Buckdew
  The Year of Reassemblage  
  Leap, Tillsoil  

Our story as a group begins just as Chill takes its leave and the roads start to grow busy once more. Our own plucky band of travellers bravely decided to get going early, before the paths became too busy for easy passage. We each have our reasons for being here, our own histories.

There are more than a dozen of us in total on this journey. Tappi, Furtive, Ia, Wick, a family of cloud gods, one nameless god, Pascal, his companion Bubu, Zo, Brihtwinia, then Odrán, his moths and the kid in his care.

We came together one cold night at an old caravan which had been abandoned during wartime at a crossroads. With our experiences combined, we managed to fix it up and made the decision to share it for the time being. It is still a ramshackle thing, but it has enough space to rest in at night or to take some shelter from the elements. Unfortunately, our supplies are low after sneaky raindrops squeezed through the boards and foraging is particularly hard at this time of the year.

~~~

After crossing through old forgotten trails and more familiar ways for near a week, getting to know one another and share our stories, we at last arrive at a very simple wooden bridge within a vast flatland. On the other side are some signs of agriculture, although it is hard to get a good look from here. There is a gentle drizzle from the soft clouds above, but the noon air is tender and unbiting.

The underlying construction of this bridge is quite old based on weathering, but has been well maintained by a skilled carpenter. It allows for easy access over a wide river running underneath, and is both wide and sturdy enough to bear the caravan. All in all, it would seem to be pretty welcoming, if not for the two wolfish Kith standing guard at the other end.

They see us approach, shoot a look at one another and scramble to raise pitchforks. Their ears stand on end and they show their fangs. From a distance, we can't make out much more about them, but right now, getting closer might alarm them.

   "Halt!"    they bark in unison.

   "Friend or foe?"   
MaltholLoth
Tappi sticks his head out from the caravan and lets his ears twitch as he looks down the bridge. " Hio there! Friends of course. We have no need for combat here, not with us simple traveller folk. Here! Let us descend that you may see we are no such things as a raiding bandits or the likes. " He calls out, waving a paw, occasionally pushing back some stray hair that blew into his face. With the carriages halting, he stepped down, and offered back a paw to any following suit.

Once all have alighted, Tappi brushed himself down and gave a flourished bow. Looking along their number he gave a smile and looked back to the wolf guards, still with a smile on his face as he rocks forwards on his feet.
Buckdew
The bridge guards approach closer, disarmed by Tappi's friendly demeanour. We can see that they are young, younger than perhaps they may have seemed with their pitchforks at the ready.

We watch as the two cross the halfway point of the bridge. Now that we are closer, it is easier to see the softer fur that youth lends along with a pair of wide wolfish eyes and awkward bodies still to be grown into.

They are both watchful grey wolves, likely twin brothers based on their similar handsome features and a similar lanky stature. After a few nervous shuffles and whispered words back and forth, their pitchforks are discarded and they quickly close the rest of the distance.

The more cautious wolf on the left takes charge, the other seems to be more nervous.

  "Welcome to the Hamlet of Billsaw, guests."   He clasps paws with Tappi, still fully alert despite the sudden warm reception. There's a definite, noticeable stiffness to his stance.

  "My name is Flane, his is Hark."   His chest is fully puffed up to appear larger, but at least his fangs are away now.
Qazgir
Upon hearing the name of the hamlet, Odrán begins to mutter,  "Billsaw, Billsaw, that name sounds familiar. Perhaps I've delivered a letter here some time ago, but I've never been the best with names. " He straightens up before introducing himself,  "greetings Flane and Hark, I am Odrán, a moth tender, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." 
Kit-the-Kitsune
Brihtwinia finally shows up from somewhere, the bright eyed little Dwarf Lop rabbit girl in her maroon cloak and what might be rain boots popping up with a gasp and yelling.  "Are these new friends!? Hi! I'm Brihtwinia! How are you-wah!"  She then managed to slip and splat onto the bridge before hopping up again.  "I'm Okays!"  And she proceeds to wipe her face on her cloak to dry it as she giggled at herself.
Buckdew
Hark is there to support Brihtwinia up again after her stumble. He speaks in a low voice,   "Careful now, this bridge is a little bit uneven."   The quieter wolf offers a hand and a brief smile. His voice is almost drowned out by the flow of the river below.

Flane, meanwhile, is looking with Odrán with some new respect.   "We haven't had any of your kind come through here for a good while. There's an old tower that you might want to check out."  
  "We have some nice secure barns, hot food, maybe someone to look at your old caravan. Plenty of work in the fields to be done if you want to pitch in too."   He makes a motion toward the other side of the bridge, before moving to retrieve his pitchfork and start guiding us across. He leans down to sweep up his discarded pitchfork as he passes.
truemane
Pascal remained quiet during the initial meeting. The young wolves did not have the smell of violence about them (despite their demeanour) and he was happy to let the others charm and disarm them.

He was busy looking across the river at Billsaw. He'd been here once, a long time ago. In a way it appeared as though nothing had changed, but in another it was like he'd never seen this place in his life. The past and the present superimposed on each other like ripples on a calm lake.

"Flane, Hark," he called out, and then pause. "Can you tell me, please, if Braughwin Maple still calls this place home? She did me a great service, once, and I would dearly love to see her again to repay it."


 
 Spoiler: OOC for Everyone 
I am spending my token to "Know something important about the place you’re in, and tell the table about it."

This tiny hamlet contains a very old shrine (the oldest that Pascal has ever come across). The small and forgotten gods who lived there sing the most beautiful songs. They are *Oracular but they sing in a long-lost language. Only the Maple family, who tended the shrine, could understand them. During the war, Pascal asked the Maples to maintain a hub of carrier moths for the Rebellion.
 
Kit-the-Kitsune
 "Thank you! Even my stompy boots are weak to loopy ground."  She'd give a chuckle and run back to the caravan still holding flowers in her left paw and all though stumbling a few times she didn't fall. Thankfully. Reaching the caravan, she hops about halfway in and wiggling her legs in attempt to get in properly before pulling herself in.
Buckdew
Flane turns to answer Pascal,   "Miss Maple? She doesn't come out much anymore, but she'll be at that tower or over by the old shrine. She's been feeling down for a little while. She would appreciate a visit from an old friend."  

Hark speaks up a little too, although he is still rather quiet,   "The moths in the tower are unwell, and the old shrine she keeps doesn't sing much anymore."  

We can tell that both wolves are sad to share this news.

  "I'll run on up ahead and get everyone ready to receive you all. Hark, mind the bridge for a few minutes."   With that, Flane sets off at some speed.
Qazgir
  "Old friends and an old tower, just what I like in a place"   Odrán says with a smile,   "of course I'd say we all take a walk over the tower first, but that won't come as surprise to anybody."   He laughs before getting down on one knee and addressing  Brihtwinia,    "have you seen a moth tower before?"   
Kit-the-Kitsune
 "Like that big stone tower back home?"  Brihtwinia tilted her head while looking up at Odrán.  "If not then no. No I haves not"  She gives a gleeful smile and with a small wave of the flowers comments.  "Funny towers! Funny towers! Imma see a Funny tower!" 
truemane
Pascal smiles at Brihtwinia's excitement. "The last time I was here, Little One, I was a wonderful place. I hope you enjoy it and never forget it."

Pascal pauses a moment and gazes at the tower, his frills rippling with disquiet.

"My friends, I'm ashamed to admit I'm nervous. Afraid, even, to see this place again. During the War I... tasked these people with being a part of the Rebellion. They were happy to help. And they did help. I have no doubt lives were saved as a result. But all the same I brought the War to this place in a way that changed it, changed them, forever. And Braughwin perhaps most of all. I hope she has forgiven me."

A long pause.

"I thought I was done feeling pride and shame for who I used to be." A chuckle. "Apparently I was only half right."

 
 Spoiler: OOC for Everyone 

I'm taking a Token for 'speaking my true feelings' on a subject.
 
Kit-the-Kitsune
Brihtwinia stared up at Pascal with a confused but caring expression albeit not a very well knowing expression due to her age, but she takes two of the four flowers she always carries into her other paw and raises them up to Pascal.  "I Don't know what happened back then and I don't know what you went through but I hope these flowers will make you feel less scared Pascawli."  She gives Pascal a Childish smile before going to fiddling with her cloak and boots.

 
 Spoiler: OOC for everyone 
I am spending my token to Offer Pascal the Chance to connect with Brihtwinia on a personal level albeit small.
 
truemane
Pascal looks down and, shaking away his malaise, smiles his warmest and friendliest smile.

He kneels down so he can be eye eye with the little rabbit. "Thank you, little one," he says, taking the flowers in hand. "Whenever I feel scared I'll look at these. And they'll help me be brave."

Then he perks up.

"Oh but wait," he says, "Let me trade you something for them!"

He goes over to the covered wagon strapped to the back of Bubu Mjinga and rustles around. After a bit, he comes back out with a strange little plush animal. It's a bit like a mouse, or a rat, but has a long snout, small ears, and striking white stripes along its back.

(anyone closely examining it, or playing with it, might find that it has a pouch with a smaller plush baby inside)

He hands it to Brihtwinia with a smile. "These are good luck where I'm from. If you sleep with her next to you, you're sure to have good dreams."

 
 Spoiler: OOC for Everyone 

It's a numbat! The adorable Australian marsupial.

 
 
MaltholLoth
Tappi watches the goings on with a smile on his face, even a little chuckle at points. "  What a lovely exchange! And just as so a little creature. The war was indeed painful for so many. We should be thankful it is over. While this seems such a lovely place and undeserving of seeing the war, if you able to save lives then maybe it's better you had brought it rather than some unknown terror that would not have spared them so.  he says before dabbing at his nose.
Buckdew
And with that, our caravan starts to push on across the old bridge, all the way along the path laid out through the fields. Hark doesn't follow, remaining at his post for now.

We roll on for a few minutes across some flatlands, passing through many various farming fields. There is, as Flane had said, plenty of work to be done around here still. Much of the crops are still to be sown, but we can tell what all the various plots are laid out to grow by painted signs. There is a good variety plotted out, including our more typical veggies, various types of beans and different grains. Companion plants and different flowers have been established where necessary, although there are odd little patches where wild veggies are set aside for bugs to feast on.

For now though, the fields lie completely bare except for the fertile soils and crop designations.

There are examples of incredible carpentry everywhere. Most of the tools around seem to have been made excellent craftspeople, although not necessarily the same person based on the varied detailings and unique styles. There are various wooden structures to haul tools and produce into, all superbly maintained.

There seems enough land here to feed possibly hundreds of Kith throughout the year so long as it can be properly maintained. The fields stretch out as far as the eye can see, perhaps even beyond perception for little Brihtwinia. We haven't seen any workers yet during our journey, but this quickly changes as we near the centre of the hamlet.

More and more kith seem to appear to cheer our caravan on and welcome us to the settlement. The rain doesn't dampen their mood at all as they clap and even dance alongside. Most kith here take the shape of those we might expect to see on a farm or field, but there are the odd exotic denizens too.

  "Welcome, welcome!"  

Chickens, Cows, Bulls, Horses, Sheep, Foxes and Beavers are the most common shapes, but there are others amongst them.

Our caravan is guided to a central spot within the hamlet, urged on until we arrive at a large, entirely wooden home. In fact, it's becoming noticeably strange that wood plays a massive part in most of the constructions here. An old, large beaver steps out as we come to a stop. Flane is at one side, and a younger beaver flanks him on the other. He appears to be a leader of sorts, although he holds himself as a reluctant official.

  "Billsaw welcomes ye all, travellers! Conduct ye business here in peace an' stay for as long as ye may need. There is much t' be done about the place if'n ye have th' urge to keep y' paws busy!"    He speaks in a slightly gruff, gutteral tone, but is overall quite warm and happy to see us.

  "Th' first visitors we ha' seen this year, th' first t' be welcomed by us for a good while, I'd say."   The beaver looks at Pascal as if in recognition, but he shakes his head a second later. Pascal notices this wherever he looks, particularly amongst the older folk here.


The old tower rises just to the east, a short little trek away. It looks much more worn than Pascal remembers it.
Kit-the-Kitsune
Brihtwinia was looking around the hamlet in awe at the scale of it, as to her it was WAAAAAY larger than her home. The people looked all nice and cosy in this place she could run around, play and learn about this place and the many different things that the adults work on that she could one day do when she gets older. Holding the Numbat plush in the opposite arm of the flowers and was ready to go see the "Funny Tower" that some of her friends wanted to go to.
truemane
Pascal is slightly unnerved by the strange attention he was receiving. He was used to attention. He was from a land far enough away that no one he'd ever met here had ever heard of it. And he was the only one who looked like him in this part of Haeth.

But this was different. First the look, the recognition, and then the shake of the head? Very strange. Pascal couldn't parse it.

"Thank you," he said to the old beaver who greeted them, "It's been years and years since I was here last, and much has changed. But I am glad to see that your courtesy and hospitality remain. It is our intent to visit the Maples and Old Tower Shrine. Afterwards, though, I would love to come back and speak a while. And see if anyone needs any of my wares."

His peddler's heart was loathe to leave such a source of trade and news.

But there was work to be done.
Qazgir
Odrán, hearing Pascal's intent, turns and asks   "will you be wanting company to visit your friend? If its amenable to you, I'd have you come to the tower with me. Afterwords while you're peddling your ware, I'll see if anyone has any mail they want delivered." 
 
truemane
Pascal smiles and sketches a small bow. "Of course. Company would be wonderful. Young Hark mentioned the moths of the tower were unwell. I'm sure they would benefit from an expert's attention."

He looks around to see if he can find little Brihtwinia.

"Little One? Are you ready to get moving? If you're tired you can ride on Buba Mjunga. He won't mind."
Kit-the-Kitsune
 "I'm right here."  Brihtwinnia ran up next to Pascal, doll and flowers in hands as she was excited.  "Are we going to the funny tower now? I can't wait, I bet I can beat you all to it! Yeah race you there!"  Brihtwinnia began running to the tower like the energetic little child she is.