[Job Thread]Forest Times II: Fall Colors(Solo)

[Antar]

5th of Fall, 511av

"So tell me, do ya know why they say the leaves of trees change their colors in da' Fall?" said one of the older men in the yard. The man must have been nearing fifty yet still hefted an axe like it was barely more discomfort than a walking stick.

"Nope." Antar replied, the principle of leaves changing in the fall seemed to be just an unwrtiten rule of nature. A precursor tot he falling leaves and brush which would cover the forests in a layer of debris which would eventually disintegrate to dirt and soil. "What use is it to know why a tree's leaves change color anyway?"

"Because, I'll tells you why. A tree don't change color's in the H'autumn... it's just the trees leaves taking their natural color as the plants "clorypheel'' as those Zeltivans say dries out. "

Another man chimed in, "So your saying they're all naturally brown and dead? That's preposterous!"

"Of course that be preposterous... Brown and dead is dead. No the real colors are the ones you see just before, the reds and the oranges. Those Zeltivan scholars say the clorypheel paints 'em green. Just like you would mixing a paint."
"Still ain't no use." the naysayer scoffed.

"Not unless you be getting paid to make some potion or poison. Some of the leaves for herbs you use are at their best potency when they're red and newly brown. In fact, a good herbalist might be able to decry just what effects one herb might have in one season when its green, and a completely different effect it might have in H'autumn... now ain't tat' something? Some rare herbs might fetch a pretty penny if you can finds 'em then. Even if they're only foodstuffs like some wild oats."

"Oy Oy, I bet any of us 'ere be liking to sew some wild oats if ye' know what I mean." Perking his ears up, Antar listened a bit more as the crew joked around, some saying that what was said couldn't be true. Others decrying that it was, their old "grandmammies" had said so, bless their dear old black hearts. That drew a laugh from all the crowd, as if it was some sort a jest. But in Sunberth, it really wasn't. Few lived long enough here to make it to the age of grandchildren.

Only the rich, and the powerful, or the useful like the merchant class might hope to survive so long. Otherwise: things like disease, and malnutrition from the foodsources constant hogging by the gangs would have claimed the lives of a seniorly aged mizaharan many a times over. Still the idea that an herb or so could have such different effects, from spring to fall made Noth wonder.

It seemed too farfetched to be true, and thus by slippery logic, it probably was. Taking his woodsman's axe in hand, the rogue strode over to the nearest log which needed trimming and began to cut careful strikes. Making sure to angle the blade to gain better cuts without losing the force of his swings. Tossing one finished log aside, Antar resolved to ask the other man a little more about such things as the properties of herbs changing with the seasons. At the very least, it would be something interesting to look up within the Library...

[Antar]

As the day in the forests wore on, with the counterpoint of chopping trees forming a melody of sorts; the old man's brusque tones describing the various uses of the forest plants was not discouraged, but only ignored.

There was roots, when boiled would serve as a painkiller and a diuretic. "Useful when you had to piss out a stone." would be the old man's observation.

He swung the axe, feeling the impact in his arms as he began to notch another tree, cutting an angle into the flesh of the wood to help bring it down. The process was becoming secondary to his nature, and though he kept a close eye out for safety it did not stop him from continuing to listen to the old man.

Following the listing of roots; there was the disertation of different herbs used in cooking; thyme, marjoram, parsley, and how they were used to spice many an ale and herbal concoctions. He noted this down particularly , seeing as how such herbs could help hide the taste of poison if applied in someone's drink. That was one thing he knew he should start learning if he was ever going to face the demons of his past head on. He wasn't much of a poisoner though. Rather he thought it better to deal with his problems head on, and if that meant he had to deal with them.

But such was a problem for a different time and place. For now; he simply continued his work. Felling trees, trimming branches off, using the woodsman's axe to its best effectiveness before loading the large boughs back in the wagon to return to the Cutter and carver brothers. Soon enough though; the morning had passed, and it was time for lunch.

[Antar]

Lunch, probably one af Antar's faovrite pass times in the relative peace of the woods. A time where the yard workers relaxed, shoot the breeze and for a moment forgot everything they were outside of work. From time to time they tended to sometimes challenge each other to contests to show off; like knife and hatchet throwing.

But not today... today they were working through their break, each one being dared to lift the heaviest log they could. Antar's wasn't inclined to join in the fun though, instead he spent his lunch gnawing on a bit of fall apples, and making sure to stay within the old man's presence for the next dissertation of what many believed useless garbledygook to pass his lips. A spoken treatise on how his mummy had told him that there was all sorts of things in the forest to use; and how redberry might act as a diuretic when boiled with the pits.

All sorts of things Antar's mind slowly and methodically catalogued as he whittled away on a branch. Carving small designs along its peeled back white tree flesh as he practiced etching a few glyphs, not that they'd ever be charged with a spell. This was more for practice.

Each cut with his blade was made with precision as he began to engrave small glyphs around the top haft of the hiking stick, all within about three quarters of an inch in diameter. Carving small sigils was an errant hobby for him, a way to practice drawing individuals glyphs then rather actually trying to use his glyphing with any form of magical concoction. But that didn't mean in the small circular top where he had sawed off the top of the stave was not a perfect template for a very small circle with a focus sigil formed of three interconnected glyphs he imagined for strength, concentration, and determination.

He'd save it for later though, just see if he could do something with it. He imagined once he was back out in the forests he might do a little experiment to help determine if it worked, the basic idea wondering if the glyphs from the halfway mark of the stave would allow his Res to jettison forwards along the the direction of the stave to only be transmuted to a small fireball at the end when it would almost pass beyond his zone of control. Afterwards... he'd burn the stick like all his other attempts.

Just one more piece of his nature as he prepared for the future culled in the purifying fires.

The rogue would nod once again as the old man began to speak to him once more. "You know the natural world holds many sort of herbalist remedies people don't normally think about. Like honey camomile tea for colds. An easy enough sort of remedy to brew; and camomile tends to help a variety of sorts of ailments. Toothaches; nervous jitters, headaches, and helping someone rest at night. Though it tends to make a person drowsy or sleepy if it's concentrated enough. Normally five petals and the root might be enough for two cups. It is also known to assist digestive disorders by settling the stomach and calming the nerves.

Geridons golden stones... you can find it in the forest meadows pretty easily enough. Here look I got some dried stuff but it should give you a hint. Use it for a sore throat after a bit of a smoke you know."

At those words, the old timer got out his pouch and showed Noth several clumps of dried petals , almost brown but still dried enough to be recognizable as he droned on. " It's got white petals and a poofy yellow center and the flowers roots are fibrous. The petals the best to make tea with, but in a pinch the root and stalk might do ; especially since It might start to lose its petals by mid-Fall, but you can still tell from the stalk. You should go and try it sometime. Though- never add milk to any herbal tea boy, that can only lead to bad things, but honey and syrups- now those are pretty harmless. Peppermint makes it soothing though on a parched throat."

Antar smiled a bit, as the old man kept talking, only nodding in agreement as he considered his words. Cammomile tea seemed to be an easy enough sort to come by; and prove whether the old man's words were true without too much danger. So he decided he would try it out. After all, his next site to chop down some trees did have an old fire pit, and was secluded enough to work a bit. He probably would have to take a bit of time for his own experiment and to find some cammomile in one of the nearby forest meadows.

[Antar]

oocAt this point in character history, Antar did not have the second element of earth learned, therefore there is only fire usage for his reimancy experiment with glyphing.

He had driven the wagon back here, cursing ever so slightly as Dawnstride struggled with a few turns. The muck of the prior days ran had hardened near the topsoil, yet larger pools of wet clay and earth sufficed to slow things down, making the trek back harder and more adruous then it should have been.

Twice he almost had needed to pull the empty wagon's wheel out of a muck pit by force, though a bit of careful rocking managed to free the vehicle. Dawnstride hadn't been very happy when he had to lead her by the halter, walking beside her over the most treacherous parts of the cut path; her hooves had almost slid over the rain soaked logs which had been laid down in the makeshif road's problem spots for traction. A wrong step or twist could have been disastrous for the animal, and only a tight grip on her reins, a steady voice, slow pace and his sharp eyes prevented such an occurrence.

He'd have to be doubly careful on the way back. But for now- the rogue had succesfully arrived at his destination near the old soaked earth of the left fire pit. There was a pile of wet wood nearby, and he thought it would be perfect for his experiment. He could always take a pot out from the wagon's back, but first... he had to find the cammomile petals to try out the old man's suggestion.

After tying Dawnstride to a branch, Antar's steps would lead him towards a nearby meadow, and he kept his bow out , keeping his mind focused to spot any creature which might find its way into his cooking pot tonight. Alas, the rains of the days past had kept them all inside, or maybe drowned them in their burrows for he couldn't find anything on his way besides some dampened scat and tracks that the animals of the area had moved on for better pastures , their steps leading away from the swelled rivers and streams towards the south hills. Probably to seek areas where the muddy waters hadn't tainted grazing meadows, or even out in the opposite direction towards the fields where they might find some farmers hard tended crop.

Whatever the case, he did soon find his cammomile, a whole clump of the things, clinging feistily upon the base of a tree against the elements. He took several clumps of the flowers, and the roots, and the stems, seeking to keep them all for a while later after he tested this tea out. Working in the prior days' rains didn't necessitate a cold to form, but he would admit the temperature and the sordid nature of the weather was making him feel a bit under the weather. Only the benefits of his constant lifting at the carver brothers and a steady diet had given him the physique to help burn off any sickness pretty quickly.

But the camommile would help.

When he returned to the area with the fire ring, he set up a small box fire, with four slatted branches forming a square, while in the center of the construction the rogue would engineer a double staged 'teepee' of sorts filled with bits of frayed rope, and lint to better acting as tinder to better set it alight.

So it was time to make the final touches to the glyphing efforst, using his knife to chip away and smooth over any flaws he could see. It had taken him over an hour at lunch to carve these series, a very long time for simple engravings with his knife blade whittling; and while he wasn't the best whittler in the world, he had used certain combinations of skills he had learned over the time he had spent with the Carvers to progress as rapidly, and as accurately, as possible.

Taking the carved stick in hand he positioned his hands at the two glyphed areas, concentrating his mind and his djed as he began to summon his res, letting it 'flow' around the stave as it dripped from his pores. His mind wished to understand if the glyphs he made could actually help direct a bit of Res' direction before the transmutation process, and it actually seemed to help as it traversed upwards towards the focus glyph at the staves top.

Willing the ball of Res to equate some speed, he would stand ten feet back from the firepit and begin to launch the transluscent substance at his target. Tendrils of the substance would begin to whip around the stave, curving like a snake until it reached the end of the stave slightly quicker then it would have if just thrown from his hands. HIs theory was to see if he could use a far off glyphed object that was still inside his area of control to help temper the direction of his attacks.

So when the Res flung itself from the edge of the staff towards the fire pit, he would transmute it to fire just a foot beyond the end of the staff, keeping a straw sized arcing stream of burning fire alight for the five sustained seconds it would take to alight the tinder. Soon enough... the fire was stopped and he could reflect that his attempt had been a mediocre success. He could help direct Res with a glyph, as it was a djed laced product of personal magic. Perhaps that meant in the future efforts he might make he could use it to better enhance his abilities, maybe even by pushing a transmutation of static res at the extreme limit of his zone of control to trap someone or something.

He wouldn't really know until he tried though.

But now with the burning fire, he would take out his pot and boil about two cups water. When it was ready he would place two of the cammommile flowers into the concoction, letting it simmer and boil as the tea began to form a yellowish mixture from the edifice, and truth be told it began to smell really good. Not like other teas did, slightly acrid and scorched if scorched could be smelled, but enough to still be pleasant to his nostrils. He could imagine how well it would help, though he presumed it might be slightly bitter since he possessed no peppermint.

But as a matter of course to hide the evidence of his whittling ; Antar would crack the branch and toss it into the fires; making sure it was to be burned forever, ensuring there was no trace of his activities but ash as he waited. Soon enough though, after the tea was boiled he would remove the put and ladle out a cup of the brew, probably the easiest herbal concoction to make, before gingerly tasting it.

The cammomile tea was slightly bitter to his taste buds, but the relief he felt when it passed down his throat and into his stomach was real. The problems and the strain seemed to almost disappear as the warm liquid settled into his stomach. Smiling happily at the turn of events, and not feeling sick at all; the rogue would pack away what was left of the flower petals, seeking to keep it ready for the future. There was no telling when it might rain after all.

Happily stowing the pot and filling his flask with the tea; Antar would bank the fire, letting it slowly burn out amidst the relative safety of the stone ring as he turned back to the task at hand. A renewed vigor would come to Antar's step and he'd jauntily turn back towards fullfilling the days quota, and soon the sound of an axeblade ringing through the forests would provide the environment its own source of music. One which would prove the marching tone of his efforts to finish the day's work.

At times he would stop long enough to warm himself by the fire pit again, bringing blessed relief to fingers in the fall chill. But eventually the fire would be put out, the ashes doused and stirred to prevent a forest fire, and a wagon load of fresh cut timber would be hauled back to the carvers for dissemination to the ones working in the yard, followed by a brief, if vigorous ride back to camp.

Another day had passed, and the rogue would fall asleep, happily noting that tomorrow he'd wake up and do it all over again.

~Fin.

[Ink]

And in the Aftermath . . . The Rewards are Revealed. Antar : Skills: Herbalism 3 Carving 1 Glyphing 2 Woodcutting 2 Driving 1 Wilderness Survival 1 Tracking 1 Reimancy 1 Cooking 1 Lore: Herbalism: Seasons Might Effect Potency Herbalism: Redberry Tonic Herbalism: Chamomile Tea Herbalism: Identifying chamomile Written in the ink : If there are any concerns or problems with my grading please feel free to toss me a PM. I am more than happy to explain my reasons or reevaluate them if you feel I've been unfair.