Swan Meilhan
Neeryu
- Joined
- Dec 25, 2023
- Messages
- 8
- Reaction score
- 6
- Points
- 3
A dismal rain drenched the Glade on this late fall evening. Brewing stands simmered in empty silence as they were left unattended, whereas the flames of the furnaces slowly died out from not being rekindled. The farm, a muddy mess of torn plantations and puddles.
The Gladers had sought refuge within the least primitive construction that was Council Hall, cramped in a corner amongst four immutable walls that imposed the frame of their lone reality. Loud silence weighed on the crowd, whose sole agitation was out-of-breath Runners busy unfastening their harnesses. The leather straps seemed to saw into their bones through the linen fabrics, soaked from the rain and exertion.
A single report stood witness of the last moments before tragedy struck.
It was of Grumpy’s meticulous handwriting.
-
Council Meeting Report
While Council reports are usually handled by Newt, I was the one appointed as acting secretary. Newt was thus the one who stood to the front this time, anchoring his hands on either side of the speaking stand as he began.
“I don’t think I need to explain the reason for today’s meeting, as we’re all bloody annoyed by the pouring rain I ‘spect.”
A pause. Newt pressed his lips into a thin line, he looked clearly bothered as he drew an inhale.
“While it may look like just a bunch of water to some of you shanks, this time it is a bit too much water.”
As if to punctuate those words, a beam of wood collapsed outside the meeting hall. Some Gladers turned around with a concerned look on their faces. Newt groaned.
“I’ll ask the Brick-Nicks to fix that after the meeting. Those sloppers think they’re above the rules by not attending. Well, they’ll get work for it.”
Loudly clearing his throat, he moved on.
“The Glade is no stranger to episodes of occasional rain, but it has never lasted for more than a few hours, always just enough to water the fields. We usually like it as it means we’re getting a break at the farms, but the current situation is that our crops are getting literally drowned. Today, we lost about a third of our plantations and the farm is covered in mud and puddles. We’ve sent a bunch of slipping shanks to the Med-Jacks already.”
Newt folded his arms, glancing over those present.
“I need all hands on deck to sort this out. We need to look into why it is raining so much, whether it will happen again or not, and a durable way to protect our
[!] The meeting report abruptly stopped there... [!]
“I don’t think I need to explain the reason for today’s meeting, as we’re all bloody annoyed by the pouring rain I ‘spect.”
A pause. Newt pressed his lips into a thin line, he looked clearly bothered as he drew an inhale.
“While it may look like just a bunch of water to some of you shanks, this time it is a bit too much water.”
As if to punctuate those words, a beam of wood collapsed outside the meeting hall. Some Gladers turned around with a concerned look on their faces. Newt groaned.
“I’ll ask the Brick-Nicks to fix that after the meeting. Those sloppers think they’re above the rules by not attending. Well, they’ll get work for it.”
Loudly clearing his throat, he moved on.
“The Glade is no stranger to episodes of occasional rain, but it has never lasted for more than a few hours, always just enough to water the fields. We usually like it as it means we’re getting a break at the farms, but the current situation is that our crops are getting literally drowned. Today, we lost about a third of our plantations and the farm is covered in mud and puddles. We’ve sent a bunch of slipping shanks to the Med-Jacks already.”
Newt folded his arms, glancing over those present.
“I need all hands on deck to sort this out. We need to look into why it is raining so much, whether it will happen again or not, and a durable way to protect our
[!] The meeting report abruptly stopped there... [!]
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