The West Haven Weregild IC thread

[Fallout_Monkey]

The village of West Haven is having it Sown Day Festival today. The village and the surrounding farms are celebrating the completion of the spring planting. Preparations for the feast have just begun with the smell of cooking food wafting in from all corners of the village. There is going to be a pie tasting competition(the winner gets bragging rights) followed a pie eating competition. Then there will be archery tournament and strong man competition. Each event costs a silver to enter and the winner gets the pot. The Reeve has promised an additional 5 silver to the winner of the archery tournament and a magic bracelet to whoever wins the strong man competition this year. Everyone is eager for the sun to set as well because Johan, the local hedge mage, has promised an even better firework show this year than any he has previously done.

[Lord Foul]

Doug takes in a deep breath, full of the smells of pies cooking, and exhales with a contented smile.

"Ah, but it's going to be a fine Sown Day today" he says out loud, to anyone nearby.

He's only just finished his own planting, delayed by the unwelcome discovery of some rocks in one of his potato fields. But now the work is over he can enjoy the rest of the day and the festivities to come. He reaches a hand into his pocket, feeling the few small coins that lie there. No great fortune to spend on high living, he thinks, but at least enough to be able to join in... and maybe even enter the pie tasting competition. He knows his pies, does Doug McMurphy.

He hums a jaunty tune to himself as he carries on down the street between the stalls being erected and the bustling villagers preparing for the festival.

[Lord Foul]

Meanwhile, in a nearby forest, a conversation is taking place between a young human and a big muscular half-orc, in the clearing outside a tiny shack.

"Of course, there's nobody in the village as strong as you, Rogar. You'd win for sure. There's no doubt at all. You'd be a fool not to enter."

"Yeah, yeah, I knows that Norm. It's just... I has work to do. I can't just drop everything and go off enterin' competitishuns and the like... wouldn't be... you know...er"

The young man gives the other a calculating look.

"You don't have the entry fee, do you?" he accuses, with a look of feigned surprise.

The half-orc's face reddens with shame.

"Oh, my friend, I cannot bear to see you miss out on such a fine opportunity to show them all how splendid you are. I will gladly pay your entry fee... for a measly half of any winnings. Now what do you say to that?"

"Er... well... thanks Norm. That's really good of you."

[Fallout_Monkey]

As Doug passes the young halfling woman Molly she calls out to him.

"Oh Doug. I was hoping to run into you. I was wondering if you had you had some of those delicious russets you grow left over in your stores. I'm bringing a stew to the feast and your potatoes would make it a hearty hit."

[Lord Foul]

Doug stops, scratching his head in thought for a moment or two...

"You know what, young Molly. I reckon I might just have a few taters left, and I can't think of a better thing to do with them than have them graced by one of your fine stews."

"Just give me a few minutes and I'll bring them by."

With a wave he continues on his way. Oh well, looks like it'll be turnip mash next week then. Still, she does make a mighty fine stew and he'd hate to disappoint the young lass.

[Lord Foul]

Violet moves quietly through the village carrying a large basket filled with brightly coloured ribbons. She plaited them all herself, from her collection of offcuts and scraps, to make a goodly number of woven decorations. And now she is hanging them from any available place that looks like it could do with a bit of colour.

She does this every year, never asking for anything in return, but knowing that the villagers recognise her work and remember when they need something woven that has to look really special. The subtle power of advertising.

[Fallout_Monkey]

"Good afternoon, Violet" The Reeve says as he passes by with his usual entourage, dressed in his holiday finest complete with top hat, cape and decorative cane. "I swear your ribbons get more beautiful and elaborate every year. Happy Sown day."

Back in the nearby forest, young Norman is walking back to town. He is surprised by a rustling in the leaves above him, then a whisper on the wind.

"Your kind don't belong here. Run away little man. Be safe in your stolen home."

[Lord Foul]

Violet blushes politely and gives a graceful curtsey.

"Why thank you kindly, Milord. Happy Sown Day to you and yours."

Before he can move on she steps forward and offers him a special token, woven of brightly coloured silks in the shape of a wreath that just happens to perfectly fit around the brim of his top hat.

"I'd be honoured if you'd wear this, Milord. It will make you look even more splendid than usual."

[Lord Foul]

Norman starts in surprise, looking for the source of the voice.

"Do you know who you're talking to?" he asks loudly, with as much bluster as he can muster.

He starts to swagger off... but his nerve breaks after a few moments and he runs for the village as fast as he can.

[Fallout_Monkey]

"This is such a colourful addition to my hat. I think it breathes new life into the old thing. Thank you my dear. I'll wear it with pride." The reeve continues off down the street inspecting various decorations and stalls as he proceeds.