Lost Tabitha

Eleanor of Ivywood is a fine and respected cartographer in her field. She lives a journeying life, sending descriptions of the world as she sees it to those of interest. This is one such entry.

In my 15 years traveling the land I had often heard tales about towns built upon the backs of barbosa tortoises. It was never too far-fetched, given that barbosa tortoises are gargantuan in size and as I understand it, very docile. These towns travel the land, following the beasts’ migratory path. I had resided myself to never spotting one of these nomadic communes, and so it is with great pleasure that I can report to you on one today.

This past spring, I found myself in the remote village of Arynshire while surveying a local aulde wood. The tavernkeeper, Jermain, mentioned that a tortoise town by the name of Lost Tabitha visits every third spring and it just so happened that they should be arriving within the month. Without hesitation I put a deposit on my room at the inn and sent letters of delay to my Map Master back in the Capital, I simply had to see this walking town in person.

I was awoken two weeks later by shouts of greeting from the local watchman. Outside my window where once an empty grazing field lay was now a small hamlet supported by four scaly legs. I gathered my myself and ran out in eager amazement.

The tortoise Tabitha was a like a piece of mountain come to life. Its enormous head gently pivoted, taking in the sights around it as the town folk fed it sweet grass and washed its clawed feet clean. There seemed to be a symbiotic relationship between the beast and its people, both helping and providing service for the other. According to experts of beast and fauna, barbosa tortoises are known to have this relationship with any creature willing to provide it. Other human towns have been reported but also flocks of valet crows or families of crowned mandrills have called their shells home.

Children jumped off its shell and played in the grass while adults began unloading crates and bags of supplies. At present, there are 9 villagers that call Lost Tabitha home, 2 children and 7 adults. Each adult on board is a brother or sister of the Lily, healers who have taken oath to bring health to any who need it, regardless of flag or allegiance. Tabitha allows them to both ply their trade across huge swaths of land as the great tortoise migrates, but also collect rare medicinal herbs in the farthest corners of the land.

As I mentioned, Tabitha visits this small town once every 3 springs, the rest of the time it’s on the move staying within warm climates. A villager by the name of Margret Landon showed me the path on illuminated maps. Tabitha leaves Arynshire eastward before riding ancient riverways south to the ever-warm islands. After a restful period of drifting between remote landings, it rides the warm currents northwest, up the Azure Coast before moving inland and starting all over. No one is quite sure what the migration means to the timeless creature, a long forgotten purpose now just an echo of a time before humanity’s blight on the land.

Lost Tabitha as a town was founded around 240 years ago by an ex-clergy member named Digby. His reasons for fleeing the abbey aren’t known but his desire was clear, to live with and care for this creature as they slowly roam the land. What started as a pup tent on top of the shell grew into the town it is now as others joined, drawn to Digby’s vision of a drifting life. Tenets come and go; merchants and academics, healers and alchemists. In the village’s center is a great slab of twilight peridot stone upon which all previous villagers have carved their names.

The town consists of a bunk house, kitchens, workshop, store room, and a grow house. There are also 3 fig trees that date back to before the town was founded, a trait not uncommon to barbosa tortoises I’m told. The grow house is filled to the brim with exotic plants used for trade and medicine. A large broadsword is firmly entrenched in the walls of the store house, its origin unknown but at present serves as a colorful coat hook.

After offering my services as a cartographer and map maker to the town, I was allowed to joined them until they reached the end of the Crookback River, from where I could hire a coach to take me back to my obligations in the Capital.

It was a wonderous time, slowly moving across the grasslands I love punctuated by snowcapped mountain ranges, seeing new towns along the way. Once we reached the river mouth we simply floated along. In my life I’ve tried my best to enjoy the journey as much as the destination, but truly this time in Lost Tabitha let me sit back, hold my tea and just breathe. Something I will never again take for granted.