Realm of Terreille => Raej => Lys => Topic started by: Nikodemus Vee on October 19, 2020, 01:03:07 AM

Title: Event: Rippled Webs
Post by: Nikodemus Vee on October 19, 2020, 01:03:07 AM
"And this is the audit report from the coastal towns of Uhyggelig." The bundle of letters, dozens of parchments and handwritings, joined the stacks already dominating Nikodemus' desk. He dismissed the attendant with additional marks for their troubles, and locked the door with Craft behind them.

This had not been in his dreams of the Event.

His webs had been clear but fragmented for days, always repeating: a lake, clear as glass, and the network of Raej's webs beneath; a spear into the sky, dark as void; and wind, slicing like daggers against his skin. The lake cracked, and the webs rippled, some twisting, others fraying. Changed.

He'd consulted, carefully, cautiously. Picked the minds of any of the 'widows within the District, and some without, deliberate in his message: this was to be kept close, and quiet, until they could discover more. The motifs were common, if not unified, and there were few other details he was able to pull from his contacts.

In the end, it hadn't mattered.

A wave of Craft had swept down from the mountains across the border from Askavi days later, flattening the forest for miles into Lys and Skygge, shredding the Winds. He'd woken from a light doze between meetings choking on air and reeling, shaking in his Gray. His horn had ached with the pressure of it, and he'd had to cancel the remaining appointments for that day and the following one before he'd felt himself again. The rest of the week had been dedicated to traveling out to the affected borders to observe the damage and advise on reconstruction, checking in with the military and farm families that had been effected.

After, it was time to face everyone else.

He'd sent the web maintenance teams out prior to his trip, instructing the Bureaus in each city to dispatch as many as they were capable of as quickly, quietly, and as far as possible, intent on gathering as much information as possible. The reports had been coming in since then, assessments and letters from every corner of the territory, in every hand, detailing what the crews were encountering. Some were observing intermittent changes, webs that felt inexplicably different but weren't performing differently. Others sent back sketches or sometimes even small replica webs of the disturbance they investigated. None were consistent, none were the same.

And no one could tell what the changes meant, only that they were present.

He'd be calling a formal consultation soon, gathering the 'widows who headed the teams and the Bureau directors, their most experienced contractors as requested guests, if possible.

The greatest shadow, of course, was the winged one to the North. He rubbed the base of his horn absently, other hand tapping arrhythmically against the topmost papers on his desk. It had been a long time, relatively, since Raej had engaged in correspondence with anyone that wasn't about trade agreements. He'd even admit to greater hesitation now, with the foundation of his people's peace and safety in such a precarious position. There were still swaths of farmland empty from the war, maintained only peripherally by neighbors, or, more rarely, rotations of military units in training. It was wise to look with consideration at the source of the most recent upset, and be cautious.

Askavi's new management had yet to prove they'd be as Witch had been, although Nik knew little about what that management actually was. The history of his neighbor had not been the most pressing thing in his studies and subsequent ascension, although he knew that Witch had struggled to unify it. There were any number of possibilities as to who sat at Askavi's head and what their agenda was.

Tread carefully, he thought, steepling his fingers below his chin and leaning back. To run too quickly through the unknown field is to invite danger. All sorts of dangers lurked in the shadows of the tall grasses. Caution was the sensible choice, even if it might take longer. And it wasn't as though he didn't have other pieces in play to deal with.

Decided, and headache slightly alleviated, Nik took up a pen and began to draft the first of, hopefully, many cordial missives. Perhaps he'd even send a gift, although it would take some deliberation to pick out what would accompany a polite 'what the fuck'.