Solo The Earth is the Earth

[Ronan]

Timestamp: 18th of Fall

While the others ate and chatted quietly under the starlight, Ronan made his excuses and walked a little way away from the camp. He had vowed to himself to become stronger. He had relied too much on other people, and as an apprentice to the Watch he really had a long way to go in terms of his skills.

There was a deeper, more spiritual reason too. He glanced at his hand, and the stone that lay embedded there. The mark of Semele, Goddess of the Earth. She had spoken through the velispar, and warned of dark times. Times when warriors would be needed. The storm, and all its wild untamed wrath. That had been a taste, and he refused to think on anything darker than that.

He found a quiet spot. A prying bird came close, before bursting up into the sky and leaving, gliding briefly in full view of the moonlight. He watched it, before his thoughts turned inwards. He sat down, settling with his lower back against a firm rise in the ground.

He was going to practise his reimancy. Thus far, he hadn't even used it practically. He'd made a little sand here and there. A parlour trick, if anything. But he had to steel himself. His earth reimancy could be used as a weapon, simply, but also as a defence. It complimented his dagger skills well.

Ronan found himself smiling just a little. He hadn't considered himself a warrior until today - though he had been in fights before. He remembered his foray into the bandit camps. It felt so long ago now. Sam, with his scimitar, and Ronan fighting man-to-man with his brother's dagger.

It was the day of Darus' death soon, he thought suddenly, before pushing the intrusiveness of it away.

It was time to practise his reimancy, and improve his skills. He needed to see what else he could do. After all, sand wasn't going to be particularly useful in the heart of battle.

[Ronan]

Quietely, he whispered a prayer to Semele, so that some of her earthiness could come through and aid him in his practise. He spoke from the heart, the words not rehearsed.

Mother of the Earth, of the world beneath our feet, of the crystalline depths, shimmering and dancing in all their power, aid me in this training. Aid me in the use of your element - of your domain. Aid me with your grounding qualities, your sturdiness, your strength, your beauty and your splendour. Aid me, Mother Semele.

He breathed deeply, inhaling and exhaling, following his usual procedure before trying to use magic. The thoughts he had earlier couldn't exist. He had to be calm and clear of mind to cast the res from his hands. He found that sweet spot, the precarious balancing point where he could begin to push the djed from his body.

The energy flowed, and he felt it moving beneath his flesh. A part of him. A part of everything. The sensation was sweet, and he knew why so many mages had become so flawed throughout history. Some had caused destruction on a volatile scale. There was a desire to draw more power, to hold so much so that you could do anything with it. But doing so would probably kill Ronan, or at least drive him insane.

He hit a restraint, and began to move that small amount of djed towards his hands. He imagined the energy seeping through his pores, and thus it manifested into reality. A liquid that began to ooze and float out of his fingers. He began to pool it, head hurting a little as he focussed on moving it into one mass.

He thought on his prayer again. The words gave him strength as he began to imagine the earth beneath his feet. Solid. A rock hard foundation from which to build on. It was the ground that all life bloomed from, in its own beautiful florigenesis.

He began to mould the res into something more solid. Those small granules of sand at first, spilling through his fingers. But he had made sand often enough. It was time to take his skills up a notch.

He pushed the djed through his body again, manipulating it into more res, pooling again. This was not sand. This was cohesive, built of solid bonds. He began to sculpt it into something more sustainable.

Soon enough a rock floated above his hand. He let it go, dropping it to the ground with a nod and a self satisfied smile. This time, he'd do something more creative. He remembered building small sand castles with his reimancy, on the Sanctuary beach.

This time he'd build another castle, but of stone.

[Ronan]

Ronan began the task that lay ahead, Semele firmly at the forefront of his mind. He began to exude res again, following the technique he had just done, by pooling it together, and solidifying it.

This time it was not a random misshapen rock he wanted, but a tile to use as a castle wall. He began to visualise the edges, shifting and straightening, and forcing that to reality. The lumpy piece of earth began to melt into form. He had three straight edges but the final one was troublesome. It took some focus, and in the end he strained too hard and the piece of earth shattered.

It took him by surprise, and so he found himself gasping a little. He shook his head and began to try again. A small pain was kicking in to his temple, throbbing just a little in the background.

With a little practise, he shaped the next piece almost how he wanted it, so he took it and laid it gently down in the grass. He then began the process of making several other tiles. Trial and error became conformity, and his fifth piece was nigh on perfect. It was all about channeling and precision as the res began to shift in front of him.

Soon enough he had the pieces to assemble the lower walls. He stood them up and pushed them into a circle, before forming smaller pieces of res in his hands and melding them together to create the lower level of his castle.

A particularly virulent throb made him stop for now. He leaned back and took a sip of water, admiring his handiwork. It was small, but he was proud of what he'd achieved so far.

Next would be a turret.

[Ronan]

As he rested for a moment, he thought on what channeling the earth through his reimancy actually meant. It was strange. He was transmuting res, which came from his own body, into the element of choice. Was it truly earth if it had not been rent from the ground? But as he thought on it he realised the res came from djed. And djed came from him - and all things. The earth itself had its own djed. It was an odd circle, but it made sense when he considered it.

Feeling a little less light heated, he turned his attention back to his castle, expelling res from his fingers once again. The turret would be more difficult since it was not a flat piece. It was cylindrical, and suitably larger too. Thus, he began to pool and shape the res again, this time the process a whole lot more error than trial.

He had to start over three times after losing focus, but eventually the basic shape began to form. He worked his mind round the edges, smoothing the res as if it were some sort of paste. He even managed to work a window or two into the turret, poking with his minds eyes to craft a gap in the res work. It solidified into shape, and he placed it down on the ground proudly.

Like a child, Ronan began to assemble the castle. He placed the turret on top of the circle of slabs and began to pool res again, creating an earthen join to hold them together. Soon enough, he had a miniature castle, but he was more ambitious than simply this piece.

He began to replicate what he'd already done, first the slabs, smaller pools of res that he required less and less focus for, and then the turret which he tried to make even more perfect second time round. He crafted the windows more squarely, and even tried to mark in intricate brickwork with gentle nudges of res. It didn't always turn out smoothly, but he tried all the same.

Once he'd assembled a second miniature castle he began working on a new piece - a cloister to join them up and complete his twin turret castle. He had really gotten into the work, and though he felt an occasional pain in his head, he knew he wasn't pushing himself too far. It was fun, testing his skills and seeing what could truly be done with this power Sama'el and Semele had gifted him.

For his final flourish, he began to pool res again, more than he had used for the turrets. He realised that the more he gathered, the more difficult it was to keep in a regulated shape. It seemed antsy, as if it wanted to move all of its own accord.

He began to solidy the sides, battling with the res to force it to comply and turn wavy lines into straight ones. In the end he half-managed the feat. The tunnel was oddly twisted, so that all the pieces of wall didn't quite match up, but because he had worked it himself, it shaped all the same. Satisfied regardless, he pooled small lashings of res to attach the cloister to both miniature castles, connecting the two. Finally, he let go of the res, allowing the excess djed to seep back into his body. Several more pangs of pain struck his forehead, temple throbbing slightly. It seemed a good point to stop.

He looked down at the castle, running a finger along its stone walls and studying it closely. The earth was the earth after all, whether it came from beneath his feet, or from within his body. Castles from the mind and internal energy... it was awe inspiring.

Admiring his handiwork a little longer, he got up and wandered back towards camp to rejoin Sam and Mealla. He would leave it there in hopes someone might find it and take it for their child as a toy. After all, he didn't need it - his reimancy was going to take him much further than that.

[Calavera]

Your Reward Has Arrived! Ronan Skills: Reimancy +4, Observation +1, Meditation +1 Lores: Paying Homage to A Goddess, Sandcastles Are So Overrated; I Build Mine Out of Stone!, Practice Makes Perfect, Pushing One's Self Additional Notes: Great thread! Easy to read and follow. Is it childish of me to say I want a little stone castle too? People could learn a lot from the easy way you write, too. I gave you a tad of meditation for your concentration and mind clearance when preparing to use reimancy. Just to clear that up in case you wondered. "I don't always build sand castles, but when I do, I don't actually build them out of sand." Was sand just too mainstream for you, Ronan? Gotta' be the cool Drykas on the block.