan-boy. Â Got a few years interest on it now. Â Gotta settle it before I move on t'other things." Mused the giant, one hand scooping a dollop of lard out of the bucket to smooth over the stick. Â There were leathers near-by to wrap it in after. Â It was going to be a slow process, both coating, packing, and waiting for curing.
"There was only one tracker stupid enough to take that job, Geezer. Â They're good, but I don't think even you thought they were that good." Â Jan sat on the anvil, laying the other length of black-wood over his legs. "Why collect on a bum deal?"
"Aye, well. I think different. Â And I think they've been holding out on me. Â I need t'collect. Â Have to. Â Besides. Â N'old Geezer like me needs a walking stick in his old age. A good one. A fine one. Â A lacquered work with brass on the end...."
Jan interrupted. "...and molten lead poured into the head to load it?" Â The large knot at the top of the stick in his lap was tapped with a knuckle to emphasize.
"Maybe." Â Grinned Hammersmith.
Jan shook his head and stood up, moving for the door. "Apprentices will be in shortly. Â Try not to scare them too much."
 "Wasn't too long ago I was helpin teach sprats like that Jan-boy.  Won't break em too bad, promise."  Hammer growled from his place near the furnace, still working at a slow and thoughtful pace.
Jan was already out the door and gone.Â
In the guild workshop an old monster sang to itself as the sun rose. Â Sang to itself as it worked.
Stories are strange when they center on sticks. Â Follow where they fall and you'll find a weirder tale woven into the bark and bite.
It's dawn in Limsa. Â Sea bright sunrises pouring through hollow cliffs and chilly stairwells. Â Lighting up wide rooms and workshops.
It's in one of those workshops those sticks were waiting. Â They were laid out on an anvil. Clean and cleansed of the charnel pit they'd been buried in. Â It's where one of the blacksmith's forgemasters found them when they came in to start the day. Â
He was curious, picked them up, examined the long hawthorne lengths and the weight of the end. Â It was good wood. Â Being toughened and cured for a year in preservative peat and hellish affluence would do that to some kinds of wood. Â Make them stronger, harder, crueler. Â He was more curious who'd leave something like this behind but, when the voice from the corner rolled into the empty workshop, that curiosity flickered into fear.
"Like what yez see there Jan-boy?"
In the corner sat the monster from shit mountain, similarly clean and combed. Â He was pulling the fresh locks into painfully tight braids with a methodical precision. Â He was patient and waiting, his one red eye locked on "Jan-Boy".
"You don't see this kind of method used much Geezer. Â Wouldn't think someone your age would bother with something that takes that much time, given how little you might have left." Jan circled around the anvil the sticks were resting on. Â It put the metal between him and the giant
"Not many left call me Geezer Jan-boy. Â Outlived a lot of them. Â Might out-live you yet too, now you mention it. Â I figure, by that way of thinking, I got plenty of time t'do things right, like them sticks." Â The giant ducked his head as he spoke, continuing to braid the lengths of dull white and grey hair.
"You were pretty good at not dying. Â So you're. what. going to slather these with grease and shove them in your chimney to finish the process?" Quipped Jan. Â
"Something like that." Grumbled the giant, pinning one last part of hair in place. He kicked a bucket across the floor, the thing sliding on it's bottom side. Â Jan looked down into it when it hit his foot. Â In it's depths quivered a mass amount of lard. "Don't have a chimney though. Â Ain't for five years now. So I came t'see if I can rent one. Â Wanted t'borrow your guild's furnace stacks for a little bit. Â Give those a proper black treatment after I coat 'em. Â Figure I can buy you and the apprentices some drinks as payment for the rental. Â I can give coin for use of the furnace after that's done."
Jan stopped his check of the stick, looking back over to Hammersmith. "What do you need a furnace for? Â You know you're not allowed to carry a weapon in Limsa. Â Not after what happened. Â Not even if you make it yourself in house, here."
Hammersmith had reached up to one of the tool-racks and pulled a wood auger off. "Aye, well. Unless y'can make a sword or axe outta lead, that won't bother me much. Â Just need some weight." Â
Jan set the stick down and stepped away from the anvil, nodding. "Alright, but there's an extra cost on this. Â I want to know who you're after. And why." Â He kicked the lard-bucket back across to the massive Roe and tossed one of the blackthorne lengths after it.
"Simple debt unpaid Jan-boy. Â Got a few years interest on it now. Â Gotta settle it before I move on t'other things." Mused the giant, one hand scooping a dollop of lard out of the bucket to smooth over the stick. Â There were leathers near-by to wrap it in after. Â It was going to be a slow process, both coating, packing, and waiting for curing.
"There was only one tracker stupid enough to take that job, Geezer. Â They're good, but I don't think even you thought they were that good." Â Jan sat on the anvil, laying the other length of black-wood over his legs. "Why collect on a bum deal?"
"Aye, well. I think different. Â And I think they've been holding out on me. Â I need t'collect. Â Have to. Â Besides. Â N'old Geezer like me needs a walking stick in his old age. A good one. A fine one. Â A lacquered work with brass on the end...."
Jan interrupted. "...and molten lead poured into the head to load it?" Â The large knot at the top of the stick in his lap was tapped with a knuckle to emphasize.
"Maybe." Â Grinned Hammersmith.
Jan shook his head and stood up, moving for the door. "Apprentices will be in shortly. Â Try not to scare them too much."
 "Wasn't too long ago I was helpin teach sprats like that Jan-boy.  Won't break em too bad, promise."  Hammer growled from his place near the furnace, still working at a slow and thoughtful pace.
Jan was already out the door and gone.Â
In the guild workshop an old monster sang to itself as the sun rose. Â Sang to itself as it worked.
![[Image: tumblr_mjwxnlcz6Q1rl52wjo2_500.gif]](https://33.media.tumblr.com/224cfbd6e79103f0520a30eabfc5085d/tumblr_mjwxnlcz6Q1rl52wjo2_500.gif)
