Hunters on the Web [Ronan]

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Speak for your self, old man," he laughed. "I won't see nineteen years 'til Autumn!" With one last, heroic tug of effort, he pulled the last of the skin off of the beast. Laughing still at the size of it like a little boy trying to properly fold a huge blanket, he laid the hide out, bloody side up. That he still found wonder and joy in little tasks was proof positive he was not old yet. "I don't really know how to write, so my glyphs are sort of... just what I think they are. But Leto says it's the intent that matters, what the symbols mean to you. You can help, but you might want to learn a thing or two about glyphing from Leto himself since he knows what he's doing better... He and Kavala stored some healing spells into glyphs written on paper in case Denen isn't around to heal us, and yes..." Now his hunting knife was sawing through the cooling flesh, cutting huge steaks and tossing them onto the hide. They could be cut down to small chunks to stew or larger slabs to cook whole, but right now they just needed the bloody work done. A raptor screamed above, and Sama'el stopped. But with blood all over his hands, little Hodei, his kestrel, alighted near the odilosapux, clearly more interested in Sam's catch than Sam himself. Laughing, he split the belly of the beast open, fishing for an appropriate tidbit of entrails, and flipping it up for Hodei to catch and wolf down. "She's cute," he noted, "in a terrifying sort of way. It's a good thing tying her into my Web seems to keep her close, otherwise I don't think I could have begun to train her properly." He went back to work, feeding her bits from time to time until they had a pile of choice meat, some entrails that would be good eating, bits of things like horn and hoof that might come in handy. Sam was the leader, such as there was, so he stood up and made a decision. "I think that's about all we can handle. Let's leave the rest to the hungry predators and scavengers." He washed hands and knife in the snow, wiping the excess of with a rag. Together they removed the rope, and Hodei hopped onto the fallen body to gorge a bit more. Between the two of them, they lifted the hide full of meat and sundry, climbed into saddle and yvas, and got ready to ride. Not wanting Hodei to make herself sick, he called 'hup!' and she flew heavily up to the perch he'd worked onto Horse's saddle, huddling up against his back for warmth. "Let's ride. My arms are going to fall off before too long." And ride they did, all the way back to camp. "Owowowowowowowowowow!" They let it fall to the side of the cave mouth. "Let's pack this in snow here, keep it cold until we need it for cooking." Leaders were bossy.

[Ronan]

Ronan laughed. In fact, he had forgotten Sam's age. It seemed irrelevant up to what the Drykas had achieved already.

"I'd like to learn some glyphs," he said with a smile, "it can't hurt, can it?"

He watched Sama'el's bird fly above - it was a beautiful creature, indeed. Hodei. A fitting name, he thought with a knowing motion of his head.

They took the bits of the Olidosapux that they could carry, and began riding back to the cave. It was cold, and he would be grateful to get back into the warmth after their near miss hunting the beast. Carrying the stuff was hard, and worked their arm muscles better than any body building work out could have done. He felt them tighten as they got closer to the cave.

When they arrived back, Ronan climbed from Tairell's yvas, and gave her a little attention, rubbing her affectionately, before heading over to the corner of the entrance where Sama'el had put the meat down. He helped him bundle it tightly in snow, wrapping it as if it needed protection. It would keep a little while, at least.

"I suppose Issima will be cooking again? We could help her a little, it might be fun."

He turned to look deeper into the cave.

"Shall we... try and make an Origin?"

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I need to salt this hide, we need to lay an Origin, and then, if she wants our help, we can give it." He laughed a bit. Sometimes the caves could get a bit crowded; they were all of them used to communal living, but this was not the endless expanse of plains and prairie that they were used to. The cold drove them inside, and there the spacious cave could sometimes feel like it was moving in on them. After covering the meat with snow, he took Hodei on his wrist and led Horse into the cave. The Windrunner stepped aside toward the other horses, which were kept in a large 'room' near the cave entrance, where they could smell freedom, but where their combined body heat kept the space from chill. He let Hodei off on a rocky shelf that she had turned into a bit of a nest. Used to the horses and their heat, she enjoyed that place, and settled in for a post-meal nap. "The animals get to rest, but not us," he mused to Ronan as he led Tairell in, Sama'el pulling the odilosapux hide off Horse, then the saddle. The horses, of course, needed a bit of grooming after the hunt and that was first things first for any Drykas. He began to comb Horse's flanks as the greedy bastard sought out some feed. "Hey, fatty fatty no friends, we have a long journey. Save some for later." Horse ignored him.

[Ronan]

Ronan nodded. There were a few things to do, but such was the nature of travelling. There was always cooking, organising, crafting, and that was amongst the walking and travelling itself.

He followed Sam and the horses back into the cave, leading Tairell into the gap near Sam's Strider. She could do with the rest, and he almost laughed as the two horses looked set to fall asleep almost immediately. They had walked hard and fast, for long periods of time. Striders were sturdy stock, but they were not invincible. They had limits like every man.

Ronan laughed again as Sam insulted Horse, the animal clearly happy to ignore him.

"I don't think he's listening Sam!"

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"He never does," he sighed, but with only mock weariness. Horse was sturdier than the Striders, even, out here, but the cold weather and effort taxed him too. He patted the stallion on the rump once his duties were done, grooming and feeding and led the way out of the makeshift stable. Pip was waiting by the cave entrance, a dead squirrel in his arms like some drunken dance partner. Sam laughed, but the little Pycon meant business. "I caught you something! Come skin it before it rots." "We're about to do some mystical magical stuff," he protested, but began walking toward the cave entrance all the same. Pip was a loud-mouth and would not be quieted easily; sometimes the best thing to do was humor him, the better to make him happy and, indirectly, quiet. He cast a shrug and a smile to Ronan. He was learning that being a leader was a full time job, that one had to juggle the needs of individuals as well as the group, and, of course, the horses, even before oneself. And Ronan would learn patience on this trip, the which would help him in his goal of joining the Watch. Sam grabbed the squirrel's tail on his way back out into the melted area around the cave mouth, Pip swinging along, his clay legs kicking and waving. It was best to do the dirty work outside, away from the animals and the people, lest they invite sickness. He let Pip regain his feet, then squatted out by the edges of snow, pulling out his hunting knife. "Thanks for the squirrel, Pip," he said in Common, then in Pavi, because one did not speak of the Mysteries otherwise, "Why don't you take a look at the Web hereabouts, Ronan? Figure out where the paths of least resistance will let the Web grow a big on its own once the Origin is set?" That said, he set the squirrel against the frozen turf and cut off its head and tail. "Want a fur stole, Pip?" he asked, nodding to the tail. But in his soul he was thanking Caiyha even for these little gifts. Life begat Life, and this little beast would sustain them a bit longer in their own lives. While Ronan presumably tranced out, Sam smelled the wet hot smell of the fresh blood, reminiscent of Summer though it was the dead of Winter. He ran the knife down the squirrel's chest, then made a cross right across its arms. He was quiet, practiced, unsentimental. To cry over a hunted animal was to dishonor its sacrifice, willing on the physical plane or not. He pulled hard and the skin ballooned away from the flesh underneath, stretching and stretching until it was a wet, limp rag. Little fur booties remain on its paws, and he removes those, too, to lay beside the head. He didn't joke about mittens for the Pycon, who was watching the skinning in earnest, if not Ronan's trance, which was less interesting if less gory. The squirrel was still large with its autumn gorging, but he was careful to vivisect around its vital organs, removing those that were full of bile and poison. Those would not serve him. He set those along with the head and hands and feet, buried them in snow. When Spring came, the carrion-eating insects would have their field day on the little offering, but the squirrel pelt could be easily treated along with the odilosapux, and the remaining meat could be cooked and served in a stew or something. "Take this inside, Pip. Thanks." The Pycon did so, glancing at Ronan once before hurrying off with his share of the spoils to be added to the group's. He was loyal to a fault. Sama'el washed his blade, washed his hands, and remained there in his corbie crouch, waiting for Ronan to come to.

[Ronan]

As they returned to the cave, they met Sama'el's odd little Pycon companion. They were strange creatures. Curious to a fault, ever so aware of their size, and this one seemingly tried to make up for it through his own brand of bravado.

When Sam shrugged at him, Ronan smiled, and nodded. He should listen to the little Pycon. Any food was food, right? The Watcher took the squirrel and went back to the fringes of the cave to cut it up. There would be a little meat from the animal at least - the kill wouldn't go completely to waste. To the Pycon, that little animal was an olidosapux. Perspective was everything.

So he was to return to the Web again.

"I'll take a look," Ronan said, relishing every bit of practise he could get. "Keep an eye out."

Ronan settled down near Sama'el, so his body was not in any danger, and closed his eyes, finding that precarious balance. He slipped into his astral body, breaking free from fleshy constraint, and moved forward somewhat. He stood up, gauging his surroundings.

There were strands, but they were not commonplace like in the cities. In Riverfall he had been caught among a labyrinthine Web. Here, he was drifting amongst an empty plane, life only touching every so often.

Feeling resistance from his body, his eyes flitted around, hurrying his search. He found several spots, clear of strands for a large circumference. However they were to sink an Origin, there would be plenty of room for it to grow, and join to the Greater Web.

Ronan gradually melted back into his body, breaking free from the trance. A light fuzziness came over his head, but he looked to Sama'el with a nod of answers.

He pointed out the three possible spots he had seen, explaining there was plenty of room for the Origins there.

"So, Sam. When you've finished with your squirrel, how do we make one of these Origins?"

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el nodded; he was ready. Ronan's advice was sound, too, based on what he had scouted himself earlier, and what he had seen with his own eyes as they had hunted. He helped Ronan up from the cold earth, knowing the body was a little clumsy right after reuniting with the spirit, and he would likely be cold. "Let's go inside. We'll drop the origin within the cave where it's more protected. On our way back from Avanthal, we'll stop again and drop Origins in those other places to support the local Web. If you have the skill by then, perhaps you can lay some of your own." He led his friend into the cave, smiling at their companions as they passed and drew him into the deepest part of the cave. There was already set up a vaguely egg-shaped rock that had been there and Sama'el had rolled to the center of the little room. He urged Ronan to sit near it, patting him on the shoulder before he went to sit on the opposite side, long limbs folding beneath him. "You'll be considered an apprentice until you can lay your own Origins," he explained, "but the best way to learn is to watch and assist, I say. So I'm going to carve the runes into the stone with Fire, and I'll start the weave, but I'll need you to be there with me to hand me strands of your own djed. It will make it stronger. They degrade after a while, but it will last longer with your help, and because I'm going to pull it across a pool of wild djed we passed since our last camp. The Web will tap that energy and... well, it won't exactly tame it, but it won't be so dangerous, so unpredictable. The maintenance we do on our way back, and the other Origins, hopefully that will keep things stable until the next Watcher or Ankal travels to Avanthal, and they can fix things up and add their energies. It's easy in Cyphrus; there are so many of us. Out here..." But he was already glowing a flickering, sultry red as his res slowly manifested about him as a mist. He smiled at Ronan, then concentrated it into a single, brightly shining point that he traced without hands all over the surface of the egg-stone. If Ronan didn't already know, this was a hint at Sama'el's illiteracy. His runes were ideograms that made sense, one for Fire, one for Stone, one for Web, and other ideas that this Origin would need to contain. They glowed red, seeping into the rock until he was done. With a bit more concentration, the res ignited, and molted rock poured down its surface like candle wax, to collect and cool at the bottom, rooting the stone into place and leaving the runes faintly glowing with heat and magic. "Are you ready?" he asked, and began to climb out of his body.

[Ronan]

Following Sama'el into the cave, he agreed with the man. Watching was always helpful. It gave a person a foundation from which to learn upon.

"Right... you mean I expel djed from my body? Or do I enter the Web first?" he smiled, laughing softly, "I'm sorry. You can tell I'm still pretty green with all this magical stuff."

As Sama'el began to pour forth his own fiery power, Ronan watched with interest. He marked symbols into the egg shaped stone which would become the Origin. But he didn't write in Pavi, or even in Common. These were symbols unique to Sam, at least as far as Ronan could tell.

He wondered on the meaning of that for a moment.

And then the man released another fiery blast, welding the great stone to the ground. So it was marked and bound - now it had to be joined to the Web.

He guessed his latter guess was the right assumption. He would need to enter the Web again, aiding Sam as they connected the strands of djed, forming new laylines over the land.

Ronan nodded softly to Sama'el. "As ready as I'll ever be."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"You enter the Web first," he said, because they could see it well enough without leaving their bodies, they couldn't really effect any change upon it until they were incorporeal themselves. But Ronan could see Sama'el's soul emerge to cling to the gossamer Web like a butterfly sunning himself, waiting for Ronan to join him. On that plane, the energy was more real than matter, and Sama'el brightened in greeting when Ronan joined him. They were still attached to their bodies by silver cords that led into their navels, and they were connected to each other, and to the other bodies in that cave, to their horses, to wife and friend and kestrel. And all those little lines joined the ley-line that led back toward their last camp and the Origin he sank there; thence back through the camps where they spent enough time to warrant an Origin or places auspicious enough to warrant one, all the way back through Karjin and Riverfall to their home. They were still connected. Cyphrus had not lost them. The masters of the Web could probably follow them all the way here if they were of a mind to, but Sam himself could only fly back about five hundred miles behind them, and not far ahead as there were few branches of Web energy around here, and they all emanated from the little group of Drykas. Sama'el took the larger ley-line in both 'hands', and little tendrils of his own soul-stuff twined around it for better grip, and he seemed to be attempting to move it. You saw what you wanted to see on this plane, the mind trying to make sense of what it was not made to understand. Little changed there, but the course of the ley-line was gradually moving, changing its course to pass through an area rife with wild djed. After several minutes, or perhaps more -- time was fluid there -- Sama'el seemed dimmer and the ley-line in his 'hands' was bright with the new source of energy. He pulled the ley-line and then let go, only the tendrils still holding on as his spirit circled the Origin, drawing those tendrils around and around to begin anchoring the ley-line to this most far flung outpost of the Web that he had encountered. The silvery shape that was Sama'el was definitely dimming, and he spoke to Ronan without a voice there: I need your energy now, he said, a 'hand' reaching out for something else to weave this all together. He wondered if Issima wouldn't be a natural what with her gift for weaving. But there was no time to think about that, really. Tying Ronan's energies into this Origin would help him set things, and then they could eat and take a nap.

[Ronan]

Ronan smiled, nodded, and then slowly shifted into the Web. He was getting the hang of the motion, slowly. It would just take a little more practise to make that transition a little smoother in his head.

He stepped forward in his astral form, noting the strands that joined them, tethering them to their journey and the land around them. He nodded acknowledgement at Sama'el.

The Watcher moved as if in a dream, transient hands taking hold of the most prominent ley-line. Ronan watched for a moment. It was odd, like light transferring from Sam's soul into the line. And a shift seemed to occur, everything around them feeling slightly different. Newer. A world just born.

He turned as Sam began to wind the energy towards the rock crafted Origin. It slowly melded, becoming one with the leyline, connecting to them like a beating stone heart.

The unspoken words came suddenly, but Ronan knew his energy would be needed too. The tendrils writhed around the Origin, almost complete, but not quite. They needed an extra push; an extra source and catalyst.

I'm here brother, he thought, and grabbed hold of the projected hand, seemingly existing of both light and nothingness. Moving closer, he focused on the Origin, allowing his own radiance to spiral out from his astral flesh.

He and Sam's light, the heart of all their energy, seemed to touch and radiate, merging, blending, delving deep into the ley line and the stone. He felt drained almost immediately, and knew he would have to eat, rest, and sleep after this.

He looked to Sam, feeling a click, a completion of the circle.

It is done.