The Hand of the Ranyhyn
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- wayfriend
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The Hand of the Ranyhyn
"Okay," said Warmark Samuel Rolle, "this is my idea."
He turned his back on the Lords assembled in the viancom and faced the white board standing behind him. In his hand was a wand of markirill. The lorewardens of Revelwood had worked hard to create these special wands, which could write on the white board in a way that could be erased with the wave of a small cloth, and then write again. It was one of his "new ideas", and he was proud of it.
"Here's Revelstone," he announced, and sketched in a castle in the upper left. "Here's Mount Thunder," on the middle right. "This line is Landsdrop."
That was preliminary. Now came the central core of his plan. "Send four Bloodguard here, and four more here." He punctuated each "here" with a large X, one north of Mount Thunder, one south. "But they do not ride their Ranyhyn - we compel those great horses to stay here, in Revelstone."
This last bit caused a few of the Lords to audibly draw breath. Rolle faced them and offered placations. "Well, okay, we ask them respectfully if they will willingly oblige us." This seemed to mollify Lords Elena and Mhoram. Rolle was not concerned for the others, and returned to his plan. He drew several small shapes vaguely resembling horses in Revelstone.
"Now, suppose the Grey Slayer's army comes north of Revelstone." A sweeping arrow was drawn over the Sarangrave, aiming for the great Keep. "When these Bloodguard" - pointing to the north X - "see the army approaching Landsdrop, they summon their Ranyhyn."
Now he faced the Lords squarely. This was the important part. "Here in Revelstone we will see the Ranyhyn depart. By noting which Ranyhyn have left Revelstone, we will know that the army is taking the northern route. And they will leave Revelstone," and here he emphasised each word for affect, "two whole days before the army is even seen. Because the Ranyhyn will fortell their riders' call and depart in time to arrive at the moment of the call."
This produced a satisfactory murmur from the Lords.
He drew another sweeping arrow. "And if they take the southern route, we will know three days before they are even seen."
Lord Elena stood. "This is an impressive idea, Warmark Rolle. With such forknowledge, we will have more than enough time to commit our forces at the proper point along Landsdrop. The Despiser's army will never gain the upper Land. Life and lives and homes will be spared."
She bowed to the Warmark. "I thank you." The other Lords also stood, and bowed.
Far away, on the plains of Ra, several Ranyhyn stood upon a grassy knoll and conferred. It was still many years until these events at the viancom would come to pass, but the great horses had seen it in their future.
And they were concerned. Rolle would be taking risks which the Ranyhyn could not condone. For foreknowledge in the hands of someone who has not earned it risked the Arch of Time itself. With such knowledge, events could be changed in a way that created a contradiction in Time.
They all agreed that Rolle's plans must never come to pass, must never even be imagined.
It took some time, but eventually they decided on a course of action that would prevent this timeline from occurring. They would alter the course of Atiaran's summonsing. Instead of Rolle, they would ensure that she would summon someone who was not so clever. Someone who was more of a berk.
It would be dangerous. There would be a fire, which would cause the death of the one summoned in their own world. But this would make that person more vulnerable to the summons, and Atiaran's unguided attempt would find that person before any other.
Nevertheless, they chose this course. To save the Land.
We should also send them a message. About vision, volunteered one stallion.
Yes, agreed an aged mare. Let's do something with eyes. Blindness, perhaps.
Eyelessness would be better, offered a third horse.
Will they get it? asked the stallion. We're not talking Insequent-level minds here.
In the end, they chose to use the metaphor. And then cropped the sweet grass on the knoll.
He turned his back on the Lords assembled in the viancom and faced the white board standing behind him. In his hand was a wand of markirill. The lorewardens of Revelwood had worked hard to create these special wands, which could write on the white board in a way that could be erased with the wave of a small cloth, and then write again. It was one of his "new ideas", and he was proud of it.
"Here's Revelstone," he announced, and sketched in a castle in the upper left. "Here's Mount Thunder," on the middle right. "This line is Landsdrop."
That was preliminary. Now came the central core of his plan. "Send four Bloodguard here, and four more here." He punctuated each "here" with a large X, one north of Mount Thunder, one south. "But they do not ride their Ranyhyn - we compel those great horses to stay here, in Revelstone."
This last bit caused a few of the Lords to audibly draw breath. Rolle faced them and offered placations. "Well, okay, we ask them respectfully if they will willingly oblige us." This seemed to mollify Lords Elena and Mhoram. Rolle was not concerned for the others, and returned to his plan. He drew several small shapes vaguely resembling horses in Revelstone.
"Now, suppose the Grey Slayer's army comes north of Revelstone." A sweeping arrow was drawn over the Sarangrave, aiming for the great Keep. "When these Bloodguard" - pointing to the north X - "see the army approaching Landsdrop, they summon their Ranyhyn."
Now he faced the Lords squarely. This was the important part. "Here in Revelstone we will see the Ranyhyn depart. By noting which Ranyhyn have left Revelstone, we will know that the army is taking the northern route. And they will leave Revelstone," and here he emphasised each word for affect, "two whole days before the army is even seen. Because the Ranyhyn will fortell their riders' call and depart in time to arrive at the moment of the call."
This produced a satisfactory murmur from the Lords.
He drew another sweeping arrow. "And if they take the southern route, we will know three days before they are even seen."
Lord Elena stood. "This is an impressive idea, Warmark Rolle. With such forknowledge, we will have more than enough time to commit our forces at the proper point along Landsdrop. The Despiser's army will never gain the upper Land. Life and lives and homes will be spared."
She bowed to the Warmark. "I thank you." The other Lords also stood, and bowed.
Far away, on the plains of Ra, several Ranyhyn stood upon a grassy knoll and conferred. It was still many years until these events at the viancom would come to pass, but the great horses had seen it in their future.
And they were concerned. Rolle would be taking risks which the Ranyhyn could not condone. For foreknowledge in the hands of someone who has not earned it risked the Arch of Time itself. With such knowledge, events could be changed in a way that created a contradiction in Time.
They all agreed that Rolle's plans must never come to pass, must never even be imagined.
It took some time, but eventually they decided on a course of action that would prevent this timeline from occurring. They would alter the course of Atiaran's summonsing. Instead of Rolle, they would ensure that she would summon someone who was not so clever. Someone who was more of a berk.
It would be dangerous. There would be a fire, which would cause the death of the one summoned in their own world. But this would make that person more vulnerable to the summons, and Atiaran's unguided attempt would find that person before any other.
Nevertheless, they chose this course. To save the Land.
We should also send them a message. About vision, volunteered one stallion.
Yes, agreed an aged mare. Let's do something with eyes. Blindness, perhaps.
Eyelessness would be better, offered a third horse.
Will they get it? asked the stallion. We're not talking Insequent-level minds here.
In the end, they chose to use the metaphor. And then cropped the sweet grass on the knoll.
Last edited by wayfriend on Wed Mar 28, 2018 1:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Hand of the Ranyhyn
wf wrote:Now he faced the Lords squarely. This was the important part. "Here in Revelstone we will see the Ranyhyn depart. By noting which Ranyhyn have left Revelstone, we will know that the army is taking the northern route. And they will leave Revelstone," and here he emphasised each word for affect, "two whole days before the army is even seen. Because the Ranyhyn will fortell their riders' call and depart in time to arrive at the moment of the call."
Yessss!
*thinks*wayfriend wrote:It would be dangerous. There would be a fire, which would cause the death of the one summoned in their own world. But this would make that person more vulnerable to the summons, and Atiaran's unguided attempt would find that person before any other.
Nevertheless, they chose this course. To save the Land.
We should also send them a message. About vision, volunteered one stallion.
Yes, agreed an aged mare. Let's do something with eyes. Blindness, perhaps.
Eyelessness would be better, offered a third horse.
Will they get it? asked the stallion. We're not talking Insequent-level minds here.
In the end, they chose to use the metaphor. And then cropped the sweet grass on the knoll.
*thinks*
And now I get it too!
Re: The Hand of the Ranyhyn
Rats I was going to guess John Madden with the whole board thingy going on herewayfriend wrote:"
He turned his back on the Lords assembled in the viancom and faced the white board standing behind him. In his hand was a wand of markirill. The lorewardens of Revelwood had worked hard to create these special wands, which could write on the white board in a way that could be erased with the wave of a small cloth, and then write again.
- wayfriend
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Sorry, sam, I was looking for the actual appearance of Rolle.
In [i]The Illearth War[/i] was wrote:The half-dried soap on his fingers made his eyes sting and blur as he got the number he wanted and put through another long-distance call.
When the crisp military voice said, "Department of Defense," he blinked at the moisture which filled his eyes like shame, and responded, "Let me talk to Hile Troy." Troy had been in his dream, too. But the man had insisted that he was real, an inhabitant of the real world, not a figment of Covenant's nightmare.
"Hile Troy? One moment, sir." Covenant heard the riffling of pages briefly. Then the voice said, "Sir, I have no listing for anyone by that name."
"Hile Troy," Covenant repeated. "He works in one of your-in one of your think tanks. He had an accident. If he isn't dead, he should be back to work by now."
The military voice lost some of its crispness. "Sir, if he's employed here as you say-then he's security personnel. I couldn't contact him for you, even if he were listed here."
"Just get him to the phone," Covenant moaned. "He'll talk to me."
"What is your name, sir?"
"He'll talk to me."
"Perhaps he will. I still need to know your name."
"Oh, hell!" Covenant wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, then said abjectly, "I'm Thomas Covenant."
"Yes, sir. I'll connect you to Major Rolle. He may be able to help you."
The line clicked into silence. In the background, Covenant could hear a running series of metallic snicks like the ticking of a deathwatch. Pressure mounted in him. The wound on his forehead throbbed like a scream. He clasped the receiver to his head, and hugged himself with his free arm, straining for self-control. When the line came to life again, he could hardly keep from howling at it.
"Mr. Covenant?" a bland, insinuating voice said. "I'm Major Rolle. We're having trouble locating the person you wish to speak to. This is a large department--you understand. Could you tell me more about him?"
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Actually, it's in The Power That Preserves, chapter 1.wayfriend wrote:Sorry, sam, I was looking for the actual appearance of Rolle.
In [i]The Illearth War[/i] was wrote:The half-dried soap on his fingers made his eyes sting and blur as he got the number he wanted and put through another long-distance call.
When the crisp military voice said, "Department of Defense," he blinked at the moisture which filled his eyes like shame, and responded, "Let me talk to Hile Troy." Troy had been in his dream, too. But the man had insisted that he was real, an inhabitant of the real world, not a figment of Covenant's nightmare.
"Hile Troy? One moment, sir." Covenant heard the riffling of pages briefly. Then the voice said, "Sir, I have no listing for anyone by that name."
"Hile Troy," Covenant repeated. "He works in one of your-in one of your think tanks. He had an accident. If he isn't dead, he should be back to work by now."
The military voice lost some of its crispness. "Sir, if he's employed here as you say-then he's security personnel. I couldn't contact him for you, even if he were listed here."
"Just get him to the phone," Covenant moaned. "He'll talk to me."
"What is your name, sir?"
"He'll talk to me."
"Perhaps he will. I still need to know your name."
"Oh, hell!" Covenant wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, then said abjectly, "I'm Thomas Covenant."
"Yes, sir. I'll connect you to Major Rolle. He may be able to help you."
The line clicked into silence. In the background, Covenant could hear a running series of metallic snicks like the ticking of a deathwatch. Pressure mounted in him. The wound on his forehead throbbed like a scream. He clasped the receiver to his head, and hugged himself with his free arm, straining for self-control. When the line came to life again, he could hardly keep from howling at it.
"Mr. Covenant?" a bland, insinuating voice said. "I'm Major Rolle. We're having trouble locating the person you wish to speak to. This is a large department--you understand. Could you tell me more about him?"
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That was good, WF.
Thanks!
Thanks!
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[Defeated by a gizmo from Batman's utility belt]
Joker: I swear by all that's funny never to be taken in by that unconstitutional device again!
[Defeated by a gizmo from Batman's utility belt]
Joker: I swear by all that's funny never to be taken in by that unconstitutional device again!