This short ashen wand is polished and coloured, then wound around with weltsilver strands. It is a powerful aid to a battlefield magician, allowing them to more quickly restore those who have taken serious wounds. As the name implies, this wand is closely associated with the Grimnir, the dedicated healers of Wintermark. It is rare for a Grimnir to commission such an item themselves. More often, grateful Thanes or warriors will present them as gifts to a Grimnir who has saved their lives. Traditionally the weltsilver for the wand will be smelted in a fire begun from the embers of the hearth in the intended Grimnir's hall, to strengthen the eventual bond between magician and wand.
In the Marches, the wand is known as Fletcher's Bane as it is often used to treat individuals who have been repeatedly hit by arrows. Indeed, the wands themselves are sometimes made of old arrow-shafts with Rhyv, the rune of blood, repeated over the entire surface.
- Form: Weapon. Takes the form of a wand. You must be wielding this implement to use its magical properties.
- Requirement: You must have the magician skill to bond to this item.
- Effect: When you cast (but not swift cast) the heal spell, you also restore any and all of the target's limbs which have been crippled with cleave or impale.
- Materials: Crafting a grimnir's hearthfire requires sixteen ingots of weltsilver, nine measures of ambergelt and seven measures of iridescent gloaming. It takes one month to make one of these items.
In retrospect, Luukas thought to himself through the blur of pain, throwing a harpoon at an ice bear hadn't been the greatest act of Wisdom he had ever committed. True, it had gotten the bear's attention and he had successfully baited it into the back of the orcish battleline. And true too that the bear had made quite a mess of those orcs when it had arrived. The suaq warriors would kill it eventually, the Icewalker was sure, now that they didn't have orcs to worry about. It would all have worked out so well if the bear hadn't knocked him down a cervase on its way to the orcs. Now he lay slowly freezing, his body battered and a broken leg twisted beneath him.
As he watched his red blood seep across the white ice, he pondered what his next life would be like. Hopefully he would be a naga again - he did so enjoy being a naga. Perhaps he would be Freeborn. It would make a nice change in climate.
"Should have known it was you behind such a ridiculous trick," growled a voice above him.
Luukas forced open his eyes in time to see a cloak-wrapped figure ease himself into the crack in the ice. Luukas smiled as he recognised the thick beard and broad-brimmed hat.
"Just in time, Gondlir," he rasped at the Grimnir. "I was about to wipe my feet on the doormat of the Labyrinth."
"Well, you've got a choice. You can have your flesh fixed or your bones unbroken. I have power enough for one spell."
Luukas sighed. He didn't make the best decisions when bleeding heavily.
Gondlir cracked into a smile and pulled a silvery wand from the folds of his cloak.
"I'm just winding you up. You're lucky. It's got one more left for the day."
Gondlir traced the wand across Luukas' wounds and muttered an ancient rhyme. Claw-marks melted shut, bruises faded and somewhere in his leg fragments wriggled to rejoin themselves into the proper shape. Luukas sat up, still a little giddy.
"Don't suppose you have any of that medicinal alcohol as well?"