Far Away From The City (Storri)

[Gossamer]

Timestamp Early Fall 516 AV

Randal was working bright and early this morning. He was putting the finishing touches on the sixth bungalow he'd built. The jobsite was close to the others, adjacent even, but it was littered with homemade tools, tools he used to help him lift, hold, support, and otherwise make use of being a solo builder in a world where a bit of help would have not been unwelcome. Stripped to the waist and barefooted all Randal wore was something the new settlement had started calling Rands. They called them such because Randal tended to wear the thin short legged trousers when he took his ridiculous long boards out and 'surfed' in his spare time. He was getting quite good at it too. And the fashion had caught on after folks had realized the Rands were far more cooler than the traditional leggings or britches most of the explorers had originally worn.

Rand was on the roof, fitting palm fronds together in a woven way he'd claimed he'd learned from a Myrian half a world away. The woven roofs tended not to leak however, and when the winds did damage, the fronds could easily be replaced. Randal had a big pile of the fronts next to the bungalow. And when one said 'big' one meant almost a pile as tall as the Bungalow itself. It had to be to comfortably roof the place. The fronds would dry down, shrink, and one never had enough until one had seemingly five times the needed amount.

But the process proved difficult for Randal. He needed some help. He'd climb down from the roof, throw up a dozen fronts, climb up, weave them in, then climb down again. It was a painstakingly labor intensive process. If he had some help on the ground to toss up the fronds, it would go a lot faster and Randal could have called his sixth bungalow done.

The roof was almost always the next to the last step. The very last step would involve building a bit of rudimentary furniture rough-hewn for the inside. Then, hopefully, he'd be able to rent out the place and start earning some coin to bring back even more supplies to add too the small collection he was already amassing for the settlement.

Finishing the last frond he had on the roof, Randal sighed and started to climb down again. It was time for another load and the roof wasn't even a quarter done.

[Storri Hosvir]

. Beads of sweat rested lazily on the grooves of Storri's nose, in the sunken caves under his eyes, as he lied in bed. He had not slept well in the night, which unfortunately wasn't an uncommon thing for him. His nights often passed with vivid images of his family, mostly the ranting and ravings of his father, sometimes of the sickly and degrading figure of his mother, but tonight, he saw his brother, as the corpse he was. Storri shook his head, he never got to see his little brother after his demise, but the cruelty of his own mind painted vivid images of what his brother's last moments must have been like... to have your own father stare into your eyes as a blade buried itself into your chest, relinquishing you of breath, and soon, life. A chill ran down Storri's spine at the thought of it. It made him ill, and angry, to think his father had torn their family apart with his own insanity. Yet, more so, it hurt him, because they were all gone now, except his father, in a strange way. Storri pushed himself off the bed, the sky was still dark, the faint glow of the sun on the horizon told him that he was early to wake, very early. He was always raised to race against the sun from slumber every day, but this was absurd. This is what caused Storri's energy to wane in the evening, but it was becoming more common these days. A deep breath, and an exhausted sigh later, and Storri was kissing the sleeping woman next to him on the shoulder, before taking the Ghost Beads his father left him, and slinging them over his neck like an oversized, and significantly overweighted, necklace. The pull of the spiritual accessory was impossible to ignore, pulling down at his shoulders as if they were people, grabbing at his limbs with wiry fingers, tugging at him, dragging him slowly to the floor. He knew, however, that he needed these, for his own peace of mind, and occasionally, for practical uses. No matter how many times you saw a ghost advancing aggressively towards you like a starving man to a crippled animal, you never shook the pins of fear pricking at your neck. In the darkness of early morning, Storri found himself wandering the settlement wearily, the coolness of the morning, the smell of the sea lingering in the air, it was refreshing enough for now, though he knew it would hastily become something less comfortable. So be it. He chose Syka because he needed to escape his old life, and start anew. Where was a better place, than a settlement doing just the same? Storri wandered for a while, long enough for the sun to peek out over the edge of the world and greet him with a sharp glare. Storri carried on until he heard a familiar sound, the sounds of Randal constructing further homes for people. Storri nodded to himself, he always appreciated a working man, and Randal had his work cut out for him. A thought crossed Storri's mind as he adjusted the weighted beads resting on his neck. The hostel was vacant currently, thankfully very few orphans and cripples were sent to Syka at this time, so watching over just the place that was for them, was fairly simple. He wouldn't be needed there today, honestly. Perhaps it was time he formally introduced himself. He assumed that himself and Randal would be neighbors in this place for a very long time, hopefully at any rate. Storri made up his mind, and followed the sounds to Randal, standing on the roof, and packing the home-to-be with a vigor that Storri had slowly started losing in his current age. "Hello Randal." Storri looked up at the man, wincing lightly as the sun pushed through to harass his eyes. Storri retrieved several fronds from Randal's pile, such an impressive pile at that, he must have been up for hours collecting all this. "May I help?" A simple question, and an offering of his own fronds. His knowledge of construction and carpentry was quite limited, and to be honest, nonexistent given the new environment of Syka, but he was here to help, and that usually meant learning first. .

[Gossamer]

Randal nodded at Storri from his climb halfway down the ladder. “You must be Storri. I’ve seen you around. I saw you staked a claim on those acres south of here and are camping for now. Started clearing the land too. That’s good. Your Hostel is going to be our next build once I get this cabin done unless you were planning on building it yourself without help.” Randal said, jumping down the last few rungs to the ground and frowning at his pile of fronds.

He had been meaning to find Storri for a few days but had gotten busy and assumed the settler would wander by sooner or later… and alas he finally had.

“You know, you and your lady friend are welcome to move in to this bungalow until your own place is done.” Randal said, knowing the camping situation couldn’t have been easy on Storri with the rain showers that frequently graced Syka in the early morning hours. That was one of the reasons he was fighting to get the roof done. “I’m trying to get this weaving of the roof done before nightfall, then all I have left is some rough cut furniture and this place is done. It’s not big, but it’s going to be cool and dry with a nice ocean breeze.” The man said, surveying his little row of bungalows. He’d add a few more as time permitted, but for now there were other projects – like the Hostel – that had his attention.

“A hostel huh? I wondered if someone would try to set up an Inn of some sort. That seems a better idea than these bungalows at the moment. We are getting a lot of single people and not a lot of families. They will get more use and you’ll get more beds in a hostel than we will in just six bungalows.” Randal noted, offering Storri a friendly smile. He bent over his dwindling pile of Palm Fronds and gestured to the forest.

“Up for a trip to harvest more fronds? This isn’t enough to finish, but with two of us, we should be able to get more than enough to finish the roof.” He said, picking up a machete and then gesturing to a spare one that lay just beside his toolbox. Randal was always prepared and had as many tools as possible to both survive and utilize the jungle.

“We can talk as we go. I’m curious to hear your story… why you’re here… what your long term plans are… and if you are needing a loan from us to get your business started.” Randal said, gesturing towards the jungle. He’d lead the way if Storri was willing to follow him up the beach, past the known civilization (if one could call it that) and into the thick of it where the first shallow layer of trees were in fact palms.