“Wow, it's beautiful, Grognak. Thank you.” Tulgey took the new staff of carved and polished pale wood, clasped it together with his old, unworked staff of aged and mossy yew and inspected the pair carefully. “Yes, this should do it… Thanks, Grog! I’ll be back to show you later.” The half-orc scratched his head quizzically as the gnome scurried off towards the fields outside of town.
Tulgey took the staves to the orchard where Haakon’s small wooden bear totem still stood. The ritual had helped, it seemed, and new shoots were starting to form on the old pear tree. Clearing a patch of snow with some flame conjuration, he planted the ends of each staff so they stood upright in the earth. From a pouch, he took a sprig of yew: flat, dark needles and red berries; and an oak twig: broad, lobed leaves and acorns. He braided the stems together, around and between the pair of staves, forming an intricate knot. He stepped back and looked over the display. Something was missing.
“Stability and strength from the oak. Renewal and flexibility from the yew,” he mused. “Elder Callooh used to tell me I could only pick one.”
He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and took out a gold pocket watch on a chain, emblazoned with the Alchemist’s Guild crest. He wove the chain into the knot of leaves. From another pocket he produced a small bag of powder, an alchemical transmutation catalyst, and gave the assembly a liberal dusting.
“Elder Callooh never was very imaginative.”
He began the casting.
When Tulgey found Grognak again a short while later, the staff he held aloft for inspection was even more striking than the white one he had crafted. A spiral twist of dark and light woods, the polished oak fused with the rough texture of the yew. The carved nature motifs seeming to dance in and out of the lichen-flecked bark. Tiny links of gold shone in the nooks and crannies where the two woods met. The owl topper that formed the oak staff's head was now perched atop an embedded disc of gold, and haloed by the yew branch’s gnarled curl. New shoots of coniferous and deciduous leaves surrounded the staff head like a crown.
In his mismatched garb of pelts and leathers beneath a finely tailored navy peacoat, the gnome already looked like a creature of contrasts. By straddling the border between a respectable city career and his wild nature magic, he acted that way too.
Now he had a fine staff to match his duality.
Tulgey took the staves to the orchard where Haakon’s small wooden bear totem still stood. The ritual had helped, it seemed, and new shoots were starting to form on the old pear tree. Clearing a patch of snow with some flame conjuration, he planted the ends of each staff so they stood upright in the earth. From a pouch, he took a sprig of yew: flat, dark needles and red berries; and an oak twig: broad, lobed leaves and acorns. He braided the stems together, around and between the pair of staves, forming an intricate knot. He stepped back and looked over the display. Something was missing.
“Stability and strength from the oak. Renewal and flexibility from the yew,” he mused. “Elder Callooh used to tell me I could only pick one.”
He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and took out a gold pocket watch on a chain, emblazoned with the Alchemist’s Guild crest. He wove the chain into the knot of leaves. From another pocket he produced a small bag of powder, an alchemical transmutation catalyst, and gave the assembly a liberal dusting.
“Elder Callooh never was very imaginative.”
He began the casting.
When Tulgey found Grognak again a short while later, the staff he held aloft for inspection was even more striking than the white one he had crafted. A spiral twist of dark and light woods, the polished oak fused with the rough texture of the yew. The carved nature motifs seeming to dance in and out of the lichen-flecked bark. Tiny links of gold shone in the nooks and crannies where the two woods met. The owl topper that formed the oak staff's head was now perched atop an embedded disc of gold, and haloed by the yew branch’s gnarled curl. New shoots of coniferous and deciduous leaves surrounded the staff head like a crown.
In his mismatched garb of pelts and leathers beneath a finely tailored navy peacoat, the gnome already looked like a creature of contrasts. By straddling the border between a respectable city career and his wild nature magic, he acted that way too.
Now he had a fine staff to match his duality.
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