Mother

I see you
Each night a battle
Fought with love and patience
Wearily you return
Nestled, recovering
A cry for support
And your return without hesitation

A look into the eyes
Your strength returns from nowhere
A plea from your mind
Hushed by a gentle warmth
Nestled in your arms
He draws your strength
your security
your love
It is reassurance
Support
Safety

It is a beautiful site
A tired cycle
sadness
sleepless
You will miss it
Long for it
And Love the results

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Windmill

On a hill top overlooking Port Gertrude is a mill with its blades turning in the afternoon breeze. The miller has left his post at the request of a small sum of money. He is to be gone for precisely one day as others wish to use the spot. The dirt floor is covered in hay that rustles with each step one takes. The wood walls are tightly nailed together with a board on board overlap to keep out the wind. The construction was not good enough to keep out the occasional mouse that scurries by in hopes of pilfering the hard work done here.

Zahar listens to the stone on stone grind of the wheat with each slow pass the stones make. The light from the high windows lets him observe the intricate working of gears that make the process possible. This only distracts him for a moment from the lady he has caught and bound on the floor. Her orderly clothes now a mess with her cloak covered in some sort of mixture of oil, hay and flour. Her brown cape now ripped in several places as a result from their struggle.

Zahar tapped gently on the walls of the place before speaking, “Young woman, we have received a few complaints about you in town. Those that watch have seen what you do. If it were up to me I would be fine with a little chaos in the city.” he paused looking at her reaction. She did not even flinch at a word. “Yet my employer says you have interfered with a transaction of his. Oh he was amused that you were messing with Ertle, an equally dangerous game if caught. But no missteps on that one by you.”

“Your mistake was to mess around at the Well of Karitas. Somehow even the dimmest of thieves can keep that straight and you cannot.” Zahar whispered as he came closer to her. He took out a dagger and slit her throat. “Say hello to the captain when you see him.”

Cerridwen, watched this all occur from up high in the mill. She debated stepping in and then realized it suited her more to have a body found mysteriously killed in Port Gertrude. The sailors would be blamed for it all, and that was good. Her mission was chaos and this would add to it. She only need wander to Yonnic’s Cove and place the right word in their ears.

Feast of Bazwick

Two weeks after the second harvest of the year is the Feast of Bazwick. It is often forgotten what the feast is for and often looked forward to as a reason for excess and sloth. This year would be no different. Merchant traffic to the city was ceased save for the Chalice gate, which even then did not see much activity. Many arrived the day before staying with kin in the city not wanting to head home after the excess of the day.

This year the festivities would go beyond with Mayor Alvin confirming the good omen of the meteor shower. He had tapped the city’s coffers to let the wine flow free the first hour of the night. This was done by order of Lord Gerard who was keeping something from the people but they did not know it. This festival would buy him another night.

The Locked Chancery was like any inn with its doors open and tables packed. Here, Sartow spent the evening drinking with his new friend Lord Corvus. The two had met through Ertle and had found they had much in common. They had agreed to not discuss business tonight rather revel in their own gory dealings trying to one up the other in who had seen or done the most bizarre.

Also that evening a few tables over was Crevan enjoying a warm cider till his ear caught wind of their conversation. It was when Sartow mentioned a certain house he had left someone at a few nights ago that he got up and left the place. On his way out he bumped into a young lady and apologized profusely. Afterward he thought it odd how clean her white blouse was compared to her dirty brown cape. He may not have apologized had he known she was joining the other Sartow and Corvus.

Crevan was off to find a healer by the name of Kaisu. She was a student of Lady Lyph, who he knew would be sound asleep at this hour and of little use. Hopefully by the time he collected her and got to Lord Gabriel, he would still be okay. Nyo-ji was an unpredictable one and his Lordship may be dead or recuperating. As long as he was still alive, a good healer could work wonders with the care Nyo-ji would give.

But where to take him and keep him hidden?

He ran through many names and places till he recalled Knight Kala, yes she would help. Kaisu could be left alone with Crevan at Nyo-ji’s. Crevan quickened his pace through the streets. The where came quicker, the Lord lived by himself so it should be simple enough to get him back home. With the town drunk tonight was the night to take action.

Nyo-ji

In a small one room house along the outer wall of Saj-graf lives Nyo-ji. The house is forgotten among the other buildings except those that come across it in their desperate search for salvation. The interior of the house contains an altar several rows of wooden benches and along the walls many piles of sheets where the unfortunate visitors recline waiting for Nyo-ji to help restore their strength.
Nyo-ji does not venture out of the house as the spirit has long since forgotten about interacting with the existence outside. Those that are left here are dropped off by believers that the house will heal those in their worst place. Sometimes it is a friend of someone that has felt Nyo-ji’s hand upon them. Other times a person is dropped off by people that have taken all they can from the person and want to let them whither at the house in their final days.

This is where Nyo-ji met Crevan who sometimes leads others back. The ones he leads here are not famished physically; they need the nurture and reassurance no sane mind has patience for. Nyo-ji will heal that which is broken if his patient allows it. Occasionally Nyo-ji will finish the ending started elsewhere as all cannot be fixed. Nyo-ji feeds on that and then passes its wisdom and strength on to those it can assist, but Nyo-ji does not let Crevan know or else Crevan would bring no one else.
It was twenty days after the meteor shower when Nyo-ji was introduced to albino. He showed up in the middle of the night as is often the situation with these meetings. This one looked important, as if he had a purpose in the world. The albino should not have been dropped here, yet Nyo-ji does not discriminate and therefore tried best to fix the bones and seal the cuts. Nyo-ji used a rare spell that it once learned from a poor enchanter, it would strengthen the body of the albino and let him live. The spell though took a few years off the albino’s expectancy and would torment him with nightmares once a year. The exchange to live and play his part was a reasonable exchange to Nyo-ji.

Nyo-ji poked at the memories of the barely living one. Nyo-ji cringed and shuttered at the abuse suffered in the hours before his arrival here. Riddled with questions he could answer, this albino had not said a word more than a blessing upon his assailant, Sartow. That name rang through Nyo-ji’s own memory. He often brought ones here that Nyo-ji could not fix. No this albino would not be healed with enchantment. Nyo-ji would pamper this soul and make him stronger. This one would live and if he was lucky Sartow would return here in his place.

Obscure Path

You walk an obscure path
following markers left by those who scouted it before you
You dash down a trail
wondering if you have missed a turn
You know the destination by what it is not
Never having seen where you will end up

Others follow this path
Some help in understanding
Some lead astray with misunderstanding
The guide posts are vague
yet you know which way to go
When you stop
think
listen
feel

Your vision of the path is not clear
Not for lack of trying for
It is not simple
It is demanding
It is burdensome

Together we will make it to the end
others may get their alone
others will follow a different route
others will take time
others will need help

I follow an obscure path
Maybe it is the same as yours
Let us look together
Share the burden of each others load
Travel is more fun with a companion