RP Stories/Bramble's Brew

 It was such a bright and sunny day within the Briar. A warm and inviting omen, for the ceremony to come that night. The summer days of late had been too dry for Bramble's taste, and it had sapped her energy more than she would ever be caught admitting, but the thunderstorm of the last two days had given the air of the Hodenwold a crisp freshness. 

 Bramble was filled with a near playful urge to take action, the restlessness of the last few weeks had made her temper shorter than usual - hard to believe, yet true none the less. Aside from Sairus, Jira had born the brunt of her frustrations. With the preparations to make for the ceremony to inaugurate new Sisters to the Bloodvines - for no matter their gender, there where none amongst their ranks that Bramble would measure as true men - spending time together had been unavoidable, no matter how sour the weather might make their moods. 

 It was odd. Bramble, while having her own sense of honour that she upheld rigidly, especially when it came to Faelan and her other responsibilities, was not one to apologies. And yet today, with such a refreshing mood upon her after so many days of frustration, for once the urge was there. While none would hear her say it, she did feel some guilt about the shelf she had broken, and the jars that shattered as they fell - it was hardly her fault it had not been built with sufficient craftsmanship to support her weight as she sought a comfortable perch to watch Jira work from. And nor would she admit any remorse at the fire that she sparked into the dried herbs Jira called "The Dreamers Kiss" - for one thing, it had been hilarious watching the pups that inhaled that near sickly sweet smoke as they hallucinated all manner of things. But, as much as she would not admit it, she did feel guilt, and she did feel remorse. Not for the actions she had taken, but for the anger it had earned her from Jira. 

 So today, after so many mishaps, Bramble resolved to aid Jira. Today, she would do as Jira normally would aid her, and brew the potions for the ceremony herself. 

 After all, how hard could it be? She had watched Jira work her magic of herb and bottle often enough, whether Jira liked it or not. A few herbs, some chopped one way some ground another. Mushrooms, seemingly of any type Jira could find. Powders and pastes, although that seemed more of a texture thing to Bramble. Occasionally, pieces of animal, more often than not beetles and insects.





 Bramble set out that day, with a few... borrowed... jars, and gathered what she thought she might need.



 The Bloodvines need to know no fear, she thought, or else their rage will run down their legs as they shed their waters. So she set off to a stream that ran through the Briar, and a field of grass few would walk in under the shade of an oak tree. They grass here stung the flesh, and turned it red and itchy. Bramble didn't really mind it herself, she had long since learnt how to grip the stem to avoid injury, and cover her legs to keep herself safe. She gathered several bunches of the herb, and set to work grinding the leaves between two flat river stones.



<p class="MsoNormal"> Next, she wandered through the shade of the forest. It seems Jira uses what mushrooms she finds, and so too shall I, she thought to herself. And so she went, gathering what mushrooms she could find. Some she ate as she found them, the meaty browns and the chalky whites that Jira used in stews. They were tasty, but of little use to magic. It seemed to Bramble that, if she was to make a powerful potion, it would be the ones Jira forbid her to eat that would have the greatest magic - the red and white blooms, and the eerie grey shrooms that reminded her of skulls. Proud with her handiwork, she found an old stump and set about chopping her harvest up into fine pieces. For such important work she would exercise as much patience as she could, and saw to it that all where chopped into tiny pieces. <span style="font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">

<p class="MsoNormal"> It was past midday by this point, and Bramble still had to find something live to put into the potion. Thinking to herself, the Bloodvines must think as one, act as one, and fight with no hesitation, perhaps I know something that will lend them those properties, she set off to an old clearing not too far from the path she had hunted mushrooms along. There, she found what she sought - an ancient and sprawling ant's nest. No common ant, these beasts where the size of a finger and like as not to take one off if you were not thick skinned. With no fear, Bramble found herself a large log, and began pounding the ground atop their nest. Soon enough, the warrior ants, barbed and vibrant yellow green, where swarming from their nest. With the deft speed that Faelan granted her, it was no trouble for Bramble to scoop up more than a score of the vicious beasts and retreat before they could injure her. Such wicked beasts as this demanded a certain respect, so she crushed them with her own hands, each in turn, and bore their stings with pride.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Now, Bramble may rightly be accused of being foolish, but a fool she is not. This was not the first time she had been stung by such insects, and she knew that the rich black rivermud would ease the stinging. It seemed to her that the mud itself must contain some magic, and she thought, if I am to have soils and pastes then why not a healing salve, that the Bloodvines wounds might close as they earn them? And so, the mud too she filled a jar with.

<p class="MsoNormal"> By now it was beginning to get late, and she knew she would not have many hours before the ceremony began. So she set about mixing and blending the ingredients she had gathered - the stinging grass that would take away fear, the mushrooms with a magic she did not care to understand, the ants that would teach the Bloodvines to work as a unit, and the mud that would close their wounds in battle. Satisfied with her work, she filled a jar for each of the three new Bloodvines, due to take their oaths this night.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> Eager to see her work fulfilled, when the ceremony arrived Bramble wasted no time waiting for Jira's arrival, and bid her newest three imbibe the potion with all haste. She had trained them well, it seemed, as they pushed past their hesitations and listened to her urgings, downing the mixture with haste each in their turn.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Still, Jira could have shown some praise for the effort Bramble put in to help her. It was almost rude the way Jira rushed to tend to their convulsing bodies when she arrived. It's not like any of them died, after all. <span style="font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">