Week 44

Geological / environmental event

Winter 6: As winter begins, people around town start to notice the local birds migrating across the cove back and forth. They seem confused as to whether it is time to migrate or time to nest. To the north on the other coast along the other shore large gysers of steam can be seen rising from the ground. Project: Investigate underground steam gysers.

Reynard wiggled his turned up nose, a glimmering pink ray of dawn's light filtering through his cottage window beckoned him to open his eyes. Rolling out of his cozy bed, a pipe somehow already sparked and smoldering, clenched between his teeth as he dons his patched chartreuse gardener's hat, and set to work in his lush garden. With every carefully tended plant and lovingly cultivated flower, he felt he was tending his connection to the past. Pausing occasionally to ponder the responsibility this garden represented for him, time seemed to press on him. The town's residents often strolled by, offering warm greetings and eager inquiries about his alchemical projects or insights into the mysteries of nature and although he always had a kind word or a helpful snippet of advice, some saw the serious burden on his wee shoulders. After this morning’s in the garden tending, he made his way through the town square, right past the fountain he stood in, 200 hundred years of passerby assuming he was merely a statue of a gnome holding a watering can. Today he has his weekly appointment at the local tavern, once The Golden Camel, but these days they call it The Olde Camel. He stops at the counter to share a laugh and a glass of sorghum whiskey with the ever-amiable bartender and slips her a flagon of potion for revitalizing her tired feet. The two clergymen, dear friends of opposing faiths, hoot and hollar at him, daring him to take a side as they engage in one of their spirited theological debates. Reynard relishes these exchanges, finding them as intellectually stimulating as they were heartwarming. These two were his first friends when he awoke, lost in his own town, out of time. They helped him put his cottage back together, which was not in nearly as good a shape as he was after 2 centuries of sleep. They helped introduce him to the current community and smoothed over any small town suspicions well enough that he now could make his way in this town quite nicely on his own. Now settled in he dedicates most of his time to concocting new alchemical mixtures or assisting the veterinarian with tending to the town's animal population when he needs a hand. As the sun dips below the horizon and he returns to his garden, the tranquil embrace of evening whispers its reminder that even in a world of change, the beauty of nature and the bonds of community remained constant in Sanctuary Cove. He sits down to a twilight brew, steam rolling up out of a fresh cup as he replaces the untouched cold mug on a polished marble plinth, dumping the old tea into the dense surrounding foliage. He pours once for himself, sinking onto a bench and sighs. Amidst the vibrant foliage of his lush garden are gathered the twelve statues of his fellow gnomes, their expressions frozen in time. Each statue represents a piece of his past, a fragment of a life he had once known. Reynard's days were a symphony of social gatherings, lively scholarly debates among alchemists, helping his mother nurture her prize winning garden and conducting alchemical experiments. Now most of his time is spent sharing his thoughts and suspicions with his stony companions. It is an open secret in Sanctuary Cove that Reynard was on a quest to unravel the mysteries of that fateful day and discover a way to reverse the petrification that had befallen his friends and himself. As the days turn into months, the haunting questions gnaw at Reynard's thoughts. What had caused this enchantment? Why had they been turned to stone, while others remained untouched? With his alchemical expertise and an unwavering determination, he pores over his note, forever seeking ancient tomes or scrolls from passing merchants or in the attics of his helpful neighbors. Reynard's obsession with restoring his companions has formed an unspoken bond between him and the townsfolk, his quest for answers plucking a string in even the most stoic heart. The statues stand as a silent reminder that even in the face of the unknown, hope could flourish amidst the garden's blossoms. I also have names, ages, professions and relationship to Reynard and/or each other for 12 petrified gnomes. But like... If you don't want 12 gnomes suddenly running around your world... Reynard will probably understand.