Artimus sat down at the table and unrolled his fresh arsenal of weaponry obtained the day before, inspecting each item carefully. Inside he found buttons, needles, threads of various sizes, shapes and colour, Fasteners such as snaps, hooks and eyes, scissors, Pins stuck haphazardly in pin cushion, A thimble and a measuring tape. The sewing kit was packed with useful odd and bobs.
The Mariner laid out his first adversary, the thick burlap cloth garnered from the general store. He sized up his opponent, measuring out two squares the size of his forearm in length and width. He launched his first attack, scissors in hand cutting out the square shape. He encircled his foe marking as he went, with a deft flick of his cartographical compass. He stacked the rough enemies, the two squares on top of each other making them double thick . He began to mercilessly pierce them, the needle darting and dancing, stitching them together.
He winced in pain as the needle slipped out of his control, pricking his finger. The Mariner sucked on his wounded digit for a moment, the taste of iron filling his mouth.
Looking over the battery of tools (sewing kit), he spotted the thimble as if he’d seen it for the first time.
“It’s like armour for my finger!he exclaimed... Volia I am protected, EN guard fabric! He shouted like madman a at his opponent, the cloth, as he finished the stitchwork.
In a flurry of strikes the Brettonian snipped and snapped, cutting eyelets. He drew some of the leather cord through the fresh dotting wounds and cut the cord at the appropriate length. Synching the cord together he looked over his work, his finished victum, the bag he’d created.. “Not too shabby for a first attempt”he thought. It seemed that the nimble sword hand was well suited for tasks beyond cutting arteries and making women quiver with pleasure.
Artimus laid out he metal scraps out into the flickering candle light. He slid his leather gloves on for protection. Examining the palm sized burs; he poured over the metal in and with the pommel of a dagger reaped all but the jagged points. He loosened the cord on the burlap back and widened its gape. Gathering the metal urchins and fed them palm by palm into the waiting mouth of the sack.
Drawing the cord shut he examined the bag of makeshift cattletrops and grinned at his work.
Setting the sack of hurtful trinkets to the side Artimus drew the thinner cloth and cut many hand sized swatches. Taking the mortar and pestle he crushed up the lump of chalk and emptied the fine powder aside. He then took the remaining metal scrap and placed it into the mortar breaking it into abrasive chunks. To the bowl of chalk Artimus took his flint and chipped it into flecks adding it to the mix.
Carefully he added placed the ingredients on the centre of the swatch. Metal bits first, then gun powder, then chalk. In half of them he ratio strongly favoured chalk, in the others gunpowder and metal and no chalk. The metal in the chalk filled sacks was present to ensure a spark in the sack, in the other’s it would be to provide some unpleasantness. To be set off the little devices would have to be stuck hard from the bottom, or so he hoped.