Prompt Harvest Festival

[Rhosyn Firth]

Rho rolled another barrel over to the tent that had been set on the grassy field outside of town. Plumhollow loved it's festivals and it was time for the Harvest Festival. Traditionally held when the leaves start to change colors, with the mix of green, gold, and orange tones. A celebration of the final harvest before winter descended to blanket the fields in white. Baskets of apples were stacked on tables, great pumpkins waited to be judged to see which would be the largest, fresh pies steamed from the Mystic Morsal Bakery, and dozens of others who wish to share the bounty with their friends and family. Just like her own Wyldewood Brews and the various meads and beers that she'd created from last year's harvest.

She reached up, pulling the rag from her belt to wipe at the sweat from her brows. "Everything ready?" Rho said turning to her assistant, a halfling named Petra.

"Aye. This looks like all the barrels you'd set aside for the festival and the clean mugs are on the table there. The barrels just need to be tapped." Petra said as he wiped his hands on the apron tied about his waist.

"We'll get that done after the council has started the festival. I want to start with the Goldenwood Apple Mead, when everyone is still sober enough to appreciate the subtle notes and flavors. As the night wears on, we can tap into some of the others." She moved through the barrels considering the rest that she'd brought. "Of course, the pumpkin ale will be popular, but I really think this new one we created this year will be a crowd pleaser." Rho tapped on the wooden barrel burned in with the shape of a leaf. The beer had been brewed with sage and licorice root. The doe woman was looking forward to the reviews of this new taste. She was excited.

"I'm going to wash up really quick and dress for the festival then I'll let you go get ready." Rho gave a wave as she moved back to the small house that sat next to her brewery. A simple building with just two rooms, her bedroom and the main room. On her bed was a deep green dress with pretty purple ribbons that laced up the back and several others that she was going to weave into her hair as she piled it up into a braided crown on her head. She didn't take long to wash off the sweat and dress before she was back out to the festival relieving Petra so that he could go get ready. She could run the booth well enough on her own. The drink would flow freely, she just had to make sure that she replaced the empty barrels on occasion.

Rolling a few out and lifting them to the table and into the stands, her muscles straining under the weight. She may have been small, but she was deceptively strong. Brewing required a lot of work and she'd been doing this since she was young. Reaching for one of the taps, she hammered it into the wood. Grabbing a mug, she pulled back the faucet and the golden liquid filled the bottom of the mug. Lifting it to her lips, she tasted the sweet liquid, her lips smacking together in pleasure. There was nothing so delicious as a mead brewed with Goldenwood Apples. Turning back, she readied the other barrels as the crowds began to gather.​

 

[Hawkflesh]

Among the crowds walked a gloomy spectre in a red cloak.

Hawkflesh had arrived at the festival of the last harvest because travelling had always been easier than staying still, because the township was a destination and perhaps more importantly because looking backwards had always seemed like the first step towards giving up.

Thin black hairs curtained his face down to the shoulder from under which his pointed ears shot out almost perfectly horizontal to his narrow face. The hair almost hid the burn marks on the left side of his face above which eyes almost as dark and foreboding rested in his skull like coloured glass mostly devoid of any semblance of feeling.

About him the folk, who hailed from all walks of life and were even unique among Beastlings, were gathering in their droves to celebrate. Friends and family took heart in eachother. He could feel it radiate from them. The waves of joyous good will.
Hawkflesh was odd among the Elf kind for being completely unable to shape the Shroud. Never had he felt any manner of connection with it but his empathic intuition was particularly sharp.

This amount of unprocessed and unrestrained happiness made him feel dizzy so he decided he'd dull it with a drink, the stronger the better.

Feeling like a walking pole wading through the sea of shortness Hawkflesh ebbed towards the bar he sat at a stool a fool foot too short for him. His knees bent like broken roof beams after a tree fell on them which gave the illusion that he was a pile of straight and narrow limbs under a red blanket.
It was not hard for him to get anyone's attention so when the kindly looking creature in the green dress with purple ribbons in her hair looked at him he did his best to not smile like a wolf that had found its lunch and only partially succeeded.

"May I have five of the strongest drink you have please?"

He was so terrible at first impressions.

@Rhosyn Firth

 

[Rhosyn Firth]

Rho grinned up at the lanky elf who took a seat on one of the barstools that had been set up. Most just took their drinks and left, going about the festival enjoying the celebration and the drink. The doe woman was happy for company, even if he was a bit . . . off putting. No matter, drinks were a joyous libation for everyone to partake. "Drinks coming right up!" She shouted back from across the little tent as she grabbed five mugs with experienced hands. Knocking the tap on one of the mead barrels, she let the liquid flow into each wooden mug. Filling them nearly to the top before moving to the next. As the last finished, she skillfully knocked the tap closed before heading over to the wooden bar. While an appropriate height for most of the beastkin and halflings that lived in Plumhollow, it was substantially lower for the elf.

The diminutive woman pushed three mugs onto the surface, followed by the other two. "I can help you carry them to your party if you need." She offered as she glanced around for the elf's companions. Yet no one seemed to stand out as much as the elf did. Perhaps he was alone? "What brings you to our little festival?" It wasn't that visitors were rare, they were just uncommon enough to be noticed in a little town like this. Something to easily draw the attention of the locals as they were once again reminded of their curiosity of outside world.

There was little chance for the elf to respond before he was near enough ran into by a halfling toting a wheelbarrow with a quite large pumpkin inside. "That's right! I am the Pumpkin King!" shouted the halfling as he banged his fist upon the bar shaking the five mugs of mead. Rho rolled her eyes and smiled indulgently at the new customer.

"Guessing you took first in Pumpkin Competition again this year Falon?" She said as she reached under the bar, filling a flagon of pumpkin ale for the halfling. "Falon here always wins. Something magical in that soil of his. Makes the vegetables grow to outrageous sizes." She says to the elf, pulling him into the conversation so as not to be rude. "There were calls to disqualify his entries this year." She passed the halfling the drink as she leaned upon the counter.

"That's just sore losers talking Rho." Said Falon taking the drink, before lifting the wheelbarrow up and waddling away with it's weight. Clearly intent on being sure everyone in Plumhollow knew of his win.

"Sorry about that. Sometimes people aren't so aware of others." She said apologizing for the interruption by the halfling.​

 

[Hawkflesh]

Everything was so damned loud.

The Falon character especially so. It was not even that big a pumpkin by Hawkflesh's estimations. It was not as if one could make a coach from it.

He smiled a humoring smile at the smaller man and let him be on his way, letting his face fall again when he had left.

"No thank you Miss Rho I am travelling alone and just passing through."

Drinking deep of the first tankard he drained it completely and picked up the second. It helped somewhat and he felt like sitting up straight for a while but the top of his head brushed the tent so he hunched a bit.

"Speaking of, you would not happen to know where I could get a bed for the night. One that would fit a fellow of my eh, proportions?"

It was a vain hope. He did not see so much as a door that he would not have to almost crawl through.

 

[Rhosyn Firth]

Rho took the empty mug from in front of the tall elf. Before she dunked it into a bucket filled with soapy water as she thought about the lanky elf's question while she wiped down the mug. "Just passing through and you lucked into a fun night here." She said with a grin before returning to the initial question.

"There's normally a room or two at the end that has bed for the tall folk. I don't know if they're available though. The Festivals tend to be popular enough to attract others from nearby villages." She sat the mug down as she continued. "But never you fear, if you don't mind a rougher bed. I got a hay loft that you're welcome to bed down in for the night. I have some spare blankets we can lay down up there so the hay isn't so scratchy."

Part of the naivety that came with living in a more secluded lifestyle, tucked away from the horrors of the larger world, trust was easily given in this little tucked away corner of the world. The mug was placed back on the back table among the rest. Ready for the next customer. Rho had only just met this patron and yet she hadn't really hesitated to offer him a place to sleep for the night.​

 

[Hawkflesh]

His smile was in the shape of an unwelcome thing as his face perked up at the thought of Rho's generosity.

"As long as its dry and indoors I'll take it gladly. Thank you."

This past month he had slept under trees and freezing sky. Just a bit of light as he rested would have been enough really. Again the gentleness of these folk surprised him. Here he was, a practical giant among their kind and with a very used weapon at his side yet without any hesitation he found himself most welcome to a place to stay.
Perhaps he had spent too long among the supposed civilised folk of the world. They had locks on their doors and slept with knives under their pillows. If he was to guess he would say if he asked for a locked room the response would be akin to "whatever for?". After a deep chug of the second mug he had a foam moustache on his lip which he did not bother to notice.

"I can pay, of course. For the lodgings."

His hand fumbled for his pocket and the coins within, which he stacked neatly on the counter.

"Is ten shekels enough?"

All he had was some left over imperial silver, hopefully that was enough. Rural prices were a bit beyond him.

@Rhosyn Firth

 

[Rhosyn Firth]

Rho smiled at the elf's enthusiasm at accepting her loft. It was just a hay loft, but perhaps he'd been on the road longer than she knew. A pile of coins ended up on the low bar top and she reached out taking only half. Really she would have let him have it for nothing if she felt that he would accept. She'd learned that the tall folk really never liked feeling as if they owed someone. So she took enough so that at least he would feel the debt paid.

"This will be more than enough. It's just a pile of hay and a blanket after all." She said. It really was nothing all that special. "I don't think I ever got your name sir." She said in realization. Falon had barged in to grab some mugs and brag about his winning pumpkin that she'd never asked. She assumed he'd picked up her name from those around. There'd been plenty of townsfolk stopping by to place orders.

The doe woman turned grabbing a mug of her own and filling it from the Goldenwood barrel. She'd been going all night so there hadn't been much time for her to take a break yet. She knew that she was in the lull of everyone enjoying the activities as they nursed the first drinks. It would get busy here again before too long as the families went home and only those who meant to make a night of the festival would remain as they would dive deep into their cups.​

 

[Hawkflesh]

"My name? It's Hawkflesh."
He tried to make it sound less horrifying and was not entirely successful. At once he was aware of his longsword at his side. The grim weapon was well used and he was certain the implications of that was not lost on any who cared to notice.

He took a drink from his second mug and saw that Miss Rho was perhaps a little troubled looking or perhaps simply tired. It occured to him that perhaps smaller beings may need more rest. Hawkflesh took a moment to look about, not wishing to stare or be seen to look as though he was staring. A flock of children waving colourful ribbons at people as the went passed by.
"The festival seems lively. Will you be working throughout?"

His sharp smile was replaced by a softer one. Drink made it easier to take the harshness from his face and honestly the matter of having a dry place to sleep for the night helped a great deal as well.

@Rhosyn Firth

 

[Rhosyn Firth]

The doe woman's eyes rose at the introduction. Hawkflesh was a unique name to be sure. Not one that she'd expect from one of the forest born. She sipped at the cider in her hands as she looked out over the children running by with happy shouts. "Aye. Gives my normal crew the chance to enjoy the festival. It doesn't take too much effort to fill and wash some mugs. They'll have the harder work tomorrow cleaning up." She gave a wink. The clean up was the hardest part in her opinion, which is why she always offered to run the festival. Though at some point, she would need to flag down someone if she saw them pass by. It was a bit harder to get something to eat when stuck behind the bar.

"If you don't mind my curiosity, how did you come by such a name?" The question while possibly a bit discourteous, was asked with all genuine curiosity. Was the name given by a parent? Or earned over time? ​

 

[Hawkflesh]

Hawkflesh almost spat up his drink at the question.
He had gotten used to people not asking. On the road you did not ask such questions and those who knew even a smidge of it knew never to try and sate what curiosity they had.
So he took his time and wiped his mouth with his hand as the mug returned to the table.

"My comrades gave me the name, my brothers and sisters in arms." His voice was somber though he tried to not let it show just how much thinking of those days bothered him. "We each had strange names. A bird was always part of it and then something to evoke a colour. I was given the colour red so, I was named for the Red-hawk and the colour of flesh, blood red."
He then tugged at his shoulder, the red cape trailed and tattered behind him.
"Hence the colour. One feeds the other."
Of course this oblivious little person in this idealistic place would ask him. He could think of none other who would dare so he tried his best to seem like he was not wrestling with a bad memory and smiled a bit.
"You should have seen Storkwax, head to toe in white. Looked like a ghost come to life."
A dry mirthless laugh left his lips.

 

[Rhosyn Firth]

The doe woman reached out, placing a handkerchief in front of the elf when he choked on his drink a moment at her question. It was only then that she thought perhaps the question should have been left unasked. She listened politely, since she'd drawn the conversation in this way. It made sense, as he explained. She knew a bit about how large groups tended to be. Her father, who'd served in the small militia of Plumhollow, had his own nickname with those of his unit. Granted in a space like Plumhollow, the most that they dealt with were the odd bandit. Otherwise, they would just spend the nights drinking together.

Hawkflesh pressed a smile to his face, as if that would cover up the other emotions wrestling on his features. Rho filled up another mug with something a bit stronger than before and placed it in front of the elf. "Here. On me." She said with a gentle smile of her own. "Seems I brought up some memories." She left it open to whether they were bad or good. "I suppose red is as good a color as any. Much better than brown and being named something like Thrustsoil or some such." She says attempting to lighten the mood good-naturedly.​

 

[Hawkflesh]

Thinking about it while he wiped his mouth with the handkerchief, which was barely a tissue to him Hawkflesh thanked Rho's generosity with a nod.
"Brown was not one of the colours. We had red, yellow, blue, green, white and black."
His narrow mind missing the intended point of the remark. All too serious in that moment to understand the joke for what it was.
"But you're right, as far as colour goes red's fine enough and besides a silly name I suppose it's a good conversation starter, among the right people anyway."
He abandoned the mug in his hand and lifted the fresh one in a gentle toast.
"To names, no choosing them I suppose."

 

[Rhosyn Firth]

It seemed her joke went right over the elf's pointed ears and she raised her own mug. The two glasses clunked together, Rho careful not to spill a drop of her drink before raising it to her lips. The cool liquid slipped down her throat, sweet on her tongue. At least her parents had given her a reputable name, though she had to guess that Hawkflesh likely had a regular name back when he was a youth, however long ago that was.

Suddenly Petra popped around the bar. "Everything alright here Rho?"

"Aye, doing well. Though I don't supposed you'd go find me something to eat. I can feel the alcohol settling in." That meant it was time to add some sustenance to her stomach. Petra nodded his head before disappearing again. "That boy needs to slow down a bit." Rho mumbled as she shook her head with an indulgent smile.​

 

[Hawkflesh]

Sharp eyes watched the boy come and go. Hawkflesh saw more than he let on. The boy was on his way somewhere, to meet someone or perhaps simply to go gawk at that massive pumpkin that rolled past moments earlier.

"It's the privilege of the young to waste their energy. If he slowed down a lad like that might explode."

He put down his drink and sat up as straight as he could in the short canopy roof. The top of his head brushed against it.
"I hope you are not drinking just to keep me company."

The bar was somewhat deserted, there were people of course but not many seemed to be actively drinking yet. Perhaps it was custom to drink after meals.
Hawkflesh felt he was going to drink so much it would pass as his meal or at least he hoped it would.

 

[Rhosyn Firth]

Rho waved a hand in dismissal at Hawkflesh's words. "Oh no no. There's no worry there. What kind of brewer would I be if I didn't sample my own creations?" The doe woman said as she took a seat one of the the nearby barrels that had yet to be tapped. "If you want my recommendation, the Goldenwood Apple Cider is quite delicious this year. The right combination of sweet and tart and it just so happens to be one of the stronger brews." She said with a wink.

Petra appeared again, a folded paper basket filled with some vegetables that had been battered and fried. She'd just opened her mouth to thank her young apprentice, but he was already gone. "If I had to guess, he's got his eye on a young lady tonight." The only time she'd ever seen Petra move with this kind of speed and focus was last year when he was trying to pursue the butcher's daughter. She hoped that he hadn't picked that failed relationship back up. The last time she'd had to deal with the broken hearted young man for nearly three months. But youth.

The woman moved the little basket onto the bar between her and Hawkflesh. "You probably need something to eat as much as me." She said with a light-hearted teasing tone as she picked up a piece of vegetable that if she had to guess was some kind of squash.​