THE HARVEST The Lord Marshal's orders were simple the guild hall would need 14,300 blocks of granite and 1,600 blocks of obsidian, begin gathering. The numbers would increase due to other projects that must be continued and transactions needing to be conducted. When completed over 17,000 blocks of granite will have been gathered. Cindron was an experienced harvester of stone and the procurement officer for the Legion so it was easy to understand why this would be his task. His hammer was given to him by the Lord Marshal himself, its metal almost glowing, the magical power easily felt. His clothes, also a gift were enhanced allowing him better movement and quicker action thus assuring a greater harvest. On a morning not unlike many others he raised his quarry hammer and began. Shards flew and dust rose as he slowly began to warm and feel his muscles begin to loosen. Cindron found his pace and worked in earnest. The first weeks brought blisters that formed into calluses, his hands taking a hard, rough quality. Every night Cindron would work to keep his gear clean and in top shape. The daily work passed slowly with few noticing his absence from the Legion's ranks. Hundreds of slabs were shipped out daily, never enough. During frequent breaks he would sit and lean against his next victim of the harvest and look into the sky wondering what everyone else was doing. More weeks pass, hundreds of granite slabs continue to be shipped, but it's not enough. Cindron found he no longer needed to take as many breaks as he used to, and truth be told he did not look forward to them. When he would rest the empty surroundings with nothing but the cursed stones would almost seem to taunt him. Cindron felt as a prisoner, while there were no bars he knew he could not leave till this task was completed and his freedom earned. Cindron would rise from his break and always look down upon the stone frown and speak "let's begin again" and continue the work. More weeks pass, more slabs are shipped, it is not enough. Cindron's body has now changed some might not even recognize him. Looking down at his image in the water he is not displeased. Little excess weight is left and his skin has darkened from the endless hours under the sun. His gear hopelessly dirty, he gave up trying to keep it clean some time back. He washes himself as best he can, dresses, rises and turns to the stone "are you ready, let's begin again." More weeks pass, granite continues to head out to the Legion. A few come to join him for a day and help in the harvest. They always leave too soon and Cindron is left cursing the loneliness. Rising up from a break Cindron looks down at the granite smiles and speaks "are you ready, good, let's begin again" shards of stone fly. More is needed not enough yet. More weeks pass and Cindron works with a pace and energy that seems endless. The hammer rises and falls, rises and falls thousands and thousands of times every day. One break a day is all that is needed, eat enough and get back to the harvest. More granite is needed, it is not enough. Cindron rises, smiles "ah my friends are we ready to begin again?" "Yes" he hears in response. More weeks pass and now many come and help. They stay and work very hard in the gathering of granite. More stone is needed. Eventually they go back to perform other Legion duties and Cindron is left alone again. Cursing his clothes as they continue to tear and fray he tears off the sleeves and the legging from the knees down to keep from stumbling on the ripped and torn strips. Cindron looks up smiles crookedly and listens "yes, I am sorry I'm coming. Of course I'm ready" The hammer rises and falls, rises and falls. More weeks pass, Legionnaires come and go, Cindron stays. Cindron talks to his friends the rocks and his fellow Legionnaires telling them about the wonder of the stone and how nice they all are. He talks with excitement to the others about how the granite looks forward to becoming bricks and living forever in the halls of the guild. When they leave he gives them each a stone as a gift and friend to travel with and share their journeys. Never enough, Cindron goes back to gathering more friends for the hall, never enough. More weeks pass, Legionnaires continue to help and they are always accepted by the stones who welcome them as friends of Cindron. Eloc, Soeni, Arch, Atraeu, Lippy, Sajeera, Circene, Dakai, Van, Ron, Zanna, Tyr, Cogent, and many other fine Legionnaires come and go but always his friends the rocks keep him company and Cindron is never lonely. More weeks pass, he is a machine, the hammer rises and falls again and again. Some days Cindron forgets to break, there will be time to eat when night falls and the stones need to sleep. The handle of his hammer has darkened from his blood that has soaked into it over the months. His clothes are ruined and his hair wild and unkempt. It doesn't matter only that the stones need him, they call to him, he must return to gathering more friends. 11,000 granite friends have already gone and the 1,600 obsidian just a memory. It's not enough. The hammer falls and rises over and over, its not enough. 6,000 more are still needed. As Legionnaires leave they can hear Cindron talking "I know they are all wonderful,... no really? Oh don't worry they liked you to. They will come back and visit you again, I'm sure." Cindron's voice slowly fades as the Legionnaires sail away into the distance.