Completed Up n' at 'Um

[Heilyn]

13 Summer, 514

Heilyn had been on a merchant vessel for several weeks, and it was clear by the odd twitch as he lay curled upon a cushion that some part of him was still at sea. Behind the motionless eyes of the statue were the restless seas, the crew hauling line, a stowaway rat, and rose tinted spires tempered in evening sun. But the warm touch of the rising sun roused him blearily, dusky paws stretching across the cushion as he surveyed the room.

It was plain, almost spartan, and altogether too large. A bed, a chest, a small table and matching chair. The linens barely disturbed, save a couple loping impressions from the previous evening's settling in. He tried smoothing it out as best as he could but each one cleared just set another impression beside it, a Sisyphean task. With a wrinkle of the nose he slid off the edge of the bed, hind legs first before landing with a soft thud on the floor. A few more loping strides brought him to a small cluster of all his worldly possessions hidden under the bed.

Reaching out with a paw he dragged the satchel bag towards him, securing the straps snugly around his body before pulling a coil of thick silk thread with a grappling hook on one end. Now well equipped to face the coming day he left the other dust bunnies under the bed to their peace. Twirling the grappling hook, he raised up on the hind legs to toss it towards the window ledge, feeling the occasionally knotted thread slip through the gaps between the paw as it sailed. Pulling back, it caught the ledge and a tentative tug proved it secure enough for use. Paw over paw with grip resting on the knots he crawled up the rope to the window ledge over the course of a couple minutes, the old habits of climbing things back in Zeltiva coming back after the long overseas travel.

Flopping onto the ledge, Heilyn pulled himself up the rest of the way before grabbing the thread and began spooling it back up absentmindedly while staring out at the street lined with stone buildings, with the odd monk wandering the streets. As the thread was secured to the side of the satchel he opened the bag's flap and began to rummage about before drawing out a small chunk of clay that would be today's breakfast. He mused on the others in the hostel waking up, being served the crusty bread and water by the mildly frightening monk tending the place. While they ate their provisions here he was sampling the fruits of the earth from leagues away, the last of his clay from Zeltiva. Though, he doubted the monks would bring by a chunk of clay for him especially while they delivered meals to the city, so that's at least something the others had looking out for themselves.

Finished nibbling the piece of clay he pushed the window open a crack wide enough for him to fit through and began winding up the grappling hook again.
"Today's agenda," he thinks to himself, "First climb the hostel and get my bearings from up there. Then see if I can't find a potter's place to get some lunch and dinner. Anything else that happens on the way!"

And so, a rabbit began the climb to the roof, one paw at a time, catching at least one odd glance from someone passing by. By the second window a short breather was taken, spaces between paws closing as the clay squished together to hang securely on the knots. Then up again to the crest where he pulled himself into the rain gutter and finally up onto the roof proper. A few wobbly hops up the incline while spooling the thread once more and he could see much farther than before.

The dividing crevasses of the city and the fog barely lingering around their edges as the sun rose into the sky were the first thing, huge and deep and gave him the shivers thinking about just a bit. He doubted his rope would reach anywhere near the bottom if he tried. Maybe with a longer rope someday, but he turned his attention to the hustle and bustle of the morning. Each of the quarters was moving, with a funnel of activity to the west as the gates let those who tended the fields and worked the quarries pass. To the north he could already see smoke rising from the forges and a turn to the east showed the docks busy with trade and small boats pushing out to get the daily catch.

After a few more moments just taking in the city, Heilyn began bouncing atop the roof to the next adjoining building and onwards, headed for the western district. The labours of the earth were sure to dig up some clay. His nose twitched as he wondered if it was as rosy as the rest of the stone that made up the city. Would it taste different than the lightly salty earth of Zeltiva? It surely was a question worthy of this quest in and of itself, and worthy of lunch!

[Heilyn]

Above the heads of the city Heilyn paused on the edge of a rooftop. He'd made it to the end of the line of rooftops and took a moment to rest and look about. Despite the distant sounds of the morning's activity all around, there was not anyone in sight but dots far off. Below, a wide rift opened in the ground. The uneven edges and occasional puff of fog clinging to its cool depths out of the sun's touch made it look like some creature's massive maw. A massive maw with a bridge over it at its widest that'd carry him westwards. Turning he secured the grapple to an eavestrough and dangled over the edge with thread in paw.

"The first bit was always the best," he thought as he dropped off the side and delighting in the momentary hesitation of the world to reestablish its grip before the jolt on the line shook through him. Then the delight turned to exhilaration as a gust of wind whipped up over the edge of the aperture, easily tossing the hanging statue out into the air. Paws scrambled for a knot to secure themselves to as the hind legs lost their hold on the thread. The ground fell away as that worldly hesitation returned and for a brief moment there was no movement before the gust died off. The ground rose back up, soon followed by the wall as the pendulum swung back. The previously flailing hind legs now instinctively were coiled between the wall and himself, taking the brunt of the impact and the clay deforming.

As he hung there and pulled himself back together, Heilyn watched the aperture as if it couldn't be trusted not to pull a repeat performance. Watched it the rest of the trip down the rope with a burgeoning idea of why no one was around this particular bit of the city. At the bottom he jumped the last inch, solid ground underfoot a welcome relief as the grapple was dislodged and rope wound tight once more. As the last knot passed through his paws he got an idea, tie something heavy so the rope wouldn't blow up next time a rogue wind decided to toss it about. "But then there'd need to be some way that'd be needed to keep the line taut," he mumbled. By the time he'd hopped to the bridge he resolved to rig something together once he got back to his tools hidden under the hostel's bed.

Heilyn hesitated on the bridge's edge, where the cobblestone street met the smooth stone. Some part in the back of his mind was whispering the idea that the maw of the aperture would open up and swallow the span. He shook his head to clear away the thoughts before bounding over the bridge. Then, he was across. The ground had not fallen out from beneath him, nor a terrible wind tossed him over the side, or some terrible bird mistaking him for a meal inflicting itself upon him, or some other such horror. A rumbling chuckle rose within him, "Just a bridge, getting worked up over some wind and a bridge."

His spirits returned, he even gave a shot at a soft whistle before giving up sputtering, as he swung up the grapple once more to see into the western district in search of a potter's shop amongst the rows.

[Heilyn]

Mid-day had passed overhead. Below Heilyn grew frustrated and below him the subject of his ire. He huddled close to the chimney of his current vantage point, hiding from the rising summer heat that threatened to start forming a glaze on his hide. As he cooled from the morning's exertion and the baking rooftops he stared across into a small crowded plaza. The craftsmen and their customers along these streets gathered briefly around a well, drawing up water for their thirst or their work while talking loudly amongst themselves.

While settling into the shadow, he took a draw from the waterskin hanging off the satchel. The wetness was absorbed quickly and greedily, bringing his body a deeper shade of earthen tone. The relaxation soon turned to reflection on the morning since crossing into the western district.
"It started simply enough," he groused, "a simple grid-like search till he hit what he was looking for, a sign with some pottery or other such indicator. Climb a roof and follow the line to the end, lookin' at each street beside you. If it wasn't there, climb back down and stay out of the way of foot traffic by clinging close to the walls than the busy streets till you were two streets down and repeat so you were always lookin' at something new."
Downside, it took awhile and the sun was hot and shade was minimal and he'd run out of water after a bit.

So he'd gotten hot and climbed down after crossing by a well. He'd had to wait in line, longer than his spot should've taken really but it seemed most people didn't look down and walked right by. It might've been impolite but no way was Heilyn going to raise his voice, the sailors had told him stories of the Nykans breaking out into fights at the least provocation. It was better to be ignored than smooshed flat after all. It might've been a blessing though to be waiting around so long as people came and went filling buckets for their work that an idea had struck him - potters needed water to help keep their work malleable as well, so they'd have a shop close to water surely.

Connection made, the next time he climbed to the rooftops it wasn't to start a new row but to look for the irregular spaces and plazas and crowds that indicated wells and the odd pump. Took a lot less time than walking a whole row to cross over to these clusters of likely suspect. Still, none so far had turned up what he'd been looking for and the day was entering its waning half with dinner still on the menu and half the city to be traversed to get back before night fall.

Thinking of dinner brought a reminder from within that lunch hadn't been forgotten by at least some part of himself. He rose up upon his hind legs, looking further afield. There were at least a couple more prospective spots around wells but after spending most of the morning searching it felt foolish to continue to search for something that might not exist and have to head back empty-handed. Another option still remained though, looking westwards was the city gate and beyond them the quarries that cut and squared the stone Nyka was built from and the fields that fed its bellies. Somewhere out there clay had to be found.

He shook the waterskin, feeling it to be still half-filled and deeming it good enough, he bounded from his lookout across the rooftops.

[Heilyn]

Along the path towards the gate between the city and the world an urge continued to grow within Heilyn. The impressive walls almost called out to be climbed, whispering into his upright ears as eyes sought marks for the grapnel among its crenelations. Despite the tremendous temptation presented by the rosy stones the hook remained fastened as time was starting to become something of a limited commodity. That and the passing of the odd man in robes each with a weapon of some sort about their waist or in their hands along the wall tops provided enough incentive for him to stay earthbound for the time being.

The gatehouse itself seemed to be busy with activity. A wagon bearing the large stones that made the city was being pulled by oxen through while four of the gates guards prodded the beasts and their handlers to move quickly so the next group could go through. People with carts may not have been able to pass through but occasionally being small has its advantages. Hopping past the oxen's hooves and the cart's wheels he'd almost made it through the gatehouse before the bottom of a polearm tapped the ground in front of him, bringing his stride to a sudden stop.

He hoisted himself up on hindlegs so he could stare upwards at the guard. A gruff and burly man that seemed more attached to the halberd that served to command Heilyn's attention than just holding it. In a voice that cut through the din of oxen and movement like a blade he spoke, "I did not see a rabbit come in and now one's trying to sneak on out. You'd think a moving statue would be easier to remember but I guess it slipped my mind." A thin smile crossed the giant's face, "You think you could remind me of how you might've slipped in?"
With a touch of nerves in his voice, "I came by sea, sir. We docked yesterday we did, from Zeltiva," Heilyn responded.
"You sure it didn't have anything to do with that little grapnel now?" the man asked mockingly as the shaft tapped Heilyn lightly along the side and causing the hook to swing about his side.
"Absolutely sure," he said while trying to put some manner of conviction in his voice while shaking his head clearly in agreement.
"Well then, welcome to Nyka. A shame you're leaving us so soon I didn't even catch your name," he guffawed.
"Heilyn, sir. The name is, Heilyn."

Only the vaguest of nods was the indication this conversation was over, while Heilyn hesitated until given a short shove with the haft tip that sent him on his way past the walls. He took a moment to rearrange his satchel and rope before following the cobble path that diverted to the quarries and fields of wildly different natures. For the time being however a course was struck to follow the way south and divert before the fields to search for the clay of the earth.

[Heilyn]

To the south the stalks of grains could be seen reaching up for the sun while the orchards shook their branches at the young upstarts as the wind rustled through their leaves. To the north little could be seen as much of the quarries were dug into the earth but the sounds of hammer and chisel could be heard cutting the earth into blocks. Somewhere in between and off the well-worn road was Heilyn.

He was hunched over a patch of exposed earth surrounded by shredded and ripped grass. Front paws dragged against the soil, pushing some towards him before piling it up to be kicked outwards from the developing hole with the back feet in a pose that left him briefly splayed against the ground. The shovel-like paws of his adopted form were very much adequate for the first couple inches of soil, though there was some resistance from the denser patches of grass roots that held the ground together. It was a half a foot in depth when he caught the first glimmer of trouble with the prize he'd come here for. The clay was far harder to remove any sizable amount than the preceding dirt. Several minutes of fruitless pawing only further compacted the clay. He then tried cutting a chunk from the clay with his small knife but could only get tiny pieces free, lacking the leverage to get any substantial chunk loose.

With a sigh of resignation, Heilyn began working his way back up the small tunnel he'd dug. His body kept flat against the floor while alternately gripping and pushing with the fore and hind limbs to keep the loose sediment pushed against his front to be removed from the tunnel. With the latest dirt removed, he shook the worst of the earth from himself before putting to mind how to pry out the clay. Some part of him cursed his lack of foresight to bring a diminutive shovel, or even a spoon, but there was not enough time to traverse half the city again, return, and then make his way back to the Hostel with the day half gone as it was already. A quick rummage through the satchel proved fruitless in search of some sort of makeshift tool.

But if there was anything a Pycon knew, it was that if you can't make a tool then you could always be a tool.
"If a rabbit encountered this situation on a regular basis, then they'd need some way to dig through the clay," he reasoned, "Some way they can break it up into smaller chunks." His nose wrinkled in thought, "Something harder than clay to dig with."
It was when he absentmindedly traced the grapnel at his side the start of an idea began to form in his mind.
"Something with a point, like a claw!" he thought triumphantly. This was soon followed by questions of whether rabbits had claws or not, he'd have to assume so if it seemed such an obvious solution. Sometime he'd definitely need to find a live rabbit to observe rather than the garden statue he'd modeled himself after.

That brought to mind the second part, the shape of the instrument was decided but it'd need to be harder than clay which would be a slight issue seeing as he himself was made of clay. This also seemed to have an obvious solution when overlooking his pile of removed earth as amongst it lay dozens of miniscule pebbles and fragments of stone. Grabbing a couple of the smallest stones he began coaxing small claws of clay from the tips of his paws before absorbing the stones into them one by one. He waggled his paws once the work was done, the hollow pockets filled with foreign objects felt profoundly strange and somewhat uncomfortable. His clay had some issues from keeping them from sliding out without concentration but it would be good enough for a test.

Back within the hole, Heilyn raised his claws up and dragged them against the clay at the bottom. He could feel the tips of his formed claws pushed away as the stone came into contact and then began pushing back with the resistance of them cutting through the earth. The first pass showed grooves carved into the clay. Bolstered by this sign of success, he pushed harder into the action, pushing the makeshift claws deeper and began prying up more sizable pieces of the clay. After each third or fourth pass he'd take the flats of his paws to smoosh the clay into rough blocks to fit into his satchel and continued to do so until it was heavy with the weight. When there was no more room within the bag he made one more small block and exited the hole once more.

Heilyn stretched long, paws flexing as the uncomfortable stone claws were released from their grip and sat back on his pile of dirt to have his first proper sample of Nykan clay. He turned it over once, seeing in it a light red hint within its bleached browns that matched the ever-present stones of the city. A pass by his nose brought in a rich smell of earth and rain and something he couldn't quite put his paw on. The final test was resolved when he began nibbling on it, for it was nothing like the slightly salty clay he was accustomed but tasted of obscure minerals and a dry presence that when wet with the remains of his waterskin bloomed into a rich flavour.

A few moments rest as he felt the meal settle within himself and Heilyn started off towards the city gates once more. He had half a city to cross yet and would prefer to make his way there before the workers started filing through without much thought of who or what might be underfoot.

[Heilyn]

The trip back within the walls had been far more direct than the morning's exploration. Heilyn had only garnered a glance at the gate and the people walking the streets either didn't notice or steadfastly ignored him as he hopped along the edge of the streets dodging the careless foot traffic. With few turns or twists in the alleys the great stone bridge back to the central district was within reach. It was an almost relieving sight, almost back to his room at the Safe Haven despite his misgivings previously.

Yet, as Heilyn approached he couldn't quite shake the feeling that the gust of wind hadn't been entirely an unrelated occurrence. Each loping movement towards the bridge raised a tingling feeling within him and a growing awareness of his surroundings. The handful of youths upon a corner stared at him as he passed, the setting sun cast lengthening shadows from the dense buildings, and the harsh caw of a crow somewhere out of sight. With but a few feet between the Aperture and himself an irrational thought took hold:

The shadows were pushing him towards the edge.

He could feel panic slowly build within his nexus, frozen momentarily as the creeping shadows inched closer and closed ranks like an army advancing slowly and with purpose. The panic found its way to his legs, propelling the rest of his frozen body along the thin strip of light beyond the edge of the shadow. Dust kicked up behind him; running directly down the center of the bridge and well away from the shadows cast by the bridge's walls.

The rabbit kept up the pace well after paws touched cobblestone once more, coming to a halt with beleaguered breath only when a dozen strides were put between himself and the bridge. Between long gasping breaths the unseen crow called again, sounding for all the world like derision to his twitching ears. Heilyn looked around but it seemed that he was at least spared the humiliation of that act being seen by more than the children on the other side of the divide. He pawed the ground in a gesture of embarrassment and frustration before gathering himself up once more and completed the last leg of his journey with no fanfare.

Arriving at the Safe haven Hostel he checked if he'd need to wait for someone to open the front door for him. In a stroke of good fortune, the window he'd exited from that morning was still open a crack. Unhooking his grapnel he tossed it lightly upwards and tugged the line once it caught the edge. He inwardly thanked the monk for giving him a room on the first floor, for his limbs struggled even with the short climb after the long day. The final pull onto the ledge was far from graceful but with the window closed and latched back shut a silent victory was celebrated.

He leapt from the windowsill to the table below before making another leap to the matching chain and taking the final drop to the floor by landing flat on his rump. Rolling upright he unbuckled his satchel and rope, leaving them propped against the chest at the foot of the over-large bed. The bed itself took two attempts to clear, ending with a face full of blanket prior to the successful jump onto the mattress.

Moments later, an exhausted Heilyn lay slightly curled upon a pillow, soundly asleep before the last rays of sun passed over Nyka.

[Keene Ward]

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