Council People. I am named Washugao. I am a druid. Long I have walked the Maze.

Your city grows. But it has dangers. Food is scarce often. Lucky you found stray rothe herd. Many eat rats. Many harvest fat beetles. Beetles dangerous. Rats unhealthy. Rothe not enough. To feed hundreds.

Fungus is plenty. Yet must be gathered.

Druids offer you aid.

We plant. We tend. We harvest crops. Bring them to your city. Store them in silos. Fatten your people. We grow you blue cap. We grow you fire lichen. We grow you fragrant fungus.

We tend rothe herds. We push older studs. We push older cows to your city. Your butchers harvest those. We nurture rest for next season.

In return. You declare no hunting of rothe. In protected areas. Hunt rothe outside areas is fine. Set aside for us to nurture herds. We birth calves. Move some herds. To new locations. Grow more herds. Keep city in balance with growth.

A rather confused councilor walks up to the gate, scratches his head while looking out, and then final curses and shoves this into the hands of one of the Watchmen with the orders to pass it back to some druidic type named Washuago.

Washuago,

Your proposal has merit. The Council will deliberate and return with our decision within a few days. Thank you for your interest in the future of the city.

Councilor Dentra

Washuago Person. I am named Jacelyn. I am a Councillor. Long have I filed paper.

Seek me.

Many of councilors. Dead or gone. Again druids offer aid.

We wait. You deliberate.

When word is ready. We hope for contact.

Cavern is well planted. Food for your people.

All we need. Are promises. Support for herds. Support for tending land.

Washugao

Washugao,

Can you give us an idea about where you want us to regulate hunting? Maybe that would quicken the pace of our discussion.

Councilor Dentra

Shifting Sand Caverns. Outside canal gates.

This is all. One place. Where gardens will grow.

Will take any Councilor. Who wishes to see. To see.

Washugao