Description
It is not the years, but the mileage that lined this woman,
and like a sun-dried piece of driftwood her face speaks of
travels and trials. Though thinner than most her age, she is not
disturbingly so, and her spade-like nose at times gives her a regal aspect.
As the light plays over her face, her demeanor seems to shift to that
of a jester, a midwife, or a spirit. Her dark hair hangs in a loose ponytail
over her left shoulder.
Her visible skin carries the hint of blue lines to match her winter-ice eyes
and road-weary life. Hanging from her belt is a small curved blade in a
leather case, meant for kitchen work rather than fighting, and beside
it is a small waxed cloth pouch, its flaps tightly wrapped and secured
with buckled straps. Tucked behind the pouch, is of all things, a rolling
pin laced with flour.
Role
My Gammers
Added Sun Oct 2 07:00:32 2022 at level 1:
The cabin was dark when I entered with an armload of freshly split ash.
I dumped the firewood into the bin and let my eyes adjust to the gloom.
My stomach growled, and so I threw two pieces of wood under the black
iron pot where embers still gave off a cool salmon red glow. I dipped a
finger into the ever-stew, but it was cold. I licked the watery stew,
soup really, from my finger and wished for some meat to throw in it.
"Gammers? Are you sleeping?" In the corner her rocker was still. In
the summer she moved it closer to the window, but with the winter
closing in, Gammers kept her chair far from the drawn shutters.
I was ten, almost a grown woman, and though we must hide from soldiers
we can not let fear rule.
I moved closer, but I could hear nothing other than the sizzle and pop of
the ash as the fire began to take. As the shadows began to slide into
grey, I could make out her shawl and the threadbare quilt made from
multicolor scraps of cloth, and on it, her knobby hand. I reached for her.
"HagRa BrinLargha Bru!" I stumbled backward and let out a shriek. Gammers
started laughing uncontrollably before lapsing into a coughing fit.
I stood back up and rubbed my backside. "Not funny!" She continued to
cough and cackle fore a few minutes, then got back into her normal role.
"Check them chickens and see if there be an egg to throw in the stewpot."
There were two eggs, and I added a handful of wild barley I had found when
I was checking the snares. We would eat well tonight, if Grammers could
get that cough to quiet down.
Winter
Added Sun Oct 2 07:01:29 2022 at level 1:
The winter wind had a bite to it that morning, and I alternated
between rubbing my hands together and shoving them into my armpits.
I wore everything I owned and had thrown a blanket around my shoulders
too, but it was a dull, bleak day and nowhere in my journey did I
see a squirrel or rabbit, and the few birds I saw winged quietly away.
The problem with being ten winters old is that you only remember six
winters, and in my case, the sixth was the worst. War, and the fire
and hungry soldiers that come with it, had taken our meagre stores
and left us with an iron kettle filled with water, grass, and whatever
real food we could find. An egg, or better yet a greasy rabbit, was like
a gift from the gods.
The hunger the war created made my work hard, but the winter cold made it
that much harder. I used our adze to hack at the earth for the first
hour, but when the handle broke, I used the stone head to scrape the
rocky dirt loose and then shoveled it out with my hands. Four hours
later, it was barely deep enough, but I had nothing left.
The sun was well past midday when I stood over her grave. I had no
flowers to place there, and so I gave her the only gift I could.
She had always liked my singing, so I sent her into the hereafter
where she would never have to cough again.
Street rat
Added Sun Oct 2 08:22:26 2022 at level 1:
I tried resuming life as I had known it, tending snares,
fetching water, and feeding chickens, and making my letters
by the firelight, but as the winter wore on and the chickens
struggled to find anything to eat, they quit laying eggs.
Eventually one died, one wandered away, and the third I set
free. Each day I traveled farther and farther trying to scavenge
freeze-dried berries that had escaped the birds and bears, and
each morning I checked my traps and trotlines to find them empty
or emptied by other hungry creatures. Ultimately, my hand was forced.
I did not like Galadon in those early days. The crush of people was
too much for my yahoo sensibilities, and being sent sprawling by
a giant fighting what I later learned to be a minotaur had me scurrying
for cover. Everywhere was motion and color, and my nostrils could not
recover from the stench of waste and fetid water. I sang in the taverns
when I could find a crowd in need of entertainment, and during the day
I supplemented my meagre earnings with what I could garner from an upturned
hat and a pitiful expression.
In the early hours, I would visit the bakery, and when he let me, I would
kneed dough or press almonds or walnuts into the bland cookies he occasionally
served, and of course when he wasn't looking I would slip one into my mouth
and let it dissolve slowly. And just as the banal cookie dissolved into something
I needed, my disgust with Galadon slowly faded, and I began to appreciate the
laughter and comaraderie, the inspiration and education, the sense of community
shared by those who had grown up here.
But I also felt how foreign I was to this wide world into which Fate had thrust me.
The Eternal Star
Added Tue Oct 4 21:58:22 2022 at level 15:
I wandered about, trying to find where I could fit in.
There was a large city far across the water to the south I visited,
Modan some of them called it, which had an oppressive humidity that
numbed the mind. Arkham is a town under siege, making it too like my
earlier life, and so I left that quickly enough. Another city, Hamsah
to the east of Galadon and the village north of it, Balator, are a city
in which everyone feels distant and foreign to each other. Nearby, too,
are the Empire and the Scions of the Eternal Blight, and the last thing
I needed was to court war and ruin by joining up as a handmaiden of horror.
I was beginning to explore the north when I rested in an inn, a place called
the Eternal Star, and a storm giant was setting out an elaborate display of
drinks and bread on the table, as if it were a communion for thirteen guests.
Krimzar was his name, and he mentioned that the inn was always looking for
new talent and served as a home for wanderers.
I could not confess any talent, but I had experience working in the bakery
in Galadon and working in the shadow of Dorothy in nearby Voralian city, so
I agreed to seek out Olin and the Lady Rarywey.
Rumor must have circulated, as not a day later a voice from the forests called
to me and said he heard I was looking for a home. He told me again to seek out
the Water Lady, as he called her, and mentioned that if I gifted her with a poem
she might be well pleased.
I put ink to parchment and mind to poetry, and I have something for her, should
she desire it.
The Cob
Added Sat Oct 8 09:00:29 2022 at level 24:
A cob, an eight-legged shadow on the outskirts of sight
stamped on a silken thread, the dew gathered and fell
away from the vibration
More movement, led to more dew raining out of the night
and as each struck the floor their knell
dreams shaped the dreamers' perceptions
Family and gifts from family lost, waking within a dream,
A god's commands to a reaving priest
A necromancer and Corlaan's knight who shared a vision
The ravings of madmen follow a pattern it seems
of Eshval, Beroxxus, Lyristeon, or the Beast
returning amidst the confusion
In the middle and above unseen, the cob quietly prancing
while below it rains, the mortals dancing.