Solo The Long Road Home

[Ronan]

Timestamp: 75th of Fall, 512 AV

They had only stopped for food and snatched hours of sleep so far. The rest of the time, Tairell tapped into the Web's power to carry them swiftly across the grasses and back towards Endrykas. Horse and rider were content in each other's company, but Ronan thought over a lot of things along the way.

He and Kavala had come to a thawing in their relationship once again, and it seemed, partially at least, both had accepted they were neither simply friends nor permanent lovers. In some ways, their relationship ran deeper than that. There was a new knot in the tale too. Old souls came together once again. They had a past that went beyond this life. He only had fragmentary memories, but it was unsettling. There was a sense of being trapped. Not by her. Not by Kavala. But by time and fate. They had their lives here, but how significant was it truly, when they were playing to the whims of rebirth for eternity.

He shook his head. The unsettling thoughts would do nothing but make him somewhat anxious. Nevertheless, if it wasn't time and fate that bound him, it was Semele. He looked to his hand, wondering what exactly the mark meant. Did it mean he would be called upon one day? Would he have to fight and fulfil his duties for his Goddess?

He could not help but feel honour at the thought regardless. It was the first time in his life he had been chosen for a purpose he considered greater than himself. Something that transcended the day to day. Of course, the Watch had been his ambition for a long time, and he was happy to finally be training for it. But that was the protectorate of the Drykas. That was so very mortal. But Semele's mark was something deeper, and something more spiritual. It made him feel more complete in ways he couldn't fathom.

He thought on these things as they rode hard for another two bells. Eventually he brought Tairell to a rest again, and dismounted. He plucked a carrot from the saddlebags which she ate voraciously. Patting her, he stood up straight to try and slip into the Web. He inhaled and exhaled, a cycle of energy, and gradually fell into a trance like state. His astral form ripped free from his body, and he found himself surrounded by the Web. Many lines were dull and torn, still in tatters from the storm. A few still shone. Bastions of hope among the great swathes of grass.

He touched those that remained, wishing he were skilled enough to try and repair the fallen threads. Sama'el had talked with him a little about it, but Ronan was unsure of his own abilities. His eyes fell upon a line that seemed to hold on both sides, but the centre was shredded by the wild energies that had ravaged the land.

He walked over to it, taking it in his hand. It was resonant still. As if the thing held a heartbeat, and though it had slowed to a crawl, still it beat. There was a light that glistened beneath the blackness. There were memories and words, but so faint and so tattered. He closed his eyes, fingers grasping around it. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to restore this thread.

Energy welled up inside him. A similar power to that Tairell tapped into as she sped through the Sea of Grass. He felt it grow, and guided his intentions. His desire to fix this thread of the Web. He felt the light, and grasped for it. It would not die. It would restore and heal. It would purify the damage the storm had caused. He willed it so.

[Ronan]

Ronan looked down at his hand wide-eyed. That intent burned brightly, manifesting into true light that began to run down the thread of Webbing. He watched it, refracting back and forth, catching the glimmer of the other threads. His desire was true and pure, and he willed that forward, closing his eyes again briefly.

Those words, those memories, began to resurface until they were a raucous of shouts and whispers. Communication. He could hear the snorts of horses, and the cries of the hunter Drykas. He could hear newly born babies crying out, and mothers scolding their young. He could hear hooves beating against the grass. He could hear the storm ravaging and tearing, a great maw with unstoppable hunger. So much was stored in the tiny thread, and as the volume intensified, so did the light. The shredded remnants drifted together, white serenity bridging the gaps and solidifying into the very Web itself. The energy flowed through Ronan. It flowed and flowed.

As the line of Webbing seemed to complete in on itself, the sounds of life dimmed to a whisper. In their place, a constant screech filled Ronan's head. It was painful, stabbing into his mind, and his hands clawed at his temple gripping and grasping. He stumbled away, brow furrowed, following the line of silver light to reclaim his body. It was hard going, even the very space around him seemingly throwing resistance at him. Thick, cloying air. And the screech. So constant, and so piercing. It wailed, drilling into the deepest recesses of his mind.

He fell once, and picked himself up again, closing in on his body. He turned vaguely, seeing the Web completed. Had he done that? Confusion washed over him again. But he had to get to his body. The sound threatened to drown every other thought and feeling out. Finally, he grabbed his flesh, spirit sinking into the familiar warmth of mortality. But as he arrived back in the physical plane, the screech cut off suddenly, and he could do nothing but fall backwards. Settling into the grass, he lost consciousness, a veil of darkness drawn over him like a grotesque blanket.

Tairell walked over to him, wet nose nudging him. He rolled over but did not awaken. She whinnied, before looking up and around at the grass. She would just stand over and watch him until he awakened. She could see the shallow breaths of his chest, and so he still lived. All she could do was wait.

[Ronan]

Ronan was unsure of how much time had passed. He blinked awake to find it was still light, and Tairell's wet nose rubbed across his cheeks. As he sat up, he realised he had a splitting headache. The memories returned briefly after.

He had... he had restored a part of the Web. But in doing so, he had gone way beyond his current skill levels. On that plane, it seemed he was in a trance state, not always fully in control of his actions. But he had done it. He remembered the light.

He was lucky not to be dead though. He had pushed his abilities too many times, he realised. His head hurt, and he knew not how long he had been blacked out for. He climbed up, stretching, and looked to the sun. It had slid down the blue cascade of sky since he last remembered viewing it. He could have been out for several bells at least.

"I need to stop frightening you like this," he said to Tairell, words floating in soft Pavi, "I'm lucky to have you indeed."

She seemed to smile at that. He climbed back into the yvas, giving himself a quick shake off of grass before doing so. As they began to ride once again, the full scale of this situation hit him. The amount of energy he had used just to repair that small section of Web... and yet hundreds - thousands - of threads lay broken and damaged across the region. The storm had taken its toll on the men of the Drykas, many had been out hunting. And now there were only a handful of adept Webbers left. It would take time and great effort to even begin to restore the ruin that had been caused. It was an enormous task. Ronan felt like he could be swallowed up by its entirety.

"I wonder if things will ever return to normal," he mused. He spoke to no one in particular, though Tairell's ears stuck up as if she had taken in the words. "Or have they changed beyond repair now? This is what the future looks like. Our people, scrambling to survive amongst the wreckage of our past..."

His words trailed off into silence. Only the faint rustle of grass filled the air, shaken by an intensifying breeze. Still Tairell ran. Ronan ran fingers across his face and up into his hair, grinding against stubble which he needed to shave, and hair he needed to cut. He felt tired again. Drained and tired.

And Endrykas was too far away for his liking. Days and days of riding and seeing nothing but grass. It was the Drykas landscape, yes, but he had seen enough. It was enough to drive him stir crazy. As they continued, he tried to think on what else he could do. Something constructive, but also something that wasn't going to kill him.

It seemed the land had other ideas though, as Tairell snorted in warning, and something moved through the grass. Glassbeak? Zith? Ronan made an instant prayer to Semele and fumbled for his shortbow and an arrow. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good.

[Ronan]

His shortbow was ready, arrows he had encased in earth via his reimancy ready to fire. Something stirred, and Tairell circled uneasily. Her ears were stuck up, listening for whatever predator now stalked them. Clearly she had not forgotten the Zith attack.

His eyes watched the grass, hoping whatever it was would catch in the sunlight. But he had no forewarning. He nudged Tairell back a little. His hands clasped the bow and arrow tighter, ready to fire at a moments notice. The sound... could it be?

Something lashed at Tairell's feet and she kicked outwards. The shape moved so fast, and Ronan could not fire for fear of hitting his strider. He wheeled her around again, and she screamed. The thing rushed back into the grass before he could get an eye on it. He thought he knew what attacked them though. A Velispar. Probably a hatchling. They were rare, but seen every so often by the Drykas. And the hatchlings were deadly too, hell bent on killing. It was a wonder the Drykas lived among so many murderous threats. He could only hope the hatchling was alone and there was no nest nearby.

He remembered the Velispar that Semele had spoken through - but this was not the same. Not the same at all. It was feral, all the wilderness and hunger driving it to attack. It turned in the grass, headed back for them. It was a job to keep Tairell calm while holding the bow. She reared up again, planning to stamp down on the thing. It was too quick though. It rounded to come from a different angle. Heart racing, Ronan was forced to take the chance. The arrow missed though, the thing scowling and lunging at one of her back feet.

He moved her again, Tairell almost dancing to keep out of the way. Her head reared round, snorting and whinnying. He readied another arrow, and kept up the dance to make a little room to fire again. He breathed deeply, beginning to see the thing for what it was. Serpentine, all teeth and stunted. He didn't deeply want to kill the thing, but it was kill or be killed. He released his second earth arrow, aiming true.

The Velispar moved again, but he just caught its side, the arrow bringing the creature to a sudden and abrupt halt. Ronan reined in his breath, managing to bring Tairell to a stop of sorts. The horse was panting too, teeth bared ridiculously, and she looked round frantically for her attacker.

"It's alright," he said slowly, "it's gone now."

He turned back in his yvas. The thing writhed, probably a post-death response. The hardy arrow had pierced its side and by the looks of the amount of blood, some organs in the process. The crimson river pumped out like a jet, and he touched a hand to his heart, whispering a silent prayer to Semele. An apology of sorts, though she would not need one. The Drykas were attacked on all sides, and if they did not defend themselves they would surely fade from existence.

A life to save a life. Fight or flight. Kill or be killed. There was really no choice when it came down to it. The quiet gargle began to peter out as the velispar seemed to run out of blood to loose. He dismounted and walked near it gingerly, stupidly expecting it to burst back to life. But it didn't. The writhing stopped, and it lay as still as a stone. He pulled the arrow out, the flesh giving way after a tug. He held the bolt downward, allowing the blood to run free and into the land.

Had the Grass gotten more dangerous recently? It certainly felt that way, having faced nearly every threat the wilderness could throw at him this season. Drykas needed to travel in groups he thought. Traversing with so much of the Web in tatters was dangerous. His head still pounded from the Webbing, becoming more evident as the adrenaline from the fight faded.

He put the arrows back in the saddlebag, along with the bow, and gave the grass another quick scout. He feared more hatchlings, but he had been lucky with the lone Zith, perhaps he'd be lucky with a lone velispar again. Nothing stirred, except the wind. He climbed onto Tairell, falling forward in the yvas so as to embrace her fully. He kissed her neck and took in her scent. Fear still filled her presence, though it was fading with Ronan's hold.

Then his foot came gently to her side to get her moving again. The sooner he got back to Endrykas, the better, but he feared what other dangers he would face along the way - and worst of all, he feared what awaited him in the tent city.

The pox.

All it had ravaged would come to light. He could only pray the Sunsingers had been left unscathed.

[Jackalope]

Ronan

Award

Skill	XP Earned	Lore Earned
Webbing	+2	Feeling the Effects of the Djed Storm
Riding	+1	Pushing Your Limits
Observation	+1	Velispar: Dangerous Even When Young
Weapon: Shortbow	+1	Thinking On the Drykas Plight
Philosophy	+1

Witty Remark Here

Qutie a bit happened in a short thread. Good stuff. The thread is old, so I won't toss any overgiving/injuries from the Web usage, but you would have had some nasty headaches! Keep up the great work. Good to have you back, Ronan. If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.