10 Ymiden 723
Wealth Skill: Fieldcraft
There was the wild wheat, ripe and ready for harvest, the blossom with its nested arches gone over and ripened into grainseed. And towering over it, a thick stemmed plant that made Dan's mouth go thin. It might look like nothing more than an oversized cow parsley (which thrived on verges and other neglected ground, and was not at all bad to eat) but this was, if he wasn't mistaken (which he rarely was these days) giant hogweed.
He put a hand out, warning everyone to stay back and glared at it. "No. Absolutely not. There are children here." Giant hogweed was even worse than poison ivy, in his opinion. Poison ivy would give you a nasty rash, to be sure, but only when and where you touched it. Get any of the sap or juices of giant hogweed on you, on the other hand, and you would break out in vicious burns and blisters every time that sunlight touched that area of skin for the next several trials. And when it flowered, it had pretty white flowers, of the sort that children might pick - and get said sap all over their hands and arms and from there onto any part of them, or other people around them, that they touched. It hadn't yet gone to seed, which was a mercy. Cutting it down meant the sap went everywhere. It would have to be pulled up whole, or as whole as possible, and then burned so that it didn't contaminate the compost.
He explained the situation in short, terse, phrases, detailed Arbie to keep people away from it, and went to change into something sturdier. His armour had too many gaps in it, so he simply hauled out his thicker leather, despite the Ymiden warmth, and pulled them on over his shirt and leggings. Leather jacket, leather trousers, leather hood, leather gloves, leather boots. He took a moment to ensure that his trousers were tucked into his boots, jacket tucked into his trousers, sleeves tucked into his gloves, hood snugged down tight against his collar, and picked up a heavy scarf to wrap around his face. In general, he didn't want so much as an inch of skin showing. Then, sweating but protected, he went out to face the plant.
Arbie seemed to have done a good job, and Agnes was keeping people occupied at the other end of the patch of wheat. Because it was so sparse over there and intermingled with other plants, it was easier for them to just strip the grains into a basket and then haul up whatever stems they wanted for straw.
Dan stared up at the giant hogweed - because of course it was taller than he was, that was where the 'giant' part came in. He took a deep breath, set his feet a shoulder width apart for the extra stability that would give him, and forced himself to reach out with his gloved hands and take a firm grip on the thick stem.
He took another breath, and another, forcing down the fear of what might happen that came from what he knew could happen, dug his feet into the dirt and hauled. The hogweed resisted, and he shifted his grip and hauled again, as if it was a particularly large and stubborn turnip. It resisted a moment longer, and then came with a rush, sending him staggering backwards.
Nobody, he was glad to see, risked themselves to come to his aid. He recovered his balance, hauled the plant out of the way and then went back to check that there wasn't any more of it. He was also glad that he did check because there was a second sprout just coming up, still small and young and easily pulled. That seemed to be the last of it, but he'd keep checking anyway until there was certainty that no more seeds were lurking in the soil, ready to sprout into deceptive danger.
Cal had helpfully started a small fire on a patch of bare ground some distance away from anything and anyone else. Dan thanked him with a nod and a quick sign, then carried the giant hogweed over to it while Cal circled wide around him, staying well clear.
Dan fed the hogweed into the flames until it was all gone to nothing but ashes, then stamped the remains of the fire out. He very carefully peeled out of all of his leathers, piling it into a battered basket for careful cleaning later, and straightened, feeling the breeze slice through his sweat-soaked shirt and leggings. He gingerly stretched, turning his body so that the sun could strike him on every patch of now bare skin. There was no reaction, and he let out a huff of relief.
There was still work to be done, however, so he made his way back to the patch of wheat and joined in the harvest. Someone had brought scythes for using on the thicker patches of wheat, and Dan picked one up. It was weighted differently to his spear. Although the basic layout of long handle and sharp head were the same, spears were made to point head up, while scythes were made to point down. Spears were thrusting weapons, scythes were slashing ones. In a scythe fight, Dan noted, you had better be prepared to jump, because the scythe blade would be coming for your ankles, and the tendons both there and in the back of the knee, so unless you wanted to be rolling on the ground, hamstrung... His mouth curved in a grim smile. Never underestimate a farmer wielding a scythe in a fight. You were as likely to be maimed as to be killed quickly or cleanly. He shook off the mood and turned the scythe to its peace time use of cutting wheat.
The stems fell easily under his strokes, and others gathered them up, binding them into bundled sheaves, and stacked them to be taken back to the barn. All too soon, they had finished the thicker part of the patch and were back to stripping seeds by hand on the sparser area near to where the giant hogweed had been growing. Dan eyed the amount in the various baskets, thought for a moment, and then made his decisions.
He told them, "Split the end result from this gathering session into four equal parts. One part goes straight out into the fields." He turned to Jack. "See if you can get a full field harvest out of it before the cold kicks in. If it's growing wild here, it clearly is fine with the growing conditions of this area."
Jack nodded briskly.
Dan went on, "One part goes into reserve for planting next arc, in case it will only sprout in Ashan or something. If we get a good harvest, we'll revisit that. Of the rest - Cal, you get one part to brew with. See if you can get us a good wheaten beer to go with the buckybeer."
Cal grinned and gave Dan a thumbs up, already looking thoughtful as he considered the matter and what his options were.
Turning to Agnes, Dan finished, "You get the last part for the kitchen. It probably won't give us that much yeast bread, so perhaps save it for special occasions, but I'll defer to your decision on that, since you're in charge of the cooking. Fair?"
"Fair," Agnes agreed, and went back to stripping grains into her basket.
Dan nodded his thanks to each of them and went back to stripping grains too. There was something soothing about the simplicity of it, and the rhythm that it formed. Find an untouched stem, bring your hand up to it palm up, grasp the stem just behind the head of the seeds with finger and thumb, then pull firmly towards your body and the tip of the stem so that the seeds spilled into your palm. Tip the seeds into the basket, and then find another stem.
It steadied him, though he could feel the shakes looming somewhere underneath where the adrenaline, brought on by the fury of spotting the giant hogweed and then the fear of handling it, was ebbing away, leaving a cold hollow behind it. Sooner or later he would have to give in to it. But right now, with the sun on his shoulders and a task in his hands, was not that time. Right now there was work to be done, and plans to make, and a future that he almost dared to look to and hope.
"Signed words" Spoken words
Wealth Skill: Fieldcraft
OOC Note
Partially inspired by the following event in the Rharne Rebirth Calender.
The Rainbow Wheat found in this thread was approved hereDate: 50th of Ashan 723
Location: The Stormlands.
Description: All over the Stormlands, and in particular the Stormlakes region, new vegetation has begun to encroach on the edges of the once blasted lands. While it's still a harsh environment for growing, at certain patches of ground, particularly those rich with clay deposits or near riverways and other bodies of water, wheat patches have begun to grow. These are no ordinary wheat patches, but have particular, small blossoms growing from their florets that bear various markers. Each marker, symbol, or image appearing on the small florets that seems differs from the next wheat floret, it's found, has a different effect when brewed into beer, tea, or any other brewed substance. It's effect on breads or flours has yet to be similarly tested.
He put a hand out, warning everyone to stay back and glared at it. "No. Absolutely not. There are children here." Giant hogweed was even worse than poison ivy, in his opinion. Poison ivy would give you a nasty rash, to be sure, but only when and where you touched it. Get any of the sap or juices of giant hogweed on you, on the other hand, and you would break out in vicious burns and blisters every time that sunlight touched that area of skin for the next several trials. And when it flowered, it had pretty white flowers, of the sort that children might pick - and get said sap all over their hands and arms and from there onto any part of them, or other people around them, that they touched. It hadn't yet gone to seed, which was a mercy. Cutting it down meant the sap went everywhere. It would have to be pulled up whole, or as whole as possible, and then burned so that it didn't contaminate the compost.
He explained the situation in short, terse, phrases, detailed Arbie to keep people away from it, and went to change into something sturdier. His armour had too many gaps in it, so he simply hauled out his thicker leather, despite the Ymiden warmth, and pulled them on over his shirt and leggings. Leather jacket, leather trousers, leather hood, leather gloves, leather boots. He took a moment to ensure that his trousers were tucked into his boots, jacket tucked into his trousers, sleeves tucked into his gloves, hood snugged down tight against his collar, and picked up a heavy scarf to wrap around his face. In general, he didn't want so much as an inch of skin showing. Then, sweating but protected, he went out to face the plant.
Arbie seemed to have done a good job, and Agnes was keeping people occupied at the other end of the patch of wheat. Because it was so sparse over there and intermingled with other plants, it was easier for them to just strip the grains into a basket and then haul up whatever stems they wanted for straw.
Dan stared up at the giant hogweed - because of course it was taller than he was, that was where the 'giant' part came in. He took a deep breath, set his feet a shoulder width apart for the extra stability that would give him, and forced himself to reach out with his gloved hands and take a firm grip on the thick stem.
He took another breath, and another, forcing down the fear of what might happen that came from what he knew could happen, dug his feet into the dirt and hauled. The hogweed resisted, and he shifted his grip and hauled again, as if it was a particularly large and stubborn turnip. It resisted a moment longer, and then came with a rush, sending him staggering backwards.
Nobody, he was glad to see, risked themselves to come to his aid. He recovered his balance, hauled the plant out of the way and then went back to check that there wasn't any more of it. He was also glad that he did check because there was a second sprout just coming up, still small and young and easily pulled. That seemed to be the last of it, but he'd keep checking anyway until there was certainty that no more seeds were lurking in the soil, ready to sprout into deceptive danger.
Cal had helpfully started a small fire on a patch of bare ground some distance away from anything and anyone else. Dan thanked him with a nod and a quick sign, then carried the giant hogweed over to it while Cal circled wide around him, staying well clear.
Dan fed the hogweed into the flames until it was all gone to nothing but ashes, then stamped the remains of the fire out. He very carefully peeled out of all of his leathers, piling it into a battered basket for careful cleaning later, and straightened, feeling the breeze slice through his sweat-soaked shirt and leggings. He gingerly stretched, turning his body so that the sun could strike him on every patch of now bare skin. There was no reaction, and he let out a huff of relief.
There was still work to be done, however, so he made his way back to the patch of wheat and joined in the harvest. Someone had brought scythes for using on the thicker patches of wheat, and Dan picked one up. It was weighted differently to his spear. Although the basic layout of long handle and sharp head were the same, spears were made to point head up, while scythes were made to point down. Spears were thrusting weapons, scythes were slashing ones. In a scythe fight, Dan noted, you had better be prepared to jump, because the scythe blade would be coming for your ankles, and the tendons both there and in the back of the knee, so unless you wanted to be rolling on the ground, hamstrung... His mouth curved in a grim smile. Never underestimate a farmer wielding a scythe in a fight. You were as likely to be maimed as to be killed quickly or cleanly. He shook off the mood and turned the scythe to its peace time use of cutting wheat.
The stems fell easily under his strokes, and others gathered them up, binding them into bundled sheaves, and stacked them to be taken back to the barn. All too soon, they had finished the thicker part of the patch and were back to stripping seeds by hand on the sparser area near to where the giant hogweed had been growing. Dan eyed the amount in the various baskets, thought for a moment, and then made his decisions.
He told them, "Split the end result from this gathering session into four equal parts. One part goes straight out into the fields." He turned to Jack. "See if you can get a full field harvest out of it before the cold kicks in. If it's growing wild here, it clearly is fine with the growing conditions of this area."
Jack nodded briskly.
Dan went on, "One part goes into reserve for planting next arc, in case it will only sprout in Ashan or something. If we get a good harvest, we'll revisit that. Of the rest - Cal, you get one part to brew with. See if you can get us a good wheaten beer to go with the buckybeer."
Cal grinned and gave Dan a thumbs up, already looking thoughtful as he considered the matter and what his options were.
Turning to Agnes, Dan finished, "You get the last part for the kitchen. It probably won't give us that much yeast bread, so perhaps save it for special occasions, but I'll defer to your decision on that, since you're in charge of the cooking. Fair?"
"Fair," Agnes agreed, and went back to stripping grains into her basket.
Dan nodded his thanks to each of them and went back to stripping grains too. There was something soothing about the simplicity of it, and the rhythm that it formed. Find an untouched stem, bring your hand up to it palm up, grasp the stem just behind the head of the seeds with finger and thumb, then pull firmly towards your body and the tip of the stem so that the seeds spilled into your palm. Tip the seeds into the basket, and then find another stem.
It steadied him, though he could feel the shakes looming somewhere underneath where the adrenaline, brought on by the fury of spotting the giant hogweed and then the fear of handling it, was ebbing away, leaving a cold hollow behind it. Sooner or later he would have to give in to it. But right now, with the sun on his shoulders and a task in his hands, was not that time. Right now there was work to be done, and plans to make, and a future that he almost dared to look to and hope.
"Signed words" Spoken words
