JULY MINI EVENT - Branching Out!

[pumpkinhollow]

Branching Out

A cool breeze threads through the trees of Lockwood Forest as Teddy Pennyburrow and his gaggle of volunteers begin to set up the camp.

It's been a monumental occasion, receiving enough funding to the Autumn Leaves Dormitory House to give it some much-needed upgrades and expansions, but the process hasn't been without its trouble. Finding somewhere to keep the children while the construction is under way took a great deal of thought and deliberation--- after all, the Oak & Iron doesn't exactly have the space to accommodate so many displaced kids, from toddlers to teenagers--- but with some assistance from those working so closely with the House, a seasonally-appropriate consensus was reached.

What better way to pass the time and make it fun for everyone involved than to have it be a camping excursion?

Summer Camp Season

In a wide clearing within the centermost area of the woods, Mr. Pennyburrow has gathered as many volunteers as he could possibly manage to keep the children active, engaged, and most importantly, safe. Among the roles called for in his volunteer-seeking notice on the public bulletin board, Pennyburrow called help for:

➤

Teachers, to educate the children on survivalism and nature, as well as any other subjects that might be easily taught to a gaggle of children in the woods. Math might prove to be challenging, here. (Anyone aspiring to teach full-time at the Dormitory House are encouraged to join them, as with the expansions and additional funding, Pennyburrow will be looking to hire a few offworld teachers to create curriculums!)

➤

Storytellers, especially anyone with a knack for tales of mystery and terror. (Campfire for ominous lighting while telling the stories will, of course, be provided. The teenagers would be willing to settle for no less.)

➤

Foragers and cooks, especially with skill in campfire-cooking.

➤

Warriors and guards, for assistance with keeping the campsite safe from any threats that lie in the forest.

➤

General attendants, particularly anyone with a keen eye (and potentially with the ability to guide rowdy groups into games to pass the time).

Though the position is voluntary, Pennyburrow still offers a humble 100B to anyone who comes to assist. (Mod note: if your character attends the event, feel free to go ahead and add 100B to their ledger!)

♥

Comments

QUESTIONS/COMMENTS/CONCERNS

[pumpkinhollow]

[tehilim127_1]

I asked in the chat how long this was going to go, and got the answer of two weeks! Can we all simply handwave how this works with our characters' regular jobs?

Mr. Teddy Pennyburrow | NPC

[in_for_a_penny]

With how he's been flitting about the camp since it's been set up, Pennyburrow's looking more like a birdfolk than a foxfolk.

Between doing what he can to help his volunteers, whether they've asked for a hand or not, trying to wrangle the more unruly children and teenagers, and keeping a full head-count while also trying to make sure he's keeping the more skeptical or uneasy children doted upon, he's running himself ragged by the first night. He doesn't seem troubled by the busyness of it all, however - exhausted as he looks, and even with the occasional bout of stress-jitters he gets, he seems exhilarated by it all. He isn't difficult to pull into an activity, however, nor is he at all opposed to being stopped to take a break once his wards have gone to sleep for the night.

(Mostly, the trouble is catching him.)

[heartofadreemurr]

While Mr. Pennyburrow is doing his rounds, he can find his new favorite ward lying face down on a pile of forest brush.

"Mr. Pennyburrow..." They call weakly. "Help..."

[soldierslikeus]

It's not the first time Margaret's helped out with dormitory business—since Father Mulcahy pointed out the place to her when she arrived, she's made some time most weeks to swing by and offer some assistance around the place. It's familiar, really; they'd help out with the orphaned children back in Korea, when they could—often at the MASH itself, which makes the camp environment almost more so.

So, she's helped with set-up, supervising and has volunteered to teach some of the kids who've hit double digits some first aid. Which means at some point Pennyburrow will find himself being asked—

"Would you mind stepping in for a quick demonstration?"

Pine Guardian, Guardian of the Pine

[thethirteenthchild]

-Day Shift-

Lately, Dahlia's been needing to "eat" less and less. Something is changing. Shifting. It feels safer to be the Pine Devil now. Less likely to result in some unfortunate incident. Like maybe it's something she can reclaim.

(Plus, it's easier to stay cool as a big ol' beastie who doesn't wear any clothes.)

And so, as a method of entertaining the youngsters, Dahlia can be found "loafing" in the middle of the campgrounds sometimes, letting them touch and pet and climb on her. Occasionally, she'll even take a few of the older ones for a low flight. Some of them are a bit rough, yanking on her antlers or trying to touch her teeth, but for the most part, they're pretty well-behaved. This is... kind of fun.

-Night Shift-

This is why Dahlia is really here.

Lockwood Forest is dangerous at night. There are terrifying things in these woods. Things sent by demons, or by Nyarlathotep. Ghosts and fae folk of dubious intent. But the one thing that's nice about being Prince Aster's prize show pony is that she is much, much scarier, and anything with sense will run at the sight of those sharp blue pinpricks.

And so, wings spread in a threat display, Dahlia stands guard all through the night.

[lordoftheozarks]

Tonight, she won't be standing guard alone. From out of the dark comes Erik, dressed down (for him) in a light pair of trousers and a vest with a jacket. He can see her perfectly in the dark and knows she can too, so he has no fear of approaching.

"I thought you might like a little company this evening, if I may?"

night shift

[incomingchoppers]

In the very, very early morning hours, a decidedly non-demonic shuffling sound comes from behind Dahlia. Radar -- looking a little disheveled in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, holding his teddy bear by one arm -- pads over to where she's standing guard.

"Hey," he mumbles.

(Usually, if Radar's awake this early for no reason, it's because he got socked in the head by a bad dream.)

Camp Counselor Crichton and it's Water War Day!

[ss_buttcrack]

He was born for this. Who better to entertain a rowdy group of kids than the guy who never grew out of fart jokes and pirate puns? Yeah, exactly.

"All right, buccaneers and buckaroos! Listen up! I promised you a water war today, and I'm going to deliver, but first we gotta go over the ground rules. Ears open, eyes on me." As if they could possibly miss it when he's somehow speaking normally but also at full shouting volume. He really is camp counselor material.

"No aiming for the heads or eyes, I want good, clean fun. No shooting when someone's down or if they put their hands up for a timeout," he demonstrates holding his hands in a 'T' formation for them. "Keep it honorable out there, warriors. You got it?"

He pauses to read the room, make sure everyone's on the same page, and then he gets to the good part.

"As for your weapons? Take a look!" He pulls a towel off the bucket he's been standing beside to reveal a dozen or so crudely built DIY water guns. (pretend those are old-timey parts.) This man has a chemist for a girlfriend and a Ph.D. in physics, and that makes him a dangerously effective tinkerer.

"Ta DA! Grab a water gun and line up facing each other. It's Super Soaker time!"

They may note that Crichton isn't arming up with one himself. He doesn't need to. He has FLUDD, otherwise known as The Big Guns. If he sees anyone getting out of line, he's going to hose them down from a mile away. So play nice, or get super-soaked.

[heartofadreemurr]

One of the kids in attendance raises their hand.

"How do I tell if I'm a buckaroo or a buccaneer?"

Teenagers Scare the Living Shit Outta Me

[heartofadreemurr]

So, summer camp.

Kris hasn't been to summer camp since they were little, and it was the one organized by the church. They remember sitting around a campfire in the evenings, watching Jockington trying to get Catti to dribble him while she ignored him to be enraptured with the cheap MP3 player her parents begrudgingly got her. Snowy telling horrible camping puns to an increasingly despairing MK, Temmie attempting to "hatch" a rock she found in the woods, while they and Noelle stared quietly into the flames, wishing that Dess and Asriel were there. They always loved a good campire. The perfect place for Dess to play her guitar and sing some quiet song under the night sky, or Asriel to tell some wild story that may or may not be intended for a video game he never intended to finish making. But the two of them had already outgrown summer camp by then, so it was just Kris and Noelle.

It felt a little lonelier, doing this without her. But Susie's here, more than enough to fill that particular void. Time to get up to no good.

-Uwaa, So Humid!-

God damn it's hot. During the day, it makes the campsite with its cooking fire nearly unbearable. So it's pretty frequent that Kris will wander off into the woods. Away from the fire, into the shade, where all of the comforting white noise of nature surrounds them. Some time to themself in this crowded place.

Still, Kris gets bored of being alone eventually. Spotting someone on the outer edge of the campsite, they loom close awkwardly, their presence just the slightest bit oppressive.

"Hey. Do you wanna see some cool moss?"

-Please Do Not Feed the Animals-

It's smores time around the campfire as the sun sets around camp. Kris, being quite the foodie, has already eaten several dozen smores. Thankfully offworlders have been here long enough to introduce the concept to the locals, and there is something truly amazing about smores made with handmade marshmallows. Which is why everyone should have some. Right?

It's kind of surprising that there are crabs up this far from the beach, but it's an island, so maybe it's not so strange. Regardless, Kris is picking pieces off of their marshmallows and giving them to the Blue Island crabs that are still running around. This is making the aforementioned crabs go absolutely bonkers. They're immediately riled up, fighting over marshmallow pieces and scrambling around like madmen. Perhaps they shouldn't really have sugar? Still, it's quite the show.

-Darker Yet Darker-

It's late.

It's amazing how the forest can get so dark at night. If darkness were not so comfortable for Kris at this point, it might be terrifying how dark it can get with the canopy of trees blocking the moons and the campfire embers having smoldered out. Beyond the lantern light of the campsite, Kris has slipped out to somewhere darker still. Past all the adults dutifully standing guard, and into the deadly silence.

Their red eyes stare into the void, trying to take away light that isn't there. To begin to see again. To make out the face of their missing friends. Maybe if they stare hard enough at the thick shadows, the shape of little pink horns and fluffy white fur, that long green mage's tunic and round glasses...

So focused is Kris on manifesting their friend, that they don't notice something else, looming in the distance.

-How Could You Be So Heartless?-

(Listen, we can talk about this. Please don't leave me behind.)

"Sorry," Kris mutters, huddled in their tent. "I need some me time."

(We're not at home anymore, Kris, I don't know how this'll work if we're separated. Things are different now, how am I supposed to write if I don't get a say in what I'm---)

Kris ignores their Soul's pleas. Thrusts their hand into their chest. The skin doesn't break, nor even their shirt. It's as if a strange, neon red portal has opened up in their sternum, allowing their hand inside. This doesn't mitigate how painful it is, of course. Nothing ever does. But such is the price of freedom.

Kris doesn't hate their Soul. The pair have... an understanding. But sometimes, they just need to be themself for a while. Surely their Soul understands.

Through gritted teeth and strained facial expressions, Kris pants as their fingers close around a little red heart. The Valentine kind. Cute, unassuming.

They rip it out, and hold it aloft. Then they shove it into their bag.

"Later."

(Wait, come back! Don't leave me here!)

But Kris can no longer hear me.

[ I, the player, am the Soul. I have been left behind. I am no longer in control. If you encounter Kris while they are Soulless, I will use a random number generator to choose between three potential courses of action, determining what Kris chooses without my influence. Have fun! ]

-Wildcard!-
[ You can just hit me with whatever, I'm chill with anything <3 ]

Darker Yet Darker

[takethatnature]

It's been a few days since anyone saw Mr. Higgsbury, who said he was going to go pick berries before sunset. On Thursday. And while he does have a tendency to get distracted and then delayed -- it's easy to derail his science lessons into showing off fun chemistry tricks -- even if a Brutok got him he'd probably have rejoined the camp by now. Dying doesn't stop him from keeping his promises.

So what's he doing over there, way off among the trees? Is that him? In the darkness, hidden from the moonlight and the fire, it's difficult to tell if it's anyone at all. A hint of a pale face turned in Kris' direction.

heartless

[thismaskismybadge]

Gwen's time at camp is split a number of different ways: hanging out with Kris and Susie, spending time with her spiderlings, bothering any adults she knows, and looking out for trouble. The last of which is easy enough (thank you, spider-sense) but is also a good excuse to just sit and chill up on a tree branch for a bit.

(No, not the right way up, what do you take her for? She's upside down. Obviously.)

Which is where she is when she sees Kris coming back from somewhere.

"Hey, Kris. Whatcha doin'?"

Darker Yet Darker

[cyansoldier]

Kris slides, unnoticed, between shadows. There isn't a single adult guard whose eyes penetrate the dark enough to see them disappear— trees, the broad open door allowing them entry into something porous, something swelling, something not easily escaped— except one.

She's here on business.

(That is to say: teaching children how to start fires from twigs and dry leaves, what foliage makes the best debris hunt, and how to read from a map and compass. And protection, of course.)

Calling it 'business' turns her participation from voluntary to compulsory, and it's the compulsory she feels most responsive to. Necessary, like breathing and eating. Trick to quiet the nagging voice in her brain that says if she isn't pursuing one very specific goal, even if that goal is impossible to pursue, then she's wasting her time. No use looking for someone from the opposite side of a wall she can't pass. Go and do something. Be useful.

It all feels a little silly during the daytime, doesn't it? Like playing pretend.

At night, after the sky has closed in on itself and the world plunges into a routine but no less impressive dark, the sentiment goes.

Carolina follows them, expertly silent; shadow in and of herself.

What are you doing, kid?

So humid!

[aghostinthemachine]

It is hot, even for a robot. Not nearly as hot as Hotland though so it doesn't actually bother Mettaton all that much but it's the principal of the thing. So he's on the outskirts of the camp, trying to sit in the shade.

Ah, it's Kris. The strange child. He looks alllll the way down at them why you so tall and blinks curiously. The only way the human can likely tell it's the sassy calculator they spoke to before is by the fact that he has the same voice.

One wouldn't think a robot would be interested in such things but moss is very important to raising snails! Therefore, Kris has his immediate attention — and even gets a smile out of him.

"Certainly, darling. How cool is it?"

Animal Encounters That Won't Kill You!

[incomingchoppers]

You know what Radar's a big believer in? The soothing power of small, fuzzy animals.

Coincidentally, there are plenty of those running around Baker Ranch, plus a terrific way to share some of what he loves during the campout: a mini petting zoo! A handful of times during the two-week span, Radar brings over the smallest and best-behaved of the bunch, the critters who'll be fine with smaller kids who might accidentally yank a tail or pet their fur the wrong way while they're learning how to play gently. That includes Co, John's former emotional support chicken, who laps up all the praise and cuddles like water; Bao and Nibbles, the two indoor rabbits; and TJ and Treble, Radar's Dachsbun and Clefairy, respectively. He's even got one of those chatty rectangles now that he can point at TJ or Treble and show the kids all kinds of fun facts about them!

Meanwhile, the older kids -- and any counselors who might want to tag along -- get a field trip to meet the bigger animals. Out at the ranch proper, they've got cows, goats, the occasional random sheep who just seems to pop up out of nowhere, horses... and best of all, a brand-new foal barely a couple weeks old. She sticks close to Helga and Danforth most of the time, but whenever there's a chance to explore something (or someone) new, she pushes her way right to the front with wide-eyed curiosity. The world's awfully brand-new to her, too, and she wants to see everything.

What's her name? Well, she doesn't have one of those yet. Which is why Radar and Edgar have also set up a little box labeled NAME OUR NEW FOAL! with slips of paper for folks to write suggestions.

(...It's a darn shame neither of them will understand any "Horsey McHorseface" jokes, though.)


[ooc: if you just want to tag in with a suggestion for the foal's name, go for it!]

Soulless

[heartofadreemurr]

Approach one.

*Radar Kabru Sorceress

On the day of the Baker Ranch Petting Zoo, Kris can be found on the outskirts of the fenced off area. They are sitting on the ground, utterly silent, playing a rousing game of Staring and Breathing with a little white goat. Perhaps, somehow, they are communicating.

Should Radar come by to ask what's going on, they will answer his unspoken question before he can utter it. "We're forming a warrior's bond."

Camp Counselor/Guard Kabru

[peoplepleaser]

Summer camp is not a concept Kabru is familiar with, but he thinks he would have enjoyed it as a teenager, both as a time to socialize with his peers (something he got very little of outside of his adopted siblings under Milsiril's roof) as well as to develop new skills. Not that he's terribly far from teenagerdom himself, at the ripe age of 22.

The choice to volunteer is an easy one, and not just for the month's stipend. He's not about to stand by and let dangerous creatures attack a bunch of children if he can do something about it. Of course, from there, he's not hard to convince to do other activities, and he's a friendly face for any of the campgoers to speak to. He's also good for healing up skinned knees or other minor injuries.

come to sword school, learn how to sword

Somehow, Kabru has acquired a number of practice swords of varying sizes for a lesson, as well as some targets made from spare shirts stuffed with straw fastened to fence posts. At Teddy's insistence, the swords are all wooden... Kabru himself learned on live steel, but he understands the worry, and he's not interested in being as-- intense of a teacher as his adopted mother.

Whether it's a single student or a crowd, Kabru greets them with a warm smile and keen eyes.

"First things first, we're not going to be hitting anyone else with the swords. If you do, then I'm afraid you will be banned from future lessons. You can strike the air, and you can strike these guys--" He waves to the training dummies lined up behind him, "all you want. But no one and nothing else." If any of his students are interested enough to want to continue lessons after camp, that'll be another story. You can only learn so much hitting still targets. "We're just doing bare essentials today, so if you have experience, you might find this a little boring. Now, find a sword that feels like a good fit for you, and let me see your fighting stance."

summer nights

When it's his turn on guard for the night, Kabru posts up near one of the smaller firepits on the edge of the camp, keeping the embers low while he watches the forest, a hand resting on the hilt of a sword (a real one this time) he'd borrowed from Town Hall for this job. He's kept watch countless times while in the dungeon with his party, and there's not much different here. Keep his eyes and ears peeled for any changes in the dark while his charges sleep.

Alone-- or just perceiving himself to be-- the mask drops. He is serious, quiet, and still, almost expressionless. A low growl breaks the silence-- but it's not a monster. It's his own stomach-- he'd missed dinner consoling one of the younger boys who'd broken his arm falling out of a tree. The arm had been healed with magic, but he'd still been very upset, and very concerned about anyone else seeing him cry, of course Kabru couldn't just leave him there. He'd brought the child to a late dinner after he'd finally calmed down, but then had to go and prepare for guard duty, and... completely forgot to grab anything to eat for himself. And now he has to stay put until morning, because if something comes in and hurts someone while he's off grabbing a bite to eat-- well, it's not going to happen. Because he's not going anywhere.

wildcard

[Secret third option for camp shenanigans]

Sword School, which is for swords

[heartofadreemurr]

Kris appears for this particular class early, despite their active effort not to appear too eager. They lurk towards the back, not wanting to be seen, but they take the class seriously.

They slot into their fighting stance without thinking. Feet shoulder width apart, one slightly forward. Knees bent, gravity centered. Both hands on the hilt, right hand toward the crossguard. They know some basics. But they still care.

summer nights

[hate_gettin_older]

"Hey," comes a voice from a little ways off, approaching along the perimeter of the camp.

Kabru might or might not have encountered this fellow before, over the days: helping with the petting zoo, herding kids from one event to another, putting his name on the guard roster, watching the sword training with a look of interest. They probably haven't spoken much yet, if at all.

Sorceress | Dragon's Crown

[bedknobsandbroomsticks]

[Campfire Cooking]

[Camping out in the wilderness is not something Sorceress is unfamiliar with. Given the adventuring company she was in and her unique magical skills, the witch was rather gifted when it came to camp fire meals. Perhaps not the most glamourous of dishes, she could almost work with anything given to her though, making it edible and above mediocre in flavor.

Of course, that's cooking with bits of monster and the like. Being given real ingredients to use, she might as well be Hydeland's Kent Rollins at this point. Seriously if you haven't seen his stuff, dude is a wizard with using simple ingredients to make fantastic meals and is wholesome af.

Being involved around children, she's opted for dressing more modestly than she normally does as she shows them how to prepare simple but tasty meals around the fire. Soups, harvesting nuts and berries, how to preserve meat, and let's not forget cheating a bit to conjure some sweets~

She has to keep the kids interested somehow, right? Sugar is the way to go.]


[Guarding the Camp]

[The redhead spends some of her nights staying up to rotate out "guard duty," taking the time to read up on various books she's borrowed from the library or practicing her magic to keep herself sharp.]


[Bewitched]

[Hey kid, you wanna ride a broom?

With Mr. Teddy's permission, Sorceress is offering broom rides to the daring kids of the group! However, she's controlling the magic flowing through said brooms so they won't go over a certain speed or height, and slowly lower to the ground and stop working completely should someone try to go too far from the camp.]


[will switch from brackets to prose if that's your preferred method]

Cooking

[heartofadreemurr]

[ One of the kids already seems pretty adept at cooking, familiar with fire and knife safety and helping out some of the littler kids. They're also a half-decent forager, though they do occasionally just eat raw moss sometimes. For some reason.

Once it's time for sweets, however, they kinda linger back, waiting until some of the others to clear out before they approach Sorceress. ]

Can you do pie?

Zivia Birnbaum | OTA

[tehilim127_1]

Campfire Cookery

If there's one thing Zivia's fond of doing and also very good at, it's cooking. Foraging isn't a strong skill of hers, but bring her ingredients certified as edible and she'll take up the challenge of making them delicious. She's also got some experience with cooking under the constraints of minimal equipment, and is more than happy to share her expertise.

"Sure, the main thing you really need is a good sharp knife, and if you've got that you're ahead of the game. But you bring along a good-sized pot, the number of things you can cook goes way up. All of a sudden you can do soups, you can do stews, you can do hot cereal for breakfast -- you can even bake bread in a pot if you know how ..."

Want to learn how? Or talk about the best foods to bring with you on this kind of trip? Or join in the group project of improvising a soup out of foraged vegetables? Come on by.

Stories and Songs

Meanwhile, if there's two things Zivia's fond of doing and also good at, the other is definitely keeping kids entertained. She'll tell stories of all kinds, from classic Jewish folk tales to mostly-memorized Dr. Seuss and Maurice Sendak, but she'll also teach as many summer camp songs and chants as she can remember from her childhood.

Very sorry, Mr. Pennyburrow, but your charges are now familiar with "Who Stole The Cookies" and "The Song That Never Ends."

Keeping an Eye

While she might be able to handle a guard position, Zivia is pretty sure her skills would better serve being one of the general attendants. Is anyone missing, is anyone struggling, is anyone off by themself and unhappy about it? She'll notice, and if she doesn't know what to do, she'll find someone who does.

Wildcard

Any other ideas? Hit me!

Keeping an Eye after some stories

[bedknobsandbroomsticks]

Just as her shift is about to end and it's Zivia's turn to take over, Sorceress decides to approach her for some small talk while she allows her guard to go down and begin to relax. The redhead isn't the best at socializing but given the purpose of a camp, she supposes she should at least try.

"Those were certainly some interesting stories you shared earlier. I can't say I ever thought of could make a tale of green-colored eggs and ham."

Alex Chen | OTA

[chenpathy]

[ ooc: empathy/telepathy opt-out ]

Alex hasn't been in town long and still hasn't figured out what she actually plans to do for work, but when she hears about the need for help at the camp she figures it's a good chance to get a little cash and to do some good at the same time. She knows all too well what it's like to be without parents, stuck in a home with a bunch of other kids, and though she hopes the system here is much better than what she dealt with... well, it doesn't hurt to try and do her bit, right?

She's no good for guard duty, or for cooking, but she's got a knack for engaging with kids on their level, talking to them about their interests and weaving her own stories based off that. And she knows a decent number of games you can play without any real equipment, introducing the kids to Chopsticks and Guess Who (using people at camp) and Exquisite Corpse: drawing in the dirt and covering each step with a blanket edition—things like that.

It helps that she can tell when the kids are having fun and when they're starting to get frustrated, often before they realise themselves. Though this same thing means she regularly has to sit out at the far edge of camp, away from all the flaring emotion, to calm down. She won't object if you approach her, though.

Late into the second week, she gets... a little braver. She hasn't got the money to buy one of her own, but someone's kind enough to let her borrow a guitar. Her heart's pounding, her single public performance with Steph not enough to cauterise her nerves around playing in front of people entirely, but she sits, and she plays.

No singing, this time. Just acoustic renditions of a variety of songs, with a range stretching from Radiohead to Phoebe Bridgers and beyond. She's good. Very good, actually. But she won't play for long.

[aghostinthemachine]

You can bet Alex has the glambot's immediate attention when she borrows the guitar, goofy gloved hands clasped together while she performs.

To finally see a human like this...! Oh, it's a dream come true! He's never heard the music she's played before but that doesn't take away from the fact that he loves every second of it. After Alex has finished, he clasps and excitedly approaches, forgetting that his height and construction might be a bit alarming to some.

"Oh, that was absolutely splendid, darling! Bravo! What an honor it was to listen to a live performance such as yours! You're really quite talented~"

Music, Storytelling Professional

[battlebyballad]

Music smiles wide as she stands at the edge of the firelight. Her natural habitat, she thinks to herself.

"Okay! Everyone settled? The story I'm about to give you is truth, told to you as it was told to me...

"In the taverns of the Gardener's Plains, where the fields of the farms feed and are fed by the lifeblood of warring armies, tales arose of a monster.

The Harvestman, they called it. Some said it was a demon, others the rogue familiar of some cruel wizard. I know one old carriage driver who thought it was an avatar of the Gardener himself, death come to claim those who had cheated it in the past. Origins aside, everyone who saw it agreed on the shape of it. A living scarecrow in a soldier's tabard, with a darkly stained sickle in one hand.

Now, tavern tales are often no more than simply tales, but this particular bogeyman left enough corpses in its wake to prove that something stalked the wide roads. Fear was high, and few dared brave the night lest it be their death whispered of over the next day's drink.

But there was one who did not shrink from the danger our Harvestman presented. A bard, not quite unlike myself, determined to track the killer and bring the truth of it to light. And track it he did! Where bodies were found and survivors came to rest he arrived, so quick you'd think him a seer. Where others whispered of the carnage, he orated. His confidence showed, and as far as anyone was concerned the story of the Harvestman was his story.

It was his confidence that was his undoing in the end, and his ego. Tales of the monster had been building for months, and the list of its victims grew longer and longer. Where the bard went, people knew that the stories would follow. He commanded the attention of every patron of every tavern, he had his every meal and drink paid for, and everyone knew his name. And on an evening when he had a few too many of his drinks paid for, he got sloppy.

It was as simple as leaving his bag on the table instead of on the floor. Knocked over in the middle of his grand retelling, spilling the straw-lined tunic out in plain view of all onlookers, and the survivors he had purposefully left to lend weight to the legend he intended to build by any means necessary.

He pulled the sickle on them in a panic, eliminating any doubt of his murderous fraud and cleaving himself a path out into the open night. No one's seen the bard since, but every now and again someone tells tales of a murderous scarecrow on the wide roads. A scarecrow who always seems to let one victim live to tell the tale."

She bows as she finishes the story, leaves the firelight for the next tale, and happily chats the rest of the night away.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar settles in next to Music at the campfire, and offers her a tin cup full of some unidentifiable fruit drink. "Hey, pretty lady."