Quest Restoring the Web (Team 2)

[Jackalope]

The boy looked up through teary eyes, listening to the two mean speak words of encouragement, words of hope. He reached up and wiped his eyes before responding to their inquiry. "I'm Ghiri Silverhood. My father is Larin Silverhood." The Silverhood pavilion was from the Diamond Clan, with a reputation for bringing dependable, if unspectacular, warriors into the travelling city's ranks. Ghiri nodded, trying to put on a brave face for the adults before him. "I'm gonna get bonded and then I'll go out and rescue everyone when this happens," he declared. Given his bloodline, anything beyond a bonding was unlikely, but he was only emboldened by the encouraging words of the group. The boy nodded in agreement with Solicah's decision to cut his hair. "I wanna help," he said, clearly happy to be able to aid in the finding of his father. The words of Solicah and Sama'el had visibly calmed the child, as he watched the gathering of the team occur. "My dad always said if you trust your strider, then nothing that isn't supposed to happen will. You will all be safe." It was a rehearsed statement of sorts, but the boy lingered for only a moment longer before turning to go, as Solicah had requested. With the child taken care of and a possible link to his father obtained, time was only wasting away. Each chime which passed lessened the chance of finding the missing team alive, and those were chimes which couldn't be afforded. A gentle breeze had started to pick up as the sun came into view, blowing in the direction they had been tasked to explore. With the winds like a blessing from Zulrav, it was time to put hooves to the grass and ride.

[Solicah]

Solicah took a deep breath as the boy took off, cleaning his mind of the boy's fear. Now was time for focus.

He gave a sure look to Sama'el, who was to be the leader. The Drykas had a certain baring about him, for which Solicah could agree, and his words were strong yet caring. He spoke of himself though, not the group, when he made his promises. He seemed a man of glory to Solicah, and that could win him the title of ankal but Pavilions did not survive off ankal alone. He must teach his Pavilion to be strong, make each a hero and even be willing to rise them above himself. Could he do this?

Solicah gave a smile to the man, only time could tell, till he proved otherwise Solicah would treat him with the respect his station demanded. This decided, he turned to the women with a flash of teeth from grinning mouth, "Solicah Moondirge," he lightly introduced himself to the two strangers then winked.

"Lets go find these men and women." His hands searched his yvas taking hold of two wide woven straps then looping them over his legs and around his waste, effectively securing himself to Aureunna's back. It was a useful system for assuring any sojourn onto the web would not be met with an unfortunate fall from one's strider. Once secured he held the woven tuft of hair to his chest, took a deep breath and with an exhale recited, "Larin Silverhood," letting the name wash away in the breeze.

Then, without warning his eyes filled with a shallow blue mist, and they fell half lidded, then finally closed as Aureunna stood vigilant beneath him. He felt the familiar tingling of his body releasing as his awareness fell out of his form, leaving all confines behind. He felt the exhilarating sensation of freedom stretching out in all direction, endless with possibility. The pain of the human form now removed, his spirit smiled at the weightlessness.

With a quick glance he searched those around him for tethers, Sama'el had several wrapped expertly around him. Solicah was impressed at their quality, much superior to his own weavings, but what truly shocked him was Ronan's body, glowing softly with possibility. He had been initiated, something wonderful filled Solicah upon noticing this, glowing in his invisible way at the sight. Ronan too could now understand the bliss which was Webbing. As for the group, he was gladdened by the thought that they could all three depend on one another to carry out their blessed mission.

"Larin Silverhood" He spoke again, not waiting to see if the other two would slip onto the web with him, knowing that Aureunna would keep all together, she understood Solicah even when he slipped from his body. She could not weave, but the magic between them seemed somehow more profound even than webbing, some days she was the only reason he came back.

He reached down into the strands of severed hair held close to his chest, and pulled the boy's essence out with ease. It sprawled around him in an array of many hues and textures. He whispered the name again and again searching for the boy's father, searching the deep red blood ties that connected the boy to his parents. His mother was simple to find, she too was a Webber, and held the boy and even his severed hair close with a thick and deliberate strand, but alas she was needed at the Pavilion no doubt and could not use her connection to her husband to find him. Brushing the strands to the child's mother aside he searched deeper, astral fingertips caressing strands of the boy's djed.

Finally, a strand sang out with an ethereal glow and waver of sound as he came in contact with it, mimicking back the essence of "Larin Silverhood" embedded in the boy. "Father" it sang with power. Solicah pulled on the strand, careful not to break it's delicate nature being from a broken shard of the boy himself. He thought this tasking may be beyond his skill, but he would try anyway.

Extracting a tiny strand of his own djed he began the fast work, folding the strand in on itself twisting in and out in a practiced manner. The weave was simple, a vibrant glowing knot of pure sky blue, Solicah's signature. He tied the mark into the fibers of hair, sinking his own essence in. It wouldn't be potent, but simple was sturdy.

Again brushing the other strands aside he took the loose wisp of djed representing the boy's father and let it sink into the middle of his weave. He left the end of the wisp untouched, afraid to lose it, but tightly twisted the base together, tasking it simply with drawing toward itself, seeking Larin Silverhood.

Expectedly the wisp tossed and turned like a horse's misdirected tail in the winds of the webbed realm, overpowered by the strong laylines set beneath them. Such a simple tasking would do no good till they found themselves in a less predestined area, an area void of many laylines. Or, at least, till they were closer to the man. Still, Solicah would feed it some more djed later that night, and it could just prove to be a useful tool later.

For then, they must use the information already set down before them. Solicah looked out over the roads of webbing set before them. To a laymen the sight would seem lush and full of powerful light, to Solicah it seemed sparse and scattered. He knew what the plains were like to behold before the storm, the souls that traveled it, the stories tucked under every rock, flowing through ever blade of grass. Beauty they would work to rebuild even if it killed them all.

He stepped out onto the widest road he could see, the sensation reminiscent of bare feet touching fine warm silk. He gave a final look to his body, to his companions, offering a hand to those that had joined him on the web, all before glinting along the highway of woven threads, folding himself into the strands of preserved information.

Each man and women who touched the web left their mark, left part of their essence, their heart there for the next Webber to see. Larin Silverhood and his group were no different. His essence may not be there as a Webber himself, but searching for the last contributors to the webbing out near the fringes certainly seemed a good lead. Even if the riders hadn't intentionally worked their webbing the striders would leave a glowing trail of warmth and love.

He let the information run over him like a refreshing stream, and waited for something to come so that they might know where last their predecessors had tread upon the web. This would save them from wandering aimlessly or tracking hoof prints buried within the concealing grasses.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el watched the boy go, too, glad that he seemed somewhat mollified by their deflection of his request to go with them. He knew that their search would be a group effort, but he could not make promises for other people, even if two of them were his apprentices. He nodded to Solicah, offering him a friendly, determined smile. "Sama'el Sunsinger," he replied. Solicah knew Ronan, but Sama'el waited until they had all made each other's acquaintance before mounting Bigarren. He sat the stallion with practiced ease. But Solicah had plans, it seemed, and so he waited patiently. He could watch the work without leaving his body, but could not act upon the Web while wearing his flesh. He paid close attention to Solicah's style, always happy to learn some new trick that either hadn't been taught to him or hadn't come to him naturally. For Mealla's benefit, he said, "He's trying to use the hair to track Larin Silverhood. If the Web isn't too damaged... perhaps we'll have a direction to start our search." Once they got far enough away from Endrykas, whose Webs were thicker and more quickly repaired for the profusion of Ankals, perhaps he would walk the Web without so many distractions, thinking he might travel farther than the others without overextending himself. Whatever it took to complete the mission, though. Ghiri Silverhood ought not grow up without his father.

[Ronan]

Ronan watched the boy named Ghiri. There was a lot of spirit for someone so young, and it would be an honour to try and reunite him with his family. So many were torn apart in the grasses, rejoining some would make up somewhat for that. He saw Solicah's plan unfold. The man seemed to droop as his mind shifted to the astral plane. It was there he began to track. Ronan wondered if the boy - the man - would notice he himself could now Web. It was something that had divided them so long ago, in the sadness of loss. Sama'el explained to Mealla what he was doing, and even the Ankal was seemingly impressed by the Moondirge's initiative. He had always been a resourceful Drykas. It was a trait worth its weight in Mizas among the glassbeaks and Zith of their home plains. When Solicah returned, it seemed all eyes were upon him, waiting for some sort of guidance. All stood at the ready by their steeds. Once they knew the direction, the striders would carry them effortlessly, gliding through the grasses. There was a lot at stake. The integrity of the Web had been so paramount for a long while, and now its weavers were in danger. It was a chain of events that Ronan was keen to put a stop to. He rested a hand on a stirrup, waiting for the signal to climb up and head off. There was much to do.

[Mealla Stormsong]

At Sama’el’s words, Mealla wanted to say that she knew what the man was doing, that she wasn’t completely ignorant to the ways of the Web, and that it was, in fact, pretty obvious, and that even an idiot observing would be able to understand, but somehow she managed to bite her lip and say nothing, simply nodding instead with what she hoped was a quick, grateful smile. She was still too nervous, too excited, for there to be an argument, and if she was going to have spend the majority of her time with thrm, then it was better to be pleasant. She could be pleasant. In fact, she was determined to pleasant, because, at the end of the day, the welfare of the Web, of Endrykas and the Sea of Grass came before her own conflicted, ever-pressing feelings. Even she could understand that. Home came first. Before everything. The Drykas had to survive. A breeze picked up, and she let out a small sigh of relief, always reassured and comforted by the thought that Zulrav was not too far away. She reached out to them, to the breezes, with her gnosis, listening out for their whisperings, hoping that this time they would choose to speak to her, but there was nothing, no sign, no indication, that anything was amiss. They seemed happy, content, and for a moment she wondered if she should not try harder, because surely they should be reflecting the distress of those missing? But they weren’t human. They did not care for human things. For human emotions. She tore herself away from them reluctantly and snapped back to the present, pushing her hair behind her ears with one hand, whilst the other rested with ease on the yvas. And still she said nothing, waiting for the command to leave.

[Jackalope]

The information came to Solicah in disjointed waves he joined to the mangled web in search of Silverhood. Larin Silverhood. Brave Drykas. Hardy warrior. Webber. Hundreds. Thousands. Over ten thousand. All had crossed these lay lines, creating a mess of a tangle weave that was already more than a mess of its own. The power he held in webbing was simply not enough to pick it out of the intricate lines. Yet when the focus was changed, things would begin to come clearer, at least in a relative sense. A simpler task was to find where one had walked, rather than where they were. Where had Larin Silverhood walked? Where had that team gone before a sudden disappearance? Solicah was unable to determine if they had disappeared at the location he could detect them because it was at the edge of his detectable range. He could, however, see that the lines he detected were only a handful of days old, strongly indicating it was indeed the path of the missing team. They had traveled at least 500 miles away from the moving city in their efforts to expand the life preserving web. The strand of webbing would suddenly end though, requiring the group to move further in order to get another picture of where they were, but at least it was somewhere they could start. Mealla's reaching out to breeze indeed offered no information of the whereabouts of the Silverhood man, nor of the rest of the group. The individual Drykas were of no concern, no note, and in the grand scheme of things, their importance was truly minuscule. Yet there was one thing for which the God of Storms cared. The wind. Zulrav's sweet whispers told her one thing for sure. These breezes were only a precursor. The winds would grow stronger, and his Stormwardens could take joy in his strength. Mealla could tell the mood of this winds was playful, though just what that would mean was unclear.

[Solicah]

It seemed tempting to linger, to search for more answers. He knew if he just reached further into the ebbing lights he could procure more information, their health, their speed of travel. But, no, with reluctance he returned to his body, knowing that each moment on the web was a moment their physical bodies could be drawing father away from life itself.

Prickling sensations ran throughout each muscle as his blood circulated again at a normal rate, a throbbing sensation near the back of his skull blaring at the physical light all around him, all the colors suddenly seeming muted and dull in comparison to the web rich hued of the webbing.

With a shake of his head, golden curls tossing back and forth he looked to the group one at a time. None had moved, he was where he left himself. He preferred it that way, the transition back into his body would be easier that way.

"Northwest," he finally closed his eyes and started reporting, letting his mind settle. "They were repairing lines for migration in spring, and trying to reach the Pavillions still wondering the center plains. They've gone far, but if we ride with haste we could close on them in several days." His eyes slid open and he looked at Ronan with a slight crease in his brow against the extension he felt. With, forced a soft smile.

"Last I could tell the whole company was fine, and that was only a few days ago." Solicah knew in the Grassland a single bell could determine the difference between life and death, but still, knowing that they had made it to their destination soothed him.

He put his hand to the back of his neck and squeezed hard against the throbbing, and tried to remain focused on there troupe. He would let Sama'el lead from there, he was spent at least till that evening. His second hand fell and patted a concerned Aureunna on her strong neck, then signed encouragements almost passively upon her neck.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

The Watchman considered offering his own talents, not knowing if he might reach farther, get more current whereabouts and health on them. But Solicah had a direction for them, and that would be good enough for now. If they were still several days ride away, then that was several days before such information might better serve them. Let them follow Solicah's trail for now; he would meditate before sleeping and upon waking, preparing himself for the possibility that he might be doing a lot of Web-walking in the coming days, as well as repairing what they found. "Well done," he said respectfully, careful his sincere approval might be taken for condescension. Despite the easing of tensions, Mealla still made him feel like he was walking on eggshells in a way nobody else had ever done, not even the dangerous daughter of Sunberth that had pinned him with a murder and then abetted his escape. "When you're ready." They could give him a few moments to steady himself. His body still tingled something fierce when he returned to it, and even ached as it had in the beginning if he was nearing overextension when his astral body returned to the physical. But when Solicah was ready, Sama'el would nudge Bigarren with his knees and send him shooting in a northwesterly direction like a speeding arrow. Ghiri's father was waiting for them, and Leto, a Sunsinger.

[Ronan]

Ronan climbed atop Tairell, and settled into the yvas. The Web could transmit a lot of information. At least they had a compass direction to follow for now, and he was sure by Sama'el's cowled looks that the Ankal would enter the Web himself later. He hoped Solicah's words were true - that the weavers were still safe from harm. But no one had heard a thing, and that seemed an unlikely, and fading hope right now. Anything could have happened to them out there. "I suggest we reenter the Web in shifts, and check what we can now and again. Perhaps you'd like to check again in several bells time brother, and then I will take my turn. If we don't, we might end up wildly veering off course." He patted Tairell down, until she whinnied quietly, a sign of latent satisfaction. She was ready to ride, and it seemed the presence of the other striders was making her all the more excited at the prospect. Horses had a sort of kinship among each other - much like humans he supposed. With that, they allowed Solicah a moment to regain his energy. Ronan was going to pass him a water bottle, but it seemed the funerary Drykas would deal himself refreshment. When they were ready, he gently pressed his foot against Tairell's side, willing her to start moving. It took only a moment before they passed through the Stalk Meet, and followed the informal road out of Endrykas, and into the grasses. Now they rode to Solicah's direction, hoping they could help with whatever lay at the other end of their journey.

[Mealla Stormsong]

Though the breezes had told her nothing, there was still something else behind them, and Mealla wondered if she should give some warning. Their focus would not simply be on finding the lost Webbers, for the Sea of Grass would not allow that. It was a hostile land, where the weather could turn against them, and where predators prowled. She had encountered said predators before and been lucky to survive, and for once she grateful to have others with her, though she took greater comfort from the weapons strapped to her yvas. But again she kept silent, not wanting to be seen as jumping at the slightest thing. If the winds changed, then she would speak, but only then, and for now she bit her tongue as she waited for them to leave, ever anxious. Andraste shifted beneath her, dancing on the spot and tossing her head, as impatient to be gone as her rider. Mealla dipped her head, trying to hide her jealousy and annoyance at not being able to touch the Web. If ever there was a time to feel useless, it was now. Oh, she could guard them, keep them safe, whilst they entered it, but that she did not give her the same sense of purposefulness and usefulness. She wanted to be able to pull her weight; to give as much she could. She wanted to be able to provide. Finally they moved, and she urged Andraste on, pushing aside her feeling and giving the mare her head, allowing her to follow after Tairell and pick her own pace. Her face was set with determination. She could do this.