Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Eliza only had to travel a handful of yards from her back door, before she found herself in the thick of the Ywyngyll Forest. Her small cottage after all was nestled just on the edge of the forest and was shaded by a ring of tall, ancient yew trees. Since she'd purchased the home on the outskirts of Caervalle Town, so far as the forest was concerned, she hadn't ventured far beyond her own garden.

This trial however, Eliza had business to attend to in the Ywyngyll. Just last trial's morning, one of her elderly neighbors had dropped in unannounced for a visit. Or rather two of them, a married couple. The woman, Sara, had once been one of the Thunder Priestesses, and her husband Georg had been one of the Lightening Knights. They'd retired to Caervalle Town arcs ago, but their grown son and his wife, the couple told her, had been pressuring them to move to Viden, where they could watch their grandchildren grow.

Eliza had smiled, modded, had served them both cups of sweet tea and made small talk as long as they wanted. But was naturally curious about why they'd decided to seek her out. As it happened, they'd been told by old Wolfert next door that she was a painter, and they wondered if she'd create something for them to take to Viden with them. Something to look at that would remind them of the forest that they both loved so much. The Ywyngyll.

The truth was, the mortalborn would have done it without asking for compensation. But she also had to admit to herself that she needed the money. And if she was ever going to earn a living for herself by painting, it only followed that she'd need to expect compensation for her work. And so Eliza had agreed, and resolved to wander off into the forest the very next trial.

She could have just sat at the small table in her garden, comfortably with a warm cup of tea by her side, and sketched the old yew trees that circled her garden. Then from that sketch and from her imagination, she could have created a more isolated forest scene for the couple. But even if the old couple would have been satisfied with the effort, Eliza would not have been. In order to create something that was more than just an image, that made anyone who was looking, feel something, she needed to know her subject more intimately. It required her to look far beyond the surface, such as she was able to.

The trees surrounding her garden were old, but not as old as those she might find nearer the heart of of the forest. That's where the ancient ones were. The ones that had seen more arcs than even she had; two, three, even four times over. Those were the trees she'd be looking for, and she'd have to travel a way to find them. Considering that, it had seemed wiser to wait till the next morning to begin, and hike off with the rising sun at her back.

It had occurred to Eliza just as soon as she'd woken that morning and looked out the window, that the elderly couple could have timed their requested commission better. The suns were still coming up as usual, but in a handful of trials all the world around her quaint little home would be suspended in a constant state of twilight. At least until Cylus gave way to Ashan. Along with that persistent state would come much colder temperatures. It was cold enough already, but at least the sun was there to warm the late mornings and afternoons, on the odd calm and cloudless trial. Which meant of course that the couple could have done a worse job by far with their timing, if they'd just waited a trial or three more.

After breaking her nightly fast with a mug of spiced tea and poached eggs perched on top of sauteed greens and sweet peppers, she bundled up for a hike in the woods and gathered all the things that she'd need. Along with her sword and her crossbow, just in case; she packed a flask of water, and one of mulled wine into a small sack, and then added a good chunk of bread, a wedge of cheese and and some winter berries to the mix. In another case that she could drape over her shoulder, was her sketch pad and a wooden box containing charcoal pencils and colored chalk.

All the while, the enormous wolfhound Darwin had watched her from a spot by the door, determined that she wouldn't be going without him. "I wouldn't think of it," she said, scratching the dog behind his ear and smiling as she pulled her cloak on, put the hood up, pulled on her gloves and wrapped a scarf round her neck. Meanwhile, her old, long haired gray cat Smudge napped by the fire, and intended to stay just there until she returned.

The Ywyngyll was a vast and storied forest, and Eliza, with Darwin by her side, had traveled just a handful of bits along a narrow and winding game trail before she lost sight of her own back garden at the forest's edge. Yew trees, which accounted for most if not all of the trees in the forest, were evergreens and didn't lose their leaves during the cold season. Still, there was a layer of snow on the ground, and a thin layer of ice on the trees themselves. It gave them an extra eerie appearance. Which due to the natural inclinations of yew trees, wasn't difficult to pull off.

Eliza didn't worry though about being alone in the forest. She had Darwin by her side. But more than that, the stories that she'd been told about the forest reassured her that generally speaking, it wasn't a terribly dangerous place. The trees, they said, tended to watch over those who meant the forest no harm. The forest's floor was usually covered with a thick blanket of moss and clover, and it still was for the most part. In the spring and summer, the growth was green and lush. But with the arrival of bitterly cold temperatures, the stuff had turned brown and had thinned out. Still, even now, the Ywyngyll was a hauntingly beautiful place; and Eliza was glad that she'd finally ventured out into it.

Darwin had loped ahead of her, first in pursuit of a rabbit and then out of a desire to just follow his nose. He'd survived Immortal's Tongue on his own before she'd discovered him however, so Eliza wasn't concerned about him. He'd come back when he wanted to, and now and then she caught a glimpse of him through the trees. Just as she'd thought that they might be, the trees as she traveled deeper into the forest were taller. Their trunks wider and their branches farther reaching. They were clearly older than the outliers that circled her garden. Much older in fact. And so she slowed her own progress, keeping an eye out for just the right spot where she'd sit, contemplate and draw.

It didn't take long before she spotted the perfect place. She'd fallen into place along the bank of a shallow stream that wound its way through the forest, tumbling over rocks large and small as it went, frozen just at the edges and rimmed with a layer of snow that crunched underfoot. It passed through a small clearing, where Eliza spied a fallen log. And a few yards away was what Eliza imagined must be the oldest and largest tree that she'd come across yet.

It dwarfed the other trees around it. But they seemed to reach, as if wanting only to be near it...but were kept at arm's length by its sprawling branches. Eliza approached quietly, tilted her head upwards and smiled curiously. "Aren't you a beautiful thing," she said quietly. Most people would say that in a contest of beauty, the yew tree would be a challenged contender at best. The mortalborn saw things differently though, and the obvious age of the tree made her wonder.

"Of all the trees I've seen or am yet to see here, have I found Ywyngyll the Elder?" She liked to think so. "Is it alright if I sketch your portrait?" she asked. Surely it was her imagination, or wishful thinking, but as she gazed at the tree and asked her question, she was convinced that the tree, almost imperceptibly, stood just a little bit taller.

"I bet you've got hundreds of stories to tell," Eliza said to the tree watching over the clearing; as she settled into her seat on the old fallen log. Pulling out her sketchbook, her pencils and the box of colored chalk, she looked back up towards its high branches and reconsidered. "Maybe thousands." If this really was Ywyngyll the Elder or even it it wasn't, the tree must have been at least four hundred arcs old. Maybe six hundred or more. How many birds must have built their nests in her branches? How many chicks had taken that very large leap of faith, once they were hatched. How many squirrels or even Fenrixes must have frolicked among the leaves? How many trappers, travelers and hungers must have passed by or taken shelter beneath her outstretched arms? How many generations?

She must have also witnessed any number of skirmishes and wars playing out. Eliza knew the mixed blessings of longevity better than most people did. Somewhere on Idalos, someone was always fighting, always grappling for power with somebody else. As soon as one skirmish was settled, another broke out in its place. Right here, right now however, the little clearing surrounded by yew trees was peaceful and quiet. She could hear the breeze rustling through the leaves, the occasional call of a bird or fenrix in the distance, and from behind and beside her. If she sat particularly still and quiet, she imagine she could hear the heart of the Unibor beating. "No wonder they want to remember this place," she said as she turned to her drawing, referring to the old couple who'd asked for the painting.

She'd been drawing pictures ever since she'd been old enough to hold a piece of chalk in her hand, and Eliza had gotten good at it. Good enough that whatever she drew here in the clearing, she could use as a reference and transform it into a painting once she returned home. Once she began, the mortalborn worked quickly, and tended to become lost in the process. It wasn't enough to draw a clearing with a fallen log near the edge, with just a glimpse of the stream tumbling its way past. Not enough to just draw an enormous tree and the smaller ones reaching towards it. She needed to capture much more than that. A feeling or sentiment. The ancient nature and the alive-ness of it all. That took looking beneath the surface, with more than just the naked eye. If she couldn't do that, then she'd consider her time and effort to be wasted.

On a more practical note, perspective was important. And technique. Without proper shading, objects, people, the landscape, all of it would seem flat. Two dimensional and uninspiring. Shading was shaping. Gentle turns and rounded curves required a light hand and a then a heavier one, faint shading that eased it's way into darker shades and back again. Sharper angles and stark pits and shadows required more defined lines and more abrupt transformations. Sometimes the strokes needed to abruptly change directions, or otherwise ease their way there. Capturing spirit and personality in a drawing was more challenging however. That took time, practice and patience.

Once during the time that Eliza was sketching, a large fenrix came along and settled in among the elder's branches. Bright blue feathers and tufted, upright ears, they were whimsical looking creatures, that strange mix of fox and peacock. The mortalborn had smiled and decided to add the animal to her drawing. She looked up every five or ten bits, just to remind herself of what she was doing. More than once, she could have sworn that one of the smaller trees had moved. Not from one side of the clearing to the other. But just a little, as if they were trying to show her their best side for the portrait. It was surprising, and interesting, but she wasn't particularly worried.

Eliza had heard the stories about the magical nature of this place. How one of the trees, or many more than that at one time, would up and move elsewhere. A man who'd traveled through her garden on the way into the forest, had once told her about many others like him, but with less experience, had become hopelessly lost because of those tree's inclinations. Eliza knew the way back however, and if she had trouble, Darwin would be sure to show her the way. Speaking Darwin, just about the time she was finished and putting her drawing away, the wolfhound showed up in the clearing. "Tired of chasing rabbits?" she said with a smile as she stood and draped her sacks back over her shoulder.

It was time to return home, after all. And that evening she'd get to work on her painting. But before she left, she made sure to thank the ancient tree, and all of the younger ones with it, for indulging her with their time and patience.

It was nearly dark by the time Eliza arrived home. But she was determined that she'd begin painting the couple's commission that evening. The natural light that she loved to paint by was gone, and would be for most of Cylus. But she'd developed a knack for placing lamps and candles just so in her studio, so that the light they cast, closely mimicked what she was after. So after dining on a simple bowl of soup and a chunk of bread for her supper, she set up her easel upstairs and got to work.

It would be a large painting, and the evening before, she'd stretched her canvas over a plain wooden frame, so that it would ready for her when the time came. Proper stretching was a time consuming process, but once she was ready to paint, she didn't like waiting. Arranging all her supplies within easy reach, she included the sketch she'd drawn in the forest, so that she could refer to it as she worked. The first layer of paint that Eliza would lay down was the under-painting. She rarely if ever worked from a plain white canvas. Creating an under-painting of umber and blue, helped to establish depth and shadow.

With under-painting, as with anything else, Eliza understood that it was best to work paint up from thin to thick, especially with slow drying paint. The same was true with highlights. It was better to add the brighter and heavier paint at the end. It went without saying, at least for someone who painted well enough, that choosing the correct brushes was key. It wasn't just a single style of brush that would get the job done. A variety of them would better create the effect that she wanted.

Texture was also important. Landscapes, objects, people, fabrics, very few of those things were flat and without feature. A dry flat brush could be used to blend paint and create smooth transitions. There were also things that she could add to her paint when mixing, to create an extra bit of texture. Eliza frequently used sand, though in this case she'd finely ground some eggshells she'd been saving after her morning meals. Mixed into a deep, earthy brownish green paint, it would be perfect for the hibernating moss that she'd walked on while in the forest.

A half dozen techniques, mixed and matched, transitioning one into the other, would go into the creation of this painting. Eliza would forget herself and work through the night, nap for a spell then go at it again until she was finished. And when that time finally came, she looked over her work and was pleased with what she'd accomplished. The trees in the clearing seemed to her gaze to be more than just plant matter. Particularly in the case of the forest's elder, they seemed ancient and all knowing. Alive in the way that a human or other sentient mortal might be. Perhaps, wiser still than any of them.

She was pleased too that the fenrix had come along and roosted there in the high branches, as if he'd been asking to be included. Apart from a glimpse of the stream, as if caught from the corner of one's eyes, the painting had been done mostly in deep, earthy colors...with just a smattering of dappled sunlight through the leaves. The fenrix had added a nice and surprising splash of color with his vivid, sapphire colored plumage. It was, Eliza thought, some of the best work she'd ever done and she hoped that the couple who'd commissioned the painting would feel the same.