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[Wynn Argall]

The twentieth day of summer, 514 AV

"Leafs with a velvety underside and a flower with yellow petals and red in the middle..." Wynn stood with the scroll in his hands, squinting down at the little illustration of a plant that looked suspiciously like any other sort of plant that might exist. It hadn't taken him a terribly long time to get to the woods, though he'd had to go on foot as his riding skills weren't quite up to par with the stable hand's preferences for loaning out a horse. For the past half bell, Wynn had been wandering about between the trees and underbrush in search of the herbs Ser Normit's associate had sent him out to gather. The stuff was called "connal", and while the portly apothecary had assured Wynn it was quite easy to find, he was having his doubts. There were plants with yellow flowers, plants with red flowers, even plants with yellow and red flowers. The few he'd found that had had the yellow flowers with the red center had spiky, shiny leafs instead of the velvety arrow shaped ones he was looking for.

Rolling the parchment up for what seemed like the hundredth time, Wynn stared out into the vastness of the wood before him. At first, the gentle hues of reds, greens, and oranges were a refreshing and beautiful change of scenery from the regular cobbled, messy world of Syliras. As Wynn started to head back the way he'd come, a frown began to form on his face, souring the pleasant experience of the wilderness. He'd been so focused on finding the connel, he'd quite forgot to notice where he was going. Glancing to his left, then right, Wynn clicked his tongue, not truly panicking but feeling a bit of an acceptable uneasiness. The northern wilderness of the Syliras region was not the most dangerous place a man could be, but it wasn't anywhere near the safest either. He'd left his axe back in his room as the thing was heavy enough to be a hassle on long treks through the woods, but he had brought short sword - though it was about as useful to him as a stick. Alone in the woods with limited defensive capabilities, Wynn found he was much less worried about finding the connel.

Having had little to no experience in survival training, Wynn decided the best thing to do was to head in the direction he probably came from. Staring down at the ground, he did his very best to determine where he had come from by evaluating which broken sticks and bent plants had been caused by his own feet. Unfortunately, there were broken sticks and bent plants in every direction, as is what tended to happen in a forest that housed a great many things large and small. Deciding upon a trajectory, Wynn headed out, still keeping an eye out for the connel. As he walked, if a plant caught his eye, Wynn would immediately extend a hand to point in the direction he was headed, keeping it there as he would kneel down to examine the potential connel.

He continued on in this fashion for about another twenty chimes or so before he finally found something that appeared to be the connel he was looking for. The stem extended from a collection of bunched, wrinkled leafs - velvety to the touch - and what looked like a place a flower could have been. The ground around it had several dried up petals, the colors faded some time ago into a uniform brown. Keeping his arm extended and finger pointed in his desired direction, Wynn let his other hand pet the leafs some more as he thought. If the plant were connel, he was supposed to collect several of them. The apothecary had requested he gather twenty, roots and all (hinting that more would be appreciated, but that he would only pay for the twenty). Up until that moment, Wynn had been unable to find the exact plant, and though the petals were missing, there was a good chance the thing in front of him was connel.

Deciding it wouldn't hurt to take it with him, Wynn reached down to pull the plant out of the ground. To both his surprise and dismay, the leafs and stem separated themselves from the root, popping off of the ground with a crunchy snap of breaking cellulose. Staring down at where the leafs had been, Wynn carefully placed the bunch down on the ground before digging at where the root remained. Other arm still outstretched for fear he might forget, Wynn scratched at the loamy earth for a good five chimes before he was finally able to extricate the root from its subterranean home. When it finally came loose, an explosion of dirt errupted from the hole left behind as the root shot into the air from the amount of force he'd been exerting on it. Tumbling back onto his behind, Wynn pulled his extended arm closer to his body, using his elbow to catch himself from rolling all the way to his back. Connel finally in hand, Wynn gathered up the pieces and carefully placed them into his rucksack.

Standing up, Wynn glanced around his surroundings once more. His arm had been extended about ninety degrees from his body, which meant he'd been heading towards his right. When he'd fallen, however, he'd rolled slightly to his side, which meant it was less of a true right and more of a lazy right. Staring in the direction of the lazy right, Wynn found it looked an awfully lot like the way he'd just come from. Glancing behind him, he was further confused by the strangely familiar path that met his eyes. Everywhere he looked seemed to be where he'd just come from, and nowhere appeared to be where he was supposed to be heading. The only consolation was there was a small patch of what looked like connel to his mostly backwards left.

Heading over to the patch of herbs, Wynn decided he'd just gather up the plants he'd been sent out to find first, then figure out how he was going to get back second. After all, he didn't want to cause any trouble for Ser Normit - at least not any more than he usually did. Stooping down, Wynn set about digging away some of the dirt from around one of the plant's base, ignoring the fact that the flower was more of an orange than either a red or a yellow. Whatever the plants actually were, they had velvety leafs and a stem flower, so they were going to go into his godsbedamned rucksack. In total, there were seventeen plants, not including the one already in his pack. As he tried to gently extricate the plants from the ground, the majority of them would either fall apart like the first one. The few that stayed in tact required Wynn to burrow down deep into the soil before the things were willing to leave.

Once the plants were stored in his pack, Wynn leaned back onto his heels, sweat from the effort and heat of the day trickling down the side of his face. He was still lost, but he'd come much farther along on his errand. Once he'd regained a bit of his breath, he pushed himself up off the ground, wiping his grimy hands on his trousers to get the worst of the muddy soil off. When he looked around his surroundings this time, however, there was a slight change in the scenery. Where there had once only been trees and brush in every direction, there now stood a very large, very imposing wild man. Blinking several times to make sure he wasn't just imagining the behemoth, Wynn came to the conclusion the man was both very real and potentially quite dangerous. Unsure how to handle the situation, Wynn attempted a frightened smile and a jerky wave. "Hello!"

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[Wotan]

It was early afternoon as Wotan made his descent down the huge, old moss covered tree that grew in an old secluded grove in the lower slopes of the Bronze Wood just before the Cobalt Mountains. He had spent the entire morning from dawn lying on the thickest branch inhaling the sweet smoke of the blue vision weed out of his wooden pipe, listening to the nature songs of the birds as they awoke out of roost. This was his fourth day in the wood during what he liked to describe as his "Quest", extended periods of time within a wilderness, with nothing but his wits and some bare essential supplies like oils, fats, water and equipment repairs, trying to find small parts of meaning and spiritual closure. He had done this type of thing all his life, some experiences good and some experiences bad. What ever type they were however, always made him stronger. Reaching the bottom of the tree with a thud as he jumped the rest of the descent, Wotan give a deep inhale through his nostrils and sat down, comfortably crossing his legs. During the summer periods, once every few days, Wotan would have to reapply his Doglo dye tattoos, the heat and warmth of the weather caused the paint-like mixture to chip and degrade until the sight looked horrid. Taking out a small clay pot out of his herbalist bag, Wotan dipped his fingers into the dark blue liquid and began to reapply his tattoo's. Images of wolf heads, bear claws, bird wings, strange swirls and more began to take shape over his body and his fingers and hands caressed over his arms, legs and body. Raising back to standing level after packing his things away, Wotan began to walk, seeming aimless in his direction while using his spear as a walking stick, the Blue Vision Weed had giving him a strong sense of peace, tranquillity and gave the colours of the forest almost bursting euphoria. The Summers day was bright and warm and the light burst through the tree top canopy flooding the forest floor below. The birds that glided on the cooling breeze continued to sing masterful compositions of music filled with tweets and chirps and the small animals of the woodland floor bustled about, oblivious to the world outside the one they only knew. It seemed like bells had passed as he made his way through the forest, almost instinctively knowing where he was heading. He had entered a spare woodland made of birch and oak with small yellow flowers with red centres. The thought of Connal popped into his mind but these thoughts were soon dismissed as the herb was quite a short plant that dangled at the height of Wotan's ankles while these 'impostor' plants were a good bit bigger, he himself had fallen for the plants ruse a few times, years ago when he was less experienced at herbology. Continuing on his way, he was stopped dead in his tracks by what seemed like young man scraping around in the mud using his hands to claw at what seemed like the impostor plant he had thought about just a second ago. Unsure of what to say, Wotan stood there and watched the boy with intrigue and curiosity. "What is he doing?" he thought to himself, trying to hide his chuckles of amusement. Before Wotan could ask his four dozen question however, the youngster got up and met his eyes with Wotan's. A strange awkwardness clouded the air as they both paused and looked at each other for a moment. The youngling looked nervous and frightened until the silence between them both was broken with oddball wave and "Hello.". Wotan cocked his head to the right and smiled. "Lost in the big bad woods are we?" he stroked his beard a few times and steadily walked towards the youngster, slowly casting his shadow over him until they were a metre apart. Tightening his grip upon his spear, he raised it into the air and brought it crashing down. A thud erupted into the air as his spear wobbled stuck into the earth. "Come! come friend! Sit with me!" Wotan sat crossed legged and patted on the soft green grass infront of him. "Come speak with your friend Wotan!" his voice filled with excitement and enthusiasm. He unslung his rucksack from his back and started to rubble about until he pulled out a long wooden pipe, intricately carved with small animals. "Come taste the taste of the earth and join me in its merriment!" he shouted while crumbling some of the Blue Vision herb into the lighting bowl.

[Wynn Argall]

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As soon as the man smiled, Wynn's own smile grew into one of relief rather that poorly concealed fear. It wasn't necessarily a universal law that all people with warm hearted smiles were, indeed, warm hearted, but it was something of a passable rule of thumb to Wynn. As he approached, the man called out a teasing question, his voice a rough, deep timbre. Wynn nodded, a slight pink shading his cheeks out of embarrassment. He was, after all, a squire of the Knights of Syliras. People like he weren't supposed to get lost in the shallows of the woods. Though, Wynn supposed there weren't very many people that our acted quite like he did. Perhaps he really was the sort to get lost in the woods.

Wynn was startled out of his daze by the sound of the man's spear being shoved into the ground beside him. Flinching slightly, Wynn's attention was flicked back to the man's booming voice that came from a couple head's worth of height above him. Wide eyes watched as the painted man slid down into a seated position, legs crossed and a vivacious smile on his bearded lips. At the invitation, Wynn hurriedly moved to join, his sword stabbing into the ground and pushing its pommel into his side. Glancing down at it in surprise, Wynn fumbled with the weapon, shifting his weight to one side so he could move it out of the way of him sitting. Once all that was managed, Wynn leaned forward, watching the man named Wotan with a curious stare.

He had been rummaging in his pack during Wynn's struggles and had procured a wooden pipe and some strange herb which he sprinkled into the pipe's bowl. Wynn had seen plenty of the other knights smoke smaller, curved pipes, but the one in Wotan's hands was much longer, straighter, and decorated. There were mostly animals engraved into the wood, from what he could discern they were mostly wolves, maybe some rabbits and what looked like an eagle. He found himself squinting to better make out the figures when Wotan spoke again, his jovial boom jerking Wynn's attention back to his rugged face.

Wynn had seen many impressive figures: the daunting Ser Maximus, the muscled Ser Zulkar, and even Ser Normit had an imposing aura when he needed to. Wotan was head and shoulders above all of them. He was massive, intimidating, wild, and yet still comfortable enough Wynn didn't feel the need to remain tense and on alert. It was astonishing how such a man could possess such a personality, but Wynn much preferred the Wotan before him and not the one he could have potentially been. His second invitation to "taste the taste of the earth" didn't make a whole lot of sense to Wynn. Unsure of what to do, Wynn just nodded, his smile fading to a comfortable curve. "I did have some dirt earlier. It was very..." Wynn shrugged. "Earthy."

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[Wotan]

Wotan chuckled at Wynn's response showing his white teeth with a cheeky grin. The Blue Vision herb settled into a perfect of blue in the bowl, not packed down to tight to stop the air flow from bringing the desired smoke into the mouth. The smell of the weed was fresh with an perfumery, sourish odour that tickled the nostrils, quite unique in the world of smoking material. Wotan began to strike a flint and stone over the bowl of the pipe, tiny sparkles of short lived flame dashed over the surface until the dry herb like mixture of plant material caught light, sending a small string of twisting smoke upward towards the sun sparkling tree canopy. "You smoke a lot friend?" he said before drawing on the mouthpiece of the pipe causing the rest of the herb to catch a flame. Taking a draw of the smoke, Wotan swirled the smoke in his mouth before inhaling it slowly into his lungs. The taste was a bit bitter but had smooth, natural, earthly after tones to it which made the smoking a pleasant experience. Some of the harsher cultivated plants had a charred flavour which marred much of the taste and made the build up less enjoyable. Wotan arched his mouth in a circle and started to puff out the smoke in many different sized rings that floated carelessly away. "Here my friend." Wotan said with his large hand extended, passing the pipe to his new acquaintance, before falling back on the soft grass and letting the high envelope him. After a chime, the colours of green, red and orange from the tree leaves became bright and pronounced and almost glittered like the ripples of water travelling down a stream underneath the blue sky of summer and the thoughts of peace filled his mind. Quiet laughter soon emerged from Wotan's lips as the thoughts of Wynn playing in the mud entered his head. "Don't suck too hard or too fast, let it come naturally." he said serenely calm, while running his fingers through the blades of grass beneath him. "Soon you will feel the colours and see the feelings. It wont make sense as I say it now, but shortly you will understand." Wotan sat back up and looked on at the youngster before him, stroking his beard and smiling. "It might come on strong to start with, this is natural, don't fight the feeling, just let it take you friend. Nothing will happen that you won't regret.". Wotan then took off his Ushanka hat, letting free his wild, auburn hair and passed it to Wynn. "Put that on too, it will make you feel better.". Again sticking his hand into his rucksack, Wotan began feeling around for the salted beef, red apples and skins of water he had brought with him for this particular "Quest".

[Wynn Argall]

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Wynn was immediately fascinated by how white Wotan's teeth were. He wasn't a particularly dirty or unkempt man, but the furs and tattoos along with his wild bush of hair gave Wynn the impression that Wotan's personal hygiene didn't extend much past the monthly or yearly bath. Yet, there they were, white as a blind eye. Curious, Wynn leaned forward slightly, doing his best to be both unobtrusive yet close enough distance to chance a little sniff of the man before him. He smelled like smoke. Not the oily torch smoke that populated the underbelly of Syliras, but an earthy, woody scent that mixed with the sour scent of the herbs in his pipe. Leaning back, Wynn shook his head, his smile a reflection of Wotan's own amusement. The wildman wasn't quite as wild as Wynn had supposed he might be.

As the pipe was lit, Wynn once more leaned forward to examine the instrument before him. The little tendrils of smoke that crept up from where the herbs were now slowly beginning to burn held the same sour scent. His eyes ran the line of the threads before they disappeared into the warm afternoon air. Before drawing a breath from the pipe, Wotan inquired as to whether Wynn was much for smoking. Having never done it before, Wynn supposed the proper answer was a shake of his head, denoting his lack of experience with the pipe.

As Wotan puffed out the little rings of smoke, Wynn's smile grew into a wide grin. They were rounded, wobbly, and ethereal, drifting into the light like strange, circular birds. His attention was brought back to Wotan at the offer of the pipe. Not particularly keen on smoking, Wynn didn't dare refuse. Wotan was extending to him a gesture of friendship, Wynn could figure that much. What exactly was in the pipe, he wasn't sure, but Wynn decided the best thing to do was just oblige whatever friendliness was shone him. Better to be lost in the woods with a friendly wildman than an offended one.

Receiving the pipe with both hands, Wynn stared down at it. Now that he could see it closer, the detail of the wood work stood out against the grubbiness of his hands. There were indeed wolves and other beasts interwoven together to create an aesthetically pleasing conglomeration of both beast and nature. Turning the pipe so the mouthpiece faced him, Wynn looked to Wotan, uncertain how to go about it. He'd seen him breath in through the opening, but he didn't really feel like taking any chances with smoldering herb smoke. The other man seemed to be focused on the trees above them, so much so Wynn joined in with his own curious gaze. Beautiful and serene, Wynn couldn't find anything that would garner such intense interest.

Wotan spoke again, into the sky, instructing Wynn on how to smoke the pipe. Apparently he was to suck at just the right pressure, something Wynn rarely ever did the first time with anything. Licking his lips, Wynn glared down at the pipe. The tendrils of smoke continued to rise, and as he put his lips to the pipe, Wotan spoke again. He had absolutely no idea what the man was talking about, but nodded anyway, a serious glean in his eye. As he began to suck on the pipe, the air moved through the herbs, carrying with it the heady, sour smoke. Wynn winced as the hot smoke swirled up into his mouth, and began to sputter an cough as it rushed down his throat. It moved up and out his nose as well, little puffs of grey escaping his nostrils as his eyes watered in reply.

Wotan gave him some more confusing words of assurance, which started to make Wynn a bit concerned. He had no idea what exactly was supposed to be happening, but when the hat was placed in his empty hand, Wynn just put it on. The garment smelled the same as Wotan: smokey and earthy with a mix of sweat. The flaps on the side fit large on his ears, hanging down to cuddle his neck and tickle his cheeks. As Wotan moved to rummage through his pack once more, Wynn attempted another draw on the pipe, this time trying to keep himself from breathing it all the way in as it pooled into his mouth. While more successful, Wynn held the smoke in his mouth long enough for it to start seeping out his nose again, like he had some strange cold where smoke ran instead of snot.

Coughing again, Wynn found his coughs slowly change into giggles. The smoke seemed to giggle back at him as it danced and swirled away. It was strange, but the smoke truly was dancing. The little tendrils had grown legs that gyrated and swung to some unheard melody. Wynn bobbed right along with it, Wotan's hat sliding to and fro on his head. The sound of Wotan pulling things from his pack seemed incredibly loud to him, so loud that Wynn put a hand on the other man's knee, pushing the pipe up to his own mouth and making a soft whooshing noise with his lips. Smiling again, Wynn sucked on the pipe a few more times, taking a little of the smoke and just swallowing it. It tasted a lot like something he'd eaten before, but he couldn't quite place it. Wynn's passively happy grin suddenly switched to one of wide eyed wonder when he finally let his gaze wander to the surrounding forest.

The colors were impossibly vivid. Greens and golds danced together on the breeze, twisting and winding into waterfalls of shimmering color. The grass that swayed beneath the gentle wind were each like little raindrops in a pond, undulating and flickering. Wynn blinked slowly, his mouth slightly agape, as the little buzzing bugs in the air moved in and out of his focus, sometimes large and imposing, other times small and timid. He reached out a hand to touch one, but they were much farther away than he thought. Instead, he turned his gaze to the five fingered mass of flesh in front of him. Wiggling his fingers, Wynn stared at the different moving pieces, moving his mouth along with whatever part he was watching. Coughing a few more times, Wynn lay back onto the ground with a weary thud, giggling a little at the strange sensation of the earth so suddenly making contact with his spine. The hat slid down to partially cover his left eye.

"It's all one-eyed now, Mister Wotan." He coughed a few more times, the familiar sour taste still lingering. "But it wasn't before." The pipe was still securely clenched in Wynn's right hand, where it rested on his stomach. Chuckling to himself, Wynn shook his head lazily to a fro. "It's like that all over, isn't it?" He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so peaceful, so serene. Everything about anything was just right, just dandy. Super.

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