Vignette - Jenney in Paradise

“I think that will have to do. It feels… dangerous to give him any more.” Jenney sighed. The man lying on the bed beside her was swaddled in red stained bandages that looped from his eyes down past his rib cage. He was well beyond hearing her words. It was a good thing then that they were not for him.

“I think you’re right. Adding any more intent inside of him might wash away his will. I haven’t seen this before. Then again, I didn’t think Charles would still be with us either. The fact that he might live is an improvement. We’ll just have to trust in the healing spirits and to his own fortitude for the rest.”

“I can’t thank you enough for your help, Jenney. Both for your time and the wealth of potions and healing salves. We will pay you back for this generosity.” Lotsee’s sharp features were relaxed, displaying the great compassion she hid within. Jenney still didn’t get why her brothers found the older woman so intimidating. She had never been less than kind where Jenney could see.

She did have a way of looking that made you feel see through. All your guilt and sins on display. It was a good thing Jenney never had much use for prevarication. She had fought for transparency most of her adult life, she wasn’t about to change that now. What she was, she was. No use pretending or hiding.

“I’m not about to profit from the misfortune of others. I brought them as a gift and a gift they remain. It's the friendly thing to do. Are we not friends Lotsee? You keep trying to pay me back and I will have to assume otherwise!” Jenney Mock glared at the standing woman.

“Fine, I’ll drop it… for now. Come, leave him to his rest. If his will to live is strong he might pull through. If it falters, so will he. Our waiting here will not help.” She waved Jenney to her feet, then clasping her arm, they walked from the medical lodge. It was quite a beautiful building, Jenney had to admit, full of large open windows and skylights that allowed the natural light and fresh breezes in. Much better than the stuffy underground rooms Timothy had pawned off on her. Bottled sunlight just wasn’t the same as the real thing, she thought for the hundredth time.

The building was formed from four concentric circles that sloped down to the a roaring fire pit in the center. Carefully tended at all times, it spewed forth fragrant, colorful smoke that invigorated, purified and healed. The multicolored smoke floated up through the building and was present as an omnipresent haze. Immensely off putting at first Jenney had grown to rather like it. Each breath was crisp and clean with just that little bit extra. As if merely by breathing her body was supplied the nutrients it needed.

They walked together out of a large arching door frame where the smoke formed see through doors as its spread was stopped by an invisible wall. Stepping clear they were embraced by the sweltering heat of the day. Jenney looked back in wonder again. It still boggled her mind that a fire could make a building cooler. Not to mention smoke making the air cleaner. They lived in interesting times.

She had grown used to the heat over these last months. That did not mean she enjoyed it. Somehow having experienced the cooler air the heat felt that much more unpleasant. Thankfully it was a short walk, and the small talk the two women engaged in was uplifting in its own way. Nothing important. Dress styles for the new climate along with favored cooking spices and condiments that helped with the heat. Having grown up poor in eastern Texas over to Luisiana, Lotsee was a gold mine in that regard. From spicy food to make you sweat to light flowing dresses that let the wind flow. Humidity as much as heat made many of the garments Jenney grew up with completely impractical. It did make her wonder what their communities would look like in twenty years. Would they be recognizable as Americans? She brushed the question out of her mind. Much too serious for the moment.

Discussing small, inconsequential matters was a balm for the soul after the last few day’s. The desperate struggle to keep the living alive and the inevitable guilt when she failed… She shook it off again, focusing on the discussion. She couldn’t face it. Not now…

Lotsee guided her down a light grassed ramp into a much less impressive structure when it came to beauty. It might be more impressive if the consideration was just size as it was a massive affair. Numerous tables dotted a flagstone floor. A conceit for appearances, Jenney knew. Paradisian earth spirits were as good as a joiner in many ways. The ceiling and ‘walls’ were what really stood out. An island of fully planted greenery stood on top of frequent pillars and large arches. Despite the appearance of having dug a slice out of the bottom of a hill, the interior was illuminated by infrequent beams of light. Clean shafts of reflective material pierced the hill to provide spotlights on every table no matter what time of day it was. Perhaps made from metal, perhaps something else entirely.

In consideration of the heat it was completely open along the outside and enjoyed a steady breeze, combined with lots of shady edges it was a very comfortable building. A fact made obvious by a crowd spread throughout the tables, benches and chairs. Some eating a meal, others simply socializing away from the heat.

They walked past with a word or two of thanks or an inquiry about a child. These were good people and Jenney felt her world was improved by knowing them. If she could bear to be away from her bound gardens she would visit more often. Ah well.

At the center of this large covered courtyard stood a round stone building that housed the massive settlement kitchens. Preserving food wasn’t an easy thing to do in this climate, and concentrating food production was the only way to do it effectively. You might find a personal kitchen here or there, but they were for special occasions rather than day to day living.

“I’m hoping to make use of your talents on another matter as well.” Lotsee spoke as they wound through the tables. “I want you to take a look at the carcass of a boss hog. My spirits tell me it's special, but I can’t tell how or why.” As she spoke the beads and feathers woven into her long black hair danced and jingled a counterpoint in defiance of the winds. “Perhaps they don’t know, perhaps I simply can’t understand their hints well enough. Either way it's right up your alley.”

Walking through the double doors, propped open to allow a steady stream of servers in and out with large trays, Lotsee guided her to two twenty feet long by five feet wide prep tables. They were pressed together and still barely big enough to hold the massive bulk of a multi-ton boss hog. The beast was awe inspiring. From its massive tusks of glittering ivory to the thick bristles that dotted its upper shoulders and back. Each one could make a believable needle, thick and standing up like spines on a hedgehog. It was mostly intact, the hide was pockmarked with acid burns but nothing that should have been enough to kill the beast. Even in death the vast vitality that made them so hard to kill could be felt in every muscle. Even days after its death it shone from the beast. Partially due, no doubt, to the familiar omnipresent smoke. A different color than the healing huts variety, it was a favorite vehicle for magical effects in Paradise. Much like seeing Timothy’s runes carved into a wall, in paradise if you saw floating unnatural smoke, you knew something was up.

Jenney was intrigued and slightly disgusted. She’d been a vegetarian for over twenty years, even as a child she would look forward to lent. A time when she didn’t have to fight her ma about what constituted real food for a growing girl with body image issues. She found the pork-heavy diet that had been forced upon them to be unpleasant, but she was also a nutritionist.

Even after the fall stripped her of much of the old world knowledge, the seven years of training had taught her many new things to make up for it. To stay healthy people need a wide array of vegetables, nuts and fruits. A wide variety that she could not guarantee yet. Despite her best efforts. What did make up for much of what she couldn’t find was meat and her magic senses had long since forced her to partake.

She didn’t have to like it.

Looking at the vast beast those very senses were screaming to her with gleeful greed. “Oh my!” She managed to get out before falling into her analysis mode. A state trained into her to an almost instinctive level over the last almost eight years. She carefully placed a hand on the beast and tried to isolate the various components.

Nutrients impregnated with magical intent that lingered long after death. So much of it that even a mouthful could improve the body past the limits of old world humanity. Or kill the eater, she grimaced. Like poor Charles earlier, too much foreighn intent could overwhelm the natural processes of the body. But if that intent could be guided properly, then maybe. Guided carefully, not cleansed. Most of the benefit was precisely from that lingering intent.

“Wild growth and dominance here, a bit of something extra..” She muttered under her breath, reading the meaning left in muscle, fat and bone. Perhaps if she used a wild grown sacha culantro. It embodied serenity and peaceful growth if you could find it in small jungle glens. A completely different intent than the same plant grown in her garden. The serenity might counter the wildness, but she would still need something to heal the muscles after their jolt of growth as well as a few more to strip some of the overtones of identity she could almost taste. To grow as a hog instead of growing as a human. But if she just used…

Lotsee smiled and stood back. A true craftsman should always be given their head when it comes to new ingredients. If she just waited, the rewards would come in spades.

Chapter 48

A vote named the boss hogs and boss cats as Tier 2 beasts. An acknowledgment that each of them had different power levels and Jenney’s study proved that the evolution from normal hog to boss was hardly complete with their current state. Given time and victory they could very well grow to higher tiers. And if they did there would be hell to pay.

It wasn’t all bad news, the vote to name then was historic. It was a vote of all three friendly communities and represented a step towards a closer relationship. Not yet the empire that Regi might desire, but a League of City States or perhaps of Town States considering the size of Runehold, Paradise and Bloodhaven.

The formal joining was a result of both threat and evidence of good will. Bloodhaven’s representatives were in Paradise during the battle. They not only saw the threat first hand, but stood on walls in support without hesitation. They fought well and used their power over blood to clot wounds and stop bleeding in many who fought beside them. Of the five members of the proto embassy two ended up in the healing hut. One with a mild claw wound, but another with a perforated gut that might have been fatal without the aid of a healing potion from Runehold.

Full circle, all had participated in the defense, all had participated in the healing of wounds after. They held together in sickness and in war, there was hope they could stick together in the aftermath as well.

The threat had not ended, after all. Six Tier 2 beasts turned an irritant into an existential threat and no one was fool enough to assume it was an isolated event. Perhaps Tier 3 beasts would show up and wipe a settlement out. Just the Tier 2’s required the support of more than just one town.

They could not be allowed to grow uncontested. Massive scouting would be required and kill missions on the evolving beasts between wave events would be required.

With danger came great opportunities as well. Tiered Beast flesh was veritably ambrosia. The food of the gods that allowed humanity to exceed their natural limits. Eating ambrosia was not without danger. The heavy load of intent embedded in the meat could overwhelm the eater with fatal results. Proper preparation could remove this danger, but it had costs. Rare wild grown herbs, fruits and vegetables prepared by someone who could read the meat and counter the highly individualized problems.

Earning her place in the hearts and minds of all, Jenney was both the first to pioneer this field and remarkably generous in sharing her knowledge and training with any who asked. She released a book, in its infant stages still, it offered a detailed explanation of the intent load that could be expected in various plants found in various locations. It wasn’t enough to merely use the right plant, it had to be found in the correct environment to properly contain the desired intent.

The value of wild found herbs and Tiered beast flesh created a new industry of hunters. Brave souls who left the walls of their holds on the dangerous mission of killing these tiered beasts and to collect resources while they were at it. The danger was compensated with truly ridiculous prices offered for the results of their hunts. Lives were lost, but fortunes were also made. And all through it, the secret already lost, Timothy provided scouting and warnings for every town… and received a small tithe of the value in exchange.

It was good to be the wizard.

That led Timothy to the mission of this day. “Are you sure Timothy?” Regi stood beside his sitting brother, looking into the scrying pool.

“No, it’s hard to be sure when the damn thing stays mostly submerged in black swamp water. But it’s very likely. This, “ Timothy gestured at a moss covered object that appeared to be a half sunken log, “is likely a Tier 2 hovercroc. And I want it!”

Regi looked at the pool in doubt, sure there were some discolorations and artifacting in the pool, but the size of the beast was hard to make out considering its submerged state. “Even if you're right, why do you want it? Croc meat isn’t nasty, but it's not bacon either. Why bother? Just kill it from here and let the swamp critters eat it.”

“You know better than that! Animals seem to eat each other just fine without proper preparation. Do you want a horde of mutant mosquitoes or a mutant piranha. Crocs are nasty as hell, but they generally stay in the swamp. Do you want to risk that whatever eats it will do the same?” He shuddered briefly at the thought of a Tiered dire-hippo. Unlikely considering they were herbivores, still it was nightmare fuel. “Besides, have I shown you this?” Timothy reached down beside him and handed over a huge cleaned and polished bone. It was over five feet long and at least six inches thick. Regi grabbed the staff sized bone before inspecting it closely.

“Hog bone.” He kept a running dialog of his findings, “From the size had to be a Tier 2. Looks fully intact except for some of your runes. Looks like a motion ward, right? What am I supposed to see?”

“You saw it. Or most of it. Turns out it’s not just eating that makes these critters valuable. Hogs specialize in absorbing, storing, and releasing motion, right? They’re a symbol of motion magic. Symbols matter! That bone holds over double the amount of motion compared to my usual cards. It has some really odd requirements to it but it works!”

Regi rocked back on his heels with a whistle. “Over double?” They had lost more than a few men when a ward overloaded and exploded. He mumbled to himself, staring at the bone as if it was made of solid gold. A rapid change from half disgusted confusion. Still he had learned this particular lesson too many times to ignore, “What kind of requirements, Timothy?” He asked suspiciously.

“Nothing wretched this time. Just has to be a complete bone. Broken bones are also a symbol, a symbol of weakness and injury. If you use a piece of bone it doesn’t have nearly the same effect. Arms and legs seem to work the best, but ribs work as well. Skull is a write off. Doesn’t seem to be useful for motion wards, but it might be good for something else. We’re just starting to experiment.”

Regi grunted, that wasn’t too bad. He could see troops carrying a bone staff into a fight without it being a problem. A circular rib section complete with a vertebrae though… not so much. “Does using a joiner to mold the bone into a specific shape count as breaking?”

“So far, no. Just so long as you keep the full bone together after joining.”

Regi nodded in satisfaction, “Ok, you sold me on bringing back Tier 2 hogs, but I was planning on doing that anyway. What about this Croc?“

Timothy grinned widely, much like an often invisible psychedelic cat, “If hogs are a symbol of motion, what might crocs be a symbol of?”

Regi’s eyes lit up in sudden understanding. “Flight!” He grinned as well, who didn’t dream of flying?

“Not quite. Hovering not flight. But still! Picture one of our boats sailing over the land and skipping the bends in the river! There is only one bit that's a bit troublesome….” he petered off awkwardly.

Regi thought about it, hovering vs flying. Meh, he decided he was still excited. “And what ‘troublesome’ bit are you referring to brother mine?” He asked in a considerably better mood than he had started this conversation in.

“I sort of...“ He spoke slowly, trying to find a better way to present the problem, but not being able to think of one he finished in a rush “needtheskinintact.”

Regi stopped. Trying to parse out that sentence, then his eyes grew large. “You want me to take a forty foot MAGICAL FLYING CROCODILE DOWN WITHOUT DAMAGING THE SKIN?” Timothy winced as he saw figurative steam beginning to rise from his brother's ears.

“Hovering.” he muttered under his breath “I did tell you about the broken bone thing ruining the enchantment right?” He offered softly with a sheepish look. He knew it was a lot to ask. “But brother, just think, a flying ship!”

“Hovering Ship!” Regi fired his words back at him.

“Whatever, can you really say you aren’t tempted?”

“Tempted, that is a good word. Like a mouse to a mousetrap! I am very tempted but my life is more important than a … hovering … ship… Dammit let me think about it.” Regi huffed before stomping off to the ladder then down and out of the room.

Timothy smiled. Regi carried the enchanted bone with him. It would remind him of a hovering boat every time he looked at it. Sooner or later he would cave.

The thoughts followed him through the remaining hours of the afternoon till he had to stop tinkering with various projects at the advent of dinner.

He spent enough time locked up in his tower like a proper wizard. It was necessary to take the time on occasion to remind himself that he was a human as well, however improper. Communal meals and bathing were his favorite methods. This could occasionally backfire.

“So why do you pass over prime Tier 2 bacon? I thought wizards were all about being wise old men? Not eating magic bacon when it’s offered? That's downright foolish brother!”

The demand was high, but the meat could be purchased. It couldn't be had for dirt nor stone, it took metal coins to buy. More than a few of them. A fact Timothy was well aware of as it was HIS metal coins that had bought this particular beast. Paid for the meat, paid to ship Lissette up from paradise and paid for her and Jenney, along with many helpers, to cook it into a feast.

And then he got to watch others enjoy it to an almost indecent degree while he munched on vegetables and drank a weak broth. It was enough to make him decidedly cranky without hecklers piling on.

“Asshole!” He muttered to a grinning Jason, but he muttered it quietly as his ma was four seats down the massive table on his right.

Tuning out his boarish brother, pun intended, he prepared to fulfill his responsibilities. Even though it was a self assumed responsibility. He stood up and raised his glass, “To everyone that has spent their blood, sweat and tears in the making and holding of this settlement. Cheers!”

He paused to allow the cheers to echo and along the lengthy table, and the four others tables around it. Some 237 people in total raised their glasses to the toast. He recognized a great many of them, from Gabriel and Sven who brought down this particular hog, to the chatterbox Marvin.

But there were far more that he didn’t recognize. He just didn’t have time for that sort of socializing. He left that to Gareth and his Da. Still, what was the point of being stupidly rich if he couldn’t buy some popularity at times? “It has been a year. A long painful and yet exciting year. A year since we all had to start over. Had to, or got to. I leave it up to each of you to decide. For good or ill we were brought here. But for only good we are still here! Despite the world itself trying to change that WE ARE STILL HERE!”

“WE ARE STILL HERE!” The crowd echoed and took another deep drink.

“I am grateful for the hard work that everyone at these tables has put in. As a small reward I will now stop talking. DIG IN!”

That received the biggest cheer so far, much to his chagrin. Tough crowd. He had felt the need to make this an anniversary. Everyone else on the council was sponsoring something for the same reason. People needed holidays and reminders. A time to let go and enjoy, and a time to remember and cry for those who did not make it. He glanced to the foot of each table where an empty chair sat opposite a loaded plate. A reminder and an offering to the departed. He could almost see ghostly faces sitting there. He looked away and let it be. If belief could make reality, he did not want to chain these men and women to the world they had left behind. Let them pass on in peace.

He shook off the thought. There would be plenty of time for that when the real memorial event started at sunset. Each in its one time and place. Now was the time to eat, drink and be merry. Today’s troubles were plenty to keep them all busy without borrowing tomorrow's as well. And who said that all Tomorrow would bring was worries?

Tomorrow… he had so many grand plans. So many hopes for the world they had found themselves in. Flying ships to build, fairy tale creatures to meet and the depths of magic to plumb! It was more than enough to balance out the sorrow.

It had to be!