Lore:Crafting Motif 69, Dead-Water
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My quill will write the truth words. Dead-Water warriors defend the tribe in both life and death. Many travelers find this tradition morbid. They speak of defiling our fallen kin. It is not so. To craft a weapon from the skin and bones of our warriors, this is honoring.
- A proper axe requires a leg bone. This, the Dead-Water know. It is the only bone long and thick enough to support the axe head. Male bones are best for this because of their thickness. Female bones are too flexible, better suited for blades. By wielding this axe with strength, we honor a fallen warrior.
- Dead-Water Tribe is not renowned for beautiful creations. This is known. Still, our leatherworkers decorate the belts of our warriors. They carve intricate buckles from amber and stone. I nod in admittance. This is not necessary, but still, it is nice.
- The mightiest Dead-Water warriors line their boots with sharp spikes. Useful in close combat. With every kick, we hope to pierce the hide of our foes. My egg-mother was able to behead her enemies with one swift kick. This is why I carry her bones in my weapons. I hope to carry her fighting spirit.
- Dead-Water quivers are made from the hardened hide of our fallen. Our bows are lined with their fangs, and our arrowheads created from their bones. After battle, we will salvage what arrows we can. Many will keep broken arrowheads in remembrance.
- The Dead-Water bound our warrior hearts in the skin of our fallen. Atop this, we wear hardened scales from lurking beasts: haj mota, wamasu, hackwing. Our hunters have slayed, our leatherworkers have skinned. And now our warriors proudly wear.
- Dead-Water daggers are made from bones of the arm or shin. When finally the blade wears, they are used for eating. I regularly eat with a dagger made from the shin of my egg-sire's egg-sire. He has lasted through many seasons. I do not share this with travelers I meet. They do not understand such things.
- I flex my hands. Gloves must be supple. I look upon the metal hands of outsiders with questioning. A Dead-Water warrior must strike quickly. And, should all else fail, we will use our claws to rip and tear. To cover our fingers would be to take away such weapons.
- I bow my head, displaying a helmet covered in long horns. It strikes fear into the heart of my foes. Dead-Water warriors must always be prepared for battle. So we place horns upon our helmets. This way, we continually display the spine of aggression. A display that all of Murkmire knows to fear.
- To the front, hardened scale. Behind, supple leather. Dead-Water leg greaves allow for quick movement during battle. Useful in a swamp where the land itself will swallow you whole. This also enables quiet movement. Useful for sneaking towards our enemies. Again, I eye the metal of travelers with distrust.
- Dead-Water maces have rounded, curved edges. This was not always so. In my egg-mother's time, skulls were used. They proved far too brittle. Now we place sharp bones atop the heads. Still we honor our ancestors, but now the maces are more durable for battle.
- Dead-Water warriors protect in life and death. Their spirits have returned to the Hist. Flesh and bone remain to aid us in battle. I bow my head in respect. We show this most clearly with our shields. The skin of our fallen are stretched across the wood. Their bones decorate the sides.
- Our shoulders proudly display spikes of bone. Should the wamasu try to crush us? Should our foes crash against us? The Dead-Water will drop their shoulders, bringing them up for a mighty blow. With skill, a bone will crack or sinew will tear. I will confess, such spikes also add awe to the look of our armor.
- Dead-Water staff is as dangerous as our blades. Its amber gem is soaked in the sap of the Hist. From this, its power is absorbed. Only the bones of our fallen mages will create such weapons. By this, they lend their magical essence to another. Or so it is believed.
- Dead-Water swords are only held by our most cunning of warriors. Its jagged back can easily cut its wielder, should they not be careful. I bow in reverence. My blade is a most prized possession. Crafted from the leg bone of my egg-mother. Even still she fights by my side.