Buojrez looks to where Mustane is pointing.

"First thing in the morning," she says. "For now I want to check on the rest of the clave. Please start to plan and cut the okum. I am hopeful to trade it for more and better tools."

Mustane nods and returns his focus to the task at hand.  It hasn't really been clearly delineated who's in charge of the clave, but he knows it's not him.

Patrolling the settlement, Buojrez finds everything in order.  The herds are minded, the food is being prepared, clothing is being washed and mended.  The children are occupied in multiple, supervised activities which require no warrior's supervision or protection.  Nalla is busy in her workshop with who-knows-what, but the last bit of tinkering worked (well enough, hopefully?), so it's probably not dangerous.  There are no immediate threats visible along the perimeter.  It may require that the glaive go a bit farther afield if she demands novelty this day.

"Not today," she says.

She checks on the skins of the lizard folk enemies to see if they are tanned or perhaps even boots by now. Then she takes the skeletal hand she found on her last foray and considers it. She could just hang it as a pendant, or perhaps braid her hair with the finger bones at the end. There was a fine line between looking intimidating and looking homicidal.

She does take a look at the stumps Mustane mentioned and judges the amount of effort involved in removing them.

The scaled hide is stretched and drying, but not ready, quite yet, for working into boots or gloves.  The shepherds have discussed the process with Buojrez before.  Actually, they've described it multiple times to anyone who will listen, anyone who happens to be nearby, even just to the wind, it would seem.  Perhaps they hoped the children were listening?  Buojrez catches an acrid whiff of whatever concoction they use to make the skin pliable.  Applied every three days, the smell would indicate there are at least two more days of drying before it can be measured and cut.  Maybe more.

The stumps the glaive finds are old and gnarled, as good trees and troublesome brush are wont to be.  With nothing but hand tools, each will likely take many hours to hack out.  The largest would likely take at least a day if only one person is working.

Turning her mond to the stumps, Buojrez will circumnavigate the clave, looking for idle layabouts or near adult children with time on their hands. Should she find any she will recruit them for the afternoon's stump removal team.

One of the teenagers seemed to be ... not engaged in their assigned activity, although it was not entirely clear what they were doing sitting in the shadowy gap between some of the residential structures.  Eyes wide and face flushed, digging stumps was an easy thing to agree to, as it avoided answering what could be more awkward questions.

"Come with me, Ruddiger," Buojrez said, barely restraining herself from pulling the boy by his ear.

Skinny, but tall. Long of limb. With work and effort, he could become muscular and grow into a glaive in training. However, from his appearance, he seemed to care more for his hair and demeanor of nonchalance than work.

Buojrez led him to the toolshed and directed him as to which implements to take. She made him carry them all. Then the headed for the stumps.

"Like this," she said, swinging her maul. She knew he couldn't repeat her effect, but she wanted to set the expectation.

The stumps are still green and stubborn, roots clinging to the soil in hopes of leafing anew next spring.  Buojrez's maul makes a thunderous thumping that shakes the earth around the stump as she pounds it.

Ruddiger, unhappy about the assignment, is nonetheless impressed by the glaive's power.  He offers to start digging around the roots to reveal more of the anchoring growth.  His work is slow, but steady and quite precise.

"Yes! Teamwork clears the stream's murk!" Buojrez says with a smile.

The work is hard, but it keeps her body busy and her mind distracted from monsters, traders, messages, and such. She allows the youth a decent number of breaks and shows him how to heft the maul and a simple defensive stance.

"At some point the clave will need explorers and scouts, which may be of more interest to you than farming or herding," she tells him.

Ruddiger works along, occasionally resting or working the stiffness from his hands.  "Scouting might be fun.  Get to move about, see things.  Not the same four walls all the time."  He hacks away at more of the roots.  "I can make maps.  I'm good at drawin'."

As the pair digs into the afternoon, there's something tickling Buojrez's mind, something she feels like she may have forgotten.

"Well, we can call it quits in time to get you back home for dinner. Tomorrow find me if you want to do more."

Buojrez started to compose the reply message in her mind. She planned to send it after she dismissed Rudigger and before dinner. Something like, "In three days time we will have enough for trade. Prefer tools and fabrics or clothing. Choose a meeting point and let us know."

Ruddiger merely nods at the invitation as the work continues.  He chews on the idea (and a stalk of long grass) as he hacks and shovels. Three extracted tangles of roots mark the same number of uneven pits in the fields.  Tomorrow, soil and drit will need to be brought so the livestock don't risk breaking a leg if they're startled.


As you are working to extract the last of the day's stumps from the earth, a clanking sound and a glint of metal amongst the snarls below ground catches your interest.

Her maul hits ,,,,something.

Buojrez, paiuses, considers, hits again. The noise is the same.

"Ho, Ruddiger! Look!"

She points, then takes a much more calculated swing.


19:35, Today: Buojrez rolled 14 using 1d20.  Speed, two effort.

The swing shatters thick roots that were largely obscuring something metal that the tree had embraced beneath the soil.  An object of some sort, a case perhaps, can now be pulled loose of the worm-ridden soil beneath the surface.  It shows a few fresh dents already from Buojrez's less precise strikes.

"I am going to open this carefully," she told the boy. "Stay a step back and behind me, just in case."


20:27, Today: Buojrez rolled 4 using 1d6.  A very important find.

Swiping the drit away from an encrusted latch, Buojrez is able to open the small container.  Inside she finds a pair of cylinder-shaped hunks of iotum (Responsive Synth, 2 units), and a vial of odd, dark liquid paired with a familiar type of automated needle (Magnetic Ink cypher, level 5).  There appears to have been one or more other items in the case, but they have decayed (rusted? decomposed? dissolved? evaporated?) over the years so that only bits and pieces remain (8 units of parts).

Ruddiger just looks on with mild curiosity, although he doesn't seem particularly impressed.  "We're almost done with this stump.  Can we finish?  I don't want to have this on my chore list tomorrow."

"Yes, yes, I know, boring," Buojrez says with a smile. "I was hoping for money or a weapon, but with this Nalla, Alberic, and Zalbane will be able to craft something useful for the clave."

She sets the box aside carefully at a safe distance.

Having been given a new deadline for completion by Ruddiger Buojrez doubles her efforts on the stump.

It doesn't take long to dismantle this last tree-corpse and set the wood aside to be chopped into manageable pieces another day.  Cookfires still need fuel, if nothing else.  Ruddiger is sweaty and smeared with dirt, but content with his efforts.  "I hope they made stew tonight.  I could finish five bowls after all this," be boasts, surveying the pits and piles in the fields that the pair had created.

"Your story will be told," Buojrez says, with an eye roll.

Life at the clave continues uneventfully for the next couple days, although that doesn't mean there is nothing to do.  Mustane continues directing the sawmill automaton for the lumber they need.  Various and sundry children milk Yol, spin yarn, and continue with stump removal.  The younger children collect shiny pebbles and braid flowers to trade.

The exploring party returns late the following day, reporting their findings, concerns, and areas for further exploration.

It is now the morning of the expected caravan visit, and they are scheduled to arrive around noon.

OOC: Is there anything else you'd like to have worked on or accomplished leading up to the caravan arrival?

Also, we have one or two more players interested in the game, who would be arriving with the caravan.  Just an FYI.

Buojrez monitors the progress of the lumber for trading. She also shows all of her numenera finds to Nalla to see what input she has.

Nalla is excited and curious about the Responsive Synth and parts.  She cleans and classifies and stores them in neat drawers she has built.  Of the cypher, she acknowledges how it might be useful, especially holding on to metallic items when one's hands are occupied.  She expresses no particular desire to use that on herself.  "And if no one wants it, maybe someone can figure out how to successfully disassemble it.  I can always use more pieces to work with."  She points out a set of lead-lined cabinets and says that it should be safe to store it in one of them, if no one cares to use it.

"What about this?" Buojrez says, showing her the flute like item she found. "I am loath to put it near my mouth, but surely the dragon rider would show interest."

Nalla looks at it curiously.  "I have seen similar items, but nothing quite like it.  May I take some time to study it?"

She tests the buttons and other controls(?) of the instrument, although she, too, avoids blowing into it.  The valves tap, the dial clicks.  No other sound is produced and no effect seems to be elicited.  "If nothing else, I will make sure it is clean."

Buojrez thanks Nalla and sets about getting ready for the traders and eventual return of the others. She checks the turret for functionality, and then waits.