Solo [The Stone Garden] Painting amongst the Fallen

[Gravel]

74th day of Fall, 512 A.V. It had been a busy day thus far for the small clay man, a day full of ultimately fruitless searching. He had allowed himself a few days to rest and recuperate from his journey here, and while he had put the word out through the usual channels that a courier willing to travel further than the bounds of the city had arrived looking for work, he had yet to hear of any offers. His impatience had driven him to go out and play things a bit more aggresively, for lack of better terms. You could usually find someone looking to have something delivered just about anywhere that merchants and other travelers could be found, generally near the gates or the docks. Unfortunately, most of the work available either involved parcels far too large for him or his dog to carry comfortably, or the client was simply looking for someone a bit more 'imposing' as one man had so eloquently put it. Gravel understood that on the surface, people were far less likely to hassle someone who at least looked like they could put up a fight than someone of his size. What he struggled to make people understand is that it was his unintimidating stature that made him such a great courier. "Look at it this way, who would suspect that the small clay man they see riding his dog down the road would have anything of value on him?" He would start, trying to explain things a bit before they completely turned him down. Even if this hypothetical highwayman though the pycon was worth roughing up, he never traveled alone. There was almost always some merchant caravan or military patrol headed in the same general direction that he could ride with, or at least near, for the majority, if not the entirety of the trip. The pycon let out a heavy sigh as he entered the memorial garden dedicated to those who had payed the ultimate price for the safety of others. The stone garden was one of the few places in the city one could go to escape the noise and excitement of the city for a few moments. He glanced over his shoulder at the hearty beast he had dubbed 'Streak' that was following close behind him. How long has it been, five, six years since we met?" Gravel asked, the pair working their way towards one of the more secluded corners of the garden. The dog's ear twitched in his direction for a moment before turning towards some other noise far too quiet for the pycon to pick up on. He was a good companion to have on the road, though certainly far from the friendliest. It wasn't that he specifically disliked anything, he simply didn't show much of an interest in anything. It was like he was less a dog as he was simply a method of travel, a fact which bothered Gravel to an extent, but never enough to consider finding another. Streak had proven himself to be remarkably loyal and had even chased away the odd wild animal on the occasion one decided to try and find out what clay people taste like. The two found a shady spot beneath next to an old bench to stop and sit down. The pycon sat down on the ground, laying the py-pole he had been using as a walking stick on the ground in front of him, while Streak laid down a few inches away, lazily gazing into the distance. Gravel's eyes scanned the countless rounded stones embedded in the ground throughout the garden, each and everyone a tribute to some valiant hero who have given their life to some noble cause. Every name, a sad necessity that shouldn't have been necessary, a life that shouldn't have had to have been lost. It was foolish to hope for a time where people would never have to fear for their lives, when weapons would be nothing more than a tool for obtaining food, when people wouldn't have to give their lives for... Gravel forced himself to stop. He knew it was foolish to hope for a day that he would likely never live to see. Yet, for some reason, some part of him refused to let that impossible ideal die. The clay figure shook his head, reaching out to grab the pole before him and set it on his lap. It had been a while since he had last practiced his shielding and now was as good a time as any to begin again. Plus, it would hopefully help occupy his mind to prevent further depressing contemplation. He closed his eyes, slowly inhaling, holding his breath for a moment before slowly releasing it once more, a technique he had picked up to help clear the mind. He opened his eyes and turned his attention back to the pointed staff before him. A single finger traced it's length from tip to end before he went to work. The finger slowly retraced it's steps, this time leaving a faint, thin trail of djed behind it, like paint from a brush. A slight turn and another line was drawn next to the first, a process carefully repeated until the entirety of the staff was covered in a familiar clear blue tint. He paused for a moment, fascinated by the delicate weave of the djed. Though the swirls and lines were still sloppy from inexperience, they still captivated the pycon just as they had when he produced his first shield. His trainer had said that each mage's weave was unique, and that even in massive shields weaved together by a large group of mages you could pick out the weave of each individual mage given enough time. While he was quite some time away from producing anything of such quality, the only way to improve was through practice. His hands returned to the shield, each pass strengthening the shield, making it just a bit thicker, a bit more resilient. He was lost in a trance, his hands working independently from his mind as he followed the patterns of the weave, growing bolder and brighter with each layer added. When he could no longer add any more djed to the shield, his natural stores emptied into his work, he smoothed the layers on the staff, attempting to even out the irregularities of depth that came from lack of experience. Eventually he reached the point where, while still not quite perfect, it was as even as he could get it without spending the rest of his day devoted to the task. He had already spent longer out here than he had planned, at least a few bells, and he would need to hustle to make up for lost time. He gave his staff one final inspection before rising to his feet and making his way back out of the garden, his loyal companion not far behind. Just before leaving the grounds, he turned and surveyed the countless stones once more. His hand slowly grasped the small crystal hanging from his neck as he quietly prayed for Priskil to light the way for the souls of those honored for their sacrifices before turning back to the hustle and bustle of the city, ready to take another crack at his search.

[Emblem]

Congratulations! You Get Glorious Experience! Gravel Skill Points Earned Shielding 2XP Meditation 1 XP Observation 1 XP Lore Earned Back to the Stone Garden Other Shenanigans:Nay Comments : Nice little thread here! There wasn't too much I could give you because not too much happened, but I awarded what I could. IF you have any questions or concerns, PM me!