Deskdefier’s shelf

A map, with a note attached

Avoid the wild forest. Strange things happen there.

A cairn, telling this story:

The story of the first person to climb the mountain of Sha’Tazar has been passed down for years, No one now remembers their name, but the cairn they started to build and could never finish stands as testament to their legend. It is said that they left their house in the early morning determined to make it to the top. At the bottom of the mountain they stood, and swallowed the fear they felt looking up at it’s majesty. They had been told repeatedly it could not be done, but they knew they could do it if only they got lucky on the path. In their pack they carried all the climbing gear they needed, and food made by their best friend, special they said for the journey.

Half way to the top, they stopped to eat. 3 quarters of the way they started to feel sick. At the top they felt dizzy, broken, tired. They started to stack the rocks they found, building a cairn to prove they had made it. Many years later when others, better equipped made it to the top they would find their bones, and the half finished cairn.

In the village at the base of the mountain, a person broke down after they didn’t return. Admitting to the family that they, the best friend, horribly intimidated by the pure determination of their friend, had poisoned the food they gave them for the climb…

A long dozen

Darker trees
Deep, mysterious woodland forest lair.
rain soaks down my back, and my shirt, flattening my hair.

Mushroom poems based on this can be found on the unknown shelf and Treewalker‘s shelf

Notes on an acquaintance

Walking the road headed through the village, I spotted a man working in the fields. I called out a hello, and he walked to the fence to converse. They don’t see many strangers around there, so they were interested in news from other places.
They’d heard of my contact, his farming skills have helped inform a lot of the farming folk in the area. New idDeas and such, and of course a willingness to work for what they want.

They asked questions, calmly. They were interested in what I’d seen since I got there, and what I knew from my own world but it’s a quiet village, and though welcoming, the locals are happy with their lot. I inform them of my alongame name, deskdefier, and then tell them why I opted for that name, using this as an excuse to finally escape from behind my desk.

They told me that years ago, before they were born, their Mother fell in the road behind the farm seriously injuring herself, it wasn’t well travelled and she was sure she was going to lay there for days, if she was ever rescued at all. She managed to drag herself to the nearby well (rumored he said, for years, to be a magic well giving gifts to those who are truly in need.) oddly as she rested against it’s side barely able to move anymore, the bucket started to rise and as it hit the top it made a sound like a giant horn. The old farmhands heard the ruckus, and came to see what was up. His mother was saved, and the well ceased all noise, nothing to show for the event.

I listened intently, and then shared the story of how, as a child, I got stuck far in the high branches of an old oak tree, For a long time I called for help, and none came until eventually I tried to move, and the branch I was on broke. I could have sworn there was nothing but hard branches and air beneath me, but almost as soon as I fell the tree reached for me. I didn’t see it happen, but I was caught in a net of soft leaves and branches, placed right next to an easy climb down. I still believe it was the tree that saved me, though no one would ever have believed me.

He bid his farewell. There was still much work to be done, and I had a long way yet to travel, we parted as he returned to his field, and I continued along the road.

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