This adventurer has an old country remedy for just about everything.
Ah oh no, I’ve made a new weirdo I’m in love with. Also, might I recommend my favourite video on how to build drystone walls and fences.
After successful negotiations—and successful “negotiations”—the cave exploring party partly-mostly retained membership onto the next job. The next job was helping clear a collapsed farm site. Stone walls and fences to pull apart and rebuild, sorting through rock. When someone drops a particularly sizeable stone on his foot, some guy says,
“Spit on it.”
All eyes on definitely not a wizard get shooed away with a furious, “You can’t possibly expect me to interpret this,” so someone else finally asks, “What?”
“Th’rock.”
From where he lays on the ground with his smarting foot tending to by way of numbing salve, the sizeable stone dropper asks, “Might like for vengeance?”
Some guy makes an appraising face, as though the sizeable stone dropper wasn’t necessarily wrong in his interpretation, before turning back to sorting rocks. Most everyone’s turned back to sorting rocks when the sizeable stone dropper returns to their feet and audibly spits.
Rebuilding the fallen section of fence done, done for the day the party sits around a fire. Their talk of meal and meal itself past, their planning tomorrow’s work as well, the chatter dies down with the died down flames. The sizeable stone dropper keeps his leg outstretched, where a sudden spit of ember catches light to a pant leg. It’s a momentary and insignificant distraction until some guy says,
“Throw it some lint.”
All eyes on some guy wait for an explanation that is behind a long steady pull from a waterskin. And then wait as some guy continues to watch the fire, until someone else finally asks, “What?”
“Th’fire.”
After sharing questioning looks with everyone else in the party, the sizeable stone dropper plucks at raw edges of his shirt and scoots over to the flames. “Would some sort of offering?” He adds the fibres to the fire’s fuel after watching some guy bounce their head with the same sort of appraising expression.
Owing much to the expertise of two of their party and to some locals that came to help with the more expert requiring walls, the party again make their way back to the county governing body for their pay. They wonder aloud if they’ll see past party members, if there’s another job that will interest enough of them for keep as a party. They talk of what jobs they would and definitely would not accept. When the sizeable stone dropper claims that he refuses to stand watch for bears again, some guy says,
“Can a’nails.”
All eyes again turn to some guy, who pulls out a container and gives it a pointed, illustrative single shake. The apparent nails inside shak shak at a volume that might indeed ward off bears. They hide it away again as everyone more or less takes yet another unexpected interjection in stride but for someone else, who lets out a bewildered, “What?”
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