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Saun 5th 718 withersfeild
Tending the fields, honest if droll work. However there was honor in good work and satisfaction in the knowledge that what he was doing not only fed his family but others as well. The man was old. Somewhere in his lower fifties grey beginning to be the predominant color within his beard, but his eyes still held a blue twinkle as he whistled and worked the fields. Even in the constant rains and drizzles of the weather that wracked Yaralon. The muck he squelched through as he tended his fields long accepted as a fact of life by the man. Predominantly farming gourds and stone grain the man had been in the game long enough to have made an art of his practice, rotating crops as needed cutting out vines that were diseased or spoiled and spotting signs of vermin and such. Far to his left one of his sons was similarly walking the fields and inspecting the produce, it was looking to be an average season, but they'd gotten buy on worse, perhaps he'd be able to squirrel away enough excess to buy something nice for his wife.
Further back near the barns there were young men working toiling away on all manner of work, one of the men therein was a brooding figure who'd been with them for a short time but he'd caught the farmers eye perhaps if only for his lack of obvious story. Most of the laborers where sons who aspired to get rich enough to buy arms and move to yaralon. Or some other task that needed money, occasionally travelers would trade work for housing until the dry season returned and travel would become easier. The man in question was apart of a small group setting fence posts that would make a new enclosure for swine it wasn't exactly pleasant work, the mud getting on everyone and everything involved, but it was the easiest time of their year to do it before the ground hardened like iron in the dry season. Meandering over to where the fence posts were being set.
“It's 'ard work eh? I appreciate ya doin it though”
Pulling a pipe from his pocket he kept it under the brim of his hat as he loaded some sort of seemingly orange dries plant matter into it before flicking a small flint over it a few times before it caught. Whatever it was the moment a good spark hit it it ignited readily even in the damp environment it had a smokey though not unpleasant smell.
“My old bones make that sorta work a day end'er fer me anymore.. anyways, where ya from son, I don't think I've had the pleasure of makin yer acquaintance, M'names Joad.
Offering the pipe to him the man gestured to a nearby porch with some chairs on it.
“C'mon and take a load off, I pride myself on knowing the men who work about me farm, where ya from son?”
If woe decided to take the proffered pipe he would discover that it warmed him in such a way that his very bones seemed to be warm the wet weather almost ignorable in it's entirety with the aid of the odd plant.
Tending the fields, honest if droll work. However there was honor in good work and satisfaction in the knowledge that what he was doing not only fed his family but others as well. The man was old. Somewhere in his lower fifties grey beginning to be the predominant color within his beard, but his eyes still held a blue twinkle as he whistled and worked the fields. Even in the constant rains and drizzles of the weather that wracked Yaralon. The muck he squelched through as he tended his fields long accepted as a fact of life by the man. Predominantly farming gourds and stone grain the man had been in the game long enough to have made an art of his practice, rotating crops as needed cutting out vines that were diseased or spoiled and spotting signs of vermin and such. Far to his left one of his sons was similarly walking the fields and inspecting the produce, it was looking to be an average season, but they'd gotten buy on worse, perhaps he'd be able to squirrel away enough excess to buy something nice for his wife.
Further back near the barns there were young men working toiling away on all manner of work, one of the men therein was a brooding figure who'd been with them for a short time but he'd caught the farmers eye perhaps if only for his lack of obvious story. Most of the laborers where sons who aspired to get rich enough to buy arms and move to yaralon. Or some other task that needed money, occasionally travelers would trade work for housing until the dry season returned and travel would become easier. The man in question was apart of a small group setting fence posts that would make a new enclosure for swine it wasn't exactly pleasant work, the mud getting on everyone and everything involved, but it was the easiest time of their year to do it before the ground hardened like iron in the dry season. Meandering over to where the fence posts were being set.
“It's 'ard work eh? I appreciate ya doin it though”
Pulling a pipe from his pocket he kept it under the brim of his hat as he loaded some sort of seemingly orange dries plant matter into it before flicking a small flint over it a few times before it caught. Whatever it was the moment a good spark hit it it ignited readily even in the damp environment it had a smokey though not unpleasant smell.
“My old bones make that sorta work a day end'er fer me anymore.. anyways, where ya from son, I don't think I've had the pleasure of makin yer acquaintance, M'names Joad.
Offering the pipe to him the man gestured to a nearby porch with some chairs on it.
“C'mon and take a load off, I pride myself on knowing the men who work about me farm, where ya from son?”
If woe decided to take the proffered pipe he would discover that it warmed him in such a way that his very bones seemed to be warm the wet weather almost ignorable in it's entirety with the aid of the odd plant.
