• Graded • On a Boat

Robin Explores the River

4th of Vhalar 717

With the escalation of hostilities between Etzos and Rhakros, a series of small walled towns is being established as a network of early warnings and defenses against Rhakros' reprisals. Only the very bravest and most formidable of characters should risk themselves on the Witches' Wilds frontier.

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Robin Stark
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On a Boat

4th of Vhalar, 717
The boat floated on the river. Morning greeted them with bird song and painted skies. Robin watched as the water rippled from the boat. "They've named you Southwood," he said, slinking down, his bare feet dipping into the cool waters. He smiled. The river grasped his heels, his feet, tickling his toes. "Do you like that name?"

The river plopped in satisfaction.

"That's not an answer."

The river plopped again, swirling over his feet. It warmed and soothed, exploring his bare skin. It wondered about a scar.

"I dunno," Robin pulled his left foot up to examine it. A thin line crossed on the right edge of his heel. "I guess it's always been there?"

The river sighed in a wave, pushing against the boat.

"I don't know!" He laughed, pulling his left foot out from the water, pushing it under his right leg. The river pushed against the boat, harder this time.

"It's a new scar. I didn't even see it until you showed it to me," he said, looking back down at the scar. "It doesn't hurt, if that's what you're wondering. I probably scratched myself on wood or steel," Robin shrugged. It couldn't have been stone. It had to have been something on the inside -- maybe where he'd fought Zipper last trial?

He sat in silence, the morning passing from colorful to yellow. The trees that lined the shore changed from darkened silhouettes to impressive natural giants of redwood and strong branches. Their leaves were lush in green. The shore was shimmering in morning light, speckled with golds and browns and whites. The river told him of it's below, of the shimmering fish that swam and the kelp and the secret shells that lined the bottom of it's banks.
word count: 309
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Robin Stark
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On a Boat

His chin rested on the rusted band. Morning had always been a favorite time of his. Victor had been, before he'd died, a late riser. He'd often escaped their barn and run into the fields of corn adjacent, hiding between the stalks of golden yellow. He would watch the sunrise, watching as the shadow of the world was folded back like an old blanket and the under color revealed.

And then, by the time the suns had long passed their midpoints, he'd hear Victor calling for him to clean or cook.

Robin didn't thank the immortals, not usually, but he was glad the old fart bag was dead.

"You never answered, you know," Robin smiled, his right foot dipping into the water, "Southwood. Good or not?"

The river was murky. He could hear, if he really paid attention, the sand that colored it red and brown. They clung to his foot easier than the water did. It slopped against the boat, begging for him to jump in. It promised him fun and ease and it could move him faster than a boat ever could.

"That's not the question," Robin repeated, taking his other foot outside of the river's reached. It pushed up against the boat, higher and higher, but he eluded it. It gurgled and retreated.

Robin watched the red with brown sand river for a bit or two. Water was the element he knew least about; wind and earth had always been a constant in his life. Fire was easiest enough to summon, and there wasn't a home without a hearth that he had ever found. Besides, fire and wind were transparent. They told him everything without much insistence. Earth and water were different -- they hid things. Earth hid metal and magma and Water hid life.
word count: 304
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Robin Stark
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Robin pushed his hands against the railing. His feet stretched, tip-toes out. He fed the river his enthusiasm; the old fat man and the one-armed woman had held it's attention but he was able to steal a part of it back. Kin or not, the elements were his friends. They treated the river like a tool. They demanded obedience. They were cold and unmoving.

He was free.

Before he could regret it, he fell off-side. As he fell, he did regret it, remembering he hadn't ever learned to swim properly. The river caught him, his immediate panic rippling across and under, and it cradled him. He stretched his arms up, past the surface, trying to grab anything, but only meeting liquid. Robin opened his mouth to breath.

He was lucky the river knew how to swim.

It refused to drown him. The river chided, a quick stream of current shutting his gaping mouth. It bubbled him, a reminder: it was there. The water, murky with sand, coiled around his legs and pushed them, back and forth, back and forth.

See? Robin imagined a voice, calm and damp and quiet.

It isn't hard.

Robin kicked his legs, demanding to go up. He kicked and nothing. He kicked faster and faster and faster. The river caught his arms, pushing them up and down, up and down. The water held his hands, sprawling them, teaching him how to catch it and push. There was only up.

Air escaped him in bubbles. He was too heavy and he wasn't strong enough to lift himself. He wasn't enough alone. His mouth opened again, only to be shut by another stream of water. The river pulled away from it's own current to share. The boat slowed, but he didn't realize it. The earth bellowed on the shore, helpless. The river was too deep, too wide.

He kicked harder. He pulled harder.

The river pushed him through the surface.

Robin gasped, exhausted, the world a blurry mess of bright colors.
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Robin Stark
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On a Boat

The earth roared. It creaked and rumbled. It split along the shore, desperate to save it's kin.

The river laughed, delighting in Robin's presence. It ignored the earth, ignored it's cries, because Robin was here with it. The river didn't want to share.

Robin didn't hear any of this. He was busy trying to survive.

His body moved like the river showed him. His legs kicking, back and forth, his arms reaching, up and up. The water supported him when it wasn't distracted by the other two. They wanted the river to keep moving. Robin wanted the river to keep him afloat. He was losing. There was less of the river here. He was just pushing by himself.

The river swallowed him again.

His arms moved in a slow circular motion. Water made everything heavier. He could hear the earth below, too deep. Again, he kicked. He fought against his own weight. He pushed himself up, adrenaline helping where his magic could not. He broke the surface, choking on air, the wind pulling at him. It grabbed his hair and he cried out in pain. It dispersed, embarrassed. The wind had only wanted to help.

Again, he lost the water's attention. He breathed in greedily.

And then he was underwater.

He fed his magic into the water around him. It bubbled with his panic. He pushed up and up, a swell, a wave, anything. He moved his body, kicking and grabbing, feeling the river sigh as it pulled him in it's current. Up please, up please, up please.

His body slammed against the boat. Robin grabbed the bottom, holding on, half his body still submerged. Breathing, desperate, he pulled and kicked.
His fingers squeezed against the wood, his feet pushed against the water, and he managed to ask for another wave for lift.

Then he was on the boat, gasping for breath, his body thick with fear and excitement.

He had won against the old fat man and the one-handed woman, if only for a brief time.

The boat continued down the river, it's pace faster now.
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Robin Stark
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On a Boat

Something was wrong.

His chest was stone.

Robin blinked as the world faded. The wind screamed. The earth screamed. The water screamed. He reached out with his magic.

Why were his friends worried, he thought.

Everything was so calm.

He watched as the colors faded. He remembered the morning in it's splendor. He thought of Felicia, alone somewhere. She was a smart girl. He thought of the river, rust red and cool. He thought of the boat. The wood was stiff under him, no give, and warming to the suns light. He thought it was brown. Oak and stained, made from the oldest trees.

Robin couldn't see it to know.

All he could see was black.
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Zip
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On a Boat

"You guys are trained for this," Zipper said irritably. "So what do you mean you can't fuckin' do it?"

"No can do," one of the annoyingly useless crew members said. "Normal folks, yeah? You mages, we ain't touching that bag. What if he drops a storm on me as i be savin'?"

"I wish he had that competence, your prejudiced pricks," she said. "Please do your fuckin' jobs and save him. I don't like him much, but his death will be very, very inconvenient for me. What do you want for doing the bare vocational minimum in guiding your charges to their destination? Nel? A favor? My eternal gratitude? Do you want me to conjure up some lust magic with my arcane shenanigans and guide you to the world's greatest whore?"

"Sorry, miss." another fuck of a crew member said. "Just can't risk us."

"He's barely conscious, you fucks."

"Can't know with you mages."

She gave them a look that suggested that she really, really, really wanted to tear down the boat and her falling into the water and getting assaulted by river dolphins was completely worth it if they all drowned with her - but that moment was passed. She had already wasted critical seconds bantering.

She didn't even bother asking the other Defiers. She knew a lost cause when she saw one.

So here she was, settling down on her knees next to Robin's prone, dead form. She had served a brief stint as a doctor's apprentice some years ago, and although much of what she knew had been cast aside or forgotten, she did retain a few tricks that she would not forget.

Like resuscitating a drowned person.

She... oh god, she wasn't wearing gloves...dipped two fingers into his mouth and checked whether there was anything inside. Then she lifted his bloody considerable bulk up, barely turning him on his side to let the water drain. Jutted his jaw, pressed her ear to his chest to check for breathing. It occurred to her that this was the way she sometimes activated Identity too. Great, he was profaning her personal Transmutation rituals too. This absolute fuck.

He wasn't breathing.

... Maybe that was normal. Maybe Defier's had no heart to pump air. Maybe he had mutilated himself so much with earth and wretched mud that-

Ah, fuck it. She had to do it, didn't she? Him dying within days wasn't gonna look good on her - which she didn't mind. She did, however, mind the inevitable internal investigation.

Even in the midst of a crisis, she rolled her eyes and did what she had to do: she pinched his nose shut, and pressed her mouth completely over cold, clammy excuse for lips.

And tried to blow life into his sorry husk.
Last edited by Zip on Sun Oct 15, 2017 8:12 am, edited 4 times in total. word count: 477
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Robin Stark
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On a Boat

He blinked.

And then he breathed.

Robin coughed up air and bile, because the river had refused to drown him. The wind blew into a gale, holding him, his hair and clothes billowing."It's fine. I'm fine," he coughed again, the wind pleased, warm and soft. The earth was far away but content. The river wasn't paying attention, not anymore. The two defiers had already brought it back to task.

His lungs swelled with air. The color returned to his face, to his vision.

"I forgot I couldn't swim," he said, refusing to look at Zipper. Robin hated that she saved him. The wind teased him, spinning between his fingers.

"My bones are too dense, now. I mean, I could, if I practiced," Robin explained. He closed his eyes, finally tired. He'd spent the trial awake and after almost dying, he was ready to sleep.

He didn't thank her.
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Pash Raj'oriq
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On a Boat

Thread Rewards
Robin, your defiance writing is so good. I’m delighted to read it every time. The perceived feelings of elements and how they react to each other, react to Robin, are really, really nice. More people should read it. Then, you know, Zipper steps in and gets a little side action, bringing you back to life in the process. Go team!

Robin

Points

XP:
15 | These points can be used for magic.

Fame:
N/A

Loot

N/A

Injuries + Overstepping

Bruises and exhaustion from almost drowning.

Knowledge

Skill Knowledge:
Defiance: Elemental Mourning
Defiance: Swimming
Defiance: Wave
Defiance: Moving a Current
Defiance: Fighting Another Defier for Elemental Attention
Defiance: Comforting An Element
Swimming: Hard with Stone Bones
Swimming: Go Up
Endurance: Not Drowning
Endurance: Being Slammed Against a Boat

Other Knowledge:
The Southwood River
Zipper

Points

XP:
5 | These points cannot be used for magic.

Fame:
N/A

Loot

N/A

Injuries + Overstepping

N/A

Knowledge

Skill Knowledge:
Medicine: Resuscitating a drowning victim
Discipline: Saving someone you hate
Discipline: Overcoming personal hygiene concerns to save a life

Other Knowledge:
N/A
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Rakahi | Rakahi Pidgin | Common | Xanthean

Because of his Competency in Empathy magic, Pash exudes an aura of calm emotion that is always "on." While it's not strong enough to overcome extreme emotions and it also loses strength the more people he's around, it's still up to you how that affects your character in whatever situation we're in. PM with questions!
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