Tales from Barkstorn

Barkstorn is a town originally built to house the soldiers of the Spiral Order operating in the colder regions of Cradle's surface. Over the long decades on Cradle, many a things have changed since it's founding, including it's now co-population by more intelligent denizens of the clockworks; emberlight gremlins, fiends, various undead and automatons, and rarer so, lost knights of Almire. While still performing it's role as a forward outpost for the order, Barkstorn has also become a center of commerce for many people. Recorded here are experiences of the inhabitants of Barkstorn.

Chapter One
Spoons, Ferghus, and the great ice fishing spot

"So lemme get this straight. Yer sayin' these fish ere' make heat crystals?" Ferghus asks, taking a swig of his ale. The rusty spigot, as it was called, was currently on happy hour, only 10 minutes or so after shifts ended for the day, at around 2:30. The spigot is ran by a group of fiends called the Keggers, and serves some of the hardest drinks on this side of the globe. Ferghus and "Spoons" as he was called, had a table near one of the windows, which hardly had to be kept clean as dust was a very rare substance in this snow-covered land. On the table, other than their drinks, was a peculiar looking fish. It was red and brown, kind of like that "Toasty" color scheme The Order has listed. On it's back, replacing the dorsal fin, was an arrangement of glowing orange crystals, all warm to the touch. These were heat crystals, necessary for upgrading equipment used by the Spiral order. "Yep! You can see'em through the ice over at this fishing spot, they're a pain to miss." Spoons replies, nodding. Ferghus scratches the back of his head, adjusting his gunner's cap a bit. "So jis' where's this fancy fishin' spot'o yers? Can't be very far iffen' ye manage t' get back t' base on foot b'fer it closes fer' t' night." "I gotta show you some time!" Spoons replies, cheerily. "...Y'know our shifts o'er, right? We could go right nauw." Ferghus replies, continuing. "Unless ye jis' bought this from those scammers down t' street thinkin' it was a real thin'." "It's a real thing! Seriously, I'll show you right now!" Spoons stands up quickly. "Aight, aight, lemme finish this an' we'll be gettin' on our way. Stuff ain't cheap, y'know." He quickly chugs the rest of his ale, throwing his coat on before following Spoons outside.

A little after midday, Barkstorn's skies often turn overcast, with a light snow. They were standing on the deck of the spigot, with Xuthus standing by the side of the door as the bouncer. The trojan puffs a bit of steam from it's nostrils, looking them over for a bit before turning back to staring blankly into the road. After leaving the bar, and taking a right, they begin on their way to the western gates. A fellow soldier, now on his shift, throws them a salute. "So the fishing spot's this little hole in the ice I drilled a few days ago, behind the gnoll over here." Spoons would say, as to fill Ferghus in. Ferghus was a bit busy adjusting his wild hunting blade's scabbard. Frostfurs were so common in these parts that you could hardly walk 3 feet without running into one. A few minutes later, they'd pass the gnoll, and arrive at their destination. The fishing spot was a small hole in a large, frozen lake. "See! Told you it was real!" Spoons would exclaim, happily. This knight never seems to lose his cheer. Ferghus folds his arms, looking down at the hole. "Aight, so we've got a hole in some ice. Great. Fish us out one'a them buggers and then'll A'll believe ya." "About that..." Spoons shakes his head. "I forgot to bring my fishing pole." "We walked ALL t' way out ere' and only nauw ye realize that?" "I'm not a very observant guy, okay?" "THEN HOW'D YE FIND THIS BLOODY FISHIN' SPOT!?" "I got lost while on patrol." "...Oh. Whatev'ah, go grab a fishin' rod, I'll make sure none'o those blasted frostfurs come over 'ere." Ferghus sighs, looking over at a small pack gathering on the other side of the lake. "Righto! I'll be right back!" And with that, Spoons would break into a sprint back into town.

Normally, sprinting in a combination of heavy armor and a heavy coat would make anyone start pouring sweat. Not in Barkstorn, you'll stay nice and cool while you do so. He'd rush into the gates, before getting grabbed and thrown into a wall. "Gack! What the-" Standing in front of him was Cynthia, the captain of the western gate guard. "Just what do you think you're doing, running like that?" She'd bark, aggressively. Cynthia was clad in armor similar to that of a recon hound, albeit more acclimated to the environment, in shades of white and blue to camouflage with their surroundings. The only thing breaking their intimidation is the ribbon and glasses adorning their helmet. "Last thing we need is the townsfolk thinking we're under attack, since a knight came runnin' in with his tail between his legs." "I uh, I don't have a tail." Cynthia's steely glare squints a bit, as if to tell Spoons, "you know exactly what I meant." "So why are you running." She'd order. "I was, I was grabbing a fishing rod." "There's no unfrozen water here, why would you need a fishing pole?" "Me and Ferghus were working on a project!" He'd reply. "...Whatever. Just quit running through the gate like you've got a striker on your rear." "Y-yes ma'am!" Spoons would offer a quick salute, before heading off in a hurry. Cynthia readjusts her glasses, looking out to the frozens wastes through the gate. "...What in the world would you need a fishing pole here for..." She'd mutter, returning to her post.

After a quick barge into the barracks to grab the fishing pole and tackle box, Spoons races back outside to the gate, slowing down to a walk when Cynthia would look over to them. Once out of sight, he'd begin running back to the spot again. "Took ya long enough." Ferghus would say, sitting next to the hole. "I've been watching these frostfurs gnaw on'a hunk of valestone fer about 15 minutes nauw." "Well excuse me! The captain grabbed me while I was getting inside and chewed me out. I'm here with the pole, though." "Aight, let's get started." They'd set up the bait on their fishing rod, placing it into the water, before waiting. Hours went by, with the time being spent shifting between cards, small talk, batting away curious frostfurs, and spoons every so often calling his bunk-mate Harris to ask about what they were having for dinner in the mess hall. Eventually, the line would begin to throb. "Now's our chance! Grab the pole!" Spoons would shout, as Ferghus was the closer of the two. He'd quickly grab hold of the pole, and would begin to reel in. He'd obviously be struggling with the fish. "Need help?" "Nah, I got this-" A sudden jerk would bring Ferghus to the ground, nearly submerging the entire pole. "Aight, NOW I need help!" Spoons would grab hold of the pole as well, and with their combined strength, they'd manage to slowly start reeling the fish back in. An orange glow in the water would become larger and larger. "See? I told you those fish weren't fake!" "That'll be decided once we get t' blasted thing on land!" Ferghus grunts, and with a burst of adrenaline, the two would haul up a huge, glowing hunk of heat crystal, breaking a bit of the ice around the hole. "Phew... Spoons, this ain't no bloody fish." "I can see that! But look at this thing! I don't think you can even find radiant crystals of this size!" The crystal chunk would measure about 3 feet long, half a foot wide. It was quite hot to the touch, but the cold and their padded gear would allow them to pick it up. "We gotta show this to HQ, man! C'mon!" Spoons would beckon, picking up the crystal. "Aight, aight, but next time let's tryin' catch an actual fish, eh?"

Chpt. 1 end