70th Fall 517 AV
NoteI am so sorry for how long this took me to write and for how bloody long it is. I didn't even get them started 
I figured you could add you starting post and then I can have Wy bring up the rear in the next one. Thank you so so much for this idea and your patience with me <3
The Caravan was meant to be heading out soon yet Zulrav's presence was not making things easy and Wymez sent a sideways glance towards the heavy, wet clouds that blotted out the early-morning skyline.
Does your presence mean you will be our shepherd, Great One? he wondered while eyeing the layers of lighter, fast moving cloud that scuttled swiftly past their more bloated companions, Or might you simply be throwing your weight around... reminding us of your power? It was not unlike the Storm God to put on displays of his might, after all... had he not struck a man down the previous season? Wymez did not allow himself much time to dwell, drawing his lips into a thin line as his gaze lingered a moment longer, as if seeking some sign, before turning away once more.
The world had been blanketed in various shades of grey and slate for the past few days and both beast and man were ready for a break in the weather, something he felt would not come any time soon. The air felt too heavy, the only relief the storms brought being slightly cooler temperatures - but, even then, it was not enough to be considered a blessing. The rain was welcome due to how dry the land had gotten; even the dazzling display of lightning and the booming of thunder was nothing to be shunned but Wymez couldn't help feeling it was a nuisance as it spooked and rattled livestock, animals and human-alike, the perpetual wet hardly helping. The constant gusts and gales sent things scattering which made the difficult chore of packing that much worse and people struggled to keep items pinned and weighed down.
The Conclave had postponed the start of the trip due to the weather but, sensing it would not let off soon, those involved in the caravan trip had petitioned the Conclave to allow them to head off anyway. The Conclave had eventually agreed - it was best not to hold off any further with the season so close to its end.
He hadn't had any intention of joining - more than content to isolate himself away with what had become his standard routines - but Lugos, Selosi and Izila had been persistent, bringing it up any chance they were able, which - although rare - was enough to prod him in that direction. As much as Wymez continued to punish himself and keep himself just on the fringes of society, he couldn't deny their persistence was oddly welcome, like a sliver of sunlight breaking through the clouds, and it nudged away at the grief and guilt he harboured. He still didn't feel worthy of their attention, though, so he had remained stubborn and brusk towards their advances.
And yet here he was, prepping for the petching trip and questioning what exactly he was doing with himself.
Keeping to his usual pedantic ways, he had ventured to Gartho's supply two days past to secure some essentials for what would undoubtedly be a long and difficult trip to Claridon, all of which had been tucked neatly away in his pack. For now, he needed to focus on how best to pack and stow his things so the essentials would stay dry - the last thing he needed were items getting damaged or rotting from the wet. Sending one last glare towards the sky, he finally turned his whole focus towards the items still within his tent and began making a mental list of what items to stow and pack first.
He set aside the usual items he travelled with - blanket, rations, flint and steel, rope, hatchet, spear, waterskin, a single torch, compass and game knife - and then packed away what items could be stowed, securing the others into their places on his belt. He leaned his spear against the opening of his tent to be retrieved later and then set his focus on the rest of his things.
Usually he'd have packed the rest of his belongings into his yvas bags and called it a day but, with the weather like it was, he knew he had to devise a way to keep the bags from getting wet. It was then his dark eyes drifted to the opening of his tent and his feet followed, bringing his outside and back into the wet, windy gloom. He ignored the rain but grimaced as a gust blew through, nearly knocking him sideways and causing his tent to shake as it threatened to be carried away. The Drykas set his jaw, then and sent a sour look to the sky. I'm not sure what this game is you're playing, Old Man, his attention slowly turned back towards where he was heading, but I just want to get my things together. There was another pause as his jet hues swept up to the clouds, If that's alright with you, of course.
With that bit of internal dialogue over, he finally walked towards the trio of barrels that he had sitting out to collect rainwater. Water was necessary to tan hides and he found himself unsure how to proceed. He wanted to keep the water within - especially these days with it being so precious - but he didn't want to lug that extra weight around. It didn't help that the barrels would be ideal for storing his belongings so they would stay dry. He ran a hand along the back of his head, grumbling to himself. He'd have to ditch the water - it was the only way. At least he had that water additive.
Grumpy about the state of things and the conclusion he came to, he trudged, heavy footed, towards the barrel closest to him and began the task of emptying them. He spread his legs wide and tugged up his pants before dipping into a low crouch. From there, he wrapped his arms just beneath the belly of the barrel and, on an exhale, engaged his legs as he worked to straighten them in order to lift the barrel up a bit. His left hand slid under the base of the barrel and then, with a strong flex of his left arm, he pulled, setting the barrel off-center and then allowed gravity to do the rest. It tipped and fell onto its side and he released it and he straightened as he watched the water pour out in a large wave.
What a waste.
He repeated this with the others and then hauled them into the tent so he could finish packing, wrapping the rest of his smaller items up in his apron before storing everything into his yvas bags that would fit. Those were then tucked away inside the barrels along with the bulkier items he owned, followed, lastly, by his tent which he broke down with ease.
Once everything was stored away, his mind began pondering how best to travel with these three large barrels. His gaze drifted towards the tents that made up his Pavillion and tightened his lips. He knew Yven had a cart that she always took - others did too - but he was still reluctant to turn to his people for help. So, stubbornly, he called Varras to him, fitted the horse with its yvas, and then eyed the poles that had held up his tent. He had used them as a very poor and very basic travois in the past... he wondered if they would do the job again.
Shifting his gaze between horse and poles, he finally made his decision. He'd keep to himself and roll the dice with his 'travois' once more.
I figured you could add you starting post and then I can have Wy bring up the rear in the next one. Thank you so so much for this idea and your patience with me <3The Caravan was meant to be heading out soon yet Zulrav's presence was not making things easy and Wymez sent a sideways glance towards the heavy, wet clouds that blotted out the early-morning skyline.
Does your presence mean you will be our shepherd, Great One? he wondered while eyeing the layers of lighter, fast moving cloud that scuttled swiftly past their more bloated companions, Or might you simply be throwing your weight around... reminding us of your power? It was not unlike the Storm God to put on displays of his might, after all... had he not struck a man down the previous season? Wymez did not allow himself much time to dwell, drawing his lips into a thin line as his gaze lingered a moment longer, as if seeking some sign, before turning away once more.
The world had been blanketed in various shades of grey and slate for the past few days and both beast and man were ready for a break in the weather, something he felt would not come any time soon. The air felt too heavy, the only relief the storms brought being slightly cooler temperatures - but, even then, it was not enough to be considered a blessing. The rain was welcome due to how dry the land had gotten; even the dazzling display of lightning and the booming of thunder was nothing to be shunned but Wymez couldn't help feeling it was a nuisance as it spooked and rattled livestock, animals and human-alike, the perpetual wet hardly helping. The constant gusts and gales sent things scattering which made the difficult chore of packing that much worse and people struggled to keep items pinned and weighed down.
The Conclave had postponed the start of the trip due to the weather but, sensing it would not let off soon, those involved in the caravan trip had petitioned the Conclave to allow them to head off anyway. The Conclave had eventually agreed - it was best not to hold off any further with the season so close to its end.
He hadn't had any intention of joining - more than content to isolate himself away with what had become his standard routines - but Lugos, Selosi and Izila had been persistent, bringing it up any chance they were able, which - although rare - was enough to prod him in that direction. As much as Wymez continued to punish himself and keep himself just on the fringes of society, he couldn't deny their persistence was oddly welcome, like a sliver of sunlight breaking through the clouds, and it nudged away at the grief and guilt he harboured. He still didn't feel worthy of their attention, though, so he had remained stubborn and brusk towards their advances.
And yet here he was, prepping for the petching trip and questioning what exactly he was doing with himself.
Keeping to his usual pedantic ways, he had ventured to Gartho's supply two days past to secure some essentials for what would undoubtedly be a long and difficult trip to Claridon, all of which had been tucked neatly away in his pack. For now, he needed to focus on how best to pack and stow his things so the essentials would stay dry - the last thing he needed were items getting damaged or rotting from the wet. Sending one last glare towards the sky, he finally turned his whole focus towards the items still within his tent and began making a mental list of what items to stow and pack first.
He set aside the usual items he travelled with - blanket, rations, flint and steel, rope, hatchet, spear, waterskin, a single torch, compass and game knife - and then packed away what items could be stowed, securing the others into their places on his belt. He leaned his spear against the opening of his tent to be retrieved later and then set his focus on the rest of his things.
Usually he'd have packed the rest of his belongings into his yvas bags and called it a day but, with the weather like it was, he knew he had to devise a way to keep the bags from getting wet. It was then his dark eyes drifted to the opening of his tent and his feet followed, bringing his outside and back into the wet, windy gloom. He ignored the rain but grimaced as a gust blew through, nearly knocking him sideways and causing his tent to shake as it threatened to be carried away. The Drykas set his jaw, then and sent a sour look to the sky. I'm not sure what this game is you're playing, Old Man, his attention slowly turned back towards where he was heading, but I just want to get my things together. There was another pause as his jet hues swept up to the clouds, If that's alright with you, of course.
With that bit of internal dialogue over, he finally walked towards the trio of barrels that he had sitting out to collect rainwater. Water was necessary to tan hides and he found himself unsure how to proceed. He wanted to keep the water within - especially these days with it being so precious - but he didn't want to lug that extra weight around. It didn't help that the barrels would be ideal for storing his belongings so they would stay dry. He ran a hand along the back of his head, grumbling to himself. He'd have to ditch the water - it was the only way. At least he had that water additive.
Grumpy about the state of things and the conclusion he came to, he trudged, heavy footed, towards the barrel closest to him and began the task of emptying them. He spread his legs wide and tugged up his pants before dipping into a low crouch. From there, he wrapped his arms just beneath the belly of the barrel and, on an exhale, engaged his legs as he worked to straighten them in order to lift the barrel up a bit. His left hand slid under the base of the barrel and then, with a strong flex of his left arm, he pulled, setting the barrel off-center and then allowed gravity to do the rest. It tipped and fell onto its side and he released it and he straightened as he watched the water pour out in a large wave.
What a waste.
He repeated this with the others and then hauled them into the tent so he could finish packing, wrapping the rest of his smaller items up in his apron before storing everything into his yvas bags that would fit. Those were then tucked away inside the barrels along with the bulkier items he owned, followed, lastly, by his tent which he broke down with ease.
Once everything was stored away, his mind began pondering how best to travel with these three large barrels. His gaze drifted towards the tents that made up his Pavillion and tightened his lips. He knew Yven had a cart that she always took - others did too - but he was still reluctant to turn to his people for help. So, stubbornly, he called Varras to him, fitted the horse with its yvas, and then eyed the poles that had held up his tent. He had used them as a very poor and very basic travois in the past... he wondered if they would do the job again.
Shifting his gaze between horse and poles, he finally made his decision. He'd keep to himself and roll the dice with his 'travois' once more.
Ledger :
x
