Campfire Tales

The year of the maple flower

From sunset red branches lit by golden waves, a large stag takes watch with wide shoulders and a freshly shed antler under his feet near broken piles of bark around a long rotted log. His head follows the lead of his ears as though pulled to each side flicking before being led to the other side. Scanning around for threats, his eyes dart past the doe and two young yearling. The playing bulls stopped by their fathers echoing stomp. Leaping over the fell tree, he sniffs an amber ooze flowing from the bark of the glowing tree. His tongue drawing closer, his ears perk straight upward as the others alert as well. Though something stirs among the breeze, nothing amply apparent. Bushes tickled by the passing wind, roots overlapped from tree to tree, and bright hues over flora in rebirth. Surveying, it takes ease reaching again before swords clash in cacophonous chaos; two groups rushed towards the other, clashing together with wooden shields bashed together as splinters flew from them. Two among them in worn armor, advanced together then pushed apart. His sword &NV down and deflected with her mace before whipping into his shield.

Daylight pierced through their helmets, their eyes locking for a moment, parrying and blocking as second nature to trained hands. Lovers seemingly dancing around each other in deadly combat.

"You fight as sternly, my dear." Claims the iron clad soldier.

"Of course love, I always have to watch your back!" she stabs back.

In a cold cellar a cloak hovers from a table to cauldron, tossing into a glowing whirlpool: mushrooms, iron powder, and drooping in a vial of ochre jelly. A small cloud puffs into the air as she writes the change in her notebook. She grabs several jars from the shelf and opens them carefully to not disturb their contents. The door knocked then opened interrupted by the local courier. Without looking she lifts a single finger, halting his beginning words and finishing her experiment. A maroon fog from her cauldron dissipates she brushes her hands off against her hips.

"Yes Nevil, what is it this time? have the neighbors put in another complaint about their cat? I told them I only needed one bone, they should just be glad it wasn't the poor things skull."

"Err, no madam Baerun, it's Precilla the bard. She had asked to remind you to come to her preformance tonight."

She breaks a small femur and pours the marrow into a mortar, beginning to grind it down. "Ah, that is tonight isn't it? Well, tell her it better not be shit; and that I'll see her in the evening."

"Yes, Madam." Nevil leaves her to her studies. and she sighs ending in a smile.

As the sun climbs further across the sky, the nimble fighter takes her helmet off to cradle in her arm. her horns perched neatly like a teardrop atop her scarlet skin. She shook her head letting her hair release from its patted down structure. "A fine day of exercise aye, my dear?"

Taking off his reveals a scruffy face with yellow eyes peering from under dark brown fur, opening his mouth to respond behind sharp teeth. "Indeed my love, nothing better to end this day with a drink and to audience Precella on her newest poem."

"Oh! that is tonight isn't it? I do always love her preformance."

The pair meet with the madam baerun in the hall of The Raving Rabbit. Her tall slender body wrapped in a black silk dress with pointed ears peaking out from a long blonde ponytail.

"Awe, you two look so precious all dressed up."

"Personally, I'm surprised you remembered, Val." She barked with a smirk.

"It's nice to see you Valenaire It's been a while since we've all gathered under the same roof I say." Her furry date adding after.

"Indeed I say, after primary, we've all but been so enveloped in our teachings, how is the church these days?" The elf said embracing the two.