In a certain video game franchise, the undead are blocked by this shell, it may be tall, armored, or explosive, but its defense is tough to crack

I'm known for my planks, though I never set sail. I can join you in marriage, but I'm not a minister. My work is often measured, but I don't keep time. What am I?

Arr, matey! When a plank be defiant, I be the captain's right hand that tames the rebel wood. With a swing as fierce as a stormy sea, I send nails to Davy Jones' locker.

I am spun before the wings take flight, a fragile cradle wrapped in white. Yet from those threads, so soft and fine, are woven garments fit to shine.

What do you call a toy spinning on a wannabe mountain?