• PM To Join • Can you Distill Joy from a Sunbeam (Graded)

[Kisaik]

39th of Saun 719

For the longest time, Kisaik had been exceedingly impressed and intrigued by the brews that humans so loved and imbibed. The subtle magic of inebriation was fascinating to him. While brews of various sorts could make the tunawa happier, they rarely rose to the level of clouding their judgment and senses, such as they were. It was fascinating to behold a drunken human in action. The way they tilted, as if the world shifted beneath their feet. The disparity between their senses and those surrounding, it was as if they tapped into a sense of reality that was altered consciousness. It was worthy of study, that was for sure.

The tunawa had heard from certain scholars that alcohol was a sort of poison. Well, in that case, could Kisaik grow an antidote from his hair? Or could any other tunawa for that matter? It was an issue that begged, nay, demanded study. He wanted to know how to separate the happiness and feeling of general wellbeing, from the deleterious effects of alcohol.

Kisaik and Rabu had arrived in Raelia with the aid of the magic acorn he'd acquired. He held the locket in his hand as he beheld the scene in front of them, inside that well-made locket was the acorn, and a bit of mud from the First Tree. He looked to the city, and bid farewell to Rabu, bowing to him obsequiously. Once they'd parted, Kisaik was confident he'd be okay on his own. If either one of them got into trouble, Kisaik and Rabu both were equipped with Kindred bracelets, gifts that had been given to them among others during their wedding in Yaralon.

He arrived not far from a distillery, and after listening in on a few folk, determined the location of that place.

From there, it was a simple matter to slip in the door, and then make his way toward one of the barrels. After crawling up onto the counter, he used both hands to sweep the wood of the cask with his hands, to activate the magical abiltiy he'd acquired several seasons ago. It was strange, being a creature of magic now. Yet he took to it easily enough. Despite what people always said about mages, he didn't feel any more evil or dastardly. Certainly didn't feel like there was a parasite eating his soul. At least, not yet.

As he wiped the surface of the cask with his hands, a visual window opened up into the fluid inside. He looked in, trying to get a good light to shine through, so he could observe the consistency of the brew. "Hmmm!" He said, jotting down mentally the opacity and color of the brew inside.

"Most interesting!" He tweeted in treetalk.

Then, in Xanthean, he called out to the room at large, for aid. "Excuse me! Does anyone know where I can purchase one of these fine casks! One that is more reasonably sized?"

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Soren and his bartenders were all on a special trip today. The barmaids and cooks were covering the bars for the day. Soren met the proprietor of Gurnvild's Distillery at the front gate, with Billiam, Hilda Hightower, Charlize Clearwater, and Shelly Belly just behind him. Soren stepped forward with a broad smile, his hand already outstretched. He gripped Gurnvild's hand and gripped it firmly.

"Gurnvild, you old bastard, how are ya mate?"

The fat man, red in the face from years of drinking his own product, "Well it's about time you got your ass down here. I've got many things for you, and all the other bartends, to try." The man was smiling slyly, already knowing what Soren was about to say.

The tavern owner guffawed, slapping the large man on the shoulder, "You know Melrathi don't like change. They like it almost as much as they like outsiders." Soren turned and laid out an open hand to his staff. "Billiam you know, Hilda you know. Charlize is newer, and boy does she bite. And of course, your dear wife, Shelly." Soren watched as the very large, in both height and girth, woman stomped forward and picked up the large man like a child, kissing him deeply on the mouth. With a lot of noise, and a lot of tongue.

"You best have made us some good brews, ya bastard. Makin' me always sleepin in a cold bed so you could keep working. Unless you've been lying over here with this cherry topper."

She glared at Charlize, the tiny, buxom redhead, who glared back. "Oh shut it you fat hag. We all know he's far too hung for a wee lass like me. It's the only way he can find that cunt of yours."

At this, the entire group burst out laughing. Gurnvild and Hilda walked hand in hand like school children toward the front door of his distillery. It was taste testing day. And they all planned to get extremely drunk. He unlocked the door, stepping into the well lit distillery, his staff having already been hard at work for the day.

The whole area smelled horrible. That was nothing new to them. Everyone knew distilleries had to stink to make such delicious poison.

"Oy! The fuck are you, little man?"

Soren and his staff had filed in behind Gurnvild only to see a Tunawa there. They hadn't heard the treeman speaking, but this was not the first time Soren had met one. In his... lesser practiced Xanthean, he spoke to the Tunawa, "Hello friend of the trees. I called Soren Kvistson. Are you lost in leaves? My fat friend here is easily caught fire."

Then in Common, to Gurnvild, "Assuming he's up to no good, he's our newest drinking buddy." He looked at his staff, "Get on to the testing room. I can feel the ants in y'all's boots." Charlize, Billiam, and Hilda all skipped off to the testing room like children in a candy store, leaving the towering couple and Soren all staring down at the little Tunawa man.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Kisaik]

Kisaik could heard the loud humans, plodding over floorboards on their way into the distillery. They had booming voices, speaking in coarse tones, although Kisaik couldn’t quite make out the words. His common was horrendous, so he often relied on Rabu to fill the gaps in his knowledge when dealing with strangers. Even so, he hoped at least one of them might know Xanthean.

Then, very suddenly a large fat man came onto the scene where Kisaik had been examining the cask. He chirped in Treetalk, ”Goodness!” before recovering his senses and proceeding in Xanthean. ”I’m sorry to have been a bother! I’m here to make a purchase!”

Then, another man arrived, this one tall as well, but much narrower in the trunk. Kisaik got a better feeling about him than he did the first one. ”Hello?”

He listened to the man’s introduction, and his lichen stood up on end when he mentioned the word fire, in reference to his chubby companion. ”Uhm… He, he does?” The tunawa put together the rest of the man’s broken Xanthean, and decided it must have been a poor translation. Even so, the very reference to fire was enough to set the tunawa on edge. He climbed up the cask, to get the high ground on these folk. He assumed a lightly defensive posture, crossing his arms, with one hand on his shadow shard. If one of them tried to grab him, he thought he could prick them well enough to distract, and then hop off, run and hide.

”Your Xanthean isn’t so good friend. Did you say fire? You mean big hot?” He switched to common then, to try and clarify, ”You not say he toss me in fire, yes?”

He turned to the big fat man, who he presumed owned these barrels, and tried to smile, ”I here to taste human brew! I pay good, if you give some human gold water…”

Switching once more to speak Xanthean, he chirped at the thinner man, ”I want to buy a cask of his brew! Does he have any in a reasonable size?”

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Soren had to strain to make out the squeaky voice of the little tree man in his Xanthean. Soren quickly realized that he'd said something wrong and scared the poor guy. For terribly obvious reasons, Tunawa were not friends of fire. "No, fat man not put fire in you. Fat man like large dog. All tree bark, no bear bite. You safe in this forest."

"What's the little squirrel saying? He's not a thief is he?" growled the large man, still glaring at the Tunawa.

Soren listened, deciding to squat down, to make himself seem a bit smaller. "You will mouth gold water this sun-moves-through-sky. Fat man will trade you gold water. He has gold water hordes of all sizes."

Soren knew the traditional greeting for Sev'ryn in Desnind, but he wasn't sure if Tunawa had a different one of their own. So he extended his arm, bending it inward at the elbow lightly. Sev'ryn would clasp the forearm in the same manner, "You well met, tree-friend. What does wind call you?" Then he broadened the smile on his face, "You want drink gold water with me and my tree friends?"

The large distillery owner was still grunting in his annoyance, though his wife was rubbing his belly. "Come now, he's just a foreigner that is confused. You can see he's not one of our local Tunawa. No markings of Hochojobon."

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Kisaik]

The Tunawa was beginning to grow accustomed to the man’s foibles in Xanthean. In truth, his tongue wasn’t that bad at speaking the mother tongue. It actually had a sort of rustic charm the way he replaced and inserted words where they weren’t always appropriate or necessary.

He was saying that the fat man was harmless, but made a lot of noise. Calmed by this revelation, Kisaik smiled happily, his ephemera spreading to the surrounding area to fill it with a light sense of joy and anticipation.

”I drink gold water?” He said in common. ”I trade! Special tree knowledge and work for gold water!” He directed this at the man with a thicker trunk.

Then turning to the other, he smiled wider. He recognized the extended hand as a knightly gesture, and took it with his own hand, stretching his arm to meet him halfway. Of course his hands were rather tiny, for shaking, so he gripped his forefinger and shook it vigorously. ”Well met! I’m known as Kisaik, but my human friends like to call me ‘Chip’.”

When the man asked if he would like to drink gold water with them, Kisaik nodded his head vigorously. ”Tree friends give good gold water, I work and make gardens grow for you! Tunawa keep best gardens!”

He’d tucked the idea of experimenting on liquor antidotes for later, as after imbibing the special golden water, he’d have to wait at least a day before anything grew from his beard of lichen, that could be used to produce an antidote.

He was about to leap onto the man, Soren’s shoulder, when he heard the word ‘Tunawa’ and ‘Hochojobon’, which sounded an awful lot like Ojogbon! This excited the tunawa even more, and he leapt up and down in excitement. ”There be tree folk here?” He asked in common.

”I trade knowledge for knowledge! Tell us where these tree folk may be, and I tell great stories of Tunawa adventures!”

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Soren liked Chip already. He was a terribly excitable fellow, not uncommon in his race. And he was ready to work for his desires. Soren stood up to full height, looking at Gunvild, "See? He's a customer. Now stop being a bear, we got drinking to do." The man broke into a smile, unable to stay made at Kisaik for long, and him and his wife went arm and arm toward the testing room. Soren followed after them.

The man paused looking over his shoulder, first in Common, "You're in Melrath now, Chip. Drinks first, business second." Then he tried again in Xanthean, "You inside Melrath Forest this day, Chopped Wood. Drowning in morning, bartering evening." Then Soren turned and led the way toward the tasting room, going slow, so the little guy could catch up and keep up if so desired.

It was a short walk to the tasting room, and everyone was already seated around a circular table, waiting on their drinks, arguing, joking, teasing and the like. They watched as Soren entered, and the man held open the door for Chip. "Our new friend is joining us, his name is Kisaik, but goes by Chip. He's eager to do business, but we need to give him a proper Melrathi welcome."

Soren looked back at the door, to see if Chip had come in or not, then sat down at one of the last two seats. "Oy, Chip, you're over here by me." Once he was down, Gurnvild began his presentation. "Alrighty then, lords and lassies, le's get started." He moved over to a different door from the one they'd entered through, and pounded on it three times. It opened up, and two people came out carrying various baskets of snacks. Fruits, vegetables, cheeses, breads, dried meats, olives, and many other similar things were placed down in the center of the table.

"These are for you to figure out wha' pairs best wit' each spirit. Be 'arsh, be critical, be honest. But mostly, 'ave fun!"

Then he slipped through a third door, and grabbed a crate tucked inside. He brought it out and set it in a corner nearby. He pulled out a bottle for each person, himself and Kisaik included, and set it before their seats. It was in a perfectly clear bottle, but the liquid was amber. Amber was being nice. It was the exact same color as piss. Soren leaned forward grabbing the bottle, pulling the cork, and setting it perfectly upright in front of him.

He leaned forward and sniffed at it. As he did this, Gunvild placed shot glasses in front of everyone. Once everyone was ready, Gunvild continued, "T'is is fermented and filtered potatoes and select grains. It is not wodka like you know. It is new, my own special recipe. I've added caraway, cardamom, aniseed, a couple types of fennel, cumin, and a special touch of amber. I was strugglin' to name t'is, but our little friend there has helped me. I call it Gold Water."

After the introduction, he sat down next to his wife, and people began to pour their shots. Soren leaned in close to Kisaik's seat, "Psst, want a little help with that? Don't wanna overstep. You'll have to do your own cork though. Tradition."

As was traditional, everyone would wait politely, talking among themselves, until all the shots were poured, and for the shots to be raised for the saying of the Skol.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Kisaik]

It looked like the man Soren was right about the fat-trunked man having more bark than bite, as he could feel the positive energy coming off him now, which added to Kisaik’s own ephemeral radiations. Soon enough, the entire room was filling with the anticipation of new things and fun to be had.

As they went along, Kisaik frowned. Apparently his own common was slightly better than Soren’s Xanthean. At least his understood common. That determined, he set to correcting him where he could. ”Chopped wood, you said in Xanthean. Ìlä’porowhita means chopped wood. Ìlä'fkip means wood chip. Big difference. Animal make chips when mark land, while evil lumberjacks make Ìlä’porowhita.” He giggled at the man’s translation of drink to drowned, ”Matsakaici mean drownded. I tink you mean… kuskure. Drink?”

He would have suggested that the man use common instead of Xanthean, but since he was prefacing his Xanthean with common anyway, it was probably best to give him a learning opportunity. It might be useful to have a contact that could understand him well in the future. He already liked this new place. He decided the man Soren could be trusted, at least for the moment, and did a spring grasshopper jump onto his shoulder. He nearly overshot it though, and stumbled his balance for just a moment before kneeling to right himself. Once he was situated, he took a seat on the man’s shoulder as they went to join the others. It wasn’t necessary for Soren to hold the door open for him, in that case.

”Ay, I Chip! Dat’s me.” He said as he was introduced to the room full of workers. ”Yes, business, trade work and knowledge for Gold water!”

Kisaik was very happy about this arrangement, and hopped down to the table once Soren bid him to join him. There, he sat crosslegged, waiting for the presentation.

Then, people came in bearing snacks and baskets full of fruits, vegetables, and all sorts of strange-looking foods. Many of which Kisaik had never tried before. He knew about meat, but hadn’t ever partaken. He was excited to have a go at it.

The tunawa was pleased to have contributed the name of the liquor to the ages. He considered it a great honor, and stood to take a bow when Gunvild made the announcement.

When Soren asked if Kisaik needed help with his bottle, Kisaik just grinned up at him, and said, ”You wanna see a trick?!”

Whatever the man’s response, Kisaik took off his wizard’s hat, and flipped it in midair. Once he caught it, it turned from a wide-brimmed, triangular hat, to a city-dweller’s silk top hat. This done, he watched Soren, to make sure he was paying attention.

”Now we say the secret words in Treetalk! Speech and tongue of the Tunawa!” Kisaik furrowed his brow, and held the hat over the shotglass.

”Abracadabra!” Kisaik chirped in Treetalk.

Then a portal ingress formed inside his own bottle, while the small egress formed underneath his hat. He furrowed his brow for just a second, letting it fill to the brim, and then released his effort. Finally, having performed his magic trick, he removed the top hat from the shotglass, revealing a full glass.

”Tada!”

He picked up the small glass fairly easily for such a small fellow, and tipped it over, into his mouth hole. ”Skol.” He repeated when others said it.

”Hmmmm! Good! Some apple and bread might go good with it!”

He wiped his mouth, and smiled at his new friends, and then with his foot, he set it down in the bottom of the shot glass. There it would absorb the rest of the fluid, for better distribution into his sap. He didn’t want to waste a drop of that very fine drink.

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

At Kisaik's offer of a trick, Soren smiled and leaned back into his chair, "I always enjoy a good trick." Soren watched with amusement as the man tossed his hat end over end. During its tumble, it changed into a completely different hat. Soren's eyes were wide, and his grin broad, and the rest of the table was gasping in awe, amusement, and delight. Soren heard him chirp the magic words, in a language known as tree talk, one he'd not had any experience with prior.

He saw the little man concentrate heavily, looking like he was ready to burst. Then he removed the hat and the shot glass was full and the room went crazy with cheers, Soren among them. A loud, hearty 'Skol' was resounded around the room and everyone tipped the drink back. Lots of loud gasps at the burn were uttered. It was definitely an interesting taste, had a really good burn to it. It would be popular on its own.

He poured himself another shot, looking down at his small friend, in Common, "You're quite the surprise." And in Xanthean after, "You're a beehive in the bear's cave."

He took another shot, swishing this one around in his mouth, "Gunvild, is this coriander heavy? Seems it."

Gunvild smiled, "Aye, thinkin' of doing several lines, each one leaning more into a single herb."

Soren nodded, that was smart. Would sell better that way. Offer variety and better pairings. "I think steak would go great with this one. Milder flavors with this." He reached forward and grabbed a dried moose jerky stick, and bit into it. Not being heavily spiced, he was right, they were great together. He grabbed another and offered it to Kisaik, "Do you eat meat? I've heard many of your kind don't, though they like bugs."

At this point, the party would delve into a world of several conversations until the first round of bottles were done. In the meantime, Soren turned to Kisaik, "I believe you asked about tree folk here. There's some way to the north in the mountains somewhere. They are called the Hochojobon. I've never been there, only met a couple of them and heard tales of them. I'm told that a special tree grew there last arc and their numbers have been flourishing. They live in the tree, I think."

He poured another shot, grabbed a grape, popped into his mouth, bit into it, then took the shot. "If you'd be so kind, Chip, could you tell me a story? I know you have many."

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Kisaik]

The tunawa was pleased with the reception his 'trick' had recieved. He wasn't sure if they would like it at first, worrying that the locals might be against any show of power. But they seemed to think that it was a bit of sleight of hand, and so his ruse was successful.

"Beehive in the bear cave! I like dat." Kisaik said, "Sounds like someting a wood folk would say! You too are a beehive in a bear cave!"

Kisaik let Gunvild and Soren have their talk, while he enjoyed the foot soak in the delicious gold water. Soon enough, a feeling of well-being overcame the Tunawa and he felt much more alert. There was just the right balance of sweetness in this gold water that it replenished his sap, which in truth had been drying up for lack of nourishment the past few trials.

"Oh I haven't tried meat. I like animals so we leave dems alone. But as the meat is already here, no trouble trying!"

So saying, he gestured for a few smaller pieces to be placed in front of him, and then stepped out of the shotglass as they were laid on the table.

He inspected the jerky that was set in front, and sniffed it curiously. "Hmmm, smell of salt and red sap. Also iron dirt."

Then, slipping the morsel into his mouth, he cheweed with his thorn-like teeth, gnashing as best he could. It took a minute or so, but he swallowed, letting the meat absorb into his system. "Not bad! Taste different to bugs. Less like salty nuts and more like... Hard to say!"

Kisaik enjoyed the rest of the samples of food, while he listened to Soren explaina bout the Hochojobon. Nodding along, he listened with rapt attention to all he had to say about them. When mention of a tree growing recently, he perked up. "Another?"

"I come from Yaralon, great spirit help grow a big tree dere last arc! Great Mud Spirit! Ol Muddy we calls him."

Then the calls came for the Tunawa to share a story with them. The talk of great Trees sprouting out of nowhere seemed to segue perfectly to just the one he had in mind, and so he felt quite confident they'd find this one interesting.

"Dere be a big mud pool in Yaralon. One day, every animal and creature and spirit was pulled toward dis pool. All who felt and knew da spirits was called to visit dere.

Dere we found a big big pool of mud, with rocks floating on the water, inexplicably. And nice tall, brown lady tell us we must help her friend, a great Spirit of da mud called Ol' Mudsy."...

And so Kisaik told the story, about how the Yaralon woman approached the great spirit, foolishly challenging it. Then the four people stepped in to save the Yaralon woman, not by fullfilling her call to action against the spirit, but by placating it through a mix of their talents.

The four companions were Kisaik the Warden of Growth, Rabu the Warden of Protection, Thysbae the Warden of Shadow, and Cervantez the Warden of Persistence. And they used their specific talents and abilities to forge an accord with the spirit.

Thus was the tree born from the Mud, where before it had been anguished, it became one with the tree, bringing life and prosperity to Yaralon.

"And someday I will return to Yaralon, but for now the Tree is the only ting sustaining dat city."

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Soren noted Kisaik's pleasure at the more... folksy style of his beehive comment. It wasn't intentional, he'd learned the language in bits and pieces, so he still had trouble with local sayings. And, at Chip's request, Soren happily served him meat. He was learning just how little he knew about Tunawa. He wondered if there were other true meat eaters. And if there were meat eaters, were there savage hunters and gentle herders and butchers too? It was an amusing thought. He wondered how the world must seem when you're that small. He assumed scary, yet Kisaik seemed to have no fear in him.

Simply excitement.

It was intoxicating. And excitable he remained, as he launched into a story about a tree in Yaralon. Soren had not been back there since he settled down in Melrath, but he knew the Mud Burho. He chuckled. It was only fitting that that particular cesspool give birth to a massive tree. He had no idea that there was a great spirit there. This would be a great story for the native Melrathi, and as he watched the faces of those around the table, he could see they were awestruck. While he was not a devout man to any being, it was nice when he saw the true joy of those who were devoted to a good thing.

Soren made sure to remember the names of the four great knights, for this, this was certainly a story that would pass around the world. Kisaik the Warden of Growth, Rabu the Warden of Protection, Thysbae the Warden of Shadow, and Cervantez the Warden of Persistence. The Knights of the First Tree. The Wardens of the Mud Burho. All of these would be great tag names to go with this story.

At the story's conclusion, Soren poured himself another shot, topped up Chip's glass, and held his own aloft, "Skol! To Kisaik, Knight of the First Tree!" All around them, the cheers rang out in answer. And so, for the rest of the day, and the night, Soren and Chip, and their very good friends, drank, ate, shared stories and songs and were happy.

"But you are not free from the consequences."