The children are enraptured by Buojrez's story, although their parents seem to cringe a bit at the gorier details. They continue to pester her for details and speculate wildly as to what other exciting adventures may be found in the darkness of the far crevasse.


Nalla is more than pleased with the items Buojrez has recovered and takes the iotum to the workshop to be examine, cleaned, categorized, and used in the plan she's developed.  She thinks that if she doesn't sleep, it may be ready by morning.

Buojrez will make sure that Nalla is undisturbed and has whatever nutrition she made need. Once her work is done, then perhaps they can discuss the flute.

Is there an herbologist, or gardner, or old, weathered farmer who can take a look at the odd plant that Buojrez found?

The closest thing to an herbalist within the clave community is the (slightly) younger of the two women herders.  She's helped the children with gathering some common plants from the surrounding forest, but the depth of her knowledge isn't well known to the glaive.

"Any knowledge is better than mine," Buojrez thought.

Bringing the odd plant she found, she approaches the woman. "I found this plant. It would seem that it transforms every day to a differet plant. Perhaps you could help me plant it somewhere and then you could see if something useful were to grow from it?"

Looking at Buojrez's discovery, she says, "It looks like a vizz plant.  We use those leaves to season the yol cheese, sometimes.  You said it ... changes?"

As they are chatting, the woman rummages through some shelves in the barn and retrieves a small pot to plant the herb in.

"Well, yes. It did. Maybe we watch and see?"

Buojrez looked around, not really recognizing much. "I was thinking maybe something useful could come of it, but I am not an expert on plants, herbs, spices, or green things."

She looks at the plant again, quizzically.  "Well, let's see what this does..."  She took some small shears and cut off a few minor stalks.  "We'll set these up to dry, for the cheese, and find out what it looks like tomorrow."

She rummaged around until she found a bit of string and hung the sprigs up along on of the beams, not resting against the barn walls.  The plant is placed on a table near the door, where it will get plenty of sunlight.  With cupped hands, she supplies it a bit of water from the trough.

Buojrez nods and smiles. She heads off to bathe and rest, after which she will go and check on Nalia's progress.

By morning, Nalla is asleep at her work bench, but the cypher seems to be complete on the table in front of her.

Buojrez picked up the cypher. She stared at it. Flipping it and turning it, she scrutinized it.


09:53, Today: Buojrez rolled 10 using 1d20.  Understanding Numenera.

Well, it was supposed to be a communications device. She held it to her forehead and thought hard about Zalbane and Alberic. "It's Buojrez. Can you hear me?" She said.

Perhaps Buojrez knocked some sense into her head when she held the cypher up to it.  Sliding open a small panel, a set of audio instructions played.  It recited in a metallic voice with an unfamiliar accent.  Buojrez had no idea where the wright had captured the words.  Also under the panel were three buttons.

"Press the purple button to activate the mechanism.  Call to mind the intended recipient of the message.  Press the red button and set the device on a flat surface.  Take three steps back and record up to one hundred words of a message.  Your visual presence will be recorded, also.  Press the black button to send the message.  A message intended for a recipient who is unconscious will be replayed when they return to consciousness.  Messages intended for recipients who are dead, in the [indecipherable] dimensions, or beyond a range of 3.14 parsecs will be undeliverable and irretrievable."

Buojrez had no idea what a parsec was.  Hopefully it was further than a mile.

Buojrez pressed the purple button and thought of Alberic. With his pipe and mechanisms he was easily the most memorable. That, and he seemed likely to take advice.
She then pressed the red button and put the device back on the table and took three steps backwards, mindful of obstacles.

“It is Buojrez. This message is to warn you of dangerous spores on your route back to the clave. They will be active for another five, perhaps six days. You cannot return that way unless you have a means to neutralize them. Approach from another direction is recommended.Other than that all is well. I saved the children, killed a monster, and found treasures. Be safe.”

Done, she pushed the black button and closed the device. Leaving it on the table she went out to check on the state of the clave.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Thu 02 Sept 2021.

Even as Buojrez was walking away from the table, she saw the metallic device become transparent and fade from view.  She had no way of knowing if that was how it was supposed to function.

Within the walls of the clave, things were mostly on the quiet side.  Nalla was asleep in the hammock she strung in the workshop (for minimizing the effort needed to reach a sleeping site after a long night of work).  The children were out by the barn and paddock, minding their morning chores.  A few small six-legged lizards were scuttling around the walls and over the buildings, tracking down insects for their next meal.  Occasional wafts of some fragrant flower or other drifted over the clave walls.

Impressed by Nalla's example, Buojrez opts to nap.

Buojrez is awakened sometime later by a large insect crawling on her leg.

The insect is familiar, being one of the drones of the messenger hive that Zalbane helped to build, ferrying messages back and forth between the clave and Yenth.  It is likely a message has been dropped in the receptacle at the hive.  Some of the bugs have taken to landing on the humans when this happens.

She rises, yawns, and stretches. Foregoing her armor, she hefts her maul over her shoulder and heads over to the hive.  Along the way she greets the clave members she passes. To her eyes, all seems to be in order.

When she reaches the hive she pokes around, looking for anything new.

The hive has a few entrances that are just barely large enough for the bees to enter.  The message canisters attached to their legs (when their are messages) are scraped off and caught by funnel, sliding down a tube to a small box.  Today, there is a new cylinder in that box.

Buojrez gingerly lifts the new message.

The breeze tugs at it, but the advantage of six fingers is more spindles to wind around.

She wraps it between her fingers and then takes a long look at what the new message is.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:39, Tue 21 Sept 2021.

The message is from Prelate Mez (or one of her secretaries):

"Traders seeking okum lumber.  Have weapons, tools, textiles for trade.  Recommend meeting if inventory available.  Reliable route.  Please advise."

Buojrez knows from her time at the clave and conversations with Mustane that there are, in fact, a number of okum trees in the area, and the sawmill automaton may have cut one or more into usable boards in the past few days.

A small covered box attached to the hive has materials for sending messages back to Yenth, if Buojrez can also manage to catch one of the large insects as it leaves the hive.

Rather than issue an immediate response, she decodes to talk to Mustane again, to see how much is available for trade, now, or in a week's time. She also wants to determine the priority in terms of weapons, tools, or textiles.

"Despite my love of weapons," she thinks.

She makes a couple lazy, off hand grabs at the insects before heading back to the clave.

Buojrez finally finds Mustane out by the barn.  He's working on building a shed onto the side to store lumber and other building supplies.  The yols and dossi are being moved out of the nearby pen to head off to pasture, and one of the younger children is collecting the dossi scales that were sloughed off overnight.  The air is redolent with sap and dung.  The sawmill automaton can be heard nearby to the north, continuing its duties.

"Excuse me, Mustane," Buojrez starts, her nose wrinling slightly at the smells. "There are traders in the area seeking okum lumber. Do we have any to trade, or perhaps we can saw some of the trees nearby? They have tools and textiles to offer."

"We have a bit," he answers, nodding toward the barn.  One of the animal stalls has been serving as storage for lumber and other materials, but soon there will be foals and more room will be needed.  "We could get more if we need it in, say, a day or so.  The cutter's doing a good job, but he don't like much leavin' a job half-done.  Tried that twice and both times it took three days of tryin' to redirect him before I got even one more tree felled.  I pick the trees a might more carefully now."

"Do you know what tools?  What textiles?  Fancy silks and sheer synthsatin ain't got no place in the woods here, 'nless we're plannin' to trade that, too.  Tools, though, we could use.  Another axe.  Another mattocks.  Powered lathe 'd do us a world a good in the long run, I think.  Some saws and chisels, too.  Always nice to have back-ups."

"How about three days?" she asks. The others are a days journey out, at least, and possibly fiddling around for a day. At least. Then they will want to rest, decompress, brag, or whatever.

"I will advise that we prefer tools to fabrics, especially a powered lathe. And exactly what do you need smacked with a mattock?" she asked, thinking fondly of her maul.

"In three days, we could have two more cut, certainly, and part of a third.  It will take some planning, though, to decide which to cut and how to transport the lumber efficiently."

Regarding the mattock, Mustane says, "some of the smaller stumps in the paddocks really ought to be cut out.  It's salt-thorn.  It'll grow back if we leave the roots, and the beast won't eat it.  That's not so bad, but it also draws biting flies, which are bad.  If you're eager to work your back, be my guest."  He points to the fields they've cleared and fenced of the past weeks.  The bluish wood with black stripes radiating from the core.  It'd be good for making fancy boxes and such, if the surface didn't crystallize over with sharp spines over time."  Mustane shrugs.