Ever verdant trails

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ljuslek
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Ever verdant trails

Postby ljuslek » Wed May 18, 2016 12:36 pm

Aloof, that would be a word to describe many of those who followed in the light steps of Silvanus The Oak Father. Many of those who adhered to his word, sought to keep that divinely ordained balance, they saw the farming communities and the forestries of men as little else but threats to the wilds they were nestled within. Perhaps the ranger Aleira Nemesk shared this view, but where she was stood now, by the shrine of Chauntea in Outentown; it was not obvious that she did.

Earlier in the day the woodswoman had trailed to many of the outlying farms, those nearest to the sleepy hamlet. She had spoken of a desire to help, to offer counsel on how the good folk of the land might live better together with it. Not the land they tilled and sowed, but the land that grew ever wild and free around their homesteads. She spoke of a balance, of a bond that existed between all who tread the land and all that grew in it’s soil. How the farmers were part of something larger than their communities and their little plots of land. That understanding that bond and embracing it would make them stronger, more apt to thrive even in the frightful winter that lingered. More ready to recuperate from the much delayed planting of crops and the meagre harvest that would no doubt follow.

”We all take from the land.” The ranger argued to one farmer, and as she was given the chance to elaborate, she did. ”We all thrive by the mercy of it. Each blade of grass, each leaf, every insect and every bird. They are as one, allied with one another and with us. If you fell trees with abandon, the soil will suffer. If you fell trees with care and consideration, the soil will thrive. If you hunt too readily, the deer will wander to safer ground, leave wolves in their wake. If you hunt with restraint, the deer will multiply. Thrive.”

Her words did not seek to admonish, instead, they were affected with empathy and understanding. Even though they implied warnings of what would befall the farmer if he did not adhere the balance Silvanus ordained. The dialect of Easting the ranger spoke in marked her as an Impilturan native to the frontiers across The Far Water, though perhaps the common folk of Outentown would be loathe to recognize such a far-flung variation of their mother tongue. But at least, it was obvious to any who did recognize it that the ranger knew what hardship common folk suffered. Verily, the pioneers and frontiersmen north of Ilmswatch knew that living in the land and off it was far from a life of leisure. More so than most. At each homestead the ranger visited, she informed that she would offer to teach groups of three at a time how to better come into harmony with the land that grew around them. So that they might teach others. She would wait, she instructed, for four days out of a ten-day by the statue of Chauntea in Outentown. Wait for folk to come listen and learn. Wait for to answer questions and offer aid for those in need of it.

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Danuvis
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Re: Ever verdant trails

Postby Danuvis » Tue May 24, 2016 1:34 pm

In a few days' time, a male elf of porcelain complexion, is seen working in concert with the woodswoman Aleira, assisting her in spreading the word as well as offering aid of his own to those who would accept it, both in the form of mending and druidic advice, but only if they are willing to congregate for the common good of man and nature alike. A means of enticing, or a harsh demand bordering on blackmail? It was anyone's guess.

The moon elf, Thaelrin, introduced himself as a True Shaper of the Grain Goddess as he passed by Outentown and the outlying farmsteads, often bringing offerings along with prayers to Chauntea's many shrines. Though an elf in these lands was a peculiar and outlandish sight, perhaps the many fables and stories surrounding their kind would be enough to lure the common folk to the statue of Chauntea in Outentown. If not that, the advice and presence of a druid of the Grain Goddess' alongside the woodswoman Aleira's was a solid prospect, especially so in the face of the cruel weather that plagued all of Impiltur and posed a threat to the harvest. Perhaps some would come seeking answers to their hardships, whereas others pleaded for aid. Mayhap none would arrive to hear their words.

Only time would tell.

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Kilaana
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Re: Ever verdant trails

Postby Kilaana » Tue May 24, 2016 10:41 pm

Outentown, one of the largest thaedar in the region, lies sprawling for several miles about a full day's walk from Sarshel. Most of its farmland is dedicated to the growing of grains and fruit, to sustain its ancient city, but the nation's pockets are mainly sustained by its exports of preserved meat: salted or smoked, the cultivation of wool from its sheep herds and its robust livestock which not only provide food but a means of traversing the country's highways - the miles-long Laviguer Road that stretches west to east, the Royal Road that defines the journey to the nation's capital city Lyrabar, and the Herald's Road that has long fallen into disuse as it crosses barren lands that hold little opportunity for the commoner except a swift death. Certainly, the prosperity of Impiltur has depended on these to this day, offering valuable insight to the discerning mind that such success does not come on the heels of those ignorant to caring for the land or its animals.

Aleira's visits to these farms and that of those which stretch further into remote hamlets of west Impiltur are received with a mixture of polite but distant Impilturan hospitality. Certainly, the presence of her elven companion drew the crowds. The folk recognize her accent, but it is not enough to mark her as one who knows the ins and outs of their ways thoroughly. Her words are listened to, but the responses that she receives often come in the form of an expression that are inherent to those who already abide by the knowledge that the shortage of commodities is clear in a country that has so recently been ravaged by a harsh winter. Others excuse themselves to their daily tasks; not many, even the housewives, have time to stop and chat with so much to do and families to feed. And then some wait to see what the alien elven visage had to say, but they did not dare ask - for they wondered to themselves how a creature like him from distant lands know the struggles of the commonfolk?

And still there are others, who watch the woodswoman from their humble doorways, unable to understand why a woman like her would come to a community so reverent of the Grainmother and of the life-giving gods to offer contrary advice that the farming folk knew so well.

One elderly man, whose days are long past time on the fields, beckons her to him, and says:

"If you seek to tell of taking, then regale us with tales of how you have taken the heads of the beasts who steal from our land. Are not those the ones who should heed your words? Or do you come with another solution to how we may feed our mouths in this long winter?"
“Violence is the mark of the amateur.” ― Garrett, Thief: The Dark Project

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ljuslek
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A flare of purpose

Postby ljuslek » Thu May 26, 2016 12:18 pm

The ranger hadn't expected a warm or easy welcome for the words she wished to speak, even if they harmonized well with those of Chauntea. Though perhaps she had indeed expected a warmer one for the offer of aid she had brought along with that wish to speak. But then again, she knew the farmers both of Outentown proper and those who worked the soil of the outlying thorpes were a proud sort for good reason. For they had learned their pride both by adhering to time honoured tradition and through the sincere veneration of the Goddess Of Harvests. Surely Aleira also knew the folk were busy. Not only because they did not spare her their precious time, but also because she saw it where she was stood waiting near that shrine. Perversely the folk were even busier now than they might've been in a spring in which tilling and sowing could progress without the hindrance of snow-cover and foul wind. For the winter that lingered even past Greengrass demanded the full attention of the small folk, but it also drained their energy. Just as the springtime sun on high might do in kinder times; without the benefit of the relative abundance a truer year's cycle would offer. Soon, she was stirred from the musings and idle daydream the folk had left her to. Stirred by an old man, the only soul who had braved to approach her to ask a question rather then to send them with looks through doorways and windows shuttered by pelts to keep cold out. She offered a smile as he spoke, strangely enough. And surely as he had said his peace, she spoke in return.

“Good fellow, I offer no simple answers to your hunger or the toil you suffer, have suffered. But I offer you my aid, and I offer to share whatever wisdom I have on the ways of the land. Wisdom I see the folk of Outentown already possess in abundance, but when has it harmed to add one wisdom to another?”

After affecting that initial reply she begged the old man to follow. And if he agreed, she would show him to the copse of forest that lined the theadar proper. A brief walk across the snow crust formed by recent rain. Once they came to a stop near a stout pine the ranger pulled her axe. The blade angled just right against the bark before she bumped her fist against the flat of it. The result of that axe work then: A clean cut into the the tall tree, a cut that revealed the inner layer of it's bark without marring the actual wood. With thin white strips of the under-layer of freed from the trunk she explained.

“This, good man will help you weather this harsh winter. It will not offer a solution to your hunger, nor that of the land. But each pine tree that stands tall and mature will suffer to be harvested just like this. It will endure as you all endure. You may dry this bark over your hearth and pound it into flour, or you may boil or fry it.”

Following that palpable and practical elaboration on the manner of wisdom she wished to impart upon the folk of Outentown her features grew serious. Some would even say grave. As if news of the king’s death had reached her anew. And her words carried equal weight.

“As for the beasts of this land, good man. I will not regale you with any tales.” Her hand reached to her neck, slowly pulling down the bandage she kept loosely wrapped around it. A frightful wound, one healed but only barely so neath it. "I will only say that I have bled in order to cull them. To cease their heavy footfalls on soil I hold sacred and holy.” She paused to pull the bandage up again. “And I will bleed again if I have to. To ensure they do not encroach upon the peace you wish to keep here; amongst each other and with the land.”

In startling, perhaps even uncanny contrast she smiled soon after. As she spoke her next. That gravity falling from her face with the same ease with which snowflakes danced in wind.

“But I will also see my hands calloused and worn. Worn with work carried out on your behalf and of the land you till and I serve. For I wish you to help you endure, good man. To help you suffer through this harsh winter with enough strength for coming spring. For you will endure, like the land does with you, the question is only how.”


A question she of course held no definite answer to. No definite answer but deeds and whatever wisdom could be offered up in aid to the small folk. And surely, from them to her. She helped the man then, if he would let her or found need, back to his abode. No further words spoken before she returned to her station by the shrine to The Harvest Goddess. The deity so closely aligned to her own revered Oak Father.

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Re: Ever verdant trails

Postby Danuvis » Sat May 28, 2016 5:31 pm

The silver elf watched the villagers amidst the bustle of the town, letting the woodswoman do all the talking. Biding his time patiently alongside her and with an aloof air about him, Thaelrin heeded not the glances cast in his way - impassive.

After a stretched while of studying the town and its inhabitants, the elf begun to distance himself from the statue and the crowds without so much as a farewell and slowly left behind the town and Aleira, perhaps deigning them reverent enough of the Great Mother and her ways, or simply believing Aleira capable of aiding them on her lonesome. Maybe it was a mix of both, or the lack of questions directed at him, along with the admirable perseverance of the common folk that concluded the matter for him.

Whatever the reason, Thaelrin gave away no indication as to the deciding factor of his departure, his carefree gait carrying him away at a leisurely pace until a treeline swallowed him from sight - the elf disappearing as slowly as he had appeared.

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ljuslek
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Vanquished

Postby ljuslek » Sat Jun 04, 2016 10:00 pm

Several days out of the current tenday, the ones she usually pledged to her newfound duties, saw Aleira's post by the shrine of Chauntea in Outentown abandoned. A post she hadn't forsaken even as the people who dwelled in the thaedar found little reason to beg her aid or counsel. Mayhap the reason for her absence was clear to some of the townsfolk? Surely it would be for those who had seen her on that fateful night upon which her near lifeless body was carried by a stalwart group of adventurers to the shelter of Ilmater. The humble but no less hopeful beacon of His mercy that flanked the town proper. It was there she lingered now, recovering slowly and uncertainly from wounds most grievous. A second lease on life, or was it a third had been afforded to her by the very grace of the broken one and the mortal vessel of his power; Kelda Adler.

The pledge she had made to the old man, to bleed again in the face of those who threatened peace and balance had certainly been honoured. But would she ever regain the strength to continue to honour it? Only time could hope to tell.

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ljuslek
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On legs unsteady with resolve unbroken

Postby ljuslek » Tue Jun 07, 2016 12:18 am

Aleira stirs from her rest after two days spent in the Ilmatari shelter. But her recovery is not without complications, a pained expression is worn on the ranger's face as she is escorted by her two friends Merney Valroc and Wynna Blackwing about the township. First to the statue of Chauntea where she doesn't linger to offer advice and aid as has become her custom. Rather she kneels before it to offer some manner of prayer. The effigy of the harvest goddess standing witness to the praise she gave The Oak Father, or perhaps she asked him a favour? The latter surely would be bold, considering the divine intervention that had already been bestowed upon her to allow her to endure those near fatal injuries that still pained her. The trio's walk continued to a clearing by the edge of the town where a short while was spent. Some of the townsfolk might've seen the woodswoman burying an arrow there in half frozen ground, it's shaft broken in half.

Finally, after some persuasion their trail lead them a few miles past Outentown proper, it was there they chanced upon him. The robed man who bore the symbol of Silvanus round his neck. Was it Aleira he waited for? Certainly it seemed she had waited for him. Her solemn but steadfast mood readily exchanged for one more eager. Even if she wasn't the one he sought, maybe he was in a position to offer counsel? She had many questions that needed answer. Surely Aleira could offer him answers as well, if he sought to meet and parley with other folk who knew the way of the land. Folk who respected and treasured it's balance as she did.

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Copper Dragon
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Re: Ever verdant trails

Postby Copper Dragon » Tue Jun 07, 2016 6:07 pm

Image

Leaving Outentown's houses behind - but the snow-painted roofs still being in view - is the little farmstead of Old Nadie and the robed man who sits in front of it. He looks up; he seems old himself, if not as old as this winter or Old Nadie. Something peculiar may catch the visitors' eye, though. Will they speak to him or walk on by after all?

OOC: Pinning down a date that works for both Aleira and Wynna may be difficult with timezone differences, so I'll PM you both date suggestions. This thread will be kept as clean of OOC as possible.
Plays:
Artemis D'Assanthe, Dawnmaster
Udhana, the Kinless
Dhovainithil, Silver Elf
Jhasira of the Bai Kabor, Dawnbringer (deceased)

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Copper Dragon
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Re: Ever verdant trails

Postby Copper Dragon » Tue Jun 14, 2016 7:00 pm

He was an older man in old worn robes with an old gnarly walking stick. Rather than be small, hunched, and a witch-man ready to eat children and fairies, this was merely someone who waited; and waited; and was found by Aleira Nemesk and her (mostly silent) friend Wynna Blackwing.

Weary man and ranger spoke at length before he departed. He doesn't seem to have gone away for good, though, as within the next couple of days Outentown's people could be heard muttering about him again. "There he is," "Is he an old farmer or a beggar?", and "Maybe he'd do well with some black tea, just not in my household, stranger as he is" were a few comments that went around.

He didn't come for them, however. Should Aleira have passed his way again once she was better recovered from her trials and traumas, he would welcome her to sit by Old Nadie's quiet, uninhabited cottage.
Plays:
Artemis D'Assanthe, Dawnmaster
Udhana, the Kinless
Dhovainithil, Silver Elf
Jhasira of the Bai Kabor, Dawnbringer (deceased)

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ljuslek
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An end to waiting

Postby ljuslek » Wed Jun 22, 2016 5:54 am

For a full tenday after her stirring from her rest in the Ilmatari shelter Aleira had been absent from Outentown. Her departure had been heralded by chancing upon the old man where he was sat outside old Nadezhda's now abandoned home. The ranger's return to her station was an uneventful one however, there was nothing to mark it but the familiar humdrum of simply waiting for the folk of Outentown to approach. Perhaps she hoped that in time the sight of her there would become so familiar to the thaedar's inhabitants that they would forget their pride and wariness and approach her to ask for the counsel and aid she was there to offer; it was a hope she held in vain. If Aleira's days in Outentown were quiet and filled with naught put patient waiting the evenings held something else in store for her. Something that seemed to lend her hope and purpose to carry on in her hitherto thankless task. The few people who had reason to travel beyond the thaedar's boundaries might've seen her while the twilight hours away in the company of the old man who had become the source of gossip and keen interest from the smallfolk, just as she had been once. Perhaps it was these long talks by old Nadie's house that saw the ranger slowly but surely adopting a new approach?

For she did tackle the matter differently in the coming days. Instead of spending long hours in simple and idle wait she dedicated time to seeking out groups of hunters, woodcutters and foragers. Those collectives of villagers whose arduous task it was to eke out a living in the wintry landscape. The first group she sought was a few woodcutters, folk who gathered and felled firewood to fuel the hearths that had to roar and be lit constantly to ward off the wet cold that lingering winter forced all to endure. When she first found them the ranger assured she was there to see to their safety, that her bow and her knowledge of how to put it to use was at their disposal. But as the day grew longer she also took the time to talk to them, and to show them which trees were sick and should thusly be cut down before any others were. For as she reasoned, the wood of a tree that was weak would burn in their fires just as well as a tree that stood proud and healthy. She also showed them what she had shown the first and last fellow to approach her during her vigil in Outentown; how they might harvest the nutritious inner layer of bark from pine trees. She assured them if they were careful and followed her instruction even trees that should not be felled could bear having some of their bark taken. Of course bark was not enough to solve the problem of Outentown's hunger, but it could perhaps help ward off it off.

So her work continued, each day saw her seeking a new group whom she helped as best she could. First, a simple offer to keep tthem safe, to keep watch over them as they worked. Then, if or when they warmed to her presence she offered practical advise and aid. When it came to foragers she helped them look for rare edible and else-wise useful roots that lingered underneath snow and half-frozen soil. And in the case of hunters? She talked to them of which animals struggled and which were plentiful enough to hunt and cull. Indeed, she even helped them bring low a few squirrels, her almost eerily light step through the woodlands no doubt a boon to them. Even if gentle words and admonishments that urged caution and restraint might not have been.


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