A Whisper on the Winds

by **Keene Ward** on April 8th, 2015, 6:09 am

The twentieth day of spring, 515 AV

Keene stood staring down at the shields he had been weaving over the collection of days since Atziri had given him the task of warding off what creatures he find. Since they had spoken, Keene had frozen into place many more shields, and their numbers continued to grow daily. Part of the work - in fact a large part of it - had become "digging" through the various layers to ensure everything was holding up correctly. While daily maintenance wasn't necessary to keep the shields functioning, it certainly helped Keene to get a better handle on the nature of his shields in general. As he worked his way through the most recent layer in which he'd included the djed of a Noktal's feather, Keene examined the flow of his shield's "weave" as Atziri had called it when he'd asked her about the strange patterns a few days before. She had explained that each shielder had a different signature, a different style of shielding that presented itself most often in both the color and the structure. While Keene's visualization and projection was that of a freezing cloud of frost coating its target in ice, Atziri had added that "weave" was a relative term to generally refer to the subjective expressions in a shielder's work.

Similar to glyphing, once one was able to study a shield for any amount of time, the "weaves" quickly changed from interesting designs to a language describing the task and shield itself. Keene could see where his patches had been placed, the overall flow of the weave interrupted where the patch had been added. As he had begun to be able to read his own shields better, Keene had found that patching them had become much easier. Finding a section where the shield had failed to fully form, Keene let his djed shift, the sparkling crystals of his soul given form drifting around the already formed structures. Rather than task the bits and pieces again, Keene fed them the information that he read off of the sightly black shaded shield. He had found that this was a different way he could task the djed, and something that was convenient especially as he no longer had the materials from which the original djed had been taken.

This tactic wasn't something that could be used to create an entirely new shield, but it seemed a way to stretch the preexisting djed the shield was tasked against to better, and more seamlessly mend the holes and tears in the overall structure. As he worked, Keene pressed the djed down, working mostly through will and the occasional soft gesture here and there where finesse was required. As he worked, Keene paid close attention to the shield's weave, working in the new djed with a careful, meticulous care to maintain what rhythm and flow he could. The closer a patch was to the rest of the shield, the stronger it performed.

Easing back, Keene let the crystals bond together, the gentle sweep of the shield's arcing, almost floral lattice of the ice mostly intact save a few areas where there was simply too much going on for Keene to correctly bond the new djed to the old. Nodding, Keene took a chime to let his eyes close. It took a lot of effort to stare at the gentle shimmer of his shields, especially when they were all just layered one over the over like some strange sort of onion. And, just like an onion, when he held his eyes to them for too long, he needed a break.

Easing himself back onto the ground, Keene sat down, arms propped on his knees as he gave his eyes a rest. There was a gentle breeze that passed along the heat of the day, tousling his hair with playful touch that Keene absentmindedly returned with a small bat of his hand. The wind seemed to enjoy that, picking up its intensity into a little flurry that danced around him. Even since he'd been marked by Zulrav, Keene had found the winds to not only be living, breathable creatures, but that most had taken a liking to him - though, Keene viewed it more as the breezes targeting him specifically for shenanigans that only he would really notice. At first, it had been a nuisance. Some of the more mischievous winds (and this was still relatively regular occurrence) found it entertaining to carry about his cloths and deposit there where ever they saw fight.

Yet, with all things in time, Keene had grown used to the constant company of the whispering breath of the skies, the ever present lugubrious nature of Sahova's more calm and lasting residents. The most peaceful of them congregated in the valleys, hanging low over the scrub-land, enjoying the moment in which they existed and little else. Keene's current companion, however, was much more lively than most. It tugged at his clothing, ticking his nose with its incessant pleas for motion more than his sedentary position so firmly staked out upon the ground. The winds were not like people; most of them were transient, a passing rush of excitement or a howling gust of loneliness. When they interacted with him, it was usually because something about the young man had provided enough interest for them to do so, and as many of his ethereal acquaintances could still be found about the various areas he frequented, Keene imagined it prudent to at the very least acknowledge the blustery newcomer.

by **Keene Ward** on April 8th, 2015, 9:25 am

Rising to his feet, much to the glee of the winds, Keene let his eyes open once more, gazing in the direction the invisible force seemed most centered. It rippled through the air before swirling about him, drawing him down towards the valley below. Flicking his gaze from the journey posited to the task at hand, Keene slipped the tooth back into his pocket in favor of following the wind's lead. There were several bell's worth of light left, and the creature he'd taken the incisor from had been, as many of those he'd already added, a beast warped by magic to the point where it was, most likely, the only thing so unfortunate enough as to have become whatever the end result was. Even if there were more of them, Keene wasn't very concerned. The creature had been pathetically weak, little more than a struggling life that had - out of some miracle or curse - managed to find its way into the mountain's valley. It had not lasted long.

Falling into a steady pace of descent, Keene took his time maneuvering down the slope as the wind darted ahead only to twist back on itself to double back and make a few, excited twirls before rushing off again. The pair continued on for a good distance, several of the more indolent wisps of sleepy winds perked up slightly as they passed, but they remained where they were, content to lazily drift only their way. When they arrived, it was singled by a gust as the wind whipped around him, pressing against him to halt his step less by force and more by the sudden change in its temperament - excited to frustrated, until Keene halted his advance. Pleased, the winds settled some, drifting around his legs as it seemed to wait for something.

Keene, seeing nothing of immediate interest in his cursory sweep of the area, let his attentions roam, further seeking anything out of the ordinary that might give a breeze such cause to bring him to a specific spot. There were several trees around the area, mostly twisted junipers who's gnarled forms broke up the monotony of the landscape in their aged way. Directly in front of him was little more than the scrubby grasses native to the island's ecosystem. The land was certainly uneven, but as far as Keene could tell, most of the land on the island was, if not a little bit, uneven. The more he looked, however, the more he realized that wasn't quite the case. The ground around him, for whatever reason, was sloped, certainly, but it was smooth beneath the tufts of grass and dust. Before him, however, there was a decided change. Stooping down, Keene felt the shiver of anticipation in the wind's subtle way it pressed itself against him, as if it were seeking some sort of solace or protection.

Frowning, Keene proceeded to investigate further. His companion thus far hung back, its nervousness twisting up a small drift of dust as Keene pressed his hands into the ground, finding it something he could easily dig into. The ground outside of the affected area, however, was solid and packed. It didn't require any more prodding for Keene to come to the conclusion that something was buried beneath the earth. Pausing, he glanced back towards the almost visible breeze that had knocked about the dust ticks before to settle on a more steady, apprehensive sway. Though he had never been sure if the winds could understand words, Keene found the situation warranted, at the very least, a cautionary question. His voice sounded unreasonably loud in the otherwise quiet of the island's hush, in spite of the fact he spoke at little more than a whisper. "Do you want me to dig whatever is down there up?" He paused, watching the thing he couldn't quite see, "Or are you warning me to leave it be?"

The problem was that neither could conversationally communicate with the other, and both possibilities were just as likely. Holding true to Keene's expectations, the breeze hesitated for a tick before continuing its sway. Frowning once more, Keene left the thing to its own devices, fully aware that its job was, for the time being, finished until he made his own decision. Digging whatever it was up was something he calculated would take the better part of a bell. If there was something terribly dangerous hidden beneath the well concealed disturbance of earth, Keene wasn't prepared for it. There was no way to do so either. If the danger was something kin to an explosive rune hidden in the depths of the dirt, no amount of reimancy could keep him safe, and he doubted a quickly thrown together shield would do much in the way of protection either.

If it were something useful, however, Keene was loathe to pass it up. The point of his stay on the island had been to not only grow stronger but to gain knowledge that was otherwise withheld from him. If there was something more to be learned that was buried in a remote section of the island within the realm of his responsibilities as an initiate of the Wardens, Keene wanted to know what it was. The conflict was certainly nothing that he couldn't handle, but it didn't make the decision any easier. The winds - for another passing breeze had been attracted by the first - were of little assistance. One was simply a transitory curiosity while the other maintain its nervous swivel.

Deciding to prepare as best he could, his decision more or less made, Keene took a deep, slow breath. It was less out of necessity and more habit, as his time training with Atziri had made tapping into his djed on whim to produce either res or to draw the djed out itself a relatively quick process. The djed separated from him, drifting to the ground below as he willed it to draw up the earth, to become that earth so that it could both absorb and deflect it. It took several chimes before Keene was confident it had tasked correctly before he adjusted the haze around him, solidifying the shield in a practiced manner, leaving little to no imperfections in the smooth, twisting blooms of the barrier's icy weave. Testing it, Keene pressed his hand against the dirt, a dull flash that allow the grass to touch his skin but not the dirt beneath it proved a satisfactory indication it had worked. Taking no chances, Keene let res begin to drift from his mouth, the small drain steady but constant, as he began to dig. Behind him, the breeze began to pick up speed once more, though it remained where it was.

by **Keene Ward** on April 8th, 2015, 11:04 am

The sensation of digging without feeling the dirt on his hands save for the occasion rock or stone was similar to wearing gloves, only he couldn't feel anything but the stones that brushed against his skin. While his right hand was accustomed to such a lack of information, Keene found it both strange and unnecessarily difficult for him navigate the odd, sporadic sensations. Removing yet another rock, Keene set it in front of him, djed sloughing off of him to hover around the stone, the minuscule crystals knocking against each other at the djed contained within and around the pebble. He pulled the cloud up and around him, layering it over the shield tasked against the dirt to add stone to his resilience. Making sure to check the areas that were prone to weakness both as he solidified the frosty coat as well as afterward - especially around his fingers - Keene set back to the now much more constant sensationless work of digging.

As he worked and the pile of dirt behind him began to grow, the wind began to pick up, dust bouncing against the shield that kept it at bay, the flashes little more than slight glimmers. There was anticipation in the air, but it didn't seem to be the sort that intoned danger, merely an expectation, similar to what one might experience when holding one's breath. Though the dirt was indeed easier to dig through than that of its neighbors on either side, it didn't make the process a quick one. Sweat began to drip from his brow the longer Keene continued. The hole grew deeper and deeper with each chime, sometimes remaining steady at a single depth as Keene worked to widen it. His plan to keep res out at the ready had been short lived, as he found it was far too much of a waste to be worth the extra tick of readiness.

By the time his fingers finally felt something, Keene's arms and back ached, and his legs had begun to cramp. Immediately noticing the alteration of sensation, however, Keene felt a surge of curiosity revitalize his weary body. The breeze that had brought him there seemed to pick up on the change, whipping itself up into a nervous gust that seemed to pace back and fourth behind him. With a slightly slowed caution, Keene began to dig away at the dirt that obscured whatever prize he sought. When he realized what he had found, however, he stopped, staring down with a steady frown at what stared back at him.

There, within what Keene realized was a grave, lay the pale ivory of what was most certainly a skull. He glanced behind him as the breeze drifted forward, sinking down into the pit and back again, bringing with it the earthy scent of a body long since decomposed. There was a sombre nature to the wind then as it hung about the grave, and Keene wondered if the ethereal being had known the collection of bones when it had been alive. It seemed unlikely. While he was no archaeologist, the bones were not those of a recent death. Whether seasons or years, the individual beneath the earth had been dead for good while. If the winds had indeed known the deceased, Keene found himself reconsidering his current understanding of the breezes. He had imagined them to be fleeting, short-lived creatures, but the manner in with the specific breeze lingered certainly seemed to indicate otherwise. There was a familiarity there, something weary and old. He had misjudged it, and while there was no true repercussion for the mistake, Keene took his blunder into account. Not all lightly dancing breezes were children.

With steady hands at a steady pace, Keene continued his mission. Dirt piled in wide mounds as Keene excavated the remains, light beginning to tinge the overcast skies with a soft, yellow-gold hue that signaled night would be falling in little more than a bell's time. It had taken him much longer to dig up the bones than he had thought. Fortunately, the grave had been a relatively shallow one, posing a challenge but not one that could not be overcome with simple tenacity. There were bits of cloth and leather where Keene imagined the clothes had been, and as he leaned back, pulling his arms up and over his head to give a much needed stretch to the weary muscles of his back, Keene noticed something else among the ruddy dirt and bones. The breeze seemed to discover the oddly colored gem as well, swooping down in a brief gust to settle around it, swaying gently back and fourth.

Leaning forward, Keene peered down at the stone, a pensive frown on his face. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before: a jewel that held no shine, a shell of what might have been a shimmering spirit. There was an emptiness to it, a deep set hollowness, that Keene found inexplicably sad. It was an objective sadness, if that were even possible. He, himself, did not feel the strange depression of the stone, but the wind did. It hovered about the gem, a soft, aching familiarity. Whatever it was, Keene figured that the stone was what the breeze had wanted him to find.

by **Keene Ward** on April 9th, 2015, 9:11 am

Keene scraped away more of the dirt from where the gemstone lay buried until he was able to finally remove it after the several bells he'd spent excavating. The prize was of a comparatively minuscule size when held in respect to the hole Keene had dug, but in his hand it filled his palm comfortably, polished, worn sides smooth and cold against his skin. The wind seemed to settle then, drifting over the ground in a steady, rolling circuit. Gazing down at the stark, ivory pallor of the bones he had unearthed, Keene's frown hung pensive on his features. He still wasn't sure what the breeze's purpose had been. Though he had taken the stone into his possession, the breeze seemed as though it wished to linger with the long dead body of the one he had essentially robbed. He supposed that winds had their own set of reasonings, if even that, and while he found it marginally frustrating that he didn't understand, that only lasted for a few ticks before his attention was drawn back to the strangely dead jewel that sat so heavy in his hand.

It was a solid black, almost as dark as the void he had seen in his judgment that still revolved in his mind with a crystalline clarity. The rock felt dead, like a stone corpse of some greater being that had fallen right alongside the one who had carried it, casting away what light it might have held to leave it in its sorry state as Keene found it. There was no way for him to determine what sort of gem or crystal it was out in the wilderness with no frame of reference or prior knowledge. He had read books on rocks and rock formations, but he'd never bothered to memorize the various gems, as they had (save for a handful of them) seemed mostly cosmetic in nature. The stone in his hand, however, seemed as though it had - at one time - had purpose, only it had been lost to time. Pocketing the fruit of his labor, Keene let his attention fall back onto the murmuring quiver of the breeze before him. He spoke, words meant more for himself than anything else as they softly filled the silence around him. "I'm leaving now. Thank you for your help."

There was no response, and Keene did not expect one. Instead, he turned and began the trek back towards the cave. He had wasted enough time to retrieve the oddly darkened rock, and he preferred to finish his shielding work before the light ran out if he could. It wasn't that he couldn't work in the dark - he had the resources for it - rather nightfall was better spent expanding his slowly growing vocabulary of glyphs. During the day, there were far too many things that required both light and open spaces to get done that it was impractical for him to practice the form of magical writing on anything other than his body. While Master Rayage had suggested that be the place for him to start, Keene had chose instead to start even more basic and to devise a set of runes to serve as a rough lexicon. The more practical applications would come later.

Continuing up a slope, Keene felt a rush of air surround him, a happy, almost wistful sensation to it. It seemed the invisible companion had returned to him, whether in thanks or some other emotion, Keene couldn't determine. He greeted it with a nod as it ruffled his hair before darting off ahead of him, much as it had done before, only to drift back on a lazy breeze before repeating the process. Having little reason to keep his shields, Keene dismantled them as he went along his way. The icy tendrils that wrapped and curled about each other to form the opalescent barriers were slowly split apart, drifting back into the hazy cloud of djed that gradually fed back into his body, settling into his hands as they steadily and methoidcally moved over the more centered areas of the shields, breaking apart the points at which the shield was strongest and allowing the rest to crumble back into the djed it had been cast from.

He had found that shields were different than res in their manner of "decay". A tasked shield that was focused only on the repulsion of djed itself was able to be broken down back into its little pieces and reconstituted relatively easily. Those shields which where tasked against a specific thing who's djed had been added to the weave were a bit more complicated. While they could taken apart like the less intricate weaves, parts of the djed were no longer compatible with his own. Thus, in that way, djed was lost in the exchange, leaving him slightly less for it in the long run. Still, a body shield wasn't quite the scope of those which he had been creating and maintaining on a daily basis. Even with some loss of material of essence, Keene still had plenty to finish the job that was expected of him.

As he crested the final rise, Keene raised a brow at the woman who turned to greet him with a small smile and nod of her head. It was rare for Atziri to ever return before nightfall if she returned at all. "Keene, what is this middle layer here?"

The breeze about him shuddered for a moment, stilling itself so that it could hover about his legs in an unobtrusive manner as he approached to inspect the specific shield she'd inquired about. The sun had begun to set, the overcast skies drifting farther and farther from the pallid grey towards a more solid, inky black, but there was plenty of subjective light generated by the wards that he sorted through, picking through the various shades of color until he came to a bluish, patchy bit of work that had been one of his earlier creations. He remembered the tasking well enough, however, and it only took a few ticks for him to turn to address his expectant master. "It was tasked against blood that I found on one of the juniper trees."

by **Keene Ward** on April 9th, 2015, 6:56 pm

With a small, conspiratory grin, Atziri held up a chunk of bark. Keene blinked at it, not sure what the relevancy of such a gesture was until it was slowly arcing through the air, a gentle spin tilting it ever so slightly as it made its peaceful journey towards the mouth of the cave. The point was illustrated the moment the shield flared, immediately altering the bark's trajectory by replacing its destination with the ground below. Blinking in a passive neutrality with a hint of irritation at the corners of his lips, Keene reapproached the shield, wind still softly clipping at his heels, kneeling down to retrieve the bark and to examine the shield in question once again. He pressed it against the barriers, resistence quite definitely something that had been tasked into what he'd thought had been a ward to deter whatever creature's blood had been on a piece of bark rather than the bark itself.

Rising and turning to face his master, Keene shook his head. "Or it was tasked against juniper." He frowned. "Why didn't it task against the blood?"

Atziri stared back, a curiosity playing in her voice as she replied. "Why do you think, Keene?"

His frown deepened, more so at himself than anything. Keene knew better than to just ask questions without thinking the situation through, but he was also a bit out of sorts from the lengthy hike and grave robbing of the earlier evening. Instead of dwelling on his blunder, Keene let his mind drift over the events that had transpired when he had frozen the shield into place. He had done as he did with most of his artifacts, releasing djed to chip away at his target and glean what it could from the foreign matter. In retrospect, however, Keene quickly realized where he'd made his mistake. "I was too general with my tasking."

"Oh?"

Keene nodded, voice slow, steady, and calm in the wake of his belated discovery. "I focused on the blocking aspect over what it was I wanted to block specifically." He glanced down at the chunk of useless wood before tossing it to the side. "I won't make that mistake again." After which Keene turned back to the shield he'd improperly tasked, slowly and methodically taking it apart with a series of well placed cracks until, eventually, it came loose and began to crumble back into the djed. It was a good test, however, as Keene was quick to realize that while he had broken it down into the most basic components, the vast majority of them were no longer compatible with his own. It seemed the longer a tasked shield was in existence, the more it took on a nature of its own. The dismantling, then, wasn't quite the waste he had thought. Once he had finished, he nodded to Atziri who simply raised a brow.

"Do you know why I want you to shield the cavern, Keene?"

He paused, mulling over the various reasons he could think of before replying, having already spoken without thinking once was more than enough for the season. "To facilitate my learning?" He raised a brow, interest flickering in his gaze. The task had a purpose, even if it seemed relatively, needlessly tedious; however the manner in which Atziri had asked her question, Keene imagined there was something more.

"Hm." It was the only response Keene got on the subject. The woman gave him a raise of her brows as she passed by but said nothing more before heading into their cavernous quarters, the sound of her boots fading with distance.

Keene frowned, watching after her and feeling as though he had just failed to pass a very simple test. The wind around his feet drifted back up around him, curiously licking against the slight wrinkled crease between his brows as he further contemplated what his master meant by her question and the meaning his answer had held beyond that which he intended. He came to many conclusions, but none of them seemed particularly swaying. Atziri was a mystery, something he had not seen until he had grown to realize that even while she there with him, training him, instructing him, she was never quite there. It was not necessarily a perceivable distance in tone or action. Often, she would smile or jest - things indicative of one who was comfortable in the presence of another, even if Keene only just barely understood the reasonings behind that. But there was something about her, something cryptic and cautious, that continually presented itself in small ways: in the manner she spoke to him some mornings, the way her eyes would linger on him from time to time, even the way in which they sparred, brief moments in which she seemed inexplicably sad.

Pulling out the tooth he had stored earlier, Keene let his mind drift from the conundrum that was his master and onto the task at hand. He let the djed move and wrap itself around the tooth, turning his focus not to task against the "thing" in his hand, but rather the entire creature that the djed represented. It was a slightly different feeling and approach, and the flecks of his own icy djed seemed far more responsive to their task than they had before, dipping and weaving through the tooth to gather up what information they could before being pulled back again and again. Keene kept his thoughts steady, all concerns with the shield proper removed for the time being, though there were times others crept their way into the edges of his conscious only to be promptly shoved away. When the djed shivered with a gentle, blackish glimmer, Keene began to apply it to the entrance, blanketing the cave face with the swirling mists, slowly and methodically maneuvering the tiny crystals into their proper spots found through intuition and a fluid, almost artistic logic.

As it solidified into place, Keene spent several chimes afterwards checking and rechecking the structure itself before testing the claw against it, slashing, pushing, and throwing it to make sure that the shield's integrity held. All the while, the wind danced around him, busying itself with a playful game of tug of war with another passing breeze that got swept up into the joviality, both forces relatively ignored by the young initiate as he made certain the shield was not only strong, but that it supported the purpose he had intended for it. The stone still sat heavy in his pocket, and as he stood back to absentmindedly bat away at the swirling gusts that tousled his hair and whipped merrily at his clothes, he withdrew it once more. The winds calmed then, the passing gust continuing its way down the mountain while Keene's seemingly loyal companion settled down into a slow, ambling breeze.

As the sun's light began to fade over the occluded horizon, taking with it the last vestiges of the reddened haze that filled the skies, leaving only a growing darkness, as if the gem itself had sealed away the sun. Whatever it was, Keene reasoned, it would be prudent to do some further investigation. Nodding the breeze that had accompanied him for far longer than any other, Keene bid it good night before heading into the cave, pensively appraising what he could of the gemstone in the pale, flickering light of the flame that bobbed at the side of his head at his behest.

by **Orin Fenix** on June 4th, 2015, 11:32 am

Keene Ward

Skills

Lores

Rewards/Consequences

One mysterious black stone

Notes :

Solo A Whisper on the Winds