The shaman huffed as she paced, trying to settle some of the rampant frustration, embarrassment, and arousal of the interaction with Nyreia, the witch of the wild. The runners she had sent out to do tasks for her were very much chewed out just as bad as the guard who was changing in this room when she entered, though they definitely didn’t earn it either.

The guard’s resting room was transformed in the blink of an eye. Once, it had some small trinkets of decoration on the walls, two mostly-stable cots, a weapons rack with maintenance supplies and a few spears, and a dining area with a selection of dried goods that could be consumed quickly and outside without a plate. Otherwise, the room was mostly barren.

The table was quickly dominated by an arrangement of complex and strange magic items. A gate to Vashnoruk’s cabin was open where beds were previously, shoved outside now, and a stand was brought in. Upon this stand was a flat board with divots making concentric circles and circular holes in a grid pattern. She used it as a convenient way to make standard circular array ritual spells quickly. It couldn’t serve all the time, but for cases where time was of the essence, it was very helpful. She even had larger circles that were similar and laid out on a large leather square.

She had some time ago sent runners out with very specific instructions. Vashnoruk knew the spell in question was a long and difficult one, with very specific directions and ingredients. She’d already had a bit of it from collecting over time; namely, a large cauldron with a wide, flat bottom, a large bowl with a sealable lid, a large bowl with an open top, a stone to exude heat, a stone to suppress heat, a ton of pure, nonmagically produced water, and a sample of every plant and animal type native to the area, which she had dutifully purchased piecemeal over the years she had been there. All things that were helpful to have on hand for general magic purposes. But that was only part of what she’d need.

What she was missing was far more particular. A handful of dirt from the cardinal directions denoting the limit of the spell, a piece of every individual standing structure, with those coming from a home wrapped in fabric, and a piece of hair and clothing fabric from every inhabitant.

A high-pitched humming came from the child, Aeva, in the corner of the room. Even if she was mentally capable, she still couldn’t just leave an infant alone. So, she was stuck with the noisy girl as she prepared.

Vashnoruk took a moment away from focusing on preparation to shoot Aeva a glare, “I need you to stay quiet. This requires a lot of attention. I don’t want to mess up because you’re talking. I’m going to be very busy for a bit.”

Aeva gave a short mental, “Okay, geez. So snappy.”

This was at least the third time she had done so. The girl didn’t know when to be quiet. Vashnoruk thought it’d be easier since she had not set up a telepathic circle for her to talk, but apparently, she managed to get the skill early in the morning. Just her luck.

For a magical process, the start-up was surprisingly mundane and understandable. Truth be told, much of ritual magic was that way; simple, but not easy. Gathering everything was the hard part, most of the time, which was deeply time-consuming and often expensive. The cost of all the plant-animal parts she’d gathered over the years was very substantial, and she was just lucky they were symbolic ingredients and wouldn’t be consumed by the spell.

One of the villagers, a shorter bald man with skin closer brick red than the teal of most of the village, scurried in and dropped a backpack on the table. Inside of it sat nine two-foot cubes of material that was so clear it was damn near invisible, like the clearest glass that seemed to weigh nothing at all.

Taking a knife, Vashnoruk shaved off pegs of the material, just tall enough to reach the surface of the ritual board from inside the holes. Placing them in a particular formation, in a particular order, she began to make shavings to run between them, forming a complex, geometric shape. Atop this went the cauldron, with the sealed bowl inside containing the plant, animal, people, and house parts. These represented things to be spared from the spell, just like the materials themselves were spared the deluge of pure water that flowed in. Soon the handfuls of materials representing the spell boundaries went into the water like some strange dirt soup, followed by the stones to heat and cool. From there, she laid upon the top of the cauldron a long limb, one roughly her height and almost too wide to grasp. It had been dried and hardened, but remained in its natural shape, with awkward knobs and short branches pointing every which way, though pieces too long were pulled away by hand.

All was ready. Now was just for one last ingredient: herself. Uncorking the two potions she brought, one for focus and one for wakefulness, they were thrown back. The vile brews going down smoothly, well-practiced with the discomfort. Then she dragged back one of the cots, and sat cross-legged atop it. Someone was going to be coming in to look over Aeva and help her with normal infant-related needs on a bi-hourly basis, because before long, the orc would not be able to herself.

In her mind, she formed the spell, activating the skill she learned so long ago in a different life among sea orcs, flotillas of yachts and cabin cruisers, and the waves. This was the hard part. For the next day and a half, Vashnoruk had to focus without fail on the beating of winds and roaring of waves.

Now, Vashnoruk closed her eyes and began to sink deeply into meditation. Now, Vashnoruk was going to make a hurricane.