A Crackling Fire

[Drop Koala 332]

 

A Crackling Fire

 

A man would sit on a log by a fire in the woods, his tied up, dirty blonde hair would shimmer as sparks fly high. The man’s bushy beard would be a common sight for most citizens of Laureh’lin, most knowing who it is at that sight.

 

The man would be Damai, a chunk of pork on a spit, sizzling around as he would turn it, inspecting every few minutes as he attempts for a ‘crackling’ result. As Damai turns the spit he would be singing a tune to himself, inviting those who pass to join at the going down of the sun. The chant would be simple, yet meaningful to many Mali’ame.

 

We can be young forever and ever

 

We are Mali, we never grow old

 

Oh

 

Farmin’, choppin’, pickin’ and huntin’

 

We are quiet but can be very confrontin’

 

Mali men are wise and strong

 

And this is a hearty gatherin’ song

 

He would continually sing different chants and songs. The pork crackling and spitting, the moon rising casting a gleam over the fire itself, the shadows of the airborne fat and sparks creating a shadow show of their own, as the bearded man turns the meat until the crackle has settled. If people had settled down near him, joining in he would take the large piece of pork cutting it into medium sized strips, the crackling sticking to the thin edges of the meat. Damai would proceed to stand up his hair swaying, it glowing in the flames.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘A young Mali’Ame hunter was walking towards the beach, bow in hand, Cernnunos watching over him. A few days earlier he had been sitting on the hot sand, watching over the ocean, it was getting dark and he had no time to trek back to his seeds home far down the coast, he decided he needed to set up a camp for the night, he created a shelter by a tree weaving grass and sticks to make a roof, he was hungry and saw a wandering juvenile hare, he shot it ending its already short life. . .

 

 This now brings us up to the hunt, he was walked towards a spring, a few deer were drinking there, this spring was not too far from the beach and he swivelled around behind a bush, drawing his string aiming at the largest deer there, the one he thought was male. Suddenly a thick bunch of sea weed and leaves tugged him into the water, the arrow falling from his bow though he still clutched to it as he was being dragged along the sand. . .

 

A large figure appeared, it was a mother looking figure, holding the rabbit he had killed the other day. His eyes widened as he saw the figure it spoke to him in a calm, but angry tone “You have betrayed the ways of the Aspects” The ‘Ame would bulge his cheeks, breathe escaping him, the bubbles rising to the top of the water, the figure spoke again “You shall must repay your sins by looking after all natural things, yourself becoming nature the figure would flick her wrist the rope of sea weed and vines releasing the man disappearing into a mass of bubbles becoming a large tree after many years of growing watching over the forest’

 

Damai would finish the story with a simple nod, taking his seat once more and joining in for others to step up if they wish to tell a meaningful story of their own, biting into a piece of crackle.

 

The fire would still burn, growing more heated as stories are told, the moon would now be up in the sky, eve gone for the day it getting later as more stories are told.

 

 

 

[Rig 17580]

[[ I'm proud of you Damai, you've improved so much since I first knew you. ]]

Kairn Calithil sat around the campfire, nodding as the story concluded. 

[JEEGK 1367]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.