#plotless-narrative — Public Fediverse posts

An afternoon with Prva Metzr caretaker of the Everflow

Prva rows in the heat of a summer swelter. The water isn’t choppy. He’s still struggling a bit. Deep, pulling cuts to get to the Font of Two Paths quickly.

Most of the other font-kids stay in when it’s this hot. Prva knows he can make a few coin, and safely because Vrda his river otter companion will splash through the lake to make it more comfortable.

Most thems with birds and dogs won’t get the splashies. Vrda is the reason Prva can work a day with this sun.

A quick j-stroke stops the boat, right near the Font. He tosses a knotted rope to the otter who chomps a big knotted end. Then the work of getting the jars ready starts.

Already set in order. Lids off. Getting them ready for pure waters of the Everflow direct from the Font as it falls from cliffside. An attempt to stay stable underneath kind of works, mostly because the little otter is pushing the small boat back towards the fall.

Prva bows his head. His lips moving.

That big rush of noise under the fall with the rough waters would obscure his words if anyone was close. No one is close though — the heat.

They wouldn’t hear him anyway. He’s performing, not praying. He learned long ago that Quar didn’t care about prayers or belief. The pure waters heal.

But he still pretends to pray. It’s a job. The performance matters.

All the jars are full. Flip caps are on.

Then the row back to Quar’s dock, where the acolytes hand the harvested Everflow off to the Orthodox Church of Quar. It’s a trip he’ll make a few more times today. There’s a small bonus when he’s willing and other ain’t.

Boat isn’t his. That’s tied off for the next one to do the work, the jar racks now empty.

Vrda crawls up the quay side. Dripping the waters of the lack behind them. They’re off for some fish and a chilled tisane of pine and limon from Daoud.

Legendary magic was big and powerful, life changing. Modern magic is a cold drink on a hot day after heavy labor. Modern magic is also the ability to make oneself just a little big wet during the worst heats.

This narrative slice of life was an attempt at Tuesday Afternoon, a technique to test world building to see if the created world makes sense for normal people.

Telse was the center of my first 5e campaigns. It is the source of the Everflow, the healing waters that feed into the Font of Two Paths. The Church of Quar controls access to the lake, the Font and the Everflow. That mercantile-faith is the origin of the common tongue in the World of the Everflow.

Once part of the empire of Sheljar, Telse is now a free city like most of the Western Wildes. Both the Orthodox and Reformed Churches of Quar are based in the town. Despite being a small city or large town, Telse has embassies from the other kingdoms and free cities due to its healing waters.

Prva Metzr is an acolyte of Quar with a river otter bonded companion named Vrda. Metzr is a human in their mid-20s. He considers his faith a job more than a duty or calling.

An afternoon with Prva Metzr caretaker of the Everflow

Prva rows in the heat of a summer swelter. The water isn’t choppy. He’s still struggling a bit. Deep, pulling cuts to get to the Font of Two Paths quickly.

Most of the other font-kids stay in when it’s this hot. Prva knows he can make a few coin, and safely because Vrda his river otter companion will splash through the lake to make it more comfortable.

Most thems with birds and dogs won’t get the splashies. Vrda is the reason Prva can work a day with this sun.

A quick j-stroke stops the boat, right near the Font. He tosses a knotted rope to the otter who chomps a big knotted end. Then the work of getting the jars ready starts.

Already set in order. Lids off. Getting them ready for pure waters of the Everflow direct from the Font as it falls from cliffside. An attempt to stay stable underneath kind of works, mostly because the little otter is pushing the small boat back towards the fall.

Prva bows his head. His lips moving.

That big rush of noise under the fall with the rough waters would obscure his words if anyone was close. No one is close though — the heat.

They wouldn’t hear him anyway. He’s performing, not praying. He learned long ago that Quar didn’t care about prayers or belief. The pure waters heal.

But he still pretends to pray. It’s a job. The performance matters.

All the jars are full. Flip caps are on.

Then the row back to Quar’s dock, where the acolytes hand the harvested Everflow off to the Orthodox Church of Quar. It’s a trip he’ll make a few more times today. There’s a small bonus when he’s willing and other ain’t.

Boat isn’t his. That’s tied off for the next one to do the work, the jar racks now empty.

Vrda crawls up the quay side. Dripping the waters of the lack behind them. They’re off for some fish and a chilled tisane of pine and limon from Daoud.

Legendary magic was big and powerful, life changing. Modern magic is a cold drink on a hot day after heavy labor. Modern magic is also the ability to make oneself just a little big wet during the worst heats.

This narrative slice of life was an attempt at Tuesday Afternoon, a technique to test world building to see if the created world makes sense for normal people.

Telse was the center of my first 5e campaigns. It is the source of the Everflow, the healing waters that feed into the Font of Two Paths. The Church of Quar controls access to the lake, the Font and the Everflow. That mercantile-faith is the origin of the common tongue in the World of the Everflow.

Once part of the empire of Sheljar, Telse is now a free city like most of the Western Wildes. Both the Orthodox and Reformed Churches of Quar are based in the town. Despite being a small city or large town, Telse has embassies from the other kingdoms and free cities due to its healing waters.

Prva Metzr is an acolyte of Quar with a river otter bonded companion named Vrda. Metzr is a human in their mid-20s. He considers his faith a job more than a duty or calling.

Sweat dripping from my brow, I head back towards home. Dinodas bounds towards me, shifting to walk on the customary left side as we stroll. My hand reaches up to scratch that comfortable spot behind his ear. It’s an instinctive move now, for both of us.

We’re kin for many years now, this massive hound and little me, a halfling from Kirtin, just off Slope.

On certain days in the field he’s closer to me than others. On rising full Glibbon he knows I’m going to cut wood and brush. The physical exertion helps me focus, or unfocus — whatever. Those things that happened down Slope, and the years after, normally sit back in my head, but since the Hornjaws started visiting on full moons I’m unable to avoid the thoughts.

Don’t know how they got me to open up — probably something to do with how well they treat Dinodas. He likes them, so I like them. It’s typical for a bond. Meeting Belni and Terdu was good for him, probably good for me too.

I don’t like thinking about those times. I don’t want to remember the decision I made.

So that’s why when a moon rises full I cut brush and start a burn pile. Because this evening I’m going to share some stories. Daytime cannot be about Down Slope and regrets. That’s what moons rise is for.

I think back to the week-moon Feylf’s rise in Autumn. Belni was at the door. I didn’t have the rituals then, no stories. Just a drink from second mug. First mug is for caf in morning; second mug is ale in evenings. I lost third mug a while ago, that’s the one that Serg’nt gave me with the bottle. The fire was blazing, a bit too hot for this time of the year. Din’s at my feet when the knock comes.

Wrong time of day for a visitor.

Out here in Cold Creek things are pretty spread out. Down by Iron Road they be more city types. Here we’re alone at night, and that’s why I live by Creek.

“Ho. Door’s open.”

I set second mug down. Looking towards the door, one eye on the dusty sword that hangs to its right. Dinodas lifts one ear, one eye. The old hound is apathetic.

“Sir, ‘s Belni. I been looking for Terdu. He late from bonds-day.”

I helped the older Hornjaw look for his younger brother. They human, Belni with a solid herding dog. Good size to his bond, smaller than Din.

We searched for a few hours, the light of Feylf helped, and a few hours after sunset the month-moon Glibbon rose too. That made things easier. We found Terdu crying in a briar. He was embarrassed. His bond were two little sheep — two little fluffy wool sheep.

So I talked and talked and talked. I told tale to Terdu of all the kin and their bonds I met Down Slope. Many dogs, horses too. But when you’re on the northern front you see a bit of everything. Cold Creek doesn’t have a lot of people. Most of their bonds are herding dogs, we’re a herding community and then Iron Road nearsby has the ford. Still mostall the bonds have purpose.

Telling Terdu and Belni about the bigger world helped. Terdu was willing to go home. Belni, his dog, the two floof-sheep and the now prideful Terdu waved away. On that first night I didn’t know they’d come back. They’ve been back five Glibbons now.

Winter on the Slope and Rise gets cold, so the fire rages and the Hornjaws started to bring their friends.

There’s a first-timer tonight. Someone from Iron Road? Not from Creek, that’s certain.

He’s with a pony, carrying a lance and shield. Oh, and the helm of a new conscript. Older than the Hornjaws. Hmmm.

Feylf and Glibbon are both rising now, full. Kin is three-quarters too. It’s a bright night, but bitter cold. The Dragon is tucked behind a cloud and years from being full.

“Terdu, is this everyone you invited?”

“Yessi.. I mean, yes.” They’d stopped calling me sir. I’m just a man, and a dog, and a past that interests them.

There’s three girls, not the same families, as one is a goliath. She’s got a flutter of sparrows round her, several braiding her beard while she sits and waits.

“Belni, serve the cider. Tonight I’m going to talk about Fer and his bull. Fer came from out east. Getting to know Fer was probably the best thing about serving Down Slope. Warm soul who knew warm songs, and would always smile.”

The new one is clearly disinterested.

“It was Fer who taught me talking-drum. I never picked it up the speed he could do, but didn’t matter. He made me practice. Made me good in the head. Hitting that little drum meant not thinking about the lines across the river with the people of Az and Sel, their mastiffs, their rage…”

New kid stops muttering to himself and just interrupts.

“How was he at fighting?!” He shouts.

“Fer would sing too. Not a deep voice, not falsetto — just that type of voice that is confident in itself and willing to share…”

“His fighting! Was he a master at the sword, or bow, or an axeman?” Another interuption.

It’s going to be one of those nights. This isn’t the first time a near-child has wanted the focus to be on the violence in the front. It most certainly won’t be the last.

“Others may tell you those stories. My tales are of the friendships made, the acquaintances held close, and the connections lost. I no longer swing a sword or throw my spear. But I still think warmly about the women and men with whom I serve.

“They are what I miss. They are my regrets. The people and their bonds are the only thing worth my time, for any other thought is sorrow and pain.

“Maybe you’ll find another to tell you your tales. Here, at my fire, under the full moons, my stories are of them, because these are the stories I have.”

Chided, the man-child laughs and storms off. No one joins him.

“Another custom Fer taught me…” I continue with my tale of my friend, the story I have.

Mastodon

https://fullmoonstorytelling.com/2023/11/11/storytime-as-moons-rise/

#Fiction #Kin #Kirtin #microfiction #moon #narrative #plotlessNarrative #WorldOfTheEverflow

Korlot is a small walled town along the hillside in the Lothian Highlands. Every morning Teegan and her little brother leave the Upper Gate with the handful of goats their family collected. They head out to the managed clover fields with their fences. The family cannot dedicate time to herd goats, not today. Dad will work the rye and barley with Ried today. Mom is working on the cheese this morning. In the afternoon she will be trading family mohair for a shield for Teegan and Rohan

The family isn’t rich enough to buy two shields, and like many who raise two children so close together their weapons-of-age are hand-me-downs. Teegan’s already started practicing with Pa’s hammer. It is light and natural to her hand. She would also take Dad’s halberd.

Rohan hasn’t practiced. His friend Spence helped him create a pike. It was cheap and simple. Spence found a bit of iron to shod the staff. Hopefully the pike keeps the boy ten feet further from trouble.

Little Alleway is out front of the goats. The yippy terrier is horrible herder, but Rohan loves him. Everyone in the family has a terrier, except Teegan. Everyone loves them, except Teegan.

Last year, when she reached bond-age, grandpa was dying. Teegan provided his care for most of the season. She’d bring him tea and listen to the stories about when Korlot mustered out in the most recent attempt to take back Kirtin-on-the-Lake. He’d speak of loyalty and might, of failure and friendship, and of disappointment that the north could not defend themselves from Azsel and Kirtin needed help from the thieves of Daoud.

As she listened Ha-Lim, the immense bighorn ram, would be at Pa’s feet. As Pa weakened Ha-Lim crept closer. During this time her friends were bonding with various dogs, ponies and cats. She did not go on a bonding journey. Pa had a few months and so many stories.

So she listened. She learned. She brought Pa tea, goat cheese and bread. She started to bring Ha-Lim clover and grass. When she cleaned the room, she cleaned for the ram too. When she walked to the well for water, Ha-Lim followed. The rare times that she left the house to bring the goats in, Ha-Lim followed.

When they buried Pa the ram was there, as usually happens when the person passes before the animal in a bond. He laid next the burial plot for a while and then trotted over to Teegan. Teegan never went on a bonding journey, never had a bonding ceremony. It didn’t matter. Ha-Lim is now her bonded partner in life.

It’s a lot better than those damn yippy dogs. He’s horrible at helping herd the goats, eats the vegetables and grains when working the crops and the horns get in the way of cuddling. None of those things matter. Ha-Lim is quiet and elegant. Every breath reminds Teegan of Pa. And all those memories of Pa are also memories of Ha-Lim.

Plus, when Rohan and his friends get too foolish threatening to have the ram bowl through their group tends to get them to change their focus.

“Rohan! That billie is pissed off. Call Alleway back here,” she screams out. “And dammit, stop throwing rocks at the goats!”

Tomorrow the four of them will be off to Kirtin-in-the-Sky. They will serve their not-Winter with the Shield of Kirtin. After a week or so of training they’ll head to the northern hills to show force against Azsel. Rohan is going to be trouble with a ten-foot pole, keeping that kid under control is hard enough. Giving him distractions like weapons and new friends will be a disaster, and a requirement of the law.

“Alle, get here!” and he throws one final stone. ‘Throws one final stone’ could be Rohan’s middle name.

“Rohan, here’s your bread. Eat, then go tell Ried to watch the goats. We have to finish packing.”

That evening the town would hold Teegan and Rohan’s Service Feast. That celebration of their final step into adulthood ends their time as youth. The moment they take to the trails and roads to Kirtin-in-the-Sky they are adults. They will serve the Kingdom and starting with next Winter they will be ready whenever Kirtin needs them.

Many meet their partner during Summer Service. Teegan just wants Rohan to come home alive. That’s probably going to be harder than meeting someone, even if Azsel doesn’t raid. Rohan can’t stop talking about Azsel-ite cavalry on dogback.

He’s excited at the chance of battle and his bond is a tiny, yippy terrier. This is a horrible combination.

https://fullmoonstorytelling.com/2015/04/14/teegans-last-day-at-home/

#DnD #DungeonsAndDragons #Fiction #narrative #plotlessNarrative