31st of Fall, 520 AV
Ever since Morwen had abandoned Mizahar, the seasons had been unpredictable. Destructive. This fall was no different. Following a blisteringly hot summer, the gales of Fall blew much of the rich topsoil away from their farms and knocked down a few of the trees in the orchard that had been unable to survive the long summer. Then a storm came. A dry storm that lashed out with lightning and high winds that came screaming across the cliff face. While most of the city managed to scrape by with only minor damage, two places experienced the brunt of the storm’s wrath. Raven’s Perch, and the grain fields the Akalak’s used to supplement their stocks. Lightning struck the Raven’s Perch in such a way that part of its arched roof collapsed. Several of its patron’s were injured in the accident, but fortunately the fire was able to be put out before it could do much damage. The same could not be said for the grain fields where the lightning also struck.
There a fire had time to grow before anyone noticed it so the focus had to be on containing it rather than putting it out. All hands that could be summoned in time were called to help with the fire, piling up large mounds of dirt in order to break its momentum. The focus at first was on protecting the orchards, then on saving what was left of the fields. In the end they managed to preserve their orchards while saving a little under half of the fields. Unfortunately the grain had yet to be harvested so that crop was lost to them. It put them in quite a pinch for their resources, so Karsynwa was sent out to survey the damage first hand on behalf of the Kuvay’Nas. The other members of his squad were likewise sent to other areas to scout out the devastation in order for a comprehensive report to be made.
The mood was somber out in the fields as he stood before a swathe of blackened land. Smoke hung heavily in the air. Karsynwa wrapped the bottom of his hood over his nose but still the acrid stench made it through the cloth. Ahead of him farmers simply stared at what was left of their land. He did not want to talk with those despondent souls, not yet anyways. Instead his eyes panned over towards the orchard, and his feet soon followed.
It looked to him to have been a near run thing for the orchard as the mound of earth that had been piled between it and the blackened field was uncomfortably close to their trees. People were working that mound now, trying to settle it back into the ditch it had come from. Others were walking between the trees, gently tending the orchard. He realized then that he didn’t know much about farming or growing things. His studies had always been of a more martial bent, even when studying things like language. It had always been about how to use it like a sword instead of using it to create. That wasn’t a difference he was used to acknowledging but one brought about by Arrel’s recent death. For the first time he felt mortal, and there was a great fear that arose from feeling that.
WC - 551
There a fire had time to grow before anyone noticed it so the focus had to be on containing it rather than putting it out. All hands that could be summoned in time were called to help with the fire, piling up large mounds of dirt in order to break its momentum. The focus at first was on protecting the orchards, then on saving what was left of the fields. In the end they managed to preserve their orchards while saving a little under half of the fields. Unfortunately the grain had yet to be harvested so that crop was lost to them. It put them in quite a pinch for their resources, so Karsynwa was sent out to survey the damage first hand on behalf of the Kuvay’Nas. The other members of his squad were likewise sent to other areas to scout out the devastation in order for a comprehensive report to be made.
The mood was somber out in the fields as he stood before a swathe of blackened land. Smoke hung heavily in the air. Karsynwa wrapped the bottom of his hood over his nose but still the acrid stench made it through the cloth. Ahead of him farmers simply stared at what was left of their land. He did not want to talk with those despondent souls, not yet anyways. Instead his eyes panned over towards the orchard, and his feet soon followed.
It looked to him to have been a near run thing for the orchard as the mound of earth that had been piled between it and the blackened field was uncomfortably close to their trees. People were working that mound now, trying to settle it back into the ditch it had come from. Others were walking between the trees, gently tending the orchard. He realized then that he didn’t know much about farming or growing things. His studies had always been of a more martial bent, even when studying things like language. It had always been about how to use it like a sword instead of using it to create. That wasn’t a difference he was used to acknowledging but one brought about by Arrel’s recent death. For the first time he felt mortal, and there was a great fear that arose from feeling that.
WC - 551