Solo Green Arrow

[Ronan]

Timestamp: 21st of Fall, 512 AV Though they were headed back to Endrykas, they could not neglect Watch and general Drykas duties on the way. So it was that Ronan found himself split from Sama'el and Mealla, scouting, checking the Web for any signs of danger, and all around ranging the grasses. It hadn't been long since he had fed Tairell, and so she was a bundle of energy. Which was good when he needed to move quickly through the grasses. Yesterday hadn't seemed to effect her. It had certainly effected Ronan though. His life often went like this - in peaks and troughs, and the troughs were burrows so deep he had to clamber back out of. But he often found the light, and a new purpose. It would drive him on for the time being. He dismounted and felt the cool wind against his skin. Then he began to focus his energy meditatively, breathing heavily inwards and outwards, feeling the pulses and waves until he felt strong enough to break free from his body. He lunged forward, the world rippling as the leylines of his people came into vision. He moved slightly, touching the nearest strand. It was resonant, as if something had passed through here. Many of the other lines lay dead or tangled. Healing from the storm would take a long time indeed. Something had definitely passed though. It could be nothing. Ronan didn't linger, but slowly shifted into his body, that warmth striking him as soul met flesh. He glanced around back in the physical plane, seeing only grass and Tairell, and then, satisfied, he mounted his strider and headed off again. He couldn't explain it, but an uneasiness filled him. He kicked Tairell into a canter, trying to push the feelings aside.

[Ronan]

Something stalked them. Ronan became sure of that as they travelled further. He checked the Web on two more occasions, slipping into form and examining the strands. There was little evidence, except astral residue. Faint nudges that told him something had passed through, or passed behind them - or even worse, was circling them like prey. Tairell whinnied once or twice, quietly enough, but it gave Ronan a sense of her unease. Something was amiss in the grass. He didn't think it to be glassbeaks. Glassbeaks were sentient, but not intelligent. They left obvious traces. They were not careful hunters - though deadly ones. It led him to a darker conclusion, one that sent a shiver down his spine. Abruptly, he turned Tairell, petting her head. He had sensed something. A brush of grass. A slight breeze. Something, or nothing. But he was not taking chances. He smoothly pulled his dagger from its sheath, caressing the blade against the material, before moving it to his side. He kept one hand free to hold Tairell on shorter reins, ready to guide her as needed. His forest green eyes flitted about the landscape, trying to find something. An irregularity. Anything that would give the game away, and prove Ronan's suspicions correct. In the end it was his Strider that revealed the truth. He felt her shake a little at first, before she turned abruptly, tail swishing in nonconformity. She neighed furiously, fear laden in the noise. As she turned, he came about to face what it was that had been watching them. Tall and dark, with sinewy wings, and eyes that seemed to smoke. Of the race that had murdered his parents. A Zith.

[Ronan]

Ronan pulled the reigns tightly. It was all he could do as Tairell let out a thunderous scream and rocked upwards, kicking with her front legs. He managed to hold on and get her back to the ground with all her feet. The Zith stood still for a long while, watching them, while Ronan tried to manoeuvre into a position of safety - or at least a vantage point. They were known by all. Drykas children heard the terrible stories. Drykas adults heard the real tales, of their kin dying at the hands of these shadow touched killers. He barely had time to think before the Zith came cascading through the grass towards him. Was this how his parents had felt? Surrounded, hungry, helpless. They had been lost in the grasses, or so it had been reported. He moved Tairell, kicking her slightly to the left, and swung sideways, brandishing his dagger and dangling precariously just how he had done so when they had been attacked by the glassbeaks. It was pointless though, the Zith was more intelligent and evaded the attack with ease, attempting to strike back. Ronan about turned, kicking his strider into action as they galloped away from the bloodthirsty thing. His dagger wouldn't cut the mustard here. Suddenly, a thought struck him. He continued to gallop away, making vital distance, before braving a hand into one of the travel sacks. Careful rummaging found the short bow he had purchased in Riverfall's Zhongjie Warren, and arrows too. He gripped a handful, five or six, and turned them so they stood upright in the sack. That way he could grab them when he needed them. He had little to no experience with a bow, and so he feared how this might turn out. But he had to try. Turning Tairell back again, he saw the Zith in the near distance. It moved erratically, stalking the grass and staying out of harm's way. He got Tairell moving again, at a slower canter, and began to circle to the left to confuse his foe. Then quickly he lifted the shortbow and did what he had watched Drykas do so many times. He was unsure how much power it needed, but he felt a satisfying tension when he pulled the string back. The arrow flew, at least. But it was far off the mark. He thought he heard the Zith laugh. Wheeling round, he tried again, looking down the bow and breathing carefully to try and steady his aim. The right direction at least, but still off course. The Zith began to close in.

[Ronan]

He tried to make a small amount of distance again, but there was little time. Tairell snorted furiously. This time he remained stationary. He was not skilled enough to shoot while moving - not even in the slightest. He quickly readied another arrow, nocking the bow and pulled it torte again. He waited a moment, heart racing, as the Zith neared. He made to look as if he were going to wheel Tairell round again, so the Zith moved forward, but then he pulled the bow back up and fired. Finally the arrow flew true. It swept through the wind and plummeted into the shocked Zith, piercing his side. The beast was not down and out by any means though. Ronan had achieved what he wanted however, weakening the Zith somewhat. He saw blood spurt from the wound, and quickly climbed out of the yvas, coming between the Zith and his horse. The bow was back in the saddlebag, and now he brandished his dagger, gleaming in the light. "You will die, horse man." Ronan was taken aback. It spoke Common? The words were grisly and certainly not human, as if it was mimicking something it had heard before. He knew that Zith could learn other languages though, and that was terrifying to him. It made them seem more... real. "Scum," he spat, and in Pavi too, so that the Zith probably wouldn't understand him. As they faced off, he began to try and find his centring point. Though the dagger was held in one hand, with the other he began to trickle djed into res. The transmutation was the hardest part. Strangely he had never performed reimancy stood up - not in his training at least. It took only a moment. His practise had paid off, and he held a weighty stone concealed in his other hand. The Zith moved, and he sidestepped, slashing out with his dagger. It missed, but it was a ruse. He brought his other hand round, smashing the rock over the dark skinned one's head. It made a noise, like a low guttural gargle. He moved out of the way. Still, it lived.

[Ronan]

The creature was dazed somewhat, evidenced in its stumbling gait. It was hulking though, he realised since he was now close to it. Larger than he had expected of the Zith. They were vermin though, spreading through the land like a sickness. He would cull them all if he could - for what they had done to his parents. Merciless. No reasoning. Only killing. Why did they exist? Breeding to kill some more. It was a vile circle. The Zith's right wing lashed, and it moved to him again, surprisingly fast, claws reaching. Ronan parried with his dagger, twisted one way, and then came back in with a riposte. It was a sword move, suited to a longer weapon, but it did the trick fine. He followed it up with a closer stab, and he struck. Claws ravaged his arm, and he winced at the new wound. He was going to be covered in scars one day. Stories for the next generation, he thought afterwards. This time the Zith was severely hurt. Blood spat from several points, Ronan getting much of the spray on his clothes. The dagger dripped red. Then suddenly, without warning, it scooted towards Tairell, moving out of the way of him. So if it couldn't get him, it would go for the horse? "Bastard!" he screamed, making immediate chase despite the pain in his arm. He pulled res into his hand again, head pounding in desperation. He wasn't even sure how he held the concentration, but he managed to form another rock in his grasp. He threw it ahead, aimed for the thing's head. It made contact, and the Zith turned momentarily. Ronan took the opportunity to stop it in its tracks, lunging forward with the dagger held high. In a grisly arc, he brought it down, cutting the Zith along the side of its head. Blood guzzled and bubbled from the wound, and it made no more noises, crumpling to the ground like paper. Ronan nearly dropped his dagger, such was the speed of his breath and his heart. He had to do one last thing though. He kicked the Zith to make sure it was dead, and then closing his eyes, he faded into the Web. He stumbled forwards in his astral form, not completely in control. He began to check around him, to make sure there were not others. He did not know Zith like he knew glassbeaks. He was unsure if they hunted in packs. The dead Zith's life faded into a wisp within the astral realm, seeping out like thick fog. He could sense nothing else though. That feeling from earlier had gone. It seemed this Zith had tracked him alone. Quickly returning to the physical realm, he heaved himself up onto Tairell and spoke to her gently, allowing her a moment to relax. Every part of him wanted to leave this foul place though. It smelled of blood and death, and evoked too many dark memories. In the battle though, he had seen how potent his shortbow could be. It was something he was going to work on as part of his daily training regimes. If he became proficient he was sure he could fire accurately from the top of his horse while in motion. That would be a useful skill indeed.

[Jackalope]

Ronan

Award

Skill	XP Earned	Lore Earned
Webbing	+2	Remaining Dutiful
Observation	+1	Trusting Your Strider
Riding	+1	Recognizing When a Dagger Won't Do
Dagger	+2	Misleading Your Foe
Shortbow	+1	The Importance of Being Able to Fire From Horseback
Reimancy	+2
Brawling	+1

Injury: Claw marks on dominant arm. Expect pain when using arm for the next couple days

Witty Remark Here

Good read, Ronan! I thought it was a good learning experience for him, and I'm looking forward to how he uses the lessons he learned in future threading! If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.