With A Flail Like This

It's a beautiful if cold day outside, a fine day to enjoy the winter weather if one is inclined. To Razen, it's practically spring weather, but the half-oruch isn't in a mood to enjoy the day. No, he's sitting at the bar drinking a pint and staring at the heavy flail that lays resting on the counter in front of him. The head of the flail has a unique design; that of a screaming woman, and is made with remarkable craftsmanship. He looks at it as though it might bite him.

Kaj makes his way into the Ox not long after, chattering (because that's the only way to approximately describe it) with a raven on his shoulder, a cat he's cradling in the crook of an arm, and a one-eared mutt. Surprisingly, no one bats an eye at this, because Kaj practically lives here, and his animal amigos never foul the tavern.

As he sidle up to the bar, one of the barmen even anticipates his order, sliding a giant stein of honeyed cider at the giant of a giantborn, then points without looking at the three drinking bowls against the wall, presumably for the non-alcohol-consuming, non-humanoid members of Kaj's party.

After sipping (well, sipping for him, quaffing half a pint for others) from his stein, Kaj casually grabs one of the crossbeams and relaxes, looking around until his eye is caught by the halfer and his flail.

"Former wife or current mother?" he asks, smiling down at Razen.

It might be technically wrong to say that no one bats an eye at Kaj's menagerie. Razen certainly does once he notices the huge man who questions him. He looks up, and seems a bit surprised that he has to do so. Obviously it's not often that the half-orc looks up to anyone. "Ah... what?" He asks smartly, glancing from the giantborn to the flail and back again. "Neither." He seems like he might be a little bit drunk. "You like it?"

Kaj nods, "Aye," he says, "But the story is the thing, is it not?" he says in his double bass of a voice.

He drums his fingers on the crossbeam, but leaves his hand on it, letting his weight settle a bit more which makes the wood creak and some dust fall into his stein, but he is not affected or oblivious, and drinks another half-pint sip.

Razen grumbles something mostly unheard and pushes his cup toward the bartender, quite obviously asking for more. The bartender dutifully refills his drink and Razen eyes the giantborn who's come over to talk to him. "I suppose so. Gotta be a good story why it is such a... strange weapon right?" He pokes the fail and sighs. "I do not know that much about it though. You think its... magic?" He says the word hesitantly and with more than a little trepidation.

The friendly giantborn glances between the half-orc and the flail-face, back and forth, finally settling on flail-face. "Would have to ask a wizard...you named it yet or did it come with one?" He looks again to Razen. "You wield it without knowing its provenance?" he asks, as if that's sort of a crazy thing to do, but also one worthy of respect.

"Father said that it was called Kampfen." Razen says slowly, withdrawing his hand from the flail and sighing. "It is an old family weapon. For some reason I am uncertain of, my brothers gave it to me when my father died last year. But he never told me much about it - did not expect me to inherit it. I thought it was just a normal weapon but lately..." He trails off uncomfortably.

Kaj hmms, making a warding sign, but really, it's the somatic component of Detect Magic, which he casts with a word in Auran, the language his magic is attuned to.

"Kampfen," he says, again as if he's just casually repeating what's been said, not spellcasting, but now he's concentrating on it, though he does lower his buckler-sized hand to clap Razen on the back, "Sorry for your loss, Friend."

Razen nods, seeming to agree that the warding gesture is a good idea. "Honestly, I would ask a shaman to look at it, but... I do not much trust them you understand." He makes his own warding gesture and takes a stiff drink from his mug. "In truth I did not mourn my father's loss when he first passed, but now I find that the things I wish I had said to him are stuck in my throat. I will never make peace with him."

Kaj is a kind, well-meaning giant, most of the time. Seeing the angst, he tries to help. "It is a sanctified weapon, friend. This is a different thing. May I heft it?"

The half-oruch nods and motions to the weapon, but he's clearly curious about what Kaj is talking about. "S-sanket-fied? What's that? Some special kind of magic is it?"

Kaj smiles. "I am Kaj," he says, "We should exchange names, friend, before I share what I see."

"Oh, right." Razen offers a half-embarrassed grin. "My name is Razen. Razen Vulkakhson" He offers his hand to the larger man and seems to shake off some of his inebriation. "Sorry about that, should have introduced myself sooner. You are a tall one." This laugh makes him laugh a little.

Kaj smiles as he firmly but not aggressively engulf's Razen's hand with his. "Well met. I am Kaj uru Thaz, and it is an honor."

The giantborn continues. "Sacred. Your shamen hold things separate, no? That is a form of sacredness. This radiates ah, eh, separateness. Not unlike your Ancestral spirits."

Razen shakes Kaj's hand warmly and tilts his head. "I do not know much about magic. The shaman of my tribe was... Well she was terrifying. She could turn men to rabbits!" Razen shudders at the thought and scrubs a hand over his head. "So it's got... a ghost in it? Does that mean it needs to be set free? If it is one of my ancestors... It would be interesting to talk to them but I hate to think of them trapped in there by magic!"

Kaj ponders, "It is not a simple answer, Razen. We will have to walk with it, if you want my help."

-End