Maize

Participants: Unlimited
Contracts: Allowed

Amongst the traditions of Maize’s farmers is that the harvest must be finished by Thanksgiving. Advancing technology has reduced the time needed to bring in the crop, but before the combine harvesters can start, there is a ceremonial reaping. At the Whipple Farm, the Mayor hosts the ceremony, attended by a number of the town’s residents, the ones that don’t have farms of their own to tend. Those with their own farms, however, are performing the same ritual in their own fields.

The need for sickles and scythes has fallen by the wayside, but each farm in Maize still has at least one on the property. Each year, these implements are pressed into service on a ceremonial basis to cut a single stalk of corn. The reason for the tradition has faded from memory, but everyone knows a friend of a friend of a friend who scoffed at the tradition and their entire crop rotted overnight.

This Event requires two timeslots.

Step 1: Observe the Ceremony
There isn’t a lot of pomp and circumstance, things are kept simple and to the point. Roll Composure + Empathy. Exceptional Success grants +1 die to your next roll, while a Dramatic Failure imposes -1 die.

Step 2: How to Help
Whether it’s altruism, or you just want to eavesdrop on the locals, if you plan on staying to help, you need to figure out what you should be doing. Roll Wits + Crafts. Exceptional Success grants +1 die to your next roll, while a Dramatic Failure imposes -1 die.

Step 3: Put Your Back Into it
Farms have a lot of labour-saving devices, but there’s always still more labour to be done. Roll Stamina + (Athletics or Brawl).

• Success: Your contributions are welcomed and there’s a free, hot lunch and cold beer waiting for you when you’re done.
• Exceptional Success: You’ve proven yourself with your hard work, gain +1 die to Social rolls involving the residents of Maize for the remainder of the Session.
• Failure: The locals are amused by your soft hands and weak back, but make nothing of it.
• Dramatic Failure: You were more hindrance than help, take -1 die to Social rolls involving the residents of Maize for the remainder of the Session.

Imogen was a bit surprised that the harvest was taking place now in Maize, being the city slicker as she was. She thought this was done when the weather was warmer and snow wasn't a concern. However, it seemed like nature and good luck had blessed Maize in many ways with warmer weather. It wasn't the warmest temperament but enough to make it almost seem tropical by comparison of the last few days. She was out for this occasion dressed in a tank top and flannel shirt showing a bit of midriff with a pair of designer jeans on, looking like she was ready for an afternoon at the mall. Seeing a photo opportunity a mile away, she was there with her camera to take several pictures of the ceremony at hand. It was unexpected the word 'ritual' would be part of this custom but the sight of sickles and scythes validated it. She thought those only existed in touristy 'pioneer villages'.

As much as she wanted to pay attention to the ceremony and not focus on taking pictures, it was hard to keep still for its duration. Imogen found herself need to do something between looking at her phone and taking pictures. She couldn't muster the attention span and found herself missing the purpose of the ceremony while she was updating her Instagram. It seemed she would have to wing it when it came to helping out.

More than able, she was more than willing to lend a hand. She could say that she wielded a scythe to reap corn, which was bound to impress one of her acquaintances back at home. Although her mind glazed over the meaning of the ceremony, she was handy at the very least and worked the field with enough effort that she ever impressed herself. It was clear they didn't use such instruments anymore but she imagined in the olden days, she would be seen as quite a valuable member of the community.

However, doing this in repetition and continuously was another matter. What started as amusing and quaint still turned into actual work, sweat and aches easily replaced the novelty she was experiencing. She would stop once in a while to look over at the fields. When was break time? Was there a union they could complain to? It was gruelling work but Imogen toughed it out for a few hours, thankful she didn't have to do this all day like in the pioneering days. Scratch that, she happily imagined herself in the present where she could buy everything she wanted then having to make it with her own hands. It was much better that way.

When the cowbell rang, she happily finished what she was doing and made her way over. It might have been a local recipe or just the fruits of her labour but she never had a Salsberry steak and Coors Light that tasted this good before...

Day 4, Later Morning to Early Afternoon, Observe the Ceremony w/ Composure + Empathy: 1d10o10h8 0
Day 4, Later Morning to Early Afternoon, How to Help, Wits + Crafts: 7d10o10h8 4
Day 4, Later Morning to Early Afternoon, Put Your Back Into it, Stamina + Brawl: 5d10o10h8 4

It was a cool day and very clear. You could see a long way-but not as far as Bonnie had gone. If I'd prove nothing else today, it'd be that I'm no farmer.

The opening ceremony was interesting, if a little long. I learned a few things from it, but not enough. Between not knowing what I was supposed to do and showing no ability to do it, it was pretty embarrassing. I have to give the locals credit.

Not a one gave a snicker.

- - -
[D4 LM-EA] Event: Many Hands, Light Work, Step 1: Observe the Ceremony, Composure + Empathy: 4d10o10h8 3

[D4 LM-EA] Event: Many Hands, Light Work, Step 2: How to Help, Wits + Crafts, Unskilled, Chance Roll: 1d10 1

[D4 LM-EA] Event: Many Hands, Light Work, Step 3: Put Your Back Into it, Stamina + Athletics -1: 2d10o10h8 0

Jean had never been particularly composed man, having spent much of his previous life charging into the fray for the king and the god, or alternatively god and the king, depending who was by his side when he had to perform the aforementioned charge. Yet, still he somehow managed to follow along, pausing to wave hand to Marlow and Imogen when he spotted them. He did not, however did not go bother either of them, trying to mingle with the locals instead. He made an appalling job with the harvesting tool with a grumpy middle aged woman snatching the scythe from him, giving him a dirty look in the process.

Shrugging, Jean stepped back and let the locals do the cutting, stepping in again when he could help them to haul the harvest. He was very pleased to see his efforts being rewarded with what seemed like a royal feast. He was even given a free beer. The peasants of this modern world had it well, he mused to himself, noting how plentiful their harvest was. No wonder the could afford such luxuries.


______
[D4 LM-EA] Event: Many Hands, Light Work, Step 1: Observe the Ceremony, Composure + Empathy. 2-1 =1: 1d10o10h8 1
Next roll at +1

[D4 LM-EA] Event: Many Hands, Light Work, Step 2: How to Help, Wits + Crafts, Wits 3 -3 unskilled. Chance die: 1d10 5

[D4 LM-EA] Event: Many Hands, Light Work, Step 3: Put Your Back Into it, Stamina + Athletics -1: 5d10o10h8 3

Why oh why was she even here? She must've asked herself that question half a dozen times as she sat through the ceremony. She was no farmer. Not even close. She never even had a potted plant at home - and certainly not in Arcadia. Sure, she was from a small village but she was a city girl at heart. She knew quite a few sons of farmers at her school in rural Sharnbrook but she rarely interacted with them since she quickly grew bored of their talk of how many pounds their tractors could pull or how the crows got into the silos last summer. No, she spent her time in Bedford, Milton-Keynes, Luton, or London on the weekends mingling with more ... citified folk.

And those sickles and scythes were like something out of a horror movie. Did people actually use those things to cut down an entire field of corn? I guess she had to give the farmers credit for that - no wonder farming families were usually quite large. You needed lots of kids to help harvest the corn. Speaking of which - not that she was an expert - but wasn't it rather late in the year to be harvesting? Most other crops would be quite dead in this weather. She knew that much at least.

Whoa ... they actually wanted her to do something? At least that was the general idea. But the local farmers took one look at her ... smallness ... her clean and unmarked hands and then ignored her. She found herself in the way most of the time and one farmer actually told her to "sit down, girl, this kind of work ain't for children." Yeah, it wasn't the first time she had been mistaken for a child, especially in the winter when heavy clothing concealed her more womanly attributes.

Then one of the older teens came up to her, handed her a scythe, and volunteered to teach her how to reap the corn. Hold it like this. Swing it like that. Granted, she would never be a farmer, but the teen told her that she was doing rather well for a virgin farmer who had never held a sickle before. She fell into a steady rhythm that seemed to quell the fatigue she vaguely felt in her arms. She even removed her jacket - not wanting to get it dirty - and worked in the 50 degree heat in nothing but a pink half-shirt and a pair of jeans.

However, all that came to an end when she drew back the sickle just a wee bit too far and caught one of her wings on the blade. Oh my god that hurt! Yeah, that was enough for her. She pretended to pull a muscle in her back - these mortals wouldn't understand a wound to something they couldn't see - and handed the sickle back to the boy. He, in turn, handed her a piece of paper with his telephone number on it. What, seriously? She wasn't about to drop anchor in Maize - and a whirlwind romance with a farmer's kid wasn't on her bucket list, so ... she retrieved her jacket, shoved the paper in her pocket, and sat back down.

As impressed as some of the locals were with her capacity to do physical work despite her small size, she avoided most of them if she could. Last night's dream still haunted her and she had no desire to be pestered by anyone wanting her to say certain words because they loved her accent. "I only ever heard someone talk like that on television," one of them told her. All she did was roll her eyes.


Observing the Ceremony - Empathy 4 + Composure 1:: 5d10o10h8 3
How To Help - Wits 3 + Craft 0:: 3d10o10h8 0
Put Your Back Into It - Stamina 2 + Athletics 1 - Dramatic Failure Penalty -1: 2d10o10h8 2

LM-EA4- Observe the Ceremony (Composure 2, Empathy 0): 1d10o10h8 0

LM-EA4- How to Help (Wits 3, Crafts 0, chance die): 1d10h10 0

LM-EA4- Put Your Back Into It (Stamina 2, Athletics 2): 4d10o10h8 1

Penn wasn't the most craft capable, or able to pick up on the nuances of the ceremony. But he was a set of hands.

And many hands make the load light. Hard working hands make that cold beer especially tasty.