Apr 27, 2021 5:19 pm
Western Turmish, village of the Five Lions
1492, Marpenoth 3rd DR
Highharvestide had passed three days ago.
Usually the celebrations would continue on in some form, unofficially, for the full tenday after - flowing into the Reign of Misrule. But there was no such abundant joy to be found in the Five Lions these days. The harvests that had already come in were meager. The fruits and vegetables and grains shriveled and often bitter. And the yields yet waiting to be taken looked to hold no better promise...
The vintners could only describe the year's bottles as embarrassing, virtually a complete loss. The majority of the vines being fit only for the fragrant spirit - grabba - usually only pressed from left over grape skins. The meaderies were reporting hive-losses on a scale not seen since before even the Long Winter following the end of the Era of Upheaval.
And so it was under this dour pall that the Council of the Five Lions gathered.
The Quintumvirate had let it be known that the purpose of the meeting was to, again, try to come to some sort of productive course of action to address the seemingly unnatural troubles facing the community. They had already done so once before, a little more than a month prior. This had amounted to beseeching the Temple of Chauntea to send a high priest from Alaghon, to help perform their holy rituals, and to send representatives to the outlying markets early to try to get a sense for what was happening elsewhere and to prime them for sub-par product. And while that was something, nothing had come of the Chauntea rituals and, indeed, things were getting worse.
The quintumvirate council was there, along with Grant, Marabi, Rolen, Marié, Enise, and just a few other townsfolk... One of the smaller vintners was there serving those at the meeting with bottles of her red cut with some of the previous year's vintage to make it palatable. The miller had seemingly been there awhile as he appeared to already be passed out on a table. The cobbler's wife was there... with her three small children. And a couple of elders who looked all but devoid of life sat grimacing in a corner.
The Alderman - a wizened, orange haired gnome - speaks up, his voice tired, "Thank you... everyone, for coming...
Eh, we all know why we're here, yes?", he pauses to look around at the silent consent, "Well... let's get to it, hm? We reviewed the previous harvests' records since our last council meeting, and we were able to confirm what we had feared. Last year was a light harvest too. And the year before that, barely average... It would seem we may be in the middle of a worrisome trend. There has been no pestilence noted. No drought. Indeed, if anything, our records indicate the summers have been a bit cooler, and the winters more wet. Ideal growing conditions!
This... shouldn't be happening... We have come to the consensus that this... can't be natural.
Ehhh...", he sighs heavily, wagging his head, "I'm sorry. I hardly know what to say. What to do...", he trails off into a sullen silence.
If you feel like you need more context to respond to the Alderman, or would like to make a roll of some kind to see what your character might know or understand of the situation, please include that in your response too.
1492, Marpenoth 3rd DR
Highharvestide had passed three days ago.
Usually the celebrations would continue on in some form, unofficially, for the full tenday after - flowing into the Reign of Misrule. But there was no such abundant joy to be found in the Five Lions these days. The harvests that had already come in were meager. The fruits and vegetables and grains shriveled and often bitter. And the yields yet waiting to be taken looked to hold no better promise...
The vintners could only describe the year's bottles as embarrassing, virtually a complete loss. The majority of the vines being fit only for the fragrant spirit - grabba - usually only pressed from left over grape skins. The meaderies were reporting hive-losses on a scale not seen since before even the Long Winter following the end of the Era of Upheaval.
And so it was under this dour pall that the Council of the Five Lions gathered.
The Quintumvirate had let it be known that the purpose of the meeting was to, again, try to come to some sort of productive course of action to address the seemingly unnatural troubles facing the community. They had already done so once before, a little more than a month prior. This had amounted to beseeching the Temple of Chauntea to send a high priest from Alaghon, to help perform their holy rituals, and to send representatives to the outlying markets early to try to get a sense for what was happening elsewhere and to prime them for sub-par product. And while that was something, nothing had come of the Chauntea rituals and, indeed, things were getting worse.
The quintumvirate council was there, along with Grant, Marabi, Rolen, Marié, Enise, and just a few other townsfolk... One of the smaller vintners was there serving those at the meeting with bottles of her red cut with some of the previous year's vintage to make it palatable. The miller had seemingly been there awhile as he appeared to already be passed out on a table. The cobbler's wife was there... with her three small children. And a couple of elders who looked all but devoid of life sat grimacing in a corner.
The Alderman - a wizened, orange haired gnome - speaks up, his voice tired, "Thank you... everyone, for coming...
Eh, we all know why we're here, yes?", he pauses to look around at the silent consent, "Well... let's get to it, hm? We reviewed the previous harvests' records since our last council meeting, and we were able to confirm what we had feared. Last year was a light harvest too. And the year before that, barely average... It would seem we may be in the middle of a worrisome trend. There has been no pestilence noted. No drought. Indeed, if anything, our records indicate the summers have been a bit cooler, and the winters more wet. Ideal growing conditions!
This... shouldn't be happening... We have come to the consensus that this... can't be natural.
Ehhh...", he sighs heavily, wagging his head, "I'm sorry. I hardly know what to say. What to do...", he trails off into a sullen silence.
OOC:
Ok, so please use this opportunity to introduce your PC, narratively. I believe you are all basically locals so you can all be assumed to know each other and the townsfolk - but just give us a little "lead in" to WHO your character is, I know there's been a lot of images posted but visual descriptions are good, and/or whatever narrative and flavor you want to give us some insight into who you are, as well as whatever narrative you would like to include for how your PC is responding to the opening scene here.If you feel like you need more context to respond to the Alderman, or would like to make a roll of some kind to see what your character might know or understand of the situation, please include that in your response too.
