At this point he elected to take out the remote viewing orb. Not by accident, he contrived this moment to punctuate his skills (maybe they would hire him again). Walking forward to the front of the group, he gently requested of them, [color=662d91]"give me just a few moments and I will represent the major details of the area in front of us. Be. Vigilant. I will be useless while I conduct this work."[/color]

It took a great deal of meditation during the long nights his quick companions slept for him to realize that his vision was no longer the same. It was a gradual realization followed by a rapid development: he has no eyes therefore no reason to "look" anywhere. He had no words to describe the way his sense of sight first retreated and curled in on itself, and in its place some occult radiation became his source of sensory information, and no other sense could penetrate this fog. The sound of a deep inhale could be heart emanating from him, and then a short 'hng' as though some invisible diaphragm were bucking against the rest of his empty body, which began rattling as though buffeted by a strong wind, or shaken by an earthquake unfelt by the rest of the group. 

The situation from his perspective was singular. His sense of the world shot out of him and smeared, becoming a thing beside, and crawled over the landscape without ego and without intention, a spirit upon the air swelling over all places for a fleeting moment like a sheet or tide and shrank down to impress itself upon the land and trees, and creatures between them before all at once gathering within him again. His upright body swayed for a moment and from his waist down, the clattering of bones could be heard upon the soil, his upper torso collapsed to the ground without resistance. He was without animation for but a moment before his head and arm twitched. Without getting up, he gathered from his bag and unfolded a simple contraption. A little square easel comprised of incredibly thin strips of wood and dowels, and thinly braided linen cord, unfolded and held some kind of waxy vellum-like substance taut by lacing through its outer edges. Its surface was clouded with the residue of past drawing. He produced a smoothed and shaped stick of some kind of black artistic material, perhaps a pastel or charcoal, and began rendering general features of the landscape and forest around them with practiced and careful hand.

He could feel for those few moments every tree in the wood, every musty holt, every waving bush and sleeping fern, every ravine cut into the land, every bog slumping away from firm ground, every body of water in pooled repose against the rough flesh of the earth. For a few moments, every creature moving, every horror marching, every terror hiding in wait had its fine outer shape, distance, speed, and direction beamed into his head at once. Against the paper, his arm seemed to move mechanically, the rigid wooden device braced in his right hand and against the bony crook of his elbow while his left hand rendered the information in the form of lines, textures, markings, and short codes of numbers and letters pertaining to tiny, tiny marks of arrows extending from dots notated in the aforementioned manner -- some kind of profession shorthand, standard or invented, just to try to hold grasp of this enormous wealth of information. Luckily for him he was only interested in the hemisphere of the forest stretching before them and his mind was apt for the task.

While the deed was done he remained on the ground, occasionally scrubbing the side of the black pencil against the canvas to sharpen it before continuing. His left hand was a blur in the low light. In shockingly little time, a readable map of the terrain sweeping out in front of them for a mile took shape and he did his best to capture each thing he could recognize as a creature noted as though the still image of a radar scan. However, in a ghastly wood like this, some creatures should be easily recognizable, but he was inescapably bewildered by a great deal of alien habitation. In this context he didn't bother to distinguish between flora and fauna. Once the sketch was finished, he laid there for a moment, his mind raw for just a short while due to the download. Without saying anything, his legs gradually reassembled, each fragment tugged as though by magnetism to their rightful places which allowed him to rise again at length. He turned the easel toward the group and presented the information, still somewhat unsteady on his legs, his long black buttoned shirt with a cut robe front attached now dirtied by forest debris.

[Hider=Abilities]
Abilities used: [Minimap A: Visual Arts A, Supersense Spatial Awareness (shape, texture, speed, distance, direction) C (1 mile), Navigation D, Fast A]

Stats:

Strength B
Precision A
Intelligence A
Vitality B
Speed A

Cooldowns: A
[0/5 posts]

[/hider]