Post by Kayliegh Shaw on Jun 1, 2018 3:35:25 GMT
A golden haired girl, maybe the age of sixteen made her way through rows and rows of wheat and barley, taller than she was. Kneeling down to pluck weeds, check stalks, making sure everything was just perfect. It was almost time for harvest. A good harvest it would be, enough to rent more land to plow for the Lord. Their old workhorse and wooden plow had been long splintered and in need of replacement. Barely scratching by, with little spare to buy new tools, the farming family did what they could, pinning together old wood with scraps and hoping that old Patches would last another season. The old workhorse was struggling to pull that plow through fresh ground. Let alone ground that had been toiled twice or more over. The ground was becoming sparse, the ground hard to work. More stone and pebble than fruitful soil. This harvest would be their last on this land, and they knew it.
Every last detail would go in account. The season was ending, if stall any longer the crop would be lost to time and rot. A week prior Patches would be fed greatly, the family going with little or naught. The grain stores from last year best suited for making sure this harvest went smoothly. The old horse would have to make countless trips from the farm an market, and back. With loads upon loads of wheat and barley. It would turn to be their lucky season, some larger farming estates had lost their crops to famine and drought. There was a dire need for grains. The Militia taking up the post of collecting, paying, and holding the grain stores in the time of need. Though it wasn't what they had been after on an open market, the Militia offered more than a fair price for the harvest.
It was enough. Enough to Rent more, and more fertile lands.Enough to rent a new, Iron Plow, and even buy an Ox to pull it. Patches need not toil anymore she would rest peacefully knowing she got them through the hard times.
*Two Years Later*
The farm was prosperous, finally, making them money, rather than making enough to rent more. They owned their Ox, they owned their plow. They had enough spare to fill their bellies, and even give to the church, to help those who were once in their position. Though still meager, that golden haired lass dressed in a plain dress, patches in the knees filled with old burlap sacks used as patchwork cloth. She had a 'nice' dress in the closet for husband hunting, entertaining, or church going. Thing were looking up. It was just about the time thing seemed good where everything went to hell.
A haggard, wheezing cough jerked the golden haired girl out of her sleep. Mother. There had been tale of Plague spreading throughout the land, the dead rising from eternal slumber to further wander the land. The dead who were once peacefully lowered into a grave with the Avatar's grace were pilled in masses and burned, for fear of the plague spreading. That cough rattled her bones. Kayliegh crept into the next room slowly, her nerves on edge. There was talk of Riots happening, the unfortunate seeking food and riches. "Mama?" She squeaked, creeping closer with a rag and glass of water in tow. She settled down upon the edge of the bed, offering the glass of water to the sweating, shivering, and groaning woman. She tipped the glass to her lips, letting her sip gently, while dabbing her forehead with a cloth. "It's okay.. It's just a fever, nothing serious." She said, more comforting herself than her mother.
*Two Weeks Later*
The patchwork dressed, golden haired girl came running. A glow of fiery orange was behind her, though it was the dead of night. Fires were burning in the dead of night, the forest ablaze. The constant groaning and shuffling of the dead echoed through the valley. The fine haired lass burst through doors, seeing her father attending to the worsening mother. A wet cloth on her forehead, a troubled look on his face. "Papa, papa! The dead! They're rising!" exclaimed the girl. The father looking glum. "The Guardian has come for us." The girl rushed to the bedside, taking hands upon the man's shoulder, giving him a good rattle and shake. "The Militia needs aide! They're -paying-! I can get enough money and hire a Doctor! A month wages will be enough." A moment passed. The man considering, looking down at his dying wife.
With a simple move, he snatched a bow from under the bed, and handed it to the young girl. "Stay on the backlines. Don't put your face where it ain't suppose to be. And Stay. Alive. I love you, Kayliegh." He admitted for the first time, as she snatched the old bow and sprinted toward Stonekeep.
Every last detail would go in account. The season was ending, if stall any longer the crop would be lost to time and rot. A week prior Patches would be fed greatly, the family going with little or naught. The grain stores from last year best suited for making sure this harvest went smoothly. The old horse would have to make countless trips from the farm an market, and back. With loads upon loads of wheat and barley. It would turn to be their lucky season, some larger farming estates had lost their crops to famine and drought. There was a dire need for grains. The Militia taking up the post of collecting, paying, and holding the grain stores in the time of need. Though it wasn't what they had been after on an open market, the Militia offered more than a fair price for the harvest.
It was enough. Enough to Rent more, and more fertile lands.Enough to rent a new, Iron Plow, and even buy an Ox to pull it. Patches need not toil anymore she would rest peacefully knowing she got them through the hard times.
*Two Years Later*
The farm was prosperous, finally, making them money, rather than making enough to rent more. They owned their Ox, they owned their plow. They had enough spare to fill their bellies, and even give to the church, to help those who were once in their position. Though still meager, that golden haired lass dressed in a plain dress, patches in the knees filled with old burlap sacks used as patchwork cloth. She had a 'nice' dress in the closet for husband hunting, entertaining, or church going. Thing were looking up. It was just about the time thing seemed good where everything went to hell.
A haggard, wheezing cough jerked the golden haired girl out of her sleep. Mother. There had been tale of Plague spreading throughout the land, the dead rising from eternal slumber to further wander the land. The dead who were once peacefully lowered into a grave with the Avatar's grace were pilled in masses and burned, for fear of the plague spreading. That cough rattled her bones. Kayliegh crept into the next room slowly, her nerves on edge. There was talk of Riots happening, the unfortunate seeking food and riches. "Mama?" She squeaked, creeping closer with a rag and glass of water in tow. She settled down upon the edge of the bed, offering the glass of water to the sweating, shivering, and groaning woman. She tipped the glass to her lips, letting her sip gently, while dabbing her forehead with a cloth. "It's okay.. It's just a fever, nothing serious." She said, more comforting herself than her mother.
*Two Weeks Later*
The patchwork dressed, golden haired girl came running. A glow of fiery orange was behind her, though it was the dead of night. Fires were burning in the dead of night, the forest ablaze. The constant groaning and shuffling of the dead echoed through the valley. The fine haired lass burst through doors, seeing her father attending to the worsening mother. A wet cloth on her forehead, a troubled look on his face. "Papa, papa! The dead! They're rising!" exclaimed the girl. The father looking glum. "The Guardian has come for us." The girl rushed to the bedside, taking hands upon the man's shoulder, giving him a good rattle and shake. "The Militia needs aide! They're -paying-! I can get enough money and hire a Doctor! A month wages will be enough." A moment passed. The man considering, looking down at his dying wife.
With a simple move, he snatched a bow from under the bed, and handed it to the young girl. "Stay on the backlines. Don't put your face where it ain't suppose to be. And Stay. Alive. I love you, Kayliegh." He admitted for the first time, as she snatched the old bow and sprinted toward Stonekeep.