Life is like a flower. It starts off as a simple, non-descript seed. It could turn into anything. It could turn into a giant tree that lives for thousands of years and gives shade to all the creatures and other smaller plant in the grove. It could turn into the prettiest, and nicest smelling flower that glints gold in the sun. or it could grow up nice and big and turn into the sucker that gets drug home randomly by a crow that gets tossed into some insane conspiracy surrounding a book and an old man that, now that we find out, lied to people when they were children.
I had found a kobold tribe that has a special healing salve. This tribe lives in a rather swampy area, so they werent a huge pleasure to spend time with. When I first approached the tribe, I was met with spears. Over the next 3 months I found ways to engraciate myself with the tribe, by bringing gifts of food, tools, and going hunting with the tribe. Eventually I earned their trust. They told me of their salve and hwo it was made. Taking a flower that is found only on the southern cliffs of a nearby valley. They pick it, then dry it in the sun, then mix it with the blood of a swamp rat.
They were very specific about hwo to pick this flower as well. The stem of the flower is covered in thorns. The thorns are covered in a poison, a strong poison that will put whoever is pricked into a near coma for three days, and druing those three days boils will appear. Amazing how such a plant that produces ill effects from the thorns can be such an amazing healing reagent.
So there I was, 50ft in the air, dangling from a rope, studying this flower. It had taken me 8 days searching to find this flower already, and a good half a day working my way up the clift. I'm not a great climber. Finally I get to the flower, and start to sketch it. I'm about half way through the sketch, completely enthralled in my work, totally facinated by this flower, its so amazing to finally see it after all this time, and then SWOOSH! CRUNCH! CAW!! the flower is no more. Looking back at me now is a crow. Stupid fucking crow. At first I was startled. Then I was amazed that wild life would just fly up to me in such a bold way. Then I saw the message on its leg. Stupid stupid message.
Called back home for an emergency. There could have been worse places to be summoned too. Atleast I was going to get to see the storyteller. Ezra was a big part of my childhood. He was the best entertainer around. Traveling bards would often leave the town in quite a snit after being upstaged by a local. Fond memories of bonfire camp out stories with erza, the other boys, my pa when he was in town. So I wonder why I was called.
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