The 251st year of the great Gainhan. I remain separated from my love and joy, Lom, my daughter and sole surviving family member, and I know next to nothing. She may be dead. I reside in The Abbey of Books, a small community of pumpkinheads that sits adjacent to a forested brook. The leaves are beautiful here, and if only my daughter was here, I might truly enjoy it.
Suddenly, screams. Death. No, not again. . .
Gainhan, why do you curse us so?
I love when gods take alternative forms.
My character page, nothing too noteworthy.
I appear to be involved with some kind of 'force', and have had apprentices before.---
The architect, Callisto, was held responsible and removed from leadership. I stepped up - as Gainhan's chosen, I was more than capable. My vine was the strongest of our lot, and I was sure to bring our little village prosperity and growth.
It is with no pleasure I accomplish my first task as leader - the digging of graves, for the fallen. I curse Callisto under my breath - what god were you hoping to please with this slaughter?
---
With the shock of so many dead, no one can remember who was responsible for what. I take up the woodcutters axe, and lay plans for a second floor over the southeastern rooms - storage, and workshops.
The trees are soft, here, and it is not long before I feel in the groove, chopping at the wood like a young sprout again.
---
Hatchling poults squeak and squirm in the barn shack. Good eating, I say!
---
The strangelings arrived today, leading a horse and a mule packed with trade goods. These strange cat-like humanoids appear rather docile and friendly, though they stared a little too long at the young poults.
We had almost nothing to trade, except a few stone pots and wooden chests. Though after seeing the lot of our offerings, the furry creatures conferred amongst themselves only to bring us a total offer of 68 pumpkinbucks.
So be it. Finally, I spied a small frog in a cage. This frog was like Gainhan, the great god of mine, but less intelligent, and less all-powerful. But still - what a wonderful little creature!
And then, the furry creatures realized the chests were made from wood. And furiously stole back my pet frog, which I had just named Charlie Hoppenshtein the Third, as well as the pet pumpkins and fruits we had acquired.
Note to pumpkin self - cat people are confusing, generally.
---
Summer came, and with it: migrant pumpkins, hoping to join up with us. They complained about hungry badgers, and we could only nod along in sympathy - the feasome black-and-white beasts were commonly spotted in the darker parts of the valley. With gleaming teath and an appetite for pumpkin, they were most definitely a lurking nightmare in the back of my mind as I ventured out into the trees.
In any case, these migrants were useful - a proper carpenter, for one, as well as another leatherworker by the name of Haefeel. As I was obviously the more experienced pumpkin, Haefeel was ordered to assist with mining duties.
Did I mention, we were expanding the quarry? If I was to build a temple to Gainhan, it would be a proper temple, you see, and at the very least able to stand aloft without killing anyone. *sidewys glances*
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Topic: Abbey of Books - A Autumn Kingdom Succession Fort! Overseers NO LONGER Needed! (Read 16469 times)