Solo A Task to Task

[Keene Ward]

The forty-fifth day of fall, 514 AV.

The first thing Keene noticed when he awoke the next morning was the itchiness of his legs. The second thing was the burst of pain that exploded from the bruise upon his shin when he moved to alleviate himself of the itchiness. The third thing was the outburst of tenderness his strained muscles so kindly reminded him off as he jerked back away from the bruise. Falling back onto the cot, Keene stared up at the murky ceiling of his chamber with a moan. Once he'd managed to finally make it back into the cave, he'd only managed to snatch the candle from it's place on the table, wobble down the corridor that led to his chambers and fall onto his bed, barely able to blow out the candle before he lost consciousness. His body felt heavy, but not so weighted he lacked the ability to move. The desire to do so, however, was a bit lacking. Twisting his body on the straw stuffed mattress, Keene forced himself to stretch, reaching behind his head and he arched his back. The soreness of his stomach felt somewhat alleviated when he flopped back down on the bed, and it was enough for him to roll off the rocky ledge and place his feet firmly upon the ground.

The day prior had required quite a lot from him, but the night's rest had returned at least the majority of his lost portion back to him. His left hand hurt a bit from where the needles had torn his skin (the middle finger even slightly throbbed from where a thorn had dug into him), and gazing down at his shins only reminded him of the absolute foolishness that had led up to the mess of scrapes and cuts that littered his pale skin. In the semi-darkness, Keene couldn't quite make out where the splinter he'd left in his leg was with his eyes, but he could feel it as he shifted his weight from his seat on the bed to taking ginger steps with his blistered feet. The sandals, while freeing, were not broken in as well as his boots, meaning that long distances (or constant repeated traveling of shorter distances) had managed to create pockets of skin and liquid where his feet rubbed against leather. It was uncomfortable, to be certain, but it was by far the least of his problems. His feet themselves were in pain as he hobbled out of the room, no longer able to snack on the food he'd brought with him as the bags had disappeared along with his physical well-being.

Shuffling down the hallway, Keene stopped, turning round and heading back to fill his water flask (refilling it as he took several swigs from it to better help him acclimate to the morning and away from his grogginess). With flask at his hip and fully filled, Keene ambled over to his discarded and empty backpack, shouldering it and wincing as he realized his shoulders had sustained their fair share of wear and tear from the ropes the day prior. He supposed he hadn't noticed them at the time due to his sheer exhaustion. Gingerly pulling the straps over the more raw areas of his shoulders, Keene turned and shambled out of his room and towards the middle chamber where Atziri was waiting for him, a small fire crackling in the pit and the tantalizing smell of roasted meat in the air. At their eyes met - Keene's grey and deadened from weariness, fatigue, and soreness while Atziri's were bright hazel and calculating -, Atziri motioned him over with a grin. Keene obliged, limping over on his tender feet and even more tender legs. The climb up to the plateau was going to be an unfortunate trip.

"I see you made up for yesterday, Initiate." The curve of her lips was turned up in a playful smile. Keene didn't take much notice of it as he settled into the chair opposite her. She passed him a small, crispy looking creature that he received with a grateful nod before biting into the juicy (though tough) morsel. It had a bland, meaty taste that filled his mouth with a warm, savory flavor, however faint. Chewing placidly, Keene worked the meat around in his mouth, savoring the sensation of it before finally swallowing the first bite. As he took another, Atziri continued. "I trust you've been practicing your shielding?" Her tone was not one of question, but Keene nodded in response regardless. Whatever the animal was, it was a much better meal than a living creature. He could feel the meat passing from his throat down to his stomach to sit with a happy finality. Having started the day off so poorly, he was relieved to have been handed a hearty breakfast rather than having to forage for it. From what he could see, the pods he had collected the day before were nowhere to be seen. Presumably, Atziri had stored them away somewhere to be used later.

"Good." She watched him take another bite, his movements a bit more voracious than before. "So, Keene, what have you learned?"

Munching on his mouthful of meat, Keene took his time to chew properly before swallowing, letting a good number of ticks pass in silence. "It is difficult." Atziri nodded. Unsure whether he should share about his absolute lack of success in creating anything of true useful substance, Keene decided it was probably what she wanted to hear. His struggles were, in a way, her own as she was his master and he her initiate (at least those regarding magic). "Mine don't seem to shield much." The statement and tone were both incredibly blunt. Keene took another bite, hitting bone and taking mindful action against cracking through them with his teeth (one of the few things on his body that had yet to feel the strain of his training).

Atziri chuckled, leaning back into her chair and shaking her head. "Now you are truly initiated into the magic of shielding." Keene stared blankly at her, not understanding to what she was referring. Atziri moved on, unfazed by the lack of response from her subordinate. "Now, I'm sure you've already gathered I don't like repeating myself, so pay attention, Initiate." Keene gazed at the half eaten creature in his hands for a beat before setting it on the table to give her his full attention. "When you create the shield, you must give it a 'task', otherwise it merely exists to exist." Keene raised a brow. "Imagine reimancy, for a moment." It was easy enough to think of the thing he'd devoted a hefty portion of his life to. "What happens when you transmute your res into water without directing it first?"

"It becomes water and falls to the ground."

"Correct." Atziri leaned forward, folding her hands together to rest her chin in the bridge they created. "Shielding without tasking is much the same way. You create a shield, but it serves no purpose." The concept itself was fairly straight forward, and Keene had little issue assimilating it into his infantile understanding of the magic in question. "So, similar to the manipulation of your res, when you task a shield, it must be done both before and during the creation." Atziri moved her hands in front of her, they sifted through the air as if they were combing through a heavy substance. "You must focus upon what it is you wish the shield to impede, weave that will into the very being of the djed you are projecting..." She trailed off as he hands fluidly pulled away from the space on the table that was about in the middle of them. "And once it is completed," She motioned for him to extend his hand. As Keene put his arm forward, his palm met with a solid resistance as the air in front of him shimmered a soft red before disappearing. "You then have the ability to obstruct whatever it was you tasked it to keep out."

The concept was simple, and Keene wondered if the application was much the same. With the new information in hand, despite his increasingly weary state of being that seemed to only worsen each day, Keene felt a rekindling of interest in the magic he had been rather quick to snub. Atziri wasn't finished however, and he kept his eyes and the majority of his attention upon her and the words she spoke so firmly. "I'd like you to practice both tasking and creating shields each day along with the rest of your duties, Keene." It didn't surprise him that it was yet another part of his daily life as an initiate, but as he had been planning to do so regardless of the command, he nodded with a gleam of understanding in his eyes. She had said on their arrival that shielding was going to be an important part of his apprenticeship. Thus, being told to continue training in the magic was not surprising in the least. Atziri reached across the table, grabbing the meat and starting on her own share of it. Keene felt a slight pang of embarrassment as he realized the entire thing had not been meant for him. He made a mental not to never eat the entirety of anything unless he was explicitly told to do so.

"You should get going, Initiate. You have busy days ahead of you."

[Keene Ward]

As he had suspected, the soreness of his muscles did not make the climb any easier. But with each climb, the path was more and more clear. Keene was able to struggle over the rises with the determination that came from a clear course. While his time was by no means faster than the day before, his exhaustion remained fairly steady, only noticeably increasing as he cleared the final ledge to the plateau, tossing the backpack over before scrambling up the rocky face to lie on his back at the top. The sky was still a gentle grey with morning just starting to turn into the afternoon. Letting his breath return to him, Keene turned his head to stare at the tree. It was much the same as before, though the earth around it had a much darker tint than the rest of the ground. With the heavy amount of humidity in the air, Keene wasn't surprised the water retention of the ground was so impressive after the constant watering. The rest of the plateau was dusty, a thin layer of it already coating his sweaty skin. Pushing himself up to a seated position, Keene took a few short breaths before rising to his feet. The scabs on his legs had been cracked so many times, that they had finally sealed in such a way that stretching the skin wasn't an immediate sentence for reopening (though it was still stingingly painful).

As he moved towards the tree, Keene removed the cap to his flask, his aching fingers fumbling with the cap. Once it had been separated from the lip of the water flask, Keene exhaled a breath of res, pulling the water from the pouch as he came to stop in front of the mound where the tree was planted. Dispersing it and slowly swirling the liquid into the air, the cloud quickly formed and began its down pour. What water wasn't immediately cast into the cloud he kept revolving in the middle until the air naturally began to pull the water into it. The spell was, by all accounts, mostly mastered, though Keene had no forgotten what had happened the day previous and kept his full attention on what he was doing. Whether he felt familiar with a spell or not, reimancy was still an incredibly volatile form of raw power. While he was skeptical about how much damage a cloud of rain might cause if he lost control of it, Keene found he wasn't curious enough to find out. His curiosities were more angled towards improvement, innovation. Simply casting a sloppy spell was something that required little effort and was difficult to reproduce. It simply wasn't the way he operated, and wasn't going to be the way for quite some time (at least until the massive, purpled bruise on his shin faded a bit).

As the cloud faded, Keene flicked his wrist, allowing the suspended res to transmute into water and eek out the last few drops. The tree properly watered, Keene promptly turned to leave. The plateau had been becoming a haven of sorts, and Keene was not so naive as to believe it was truly as safe at is appeared. There was the added care he felt for the tree; a care he was working hard to remove. The island of Sahova was harsh, and it left little room for sympathies. He'd learned as much in the lower levels of the Gug Andjak when he'd fought the Gibbat dogs. There was no allowance for weakness of mind or heart, and he was doing his best to acclimate. Not giving the tree a second look, Keene gathered up his back pack, gingerly passing the straps over the raw area on his shoulders, before cautiously slipping down the ledge and back onto the path. By the time he stared down back to the cave, the occluded light had shifted into a lighter tone, signaling the rise of midday.

The journey down was rough on him as always, and he found the bruise lent itself more towards the mountain's sadistic whims than his own convenience. He moved slowly and cautiously, as slips and skids were much more painful with the jarring of his legs than usual thanks to his injuries. He fell once, landing flat on his back, the impact knocking the air from his lungs and a sharp pain into his chaffed shoulders. By the time he reached the final ledge that opened down into the small flat area that hosted the mouth of the cave that had become his home, Keene sat on the edge of it, letting his feet dangle. He wiped a trail of muddy sweat from his temple, blinking back the perspiration that pooled at the corners of his eyes. He gaze out over the valleys below him, their rolling tree dotted rises deceptively peaceful. His face turned down in a frown as he considered the perceived peace. He had been told over and over again that the island was dangerous, but so far the greatest danger he had faced had been his own incompetence. There were the Gibbat dogs, true, and the strange birds that had attacked him, but the had only done so due to his own inability to make wise decisions.

He wondered if that was the true nature of the island: a place that forced an individual to fight against himself. It was a bit absurd and abstract, but he had only to go foraging and practice shielding for the rest of the day, and philosophical thought was something that was always present in his stream of consciousness. Hopping from the ledge, Keene landed with his weight primarily on his left leg, bending into the impact to lessen the strain of the fall. The bruise on his shin responded with a wailing reminder of its presence, but he'd made the right decision to let his left take most of the force. The scrapes stung, but overall it was a successful mitigation of potential pain. Straightening up with a wince, Keene started across the relatively flat area, heading down towards the trees. The branches he'd left the night before still had had seeds on them, but he wasn't sure how long they would remain harvestable with the branches having been separated from their source of nutrition for several days. Either way, there were still plenty of acacia scattered across the landscape.

Pulling the parchment from his pocket, Keene perused the remaining contents as he slowed his pace of travel to keep himself from tumbling down the slight slope as he read. There were more plants listed, along with a few more that were, apparently, extremely poisonous. The next on the list was the juniper berry, and it was straight forward enough. The juniper trees, according to the diagram, were the coniferous, warped woods that he had seen spotted throughout the island. He didn't doubt the berries would be easy enough to find and harvest, assuming the bark wasn't covered in legions of thorns. Snow skirts, an edible fungus that grew upon the mulching branches fallen from the trees into the underbrush, were labeled as edible, though the tag denoting their lack of toxicity like the juniper berries and the wattleseeds was lacking. Unsure what to make of it, Keene decided he'd collect them if he came across them, as he was sure the whiteness of the fungus would make them relatively easy to spot. The next edible plant was Waat's Nest, from the diagram it didn't seem as the easiest to spot, however it was also marked as non-toxic. The remaining plant that didn't have some terrible effect when ingested or touched, was the climbing vine "Cat's Foot". There wasn't much written about it beyond that it was edible and non-toxic, two qualifiers that he supposed were more than enough for him to collect it.

Most of the plants' locations and habitats were not given, meaning he was on his own when it came to locating them. Having plenty of time to search, however, Keene wasn't very worried about it. He stopped at he came to the mess of branches, refolding and storing the paper in his pocket with a quick movement that irritated the raw area on his shoulders eliciting a sharp inhalation of breath. Ambling over to inspect the branches, Keene frowned at the withered seeds. He made a mental note to gather up the seed pods from acacia he cut down for wood at the same time, rather than putting it off. Shaking his head, Keene turned to head down a bit deeper into the increasing volume of trees in search of more and other edibles.

[Keene Ward]

The search was fruitful in both the literal and figurative sense of the idiom. The acacia's were filled with the wattleseed pods, though they were high enough up Keene was only able to reach the low hanging branches. He could have used reimancy to simply cut the trees down to reach the upper branches, but he decided against destroying the chances of future food, as there were plenty of seeds hanging down within reach. The constant upward groping was not comfortable on his shoulders, however, and while Keene had filled the bottom half of his bag with his collection of seeds, he was leaning more towards fungus collection. Stooping down seemed like a welcome change from the past few bells of shoving his hands into thorny branches. He'd kept near the area around the base of the main rise of Mt. Merlus, not wanting to wander so far he wouldn't be able to make it back before it became dark. The fertile, volcanic soil seemed to cultivate the minimal plant life in more concentrated amounts than on the rest of the island. It was, by no means, a forest by Zeltivan standards, but the trees were not spaced out by half mile intervals like they were along the path from the docks to the citadel.

He turned his eyes from the branches to the ground, as he gingerly adjusted the weight of the straps on his shoulders. The skin beneath his shirt had blistered, a few of them popping with the repetitive aggravation that they had been subjected to as he'd gathered the wattleseeds. The raw wounds were all the more uncomfortable when the straps of his backpack scraped against them. He had grown accustomed to the pain, however, the sting of his sweat seeping into the chaffed skin gave it a painful, numbing sensation that allowed him to press on in his foraging. He kept his eyes focused on the ground as he let his mind wander, finding few signs of any fungus as he made his way through the trees and over the uneven ground. The few places he thought he saw telltale signs of Waat's Nest proved only to be clods of dirt or other such useless refuse. It was much more difficult to locate the mushrooms than he had thought it would be. There were plenty of things he was certain were not edible. The most common fungus was a blueish blob of a mushroom that appeared to be filled with some kind of liquid. He kept away from it.

After about a bell of wandering around the base of the mountain, Keene found a small pocket of mushrooms that matched the description of Waat's Nest. Kneeling down, Keene set about removing them from the pocket of earth in the nest of roots of the juniper that grew above them. Glancing up, Keene noticed there were bluish berries on the boughs as well, an added bonus. Removed the pack from his back, Keene gently set it on the ground, dropping the mushrooms into the sack one at a time. When the small harvest had been completed, he rose to his feet and kept the bag in his hand, shuffling over the bent, twisted branches that grew down towards the ground, much easier to reach than those of the acacia. The smell of the berries stained his hands with the scent of pine, a heady sort of aroma that only hinted at the strength of the berries' taste. Once he had picked as many of the little blue dots as he could easily obtain, Keene reshouldered the rucksack, carefully sliding it over his shoulders with grimace.

Feeling relatively confident with what he had collected, Keene started back towards the cave. The sun had moved across the sky, having already passed its mid point several bells ago. The air was hot and heavy as it always was, and though his skin was filmed in sweat, Keene didn't mind the sticky sensation as much as he had in the past. The stinging sensation in his shins and shoulders as well as the throbbing of his bruise had taken a back seat to his search for food, and with the job completed, he turned his attentions inwards as he started up the gradually increasing incline. His steps were small, light, but determined. While his breath came heavy shortly after starting the climb, Keene's muscles held up quite nicely. Though sore, he could feel already his body's increased adaptation to his new environment. He was sure it wouldn't be too long before his lungs joined them.

As he walked, he thought about the past few days. He had considered his training with Mella to have been difficult, but never had days ever left him so exhausted as those spent as a newly initiated Warden's apprentice. He had learned much as well, and though he couldn't be certain, he had the feeling he was only going to learn more and more as the days stretched into seasons and years. It was a strange sensation of nostalgia to think about what his future was going to be like and realize the similarities between his old and new lives. He wondered if it was the proper thing to do, if his choices had been sound enough to serve as the foundation for his future. He supposed there was no way of truly knowing, as the only time to fully analyze the effects of his actions upon his life was to view it from an objective, retrospective standpoint; two things he could not do while he was alive at the very least. As things were, Keene had little reason to doubt himself. He had reforged his purpose, found a new path, and he while he had run from his past, its benefits had followed. Those benefits, however, were not without cost, but Keene pushed them from his mind for the time being.

Struggling over the final rise to come to a horizontal towards the cave, Keene leaned up against the lip of the mouth, catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his temples and forehead. It had been what felt like ages since he had returned to the cave with ample evening light to act as a partial guide. He took his time as he limped down the dark, obsidian pathway. As the light faded into the darkness of the tunnel, Keene extended his hands part way in front of him to keep from walking into one of the walls. The linear nature of the path, however, allowed for a relatively easy entrance into the main chamber. He had returned before Atziri, which meant the cave's candles and fire would not be lit until she did. Setting his backpack on the ground, Keene cautiously turned to head back outside, the small speck of light of the exit the only visible thing to follow.

[Keene Ward]

He stopped outside the entrance, easing himself down into a seated position with his knees bent and back pressed up against the face of the cliff where the cave had been carved into. Having been surviving on a single meal a day with the occasional mouthful of almonds or fruit, Keene's stomach didn't seem to desire much in the way of food like it had when he had been living on two to three square meals a day. It had affected his body, that was certain. Having had little fat on him before, Keene had found it had nearly all disappeared, leaving behind a definition of muscle due mostly to a lack of fat rather then a strong presence of the observable. It didn't matter a whole lot, other than the fact he wasn't sure if he should be worried about it or not. Atziri usually saw him in the mornings, and from the way she appraised him with her deceptively amorous gaze, he was almost certain she would say something if he were in danger of something as drastic as malnutrition or starvation.

Turning his attention to look at his muddied, scraped, and worn hands, Keene's blank, appraising gaze traced the hairline streaks of red where the thorns had grazed him. The pain was minimal, almost itchy, and though he could see the injuries, they didn't feel even half as bad as they looked. Glancing down at his shin, he classified the injury as a completely different case. The purplish black mass of wounded flesh looked exactly as bad as it hurt. Curling and uncurling his toes, Keene let the sensations of the throbbing pain in his leg travel up from the shin and into his right jaw, wincing after a few tries to keep a straight face. He was no immune to pain in any way, but he felt as though he were getting a bit more used to it. The hole in his left finger had sealed to the point where the scab was nicely formed and the pain was merely a dull pulse with the rush of his blood. Wiggling the fingers, Keene was glad to see he still had pretty good control over them, though he already knew his ability to grab onto this was a bit diminished by the tenderness of his hairline lesioned skin.

Relaxing his body, Keene eased deeper into his seated position, letting his back press into the wall behind him as the pull of gravity pulled his weight downwards towards the core of the world. He slowed his breathing, letting the air moved in a gentle cycle that was - while still uneven - calming. His mind was still awash with thought, and while he was able to push some of the noise out of his head, much of it still remained. It was in that moment he regretted not taking more time to seriously meditate when he was younger. The entire process was, at its core, relaxing, but the steps to get to that point were aggravating enough he found it odd that such an activity could truly bring about peace of mind. Feeling his muscles begin to tense as his thoughts wandered, Keene resituated himself, carefully pressed the bruise on his shoulder against the firm structure of the rocks behind him as he attempted to relax once more. Letting as many of the thoughts and noise in his head go as he could, Keene let his eyes open and stare down at his hands upon the ground.

He could feel his djed, the backbone of his existence, buzzing beneath and through his fingertips. The process came a bit more quickly to him as he gently swept his had back and fourth over the dirt. Louder than any other thought in his mind, Keene focused on the earth, the rocks and dirt that comprised the majority of the landscape around him. With each small sweep of his hands, Keene imagined the scintillating structure being formed before him repelling that earth, refusing it passage, never bending nor breaking for it was his will. He pushed the thought into the miniature scales that comprised the shield, his breathing increasing to a short panting with the effort. When the shield began to shimmer, he carefully removed his hands and let out a small sigh of relief. His breath slowed to a more natural rhythm as he looked down and the smooth surface of the shield. Though it appeared fluid enough, there were still dips and rises pocketing the surface, impurities that seemed directly correlated to the bumps and form of his hands and fingers. Wondering if it had something to do with how he was constructing the shield and sure it caused some structural integrity issues, Keene frowned down and that opalescent slab of shield.

Whether it was properly crafted or not, however, had not been the purpose of the exercise. He picked up a small stone to his right, weighing it in his hand before gently placing it on top of the shield. For a moment, the rock sat atop the pearly sheen before there was a bright, white flash as it shattered into nothing, dropping the rock back to the ground it had come from. Staring down at the now immobile piece of earth before him, Keene felt a rush of excitement spring up from within his chest. Though brief, he'd managed to keep the rock from passing through the shimmering obstruction for a few ticks. It was an accomplishment that marked the beginning on his true grasp on tasking.

[Keene Ward]

The next several bells were very frustrating reminders that he was still only beginning to understand the magic of shielding. It seemed that tasking required not only a concentrated force of will, but it had to be consistent. If his thoughts wavered from the purpose of the shield, so too would the shield waver. It was slow going, and there was little observable progress. Much of the learning took place in theory and understanding; he had a difficult time applying his growing knowledge to the shields themselves. He was quick to discover that the crafting of the shield was as important as the tasking. He had adjusted the way he led the djed slide from his hands, using only the tips of his fingers to shape and mold. It reduced the impurities in the smoothness, but by no means did it eradicate them. On top of that, Keene found it was difficult to carefully craft the shield while only thinking of what it was he wanted to defend against. At any point he made a mistake, his concentration would quickly devolve as he attempted to fix it. From there, things tended to just fall apart resulting in either a useless shield or a broken one.

Atziri had yet to come back, and as the sun had already begun to set, the light had begun to fade. There were shimmers that sporadically fought back the encroaching darkness, fading under the pressure of a rock or a poorly formed sheet. He took long breaks in between his attempts, mulling over his failures until he could think of a plausible reason behind them and attempt to rectify only to find yet another issue with his technique or application. By the time he noticed the glow of Atziri's flame, she was already standing over him, a curious spark in her eye. "Practicing, Initiate?" He nodded, letting out a little puff of frustrated air though the emotion did not reach his eyes. He had grown his understanding of the magic, though it had not been as prodigious as he had hoped it might have been. He was tired, but his weariness had not come without benefit. Atziri nodded, offering a hand down to him to help him to his feet. As he stood, Keene felt his sedentary muscles spark to life too slowly, forcing his back to remain curved for a few ticks before he could straighten it out. She headed into the tunnel, taking the light with her.

Falling into step behind her swift, purposeful movement, Keene watched the sway of his master's shadow that bounced between the walls. Once they came to the chamber, she flicked out a fall of res, lighting one of the candles on the table with a snap of her fingers. Snuffing out the flame that had guided them, she raised a brow at the Keene's bag on the ground. He stooped down, hiding a wince from the soreness that fought back against the motion, and pulled the bag up into his hands. He ambled over to the table, setting the bag on top of it a comfortable distance from where Atziri sat. "I wasn't sure how much to gather." He opened the bag, turning it so she could see the contents clearly.

Nodding as she gazed into the bag, Atziri gave him a smile. "This is fine, Keene." She pulled one of the mushrooms from the bag, tossing it between her hands. "Do you know what this fungus does if you eat it before it's cooked, Initiate?" The paper had had no information regarding the properties of the mushroom beyond that it was edible. He gave her a blank stare, waiting for her elaboration. "Have you ever heard of aphrodisiacs?" Keene's eyes shifted from Atziri's grin to the fungus in her hands, a small frown playing at his lips. "I wouldn't suggest snacking on these, unless you're looking for a little extra... something." She chuckled, setting the fungus on the table before beginning to empty out the rucksack. Keene helped sort out the contents into three piles: wattleseeds, Waat's Nest, and juniper berries. Once that had been done, Atziri handed the bag back to him which he received with a grimace as his shoulders scraped against the fabric of his shirt. "This amount should be good for tomorrow is well. Good work."

Keene stood up from the chair, taking a candle and lighting it off of the one that flickered its light through the cavern. "Good night." Atziri nodded, playing with one of the mushrooms, giving him a wave with her unused hand. Turning, Keene limped out of the cavern and down the hall to his room, setting the candle on one of the many outcroppings of stone that lined the walls as if they had been specifically designed as shelves. He supposed that was exactly what had transpired, as the tunnels and cavern were far too crafted to have been done without the use of reimancy. His room illuminated, Keene set the bag in the corner before sinking into his bed. Leaning over with a grimace as his abs pressed against his thighs, Keene undid the leather straps of his sandals. The muddy, blistered state of his feet was a depressing sight. Exuding a film of res, Keene pulled it over his right foot, massaging it over the skin as he slowly transmuted the outer shell that was pressed against his foot into cool, icy water. The sensation was somewhere between refreshing and astonishing. He did the same to his other foot, cleaning it with the chilly water until the water had absorbed the majority of the dirt on his feet.

Letting the water fall from his res to splatter onto the ground, he did the same for his shins, though he was much more careful with how much he pressed the water up against the cuts and scrapes. The cold felt amazing against the large, dark bruise on his shin. Once that had been done, he let the res hover above the ground as he slowly removed his shirt. Guiding the bluish liquid onto his back with a gentle hand, Keene washed his back and chest, along with his cut covered arms and hands. Rising up, his feet slapping against the wet obsidian beneath him, Keene wiggled out of his pants and undergarments, setting them next to his shirt on the bed. He finished up his washing, wincing as the cold pressed against the more sensitive areas of his body. Feeling cleaner and much more refreshed, he used the rest of the res he'd withdrawn to guide the water from the floor and spread it through the air, effectively saturating the already humid air with another few levels of moisture. Folding his clothes, he set them next to the rest of his neatly kept garments. They were well worn and would need a wash soon, but Keene was not one to keep things in disarray, that had been more of Mella's department: order in chaos.

Pulling on a fresh set of smallclothes, Keene gingerly lowered himself onto the bed, the warmth of the mountain already combating the chill of the water that it had left on his skin. Turning his head towards the candle, he blew a small puff of res from his lips, the semi-translucent dust traveled towards the flame before he transmuted it into a small breeze that snuffed out the light. In the partial darkness, as there was still light in the main cavern, Keene let his eyes close. His vision ran with images of opalescent barriers, heavy clouds, and forlorn looking trees. His days on the island prior seemed to have been preparing him for the true beginning of his Sahovan experience. He had many days to go, years even, before he was even a small step closer towards even beginning to understand what it was he had gotten himself into. It didn't worry him. The island was, in and of itself, an separate entity from those that lived upon it. When it was time, he would understand what was necessary, of that he was certain.

[Ink]

Fate has dictated the conclusion to your journey...

...And now, only Fortune awaits you.

I am Ink, Mistress of Sahova; and it is my pleasure to award you with this bounty of XP and Lore. If you have any questions regarding this Grade, please do not hesitate to send me a PM. Fret not, I tend not to smite...often.

 

Keene

XP

• Shielding 3
• Reimancy 2
• Wilderness Survival 2
• Herbilism 2
• Observation 3
• Meditation 1

LORES

• Shielding: Requires Tasking
• A Meal Well Earned
• Herbilism: Identifying waat's nest
• Herbilism: identifying Juniper Berries
• Herbilism: Identifying Snow Skirts

With Regards,
Ink