Post by Laurel Shortstride on Sept 16, 2019 19:47:05 GMT
Out in the Angelbark woods, a giant ginger goat with a flower headband starts to wake up in a shelter. (I must have fallen asleep in wild shape again) thinks Laurel, (it is so much comfier.) Stretching out, they glance up and see a mouse nibbling through the grass on the roof of their little makeshift home. On closer inspection, the mouse looks a little worse for wear.
With a pink shimmer, Laurel turns back into themselves, although the flower headband with the goat horns attached to it still remains. They start to trace a familiar set of Druidic runes on the ground, then plays their lyre while chanting gently. 10 minutes later, they turn to face the mouse, which has been watching curiously, and Laurel asks “How are you, little friend? You seem like you might want some help.”
”I am hungry” the high-pitched voice replies. “We are short of berries. There is not much water where they grow.”
(Ah, mice always have a way with words... still, this is concerning.)
“Here, this’ll fill you up,” Laurel hands the mouse a goodberry, “do you think you can show me where these berries normally grow please? I want to help you all out if I can.”
With what can only be described as a little grin, the mouse eagerly swallows the goodberry, then climbs onto Laurel’s hand. “I will tell you where to go.”
After several minutes or walking through the forest with frequent squeaks of “left! No, I mean right!”, “Go faster!”, “Nearly there! I think...”, they arrive at a grove that Laurel hadn’t come across before. Looking around, Laurel spots several mice, rabbits and squirrels sitting around some bushes with only a few leaves on, desperately searching for any food they can find.
Laurel scatters the the rest of the goodberries on the floor while letting them know “One of these and you will be feeling a lot better, eat up! Once you are done, could you tell me where the water comes from that normally keeps these bushed healthy please?”
One squirrel pipes up, still with some of the goodberry in its cheek, and starts to scurry out of the grove. “Over here! This is where the water was. There was a pond here but it has got a lot smaller now. The stream has nearly disappeared too, and two of the rabbits say they saw it blocked.”
”Thank you, I will have a look to see what I can do. Feel free to come with me if you want, but it is up to you.”
Following upstream with a new, excited travel companion, Laurel eventually comes across a bundle of rope and a metal contraption that is forming a dam across most of the stream. (A hunting trap gone wrong) thinks Laurel, a burst of anger momentarily breaking through their normally calm demeanour. The anger soon subsides, to be replaced by a sadness for all the creatures that can be affected by one inconsiderate hunter.
”Well, this won’t do!” they say, trying to put on a cheerful expression, “let’s do something about this.” Eagerly, the squirrel scampers over and bites down on the very end of the rope, pulling as hard as possible. “You’re doing great, much better than I can. I’m just going to try to help you a little bit.” With that, in another pink shimmer, Laurel turns back into the giant goat with ginger fur. Finding a gap in the metal, they hook one horn underneath it and pull it out of the stream gently.
”Wow, you’re so strong! Can you help us if this happens again?”
”Of course, and feel free to visit whenever you want to.” Laurel replies, still in goat form. “Do you know where I am living? You can follow me now and I will show you if you want. Bring your friends too!”
Heading back to the shelter via the grove, the group of woodland creatures start curiously following the giant goat, and on returning, Laurel reappears. “Now, it’s going to take a bit of time for your berries to grow again, but in the meantime you can share mine. I can even make them extra tasty and filling like the ones earlier if you want.”
Over the next several days, Laurel often wakes up with one or more of the grove inhabitants curled up next to them, and continues to produce a goodberry for each of them every day.
(I’ve been here over a month now, and this is the first time I feel truly at home again...)
With a pink shimmer, Laurel turns back into themselves, although the flower headband with the goat horns attached to it still remains. They start to trace a familiar set of Druidic runes on the ground, then plays their lyre while chanting gently. 10 minutes later, they turn to face the mouse, which has been watching curiously, and Laurel asks “How are you, little friend? You seem like you might want some help.”
”I am hungry” the high-pitched voice replies. “We are short of berries. There is not much water where they grow.”
(Ah, mice always have a way with words... still, this is concerning.)
“Here, this’ll fill you up,” Laurel hands the mouse a goodberry, “do you think you can show me where these berries normally grow please? I want to help you all out if I can.”
With what can only be described as a little grin, the mouse eagerly swallows the goodberry, then climbs onto Laurel’s hand. “I will tell you where to go.”
After several minutes or walking through the forest with frequent squeaks of “left! No, I mean right!”, “Go faster!”, “Nearly there! I think...”, they arrive at a grove that Laurel hadn’t come across before. Looking around, Laurel spots several mice, rabbits and squirrels sitting around some bushes with only a few leaves on, desperately searching for any food they can find.
Laurel scatters the the rest of the goodberries on the floor while letting them know “One of these and you will be feeling a lot better, eat up! Once you are done, could you tell me where the water comes from that normally keeps these bushed healthy please?”
One squirrel pipes up, still with some of the goodberry in its cheek, and starts to scurry out of the grove. “Over here! This is where the water was. There was a pond here but it has got a lot smaller now. The stream has nearly disappeared too, and two of the rabbits say they saw it blocked.”
”Thank you, I will have a look to see what I can do. Feel free to come with me if you want, but it is up to you.”
Following upstream with a new, excited travel companion, Laurel eventually comes across a bundle of rope and a metal contraption that is forming a dam across most of the stream. (A hunting trap gone wrong) thinks Laurel, a burst of anger momentarily breaking through their normally calm demeanour. The anger soon subsides, to be replaced by a sadness for all the creatures that can be affected by one inconsiderate hunter.
”Well, this won’t do!” they say, trying to put on a cheerful expression, “let’s do something about this.” Eagerly, the squirrel scampers over and bites down on the very end of the rope, pulling as hard as possible. “You’re doing great, much better than I can. I’m just going to try to help you a little bit.” With that, in another pink shimmer, Laurel turns back into the giant goat with ginger fur. Finding a gap in the metal, they hook one horn underneath it and pull it out of the stream gently.
”Wow, you’re so strong! Can you help us if this happens again?”
”Of course, and feel free to visit whenever you want to.” Laurel replies, still in goat form. “Do you know where I am living? You can follow me now and I will show you if you want. Bring your friends too!”
Heading back to the shelter via the grove, the group of woodland creatures start curiously following the giant goat, and on returning, Laurel reappears. “Now, it’s going to take a bit of time for your berries to grow again, but in the meantime you can share mine. I can even make them extra tasty and filling like the ones earlier if you want.”
Over the next several days, Laurel often wakes up with one or more of the grove inhabitants curled up next to them, and continues to produce a goodberry for each of them every day.
(I’ve been here over a month now, and this is the first time I feel truly at home again...)