Nestled in the embrace of the lesser mountains that jut from the earth, north of the Sram Mountain range, there exists a valley that should not exist. The lands north of the Sram Mountains are incredibly barren due to their location within a major rainshadow. However, this small enclosure shrugs at such rules, and declares it will be green anyway!

Occupied by a number of Iderran tribes that have migrated to the land, and been accepted inside by the leading Wild Root tribe, Jorgrim is a peaceful community. A proper village, and a growing one too!

Hunters and gatherers still make rounds in the Wilds beyond their little paradise, but in the last few decades, a new profession has emerged amongst the people. Farmers! In this lush land, it is easier than ever to grow crops, and since it had already been settled, protecting and working the land was also made easier! Win, Win, Win!

---

Sigismund loved food. He always had, even since he was a babe. His mother, Treiya, told him he had been the youngest of her children to stop suckling, and eat solid food. He felt that much was obvious, given how good everything tasted! He couldn't imagine only eating one thing all day! He pitied infants for this, at least.

Sigismund was a member of the Wild Root tribe, and a respected one at that. A distant relative of the tribe leader, who managed the village of Jorgrim, Sigismund was content with life. Especially in the last few years, where he had become the lead chef responsible for catering any large banquet or celebration held within the village walls.

Despite his prolific appetite (even more than a man his age and size would be expected to eat), Sigismund was not a fatty. No, he was quite muscular, thank you very much (though he had been chubby when younger). He regularly participated in hunting expeditions with the other young men of the village. Well, only when he wasn't busy trying a new recipe!

Still, Sigismund couldn't do anything about his big bones! He's not fat, promise!

Generally a jolly man, with reddish-brown facial hair that almost wiggled when he chuckled, Sigismund was in a funk lately. He had tried all the ingredients! It had been months since the gatherers had brought anything novel back to the village, and those mushrooms had turned out to be poisonous! Ugh!

Currently sitting next to a ceramic cooking pot, clearly showing signs of abundant use, Sigismund let out a sigh as he put down a bowl of thin soup he had just taken a sip from. He wiped his thick beard, that though closely cropped still had to be maintained lest he lose precious morsels in such a wasteful way!

The soup was too bland. He had tried cooking the broth base longer than usual before adding the ingredients, but that just meant they had less time to simmer and diffuse within the soup. It was an inferior version of something he had already made.

Gently cleaning up, Sigismund took a look around his shack. Wild roots (for which his tribe was named) of many kinds were strewn about. There were also crops that had been cultivated from those roots in the last decades. Some of them had interesting properties to Sigismund, though the amount of work they took to harvest made him wonder if it was worth it? He loved food, don't get him wrong, but everything had a limit... Maybe they would change in the future? His father had told him before the kernels had grown since he was young, but Sigismund thought maybe he was just misremembering. He didn't have Sigismund's (almost unsettling) appreciation for food, after all!

Game meat made up the rest of his stock. It was worth sighing over, honestly. There were few herbs or spices. Sigismund knew of them, but they were rare to find in these lands... The land in the blessed valley (as some called it) was unbelievably richer than what lay outside, but when his people had arrived all those years ago (before even his father's boyhood), nothing novel had grown. Perhaps it was a challenge by nature for the villagers to use their own efforts to change their palette.

Regardless, Sigismund decided he wanted to do something else right now. He was, for once, sick of cooking! He hadn't even been here long, the sun had only been up a short time after all...

What will Sigismund do with this fresh day?

Sigismund sighed heavily, before ponderously getting up. With no mood for cooking, he really didn't know what to do with himself. There where no hunts scheduled he could join today, nor where there any special occasions the village was preparing for. the next feast day wasn't until next month.

Maybe he could go see some of the others, and hear if they'd seen foreigners lately. The merchants didn't come around the area much, but when they did they usually had interesting spices and wares.

Oh, but old Farra had been having backpains lately. And she liked the soup he made with the pain soothing herbs better than eating them straight. He should probably go gather some and make her a pot of soup...

Then again, if there were merchants in the area they might have other things that could help.

That's it, he decided. talking to the others about merchants first, then to the forest to gather herbs. If nothing else, he'd get a relaxing walk out of it. Perhaps he'd see the red falcon pair that'd been nesting in the glade. Beautiful birds, they were.

Now properly motivated, Sigismund set out to the village square. that'd be where he'd find people in the know at this time of day. He grabbed his woodsman's axe before leaving, though, so he wouldn't need to come back before going into the woods. Work smart, not dumb, as his father said they did in the south. Though Sigismund had a nagging feeling that the saying went a bit differently.

With his flint axe in hand, Sigismund arrives at the village square. A number of womenfolk, wed and unwed gather about as they complete the task of treating the hides they had previously skinned and let out to dry overnight. The squeals and shouts of half-wild children echo through the air as they chase each other with pointy sticks or ugly worms.

A few gruff men of Sigismund's age loiter about, clearly intending to be lazy rather than get any real work done. It's hard to blame them, with how warmly the sun beats upon the skin in this valley.

There are precious few to approach, as it appears most people are still in their homes, tending to their own matters. However, like a trickle of sap, villagers leave their small homes as they ready to face the day.

A familiar man approaches Sigismund out of the corner of the hearty chef's eye. Sigismund swivels to meet the gaze of a good friend of his, Rogbart. The man is a skilled hunter and an untamed carouser. He and Sigismund have shared as many good hunts as they have good drinks. The man always has a story to tell, so he may be of some use to help Sigismund get a lead.

"Hail, friend Sigismund! What malady has struck you so, to change your usual jolly jump to the slinking slide of a sodden ferret?" the man's voice is boisterously loud, and carries throughout the square. Most don't even bat an eye at him, but one of the older women currently beating the matted pelt of an Ash Wolf snorts in distate at his rambunctiousness and turns away.

Given the mans words, perhaps you appear more down than you actually feel... or maybe you're just an expressive guy... or Rogbart could just be exaggerating, its probably his favorite thing to do, after all.

Rogbart's smile as he closes in and stops facing you suggests it may be the latter... though the man can be perceptive when he wants to be, so who knows...

Sigismund eyed his friend for a moment, before signing once more. "Haah, Rogbart my friend..." He begins, sitting down on one of the crude benches set up around the square and featuring for his friend to join him. "I find myself as listless as a boar with no mushrooms to sniff out and not a show within a 100 days travel. I've done all I can possibly think of with the roots and meats we have in our home. I've even done a fair few recipes that turned out a waste, just to try out something new. I'm... I'm bored with cooking!" he exclaimed, pausing to let his friend digest the words. He knew Rogbart would understand the gravity of them, coming from him

"...I came here hoping that someone would've heard news of foreign merchants with new spices, perhaps. Anything to inspire me. Well, that and to see if I could find something for old Farra's back aches. If not, I'm gonna go for a walk and gather some soothing stalks in the woods. Make her the soup she likes."
He added, the latter part said with notably less enthusiasm. He was never gonna not do it, and leave the old Crone to suffer her failing back, but it wasn't exactly stimulating work. Another heavy sigh left him as he slunk down in his seat, elbows on his knees.

For his part, Rogbart listens intently to the first half of Sigismund's small rant. As soon as he drops the bombshell of being bored of cooking, though, the man's jaw goes slack and his eyes become dazed...

By the time Sigismund has finished speaking the less enthusiastic bit he had to say, Rogbart is just barely coming back to himself. His expression is weird for a moment, before his face scrunches up and it turns serious. He nods once to himself before looking Sigismund in the eyes, and speaking in a confident, serious voice,

"Your friend Rogbart will certainly act as another set of ears! If friend Sigismund were to stop cooking... I fear Jorgrim itself would fall to madness!" it's clear he is joking, but he says it with such seriousness that you are almost tempted to believing he is serious - or that maybe he himself believes it?

Rogbart turns around and goes to leave before looking over his shoulder, "I shall visit our Blessed Valley's southern pass. Whoever is taking watch will surely have knowledge if any merchants have been spotted by them or the scouts!" with that he stomps off, clearly intent on helping you out... or maybe just avoiding work. Rogbart is probably almost as bored as you are, since there is no hunting today, and he seems less interested in getting rowdy and drunk if it's not in the context of celebrating the slaughter of a great beast!

Until Rogbart returns with the news, Sigismund is left to ponder what he should do to pass the day?

Watching his friend as he moved away, Sigismund thought his words over. Rogbart was a good friend, but he was also a bit lazy and prone to distraction. There was no telling when he'd return.
"Hrm. Might as well get those herbs for Farra, then." he muttered, getting up and stretching his arms above his head. As he moved to leave the square, he first walked over to the women working. "Good morning ladies. If anyone needs me around here in the next while, could I trouble you to tell them that I've gone to the forest to gather some herbs? I should be back before noon." He asked with a polite smile.
Some of the other men would've perhaps simply given the women instructions, but he'd seen enough of how that generally worked out for his father and the other married men to know that politeness was the path of least resistance. Womenfolk had many ways to make your day harder that he had no desire to risk. Even a man with little experience with the fairer sex like him had learned much from simple observation.

After talking to the women, Sigismund started making his way towards the first of his favored gathering spots. If he was lucky and the plants were far enough along he wouldn't need to go far into the woods.

One of the older ladies agrees to Sigismund's request.

As he leaves, he hears a younger voice mumbling something about a handsome and polite man... Who could that be?

---

After about thirty minutes of travel, Sigismund nears the far edge of the blessed valley. It is in this place that Sigismund has seeded his herbs, as have several others who had returned from beyond the mountains with interesting plants.

Fortunately, when he arrives, the painkilling herbs have grown enough for him to mix a batch of Farra's medicine. Farra's salve is made with a couple handfuls of animal fat, a mature sprig of these special herb, a quarter-pint of tree sap and a half-pint of water. Sigismund was taught the recipe by one of the village's healers, when the man had been too busy to concoct a batch, but some of the old maids of the village had been in need of relief.

Sigismund was always happy to learn new things, and help others - so he had become something of Farra's personal doctor. The old woman was quite grateful for his assistance, and often rewarded him by letting him take some of the tea leaves she cultivated as a passion project.

The final product would create roughly a pint of salve, which would have to be spread quite widely along the back twice daily - thus not lasting more than ten suns. Smaller yields could be made of course, but it was just more convenient to create a large batch since it kept well enough.

The main issue with this salve was that the pain reducing effect was not much, as this particular herb had to be heavily diluted or it would cause numbness followed by a burning, itching rash. Frankly, the only reason this salve was used in the village was because it was simple and cheap compared to some other tonics, and thus it was only used to soothe chronic pain, which was a minor concern, mostly among the chestier ladies of older years and former huntsmen who had stowed their flint knives and atlatls after their hair had turned gray.

Sadly, Sigismund's garden patch had not been growing quickly enough to keep up with his rate of harvest. He would probably not have enough next time he returned, and would have to brave the fields beyond the valley to find some more. The land was rather flat, and foliage was sparse - luckily these herbs grew along the base of mighty oaks, so were not a pain to find.

Still, it was never a great idea to leave the village alone. Even a short foray into the grasslands could be a cause for concern, if you didn't at least have the confidence in outrunning a coyote... or worse... which Sigismund had never put to the test, and didn't really want to try.

Thus, the young men of the village usually went out to hunt every few days, and would spend the day there before returning with their catches at night. If he was fine being away from Jorgrim for a few suns, Sigismund could likely catch some ferrets or rabbits using traps.

Ultimately, most in the village could see that hunting was on the way out. Although it was a traditional practice, now that all their tribes lived together in the blessed valley that was Jorgrim, they would rather put in the extra labor for agricultural than risk their male youth to the wilds.

Game meat wasn't enough to feed such a large population anyway. It generally was eaten among the hunter's families, or served at a banquet.

Sigismund found it kind of sad that whenever they wished to prepare for a banquet, would be the time in Jorgrim when the most men would die.

Hunting wasn't that dangerous if you had a proficient group, but it only took one mistake for a kid to get his hand bitten right off by a starving wolf that charges right into your unawares party.

Sigismund had been hunting dozens of times since he had grown into his own, but that very thing had happened to him once. He hadn't gone hunting as often since.

The winds were changing in Jorgrim, that much was for sure. Some of the elders wined and spat that in the future they would all be eating grass. Sigismund would surely miss meat, but he felt it was only out of ignorance that one could not see the assorted glorious flavors offered by the sowing and reaping of a whole valley's worth of plants!

Having gathered enough of the herb for now, Sigismund sat down on a rock for a moment, simply enjoying the weather for a while and thinking.

While he loved roots and vegetables and grains, he just couldn't see a meal being complete if it never involved some kind of meat. Plants made you strong inside and kept you healthy, but you needed the fat and strength of the animal that came from eating meats. A lack of this oft made winters all too dangerous, especially for the very young and very old. Really, a balance was needed. Some of the merchants he'd spoken with before had mentioned people of other lands gaming beasts to keep around them, giving easy access to milk and meat both. Perhaps his people could do the same? But how?

Surely you couldn't just force a live boar, elk or goat into a village and expect it to freely share it's milk. Much less live peacefully until slaughtered for their meat.
Sigismund shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. This was too complex an issue for him to solve. And it would fly in the face of tradition, his people having a healthy distrust of animals near them with hints being so inherently dangerous...

Letting out a frustrated grunt, the large man learned back and closed his eyes. Trying to let go of the idle thoughts. But they lingered.
Maybe foreigners would know more of this. More of how they could strike a balance between the foods that kept his people healthy and happy. But when would any arrive? Sigismund almost wished he could simply go to them. Then he'd be able to get all the advice and foreign spice he could ever want.

"...Huh. there's a thought." He muttered, before returning to silence. A moment later he got up, grabbed the herbs, and started back towards the village. His head filled with thoughts and the beginnings of ideas.

It's not long before Sigismund is back at the village center. As he sits down in the open sun and begins to mix his salve, he becomes distracted for a while until suddenly being pulled out of it.

A young lady has hesitantly approached him, slightly red in the face. Strange. She speaks in a mouse-like voice, almost inaudible over the omnipresent sounds of village labor. Fortunately, Sigismund has acute senses, and can pick up her quiet words.

"Village brother. Your sister, Estaiya came to us looking for you. She awaits you at your dwellings..." her message delivered, the petite woman nervously awaits a response.

It's strange. Since the village has gotten so large in the last decades, occasionally you will speak to people you do not already know. In the last couple years, this has just become more common. This woman, for example, is totally unfamiliar to you... What tribe is she from? When did she arrive in Jorgrim? She appears strangely demure, compared to the average Iderran woman, used to a life of hardship - or the average woman born into Jorgrim, who act familiarly with other villagers, regardless of tribe association.

You discern this woman must be new, unused to the customs of this place. Maybe she has heard the more outlandish stories of your Wild Root tribe, propagated by naive fellows like Rogbart or some other friends of yours. They seem to consider the valley of Jorgrim to be blessed in some way, and consider the original inhabitants, your Wild Root tribe to be some sort of spiritual caretakers of the land.

Well, whatever it is, you just know it's slightly uncomfortable to be around someone this nervous.

Putting all that to the side, if your sister Estaiya is looking for you - then hopefully she just wants something. If you've annoyed her, she's definitely gonna toss you around until you say uncle... Despite being a full adult by now, and even being an inch taller than your brutish sister, you've still never bested her in a contest of strength! It would be humiliating to some to be bested by a woman, but nobody in Jorgrim has ever given you a tough time for it, considering they have also been tossed flat on their asses by Estaiya once or more.

You do love your sister, but she is rather inelegant. Not even for a woman, you've known huntsmen with more grace than her! Then again, if you said any of that....

a shiver goes down your spine.

Best just meet her and see what she wants, yeah? You are about done with mixing your salve anyway. Your home is near enough to Farra's, so you can do both these chores together, most likely.

What are your plans?

To ease the discomfort between himself and and the Stranger woman, Sigismund smiles in what he hopes is a relaxing and comforting way. His mother has a gift for making people relax simply with a motherly smile, and he'd always been told he'd inherited more of her welcoming mien than his father's ornery glare. Not that his father was any more mulish or angry than any other man in the village. He just looked a bit like a boar, according to most family friends and neighbors.

That could explain the boar like strength his sister had. Perhaps a boar spirit has caroused with his father's line somewhere in the past...
Not that Sigismund would ever share those thoughts with his darling sister. He liked his teeth secure in his mouth, thank you very much!

Finishing up the salve, he got up and stepped up next to the girl. "Thank you for telling me, village sister." he said, still with the same gentle, calming smile.
"I do not recall seeing you before, so I'm guessing you've joined us recently? I look forward to getting to know you better in the future, but I must be off now."

With a body of his head he lumbered off towards Farra's house, dropping of the salve with the usual instructions on how to use it. Her memory wasn't failing yet, but it felt wrong not to make sure the correct instructions were given when it came to medicine. He then begges of before she could start a story, which he usually listened to happily, citing that his sister needed him.

When he finally made it home, he went straight to  Estaiya. "What's wrong, Esta? It's not often you need my help. Did you mix up the bitter and sweet roots again?" He added, needling her about one of the few things he could reasonably tease her with without risking an instant headlock, or black eye. A fine balance it is.

The woman does seem more relaxed by his kind demeanor, and shyly waves him away. Sigismund faintly hears giggling coming from some other voices as he leaves, but it is so faint as to be possibly imagined, or maybe a mishearing of the valley's birdsong.

---

Farra is thankful to Sigismund for his timely delivery, and so is not too grumbly when he cuts her off before she can recount every event of her day to him. She does mention he can feel free to come over whenever he gets time, to come take a gander in her garden, she mentions she has a new type of herb growing there.

---

Arriving outside his home, his sister Estaiya is indeed waiting there for him. She snorts at his remark, but doesn't seem too offended. Phew, Safe!

Estaiya quickly begins to speak in her deep but still slightly feminine voice, "Little brother, I have not come for your help. Bah! Rather I have come with a gift!" she begins to pull something out of her satchel as she speaks,

"I was out hunting with Kuergrin's squad, when our scout found a strange plant. On our way back I picked a few leaves, 'cause I thought you might want to throw it for a spin!"

She then hands you a couple half-crushed pink petals. They have a slightly floral aroma and at least one of them is still attached to the sprig it was pulled from the earth from. The sprig is quite thorny, but Estaiya doesn't even flinch while handing it over. She probably doesn't even notice it, to be honest.

All in all, the plants are not in great condition... Though clearly, it's the thought that counts...?

Estaiya seems a little fidgety, as she awaits a response.

"Hmm..." Sigismund hemmed and hawed as he studied the plants. "Judging from the smell, the leaves might be good for tea or herbal remedies. Not sure if the smell and taste might be overpowered as part of a soup or stew." He postulated. Holding the stem up, he squeezed it between his fingers without touching the thorns and took a careful whiff of the juices that came out.

"We'd need to test it prepared in different ways. After talking with others in case anyone knows this plant. And we need to make sure it's not poisonous. You never know which parts of a plant are edible, while others are deadly." He went on, now in full study mode. He grinned as he noticed his motivation returning. He grabbed his sister by the shoulder and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you Esta, this was just what I needed to turn my mood around. Now, where did you find these? We'll need more if I'm going to do something real with them."

Estaiya nervously hugs him back... strange, she has never acted so shyly around anyone to his knowledge.

She speaks up after a moment, "You will have to ask Kuergrin or one of his"... you know the man, but have never hunted with him before. Rumors say he is more than a little bit of a jerk, glory-hungry and with no sense of brotherhood, perhaps you believe them...?

After a minute, Estaiya speaks again, "There was another thing, little brother..." she fidgets nervously for a moment before taking a deep breath to steel herself... and dropping an absolute bomb shell

"Sigismund, please help me find a partner!"

...What??

OOC: Optional side quest >:-D

"Whuh?..." Sigismund exclaimed, hsi mind blanking momentarily at his sister's request. Why would she ask that? Sigismund had never pried into her love life before, but he'd always assumed she was more or less beating them off with a stick. Sure, she was rough, and stronger than the average bear, but she was also pretty and clever. Or was that just his bias as her brother speaking? He'd always just thought his whole family was pretty great.
"But why would you need my... Nevermind. I thought you and Kuergrin were supposed to marry? That's what mother's always hinted at right?" He asked, confusion clear on his face.

But that couldn't be the case, or else she wouldn't be asking him for help. Had Kuergrin done something to make her sad? If he did, Sigismund would need to have words with him. No one bullied his sister!

No, focus! she needed him now. Sigismund sat down and stroked his beard, mulling it over furiously. Who would be good enough for his sister, and want to marry her as well? It'd need to be someone who could treat her right. And probably take a punch or two as well when they said something wrong.

"Well, what about Rogbart?" He asked her "He's a bit of a braggart, sure, but he's loyal. And maybe he's a bit lazy too, but I'm sure you could get rid of that in no time. And he's always been open about what a great lover he is, so that's good for you. Mother's mentioned how important bedroom matters are to a happy union." Sigismund suggested with a guileless smile. It was a pretty good idea, the more he thought of it. He'd always thought of Rogbart as a brother, and surely he and Estaiya would rub of on each other? He'd become more hardworking, and she'd become more easygoing. It was an elegant solution, if he sadi so himself.

Estaiya's eyes flash coldly when Sigismund brings up her possible relationship with Kuergrin, and she snorts.

"Pah, Kuergrin! A weak man with a cruel mind and a small heart. I bet there's only one thing smaller on his person" she honestly looks disgusted with the guy, which is strange because last you knew she was still hunting with his group.

Seems the rumors were true, though. You're definitely not gonna doubt your sister (to her face, at least)

She seems bashful again for a moment, "But... mother's hints were not unfounded. For a time, I thought of him as maybe something more than a friend. Mother must have noticed it before even i did... gah! How embarassing!" she kicks the floor lightly, though it's almost like a boar just stomped its feet to ready a charge.

"No. Any interest in that brute died down months ago. I don't even like him as a person, anymore..." she seems a bit sad for a moment before responding to your claims about Rogbart.

She raises a cocked eyebrow , "I have met the man and he seemed nothing special. But, if you say these things about him, maybe it is worth it to try..." then she frowns, "Little brother, I know you think very highly of your big sister -" even with how serious she is you can tell she is feeling smug with those words, "- but you know she is not very popular in the village, yes? The other women think she is too much like the men, and the men don't like her because she is stronger than them in a fight..." she seems extremely sad but eventually says what she wants to say.

"Do you think this brother Rogbart would be willing to even meet me?"