Westward, Ho!

[salamanderfantasy 1340]

 

Spoiler

Pinned to every wall and post; distributed by scarecrows, who alternate between this and giving directions, loading caravans, bridling llamas, and loading a multitude of large tortoises with goods, comes a message. A message from the once Half-Thain. Slowly, Dunwen is being emptied.

 

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The Caravan departs come ‘morn. Follow now, or nevermore.

 

A slow trod to a quiet hill. Knox guides us.

 

Follow scarecrow and tortoise; follow the herd of llama. Bring family and livestock; bring home and hearth. Cross fields, steep path to mountain, through and under cave. Among cousins in the forest, we seek

 

SANCTUARY.

 

The path is marked, the road is long, and we leave nothing and no-one behind.

 

These lands are no longer our home.

 

A Shire is a curious concept. Representing both the Lands upon which We reside, and the Lands from which We come. The Land makes us, and we make the Land.

 

Follow. In time, we will make our new Land. And upon such, it will make Us.

 

The leaves turn brown. By Knoxe’s Eve, we will have a new Shire.

 

But now, we march.

 

Musin, Gnome, Hobbit –

 

Westward, Ho!

 

Knox, guide us.

Your Wizard,

Mags.
 

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Spoiler

For anyone living in Dunwen currently, check the halflings discord for details of our move to our refugee camp for the time being, and thank you all <3

 

[NotEvilAtAll 10906]

Spoiler

 

 

Carver Applefoot is already busy at work preparing new burrows for his kin!

"Move et.... closer, closer, closer... alrigh', tha's good... Nay!!! Ah bi' further back now... alrigh', now se' et 'n... easeh does et.."

"A-ah... weh forgo' t'ae level t'is firs'... O' Knox..."

[Ches 70]

Big Al tightens the reigns on the Llama's.

 

"Okay..." he licks his thumb as he turns open a book. He takes his quill and jots down each Llama in attendance as he walks up and down the line.  "Barreh, Larreh, Terreh, Fairieh, Marieh, Phil, Carrieh, Praireh, Meri'eh wit' an E'...." 

 

He double checks the bags and chests each one of them carry, making sure each resident's recorded belongings are inside. Those Llama's that are helping pull carriages are also checked, with their bountiful supplies of food, drinks, ale, clothes.

 

Al' closes his book shut and places both arms to his side, he nods "Alright'y t'en", he smiled. He pulls himself ontop of a carriage, pulls out his guitar and imbues it with his mana. An orange, golden hue flowed from his fingers and bathed over the guitar. He looked on at the Llama's gathered as everyone was ready to leave, then shouted to this Llama pack:

 

"Westward!", as he began strumming his strings and played off in the distant, with his Llama band.