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The Pasture of Tranquil Slumbers
I was travelling around Gratuity, an Indep burg a day or so away from Sylvania, when I happened across a most unusual garden. One of tenders, a half-elven cutter named ‘Moss’, called it the ‘Pasture of Tranquil Slumbers’. I spoke with him a while:
“Welcome to the Pasture, blood. Have you come to Sleep or to Awaken? Neither? Then why are you here? Ah, another information-seeker. You don’t have a Mimir with you, do you? Shame.
“We’re looking to expand our business see. What business, you ask? We’re many things to many people, cutter. If you’re about to be scragged by some high-up you’ve bobbed, we’re the bloods you want to see. We hide people, right? We’ve got ’em all here: a berk who gave a factol the laugh, a sod who learned too much about the Lords of the Nine, and a proxy who bobbed his Power! No I’m not telling you which one! That’s not all, though. Feeling old? Want a rest and a chance to rejuvenate those aching bones? Come visit the Pasture.
“How do we do it? Why, that’s a secret, I’m afraid. How much? Oh well, a little garnish never did hurt…
“The dark’s under your feet. Literally, I mean. See, we bury folks who don’t want to be found, and the plants do the rest. How? Well, we don’t really know, but I’ll tell you what I think. It’s all to do with the Sandman’s Curse – a type of cocoon vine.
“Chant is the vines’re too lazy to do all the work needed to survive by themselves. That’s why they don’t grow much until some sod lies down on one and falls asleep. Oh, they’re found in the wild too cutter, believe me. You’ve got to be careful where you rest in these parts! Once the vine’s enticed a weary soul to sleep on its soft moss, it wraps the sod up in a pulpy cocoon. No, you don’t feel a thing; they’ve got this scent which knocks you out cold. You don’t wake up; the vine sees to that too. It don’t harm you, much – see, the plant needs you alive just like you need it. I reckon it’s the warmth of your body that the leafy thing craves; it can’t reproduce unless it’s nice and cosy. Best way to do this is to get itself a warm-blooded sod to snuggle up with.
“The vine keeps its guest healthy, too. Once its big leaves and roots are grown it draws nourishment from the light and the earth, feeding itself and the sleeper. It channels dew and nectar into the sleeper’s mouth, and ensures the sod can breathe by leaving his nose poking out of the soil, protected from the rain by a leafy funnel.
“No, the worms and bugs won’t get him either. See, the vine keeps them away from the sleeper by trapping them in little leafy jaws. Makes a nice meal for the sleeper, I expect. Oh, they can stay like that for years; our oldest sleeper’s been here since long before I was born.
“Like I said, we hide wanted cutters. When they’re sleeping, they’re not actually alive, see. Their hearts beat and such, but really they’re part of the Sandman’s Curse – so spells and scrying just won’t locate ’em. When the heat’s off we just wake up the sleeper and they’re free to pick up their lives where they left off, although nobody’s been woken up since I started working here ten years ago.
“Side effects, you say? Well, I’d be bobbing you if I didn’t admit there are a few minor side effects. Sleepers feel fresh and whole when they wake, though they do tend to be skinny and weak until they learn to walk again. A few get all melancholy that we woke ’em, but that usually passes. Some of ’em look kind of strange until we’ve scraped off the roots and tubers, too. Oh, and they get this greenish tint to their skin; that doesn’t go away either.
“Interested? The rate’s a hundred gold a year, advance. No? Tell you what; special price for you as you’re such a blood: eighty! Hey, where are you going…?”
Source: Jon Winter-Holt, mimir.net