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Post by Myron Norwood on Apr 16, 2023 19:23:18 GMT -5
-Set sometime before the raids started ramping up-
The baron Norwood was not necessarily a generous man but house Norwood still had a generous reputation with the commoners who lived on and near the Baron's small piece of forest.
Each year at the end of autumn when winter looms and the nights have grown chilled the baron would hold a festival open to all. Those living on the Baron's land provided a portion of their harvest. The Baron and his sons held a hunt to provide meat for the festival and opened several casks of ale.
Many nobles would find the festival vulgar purely based on it being open to commoners.
For commoners and lower nobility it was a traditional last hurrah before hunkering down for the harsh winter.
There was food and ale and entertainment. There was dancing and music but most young men looked more forward to the wooden sword duels or wrestling.
Myron always looked forward to the festival. He liked the atmosphere of people making merry around a fire, laughing and singing ringing out through the trees.
It was also one of the few times a year he had the chance to think and do something other than training.
He had enjoyed a few flaggens and then joined a few of the lads in a very informal wrestling tournament. A large circle had been drawn in the dirt and men were taking turns wrestling each other until either one of them tapped out or was pushed outside of the circle.
Myron had joined in and won a few matches, being rather firm in his stance. One of the young farmers had been thrown in the ring and even Myron could see the guy was pretty hesitant. He half-heartedly struggled with the guy, tired and buzzed enough to let the guy look like he was evenly matched. Then he unbalanced the younger man, depositing him on his ass out of the ring, almost falling on top of him from the momentum.
There were a few disappointed noises mixed with cheers. Myron offered a hand to the defeated farmer to help him up.
"No hard feelings, it was a good try."
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Post by Kiili Shepherds on Apr 16, 2023 21:42:37 GMT -5
Kiili looked forward to the autumn festival every year. It was a chance to catch up with friends and more distant family, as well as hear what was going on in the region at large. He didn't usually care too much about what was happening in the capital and further south, but he did like to know how some of their further away neighbors were faring with the weather or illness. There had been whispers of raiding nomads in some places too, which had his oldest brother on edge.
His siblings often made fun of him for being the "runt" of the litter, despite not being the youngest. Although small compared to his brothers, growing up working a ranch and wrestling his older brothers had helped him begin to fill out his frame. Even now, young as he was, he carried himself well and had a fair amount of muscle. Though rather than partake in the wrestling, he was much happier to sit on the sidelines and watch, sharing a few drinks with strangers.
The festival was also a chance for Kiili to get away from the local boys who considered him less than pleasant company. After one of their sisters let out he had been too embarrassed to kiss her, he got labeled a lot worse than a "runt."
Of course, the pleasantries didn't last very long once some of his siblings and their friends found him again. They teased him and pressed him into the ring against a somewhat familiar looking young man. Kiili didn't think it much of a fair fight considering the guy was clearly older than he was, not to mention he had watched him out wrestle a few others already. He got a few holds in, getting the feeling neither of them were trying particularly hard, at least until the other knocked him off balance and he landed hard on his back outside the line.
If not for how close the other man was, nearly on top of him, smelling of hard ale and sweat soaked leather, Kiili might have been relieved the fight was over. Instead, he was almost embarrassed with exactly how handsome the man looked. He quickly reached out and took his hand up though, glancing around for his siblings who were nowhere in sight. Kiili sighed, trying to hide the red of his cheeks. Maybe no one would notice, considering it was rather nippy out anyway. "Likewise," he mumbled, looking the man up and down as he brushed dirt and grass off the back of his worn trousers, still a bit too focused on the other man, the crowd melting away. He narrowed his eyes slightly, certain he'd seen the blonde before. "Have we met before?"
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Post by Myron Norwood on Apr 16, 2023 22:45:35 GMT -5
Myron stepped out of the ring letting another fight start and chuckled at the narrowed stare. If he hadn’t known better he might have been offended, but he wasn't wearing much to denote his house. Even then the Baron had a load of sons so even their own folk sometimes forgot who was who.
While some of the older folk and the local kids recognized him he wasn't too put out by not being recognized. Even those that did recognize him didn't treat him too differently. It was his father's land but he was one of a handful and not the favorite so he only got the occasional m'lord directed his way.
Though he almost certainly had run into the boy before he couldn't have said when the last time they had seen each other at a festival might have been.
"I'd imagine so, I've only been going to these things since I was born."
He teased but he knew that wasn't much of an answer. He stuck out a hand again for the younger boy to shake "name's Myron. You're one of that lot from further up the northway right? "
He had noticed the redness as the kid dusted himself off but he assumed it was out of embarrassment of losing and flush from working up a bit of a sweat.
He clapped a hand on the guy's back and started directing him back to the feast a bit "you seem a bit parched let's get you a flaggen, eh?" He asked in a friendly tone.
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Post by Kiili Shepherds on Apr 17, 2023 0:37:06 GMT -5
He made it to the festival almost every year, except the once when his father had been sick, before he passed. And the other only a few years ago when Kiili had been ill himself, his family worried he would leave them like their father. It had been the most care and attention he had gotten in his life and it had been smothering.
Although he didn't clearly recall it, he had almost certainly play fought the young man with wooden swords ages ago, ending up much the same as this more recent fight. Another time, Kiili had followed a group of older boys, including Myron, pulling some sort of prank on some of the girls. Not that he remembered the details.
"Ah," he said, trying to remember, coming up rather blank and feeling more awkward for it. He took his hand and shook it firmly nonetheless. "I'm Kiili," he said in return. "Yeah, my family's ranch is up tha' way," he said, trying to enunciate a little as he noticed the other man's cleaner dialect. That and maybe his strict stance suggested he wasn't just another farmer. But Kiili didn't quite put those pieces together.
Kiili smiled a little though at the welcome distraction of a drink. "I could use a drink," he agreed, more than willing to be nudged along.
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Post by Myron Norwood on May 22, 2023 14:05:33 GMT -5
Myron had some vague memories as well but he had rarely been the leader or instigator of the shenanigans. He was on the quiet side for the boys in his family. Not that he hadn't been pulled into the fights and pranks his older brothers got up to.
The name kiili didn't ring too many bells for him either.
He led his half remembered friend to where they were dispensing flagons of ale and pushed a mug of the stuff into his hands. It was partially the nature of the festival, everyone from the nearby lands making merry as if they were kin.
"Your family grow anything good this year? " he asked the standard question for those who traveled in from outside the norwood forest. The closer into the forest one got the harder it became to grow the usual crops. The ground being choked up with tree roots as it is. It had always felt a little laughable that his father held a festival for farmers and ranchers when the closer to the manor you got the harder it was to feed animals or to grow any crop at all. Now that he was older he understood how important it was.
Both for his father to keep good terms with the people he was only just above in station and also for the exchange of information. A lot of the folks that came to the festival didn't travel aside from this.
He walked kiili over to an empty patch a short ways from the bustle and polpped down to sit with his back against one of the tree trunks.
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Post by Kiili Shepherds on Jun 5, 2023 18:29:48 GMT -5
His attention drifted as they walked, watching a group of wee ones running about with little flags, whooping and hollering, to one of the local families (the Fuchs from their shorter stature) pulling in late on a wagon on account of the distance travelled or perhaps some mishap on the road. To the sound of a more serious fight over a dropped flagon and old blood. It seemed mostly in hand as they stepped up in line, which seemed par for the course when there was suddenly a lot of free ale involved. Kiili didn't bat an eye, smiling appreciatively and immediately tagging a foam ladened swallow to cover up not being sure if he should say anything.
"Herd's doing a'right," he replied. That the man didn't know a herder from a grower didn't faze him. The blonde could tell in the way most of the men moved or the type of axe or lack of one they carried, or their favored choice of hat, but the younger men his own age, excepting for the ones he knew by family name, he couldn't always tell. Yet another indicator about his present company, but he didn't look to be wearing anything specific himself. "We've'ad to move em a lot more with the weather, but Emery's not worried about em til winter." Most of their cattle were study beasts, thick fur, protective horns, fierce defenders of their young. His brother wasn't usually worried about the cold, but a lack of food wasn't apparent until mid-winter.
He took another swallow and wiped his sleeve across his mouth as the man sat down. "Brought a bull long with us. Fer the feast one night," Kiili said, though he honestly wasn't sure which night. From anyone else, it might have sounded like a boast but the young rancher was rather attached to all of their herd in his way. He plopped himself down after a moment, splaying his legs out in front of him and propping himself up with one hand and chugging down half his drink. "What about yer family?"
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