This is the world we live in, thought the Haberdasher. These are the hands we’re given.

It was all very confusing for the majority of the inhabitants in the Ten Year Wood. They were born here, eking out a miserable existence where they scrambled for food, for shelter, and for hats. The Mongeese were just the easiest example.

The slow-moving Slothen in the upper trees of the Ten Year Wood were another fine example of how things were moving along at the sordid pace they were intended. They moved in migratory circles in the upper regions, sometimes taking years to make the entire trip through the branches as they stripped small amounts to eat; namely, they ate bugs, old and musty bark, and drank from the dew of leaves and pine needles.

The Mongeese had a saying that it was bad luck when a Slothen fell from the branches above to its death nearby. No kidding?

The Haberdasher thought this an interesting saying because everything in the Ten Year Wood was designed for the purpose of feeding everything else, and eventually, something else. The idea that there were instances of bad luck instead of acknowledging the reality made him scoff outwardly. Everything was terrible all the time. Suggesting otherwise was a simple mental health exercise at best and wish fulfillment at worst.

“I suppose you do not even know why it is called the Ten Year Wood? Of course not, you seem like you’re probably five years old.” The Haberdasher grunted noncommittally after he said that, as if unsure whether what he said was true or not. “Maybe younger,” he finally admitted.

The Haberdasher moved to a table that he had set up in the lowest study of his hollowed tree. There was an assortment of glass beakers, graduated cylinders, and small pipettes with tubes running here and there in line with no easily discernible purpose. Additionally, several books were opened and placed precariously near the edges of the table. Pages and pages of notes taken over years of painstaking study.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be interested in you. It isn’t professional at this point to continue studying something you understand fairly well. Since I am fairly certain of the result, this experiment seems to be in egregious taste. Young things such as yourself are full of untapped potential, which is a very kind way of saying that as a mana source you’re quite powerful and capable of being used. Potential is all it is though. My experiments resulting in the release of such potential without proper maturation or experience yields almost consistently uninteresting and weak results.” The Haberdasher picked up a small piece of charcoal and delicately scribbled a few lines on the page of the tome he was currently recording results onto.

“You’ll never get away with this…” A small and weak voice rasped.

“See? Constantly weak and uninteresting. Where was I? So there’s a curve or a shape of results. A pattern if it pleases you. Let me know if I’m using words that are too big for you. Young things such as yourself are worth a certain amount of power but aren’t interesting. Creatures in the middle of maturation don’t typically yield very powerful results but are far more interesting. Not powerful, but different and curious! You understand?” The Haberdasher sighed when there was no answer, shaking his head back and forth and pressing his golden spectacles back up to the bridge of his nose.

“Young things make a simple bang but it’s just a bang! Mature things don’t yield as big a bang but it’s a more colorful explosion, sometimes with a shape! You understand?” He raised his voice slightly, trying to indicate by tone that he required a response.

“My… Mother… will end you…” the voice was getting weaker again, starting to drift off.

“I shall hurry, your heart is barely into this. Haha. As for your mother, I have good news and bad news…” The Haberdasher grabbed a small piece of metal from the table. One end was surgically sharp. He approached Farnik who was strapped to a board that was standing straight up. The Mongeese had his head strapped to the top of the board and was also restrained in several other places. The Haberdasher had found it necessary to restrain them in this fashion because sometimes they could be bitey.

“Which do you want first?” The Haberdasher held the small knife up like an exclamation point in front of him, gesturing for Farnik to get on with it.

“The good news…” Farnik finally decided when the silence stretched on. He wasn’t sure what to make of the situation he had found himself in now. The last thing he remembered was being struck in a surprise attack by the creature on the bridge and then hours of in and out unconsciousness. The Haberdasher had found him on his return trip to his home after visiting his Mother. He had explained this kindly, lending Farnik a hand. Farnik had been so out of sorts and grateful for the assistance that he hadn’t even questioned why they were going toward the Haberdasher’s tree when his Mother’s home was only a bit further away.

“The good news is that your mother is the oldest of her species I’ve encountered. I’ve been grooming her for some time now and it won’t be long until she is up there on the board in your place.” Farnik winced as the Haberdasher punctuated the remark by tapping the edge of the board near his face with his knife. “The bad news, however, is that she is perfectly aware of what goes on here.”

“Lies!” A bit of shock surged into Farnik’s eyes. He was concussed and on the brink of death even without the mad raccoon scientist about to set to work on him but the comment that his Mother could be complicit in this act roused his spirit.

“Oh, I am afraid it is quite true. We have an arrangement, she and I, though before this is over I think she will come to regret it.” The Haberdasher opened his arms open wide at that moment, a charming smile stretching his black little lips up and past his teeth. Farnik shuddered when he saw those teeth and the gleaming smile of the insane thing in front of him. “If you were to ask her one on one I am sure she would tell you that your life is much more important to her than any magical bauble. Behind closed doors? Your heart might sink at her true answer. There is only one creature in the Ten Year wood that can make magical accessories.”

The Haberdasher moved closer to Farnik’s ear and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“There are ever so many Mongeese though, don’t you think? Now. The last one of these I made from a young Slothen named Ilinack. He turned into a very nice ring that could generate clothing. It was somewhat useless, but, as we’ve discussed, there's only so much you can do with the young. At the moment of your expiration, there will be a certain quick set of procedures I’ll use to momentarily trap the mana you release and give shape to an imbuement before it escapes into the ground. Escape being a relative term. I think whatever is down below is just going to eat it anyway.”

Farnik closed his eyes, shivering in terror. There was no real understanding of what would happen in his mind, but the way the Haberdasher described it with such dark glee made Farnik feel that it would probably be a horrible way to die.

“Before we continue though, I’d like to ask you what shape you think your soul will take at the end…”

Farnik tried to turn his head further away from the awful carrion breath of the Haberdasher but he couldn’t move. There was a strange last thought that ran through Farnik’s head.

I’m going to be killed by someone who has the scent of roasted walnuts and dried meat from the house of my mother on his breath...

“Try to be honest. It’s for science…”

Farnik finally began to scream.

↢↦

He soared high in the clouds, looking down on his domain. If he were being honest with himself that included just about everything he could see. He was a mighty dragon. As he flew his shadow on the ground frightened creatures into hiding! His roar would send all manner of creatures into wary alertness! When he descended for food there was no option but to submit to be his meal or put up a futile fight where the only outcome could only be… submit to be his meal!

With his mighty cold breath he would--

Hmm. His breath was no longer cold. Interesting. He flew down closer to the ground and breathed great crashing waves of pure light! Lightning! Thunderbolts and lightning, very, very frightening! This pleased him greatly and uneasiness of not having ice breath faded as he breathed lightning across the skies instead! The heavens were a canvas and he could breathe a brilliant picture of lightning-like imagery across it at will! He could accompany the pictures with an orchestra of thunder and the crashing and rumbling of the earth as it was torn asunder by the power of his mana and the exhalation from his breast! There existed nothing under the heavens that did not belong to him! That did not bow down before his might!

He landed on top of a mountain and sat back, his magnificent and SASSY tail twitching in a fetching manner back and forth, his luxurious midnight scaled wings spreading magnificently. He opened his arms wide, claws stretched upward, and threw his great draconic head back and laughed lightning into the sky. AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAA--

“--AHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA…” Ruth was on his feet, palms open and pressed above his head, laughing like a maniac into the chipper morning air. Several birds were twittering happily in the clearing, their small feet dancing in the dew of the grass and searching for bits of things to eat. They paid no heed to the Tiefling that danced around and laughed in his sleep as if it were a natural phenomenon. Now and again, he would get close to one and it would pick up the pace of its tiny little feet for a moment before resuming the social niceties of early morning bird brunch with its fellows. At one point a small chipmunk had popped out of the ground, staring in an alert stance as it watched Ruth, and then grabbed a piece of shiny spider carapace. It dragged the piece to its hole and disappeared with it. Maybe it was making an attractive centerpiece in its den to impress the lady chipmunks.

Sometime during his wonderful dream, he had gotten to his feet and started stumbling around the clearing in a drunken fashion. It was possible that the lack of alertness or wakefulness was a result of a slight paralyzing agent in the spider he had eaten the night before.

The immortal and deadly text box had speculated quite a number of possibilities regarding this behavior, actually. Tamara believed that he was just an idiot. Which if the immortal and deadly text box were pressed, it would also admit was one of the possibilities that it had come up with.

Ruth was in front of the immortal and deadly text box. The immortal and deadly text box did not jump away as the Ruth creature might have done. Yet, there was a momentary sense that flashed through the immortal and deadly text box that it could not identify. It set aside this sense for later exploration and focused on the Ruth creature.

Ruth pursed his lips together looking altogether unforgiving. He had startled himself awake earlier laughing and hadn’t stopped or broken the illusion that he was still sleeping and dreaming for even a moment. He continued stumbling around the clearing all for the moment when he was close to the immortal and deadly text box.

He would knock that thing right on its… corners. It would be revenge for one of the three times. He would be that much closer to being square with the… square. It was displeasing that the strange immortal and deadly text box had not been disquieted or startled at all. The power of this being was obviously a notch above what he had credited it. That was a disturbing thought because he was already faintly certain that it had the power to destroy the world.

“We must have an eye-to-text discussion,” Ruth finally succumbed to the pressure of the silence first.

Update Available:

Planar Tiefling: Ruth (Level 3) (Medium Smol/Awake) (Lightning Specialized)

Intelligence Favored - Points Distributed Automatically

★Generic Thunder Struck 50%

Current Mana: 18/20

Spell Slots Available: 2

The immortal and deadly text box actually began to fade at this point…

“Wait!” Ruth snarled in draconic.

The immortal and deadly text box began to turn opaque again. It turned more solid with a lesser rapidity than it had been fading as if it had been caught trying to leave and was reluctant to return.

“Why am I here?”

No.

“No?” Ruth was confused. It wasn’t a yes or no question. There was no need of a negative or a positive response. “You refuse to answer?”

Yes.

“Do you know the answer?” Ruth raised an eyebrow. At this point he was just willing to lower himself a bit because he was pleased that there was something to converse with after his ordeal the night before.

Yes.

“Why won’t you tell me?” There had to be some sort of reason for everything.

No.

“Okay.” Ruth paused slightly and held up a hand when it seemed like the immortal and deadly text box was about to fade again. It returned and solidified at his gesture. It seemed that it was responsible for him in some fashion at least. “Are there questions you can answer?”

Update Available:

Planar Tiefling: Ruth (Level 3) (Medium Smol/Awake) (Lightning Specialized)

Intelligence Favored - Points Distributed Automatically

★Generic Thunder Struck 50%

Current Mana: 18/20

Spell Slots Available: 2

“Fuck you.” Ruth snarled and held up his hands again as the box began to fade. “STOP.”

Ruth turned away from the box and started pacing back and forth. The itch to destroy this place began to increase again. He glanced to the right as he paced and was pleased to notice that there was actually a charcoaled tunnel with half-burned trees and grass and dead animals that seemed to cut straight through the forest. A note of pride swelled in his chest before he banished it. The itch to start everything on fire with lightning became almost overwhelming.

Something was different this time though. The rage was lesser. He was more confused and curious than angry so that won out over blind rage for the moment. Barely. He would burn this place after.

“You are supposed to keep me appraised of… things?” Ruth tried again.

Yes.

“Fine. What is the meaning behind mana and spell slots?” Ruth tried a tricky question. It was possible that--

No.

“Alright. How are things chosen for m--”

No.

“On what basis--”

No.

“Do you want to die?”

No.

“What’s the difference using a spell slot and using mana?” Ruth at this point was just going to ask questions and annoy the damned thing to death.

Spell slots are available to you as a template so your body can learn from it. Once a spell is understood by your body, that spell will no longer be available for use with a spell slot. Mana from your body must be consumed in order to activate the spell. Spell slots are weakened templates and the mana that is consumed is being gifted to you from your patron. When using your own internal mana the spells will take the true shape of the imagined activation.

“What. The. Fuck.”

No.

The immortal and deadly text box moved from side to side at his last comment and went back to hovering.

“What is a template?” Ruth was excited and moved right up to the box, vertical slitted eyes focusing with a sudden burning intensity. He even, for the briefest of moments, wasn’t pained by the horrible lisp he had when he was speaking draconic.

Images flashed into his mind, startling him slightly and making him back off. Images of hot liquid being poured into a cutout of a shape. A draconic claw making an intricate design in the dirt by tracing along a pattern on the ground of an ancient garden. The markings made by following a pattern.

“Tell me about mana.”

No.

“Tell me about spell slots.”

No.

“Who is gifting me the mana to use spell slots?”

Patron.

“Who is my patron?”

Tamara.

He staggered back and clutched his head. Web of lies! Tamara was the enemy that had put him in this predicament and was the same being that gave him the few tools he had to survive. Ugh. His pride took a serious blow. There was nothing worse than being reduced to a situation by an enemy except perhaps being reduced to a situation by an enemy and accepting their charity.

“Tell me about my mana.” He tried again.

No.

“You’re supposed to tell me about the things that you are… listing? You are responsible for that?”

Yes.

“I do not understand some words and you help me understand?”

Yes.

“I do not understand mana in this body,” he said diplomatically. It was true. The immortal and deadly text box was following him around telling him about changes in his body. When he was a dragon he ate, he slept, he knew things. There were no numbers. No strange gradual climbs based on deadly encounters. No… no goddamn slurring tongue that couldn’t handle the beauty of draconic!

The immortal and deadly text box did not answer. Instead, it went absolutely still as if contemplating a great mystery. The Ruth creature was correct in a sense, and that sent another feeling that was alien through it. The immortal and deadly text box did not like this feeling at all. It identified the alien feeling occurring as a result of the Ruth creature being right about something.

The universe is comprised of a great many small moving things. Mana is a unit of energy. All creatures take energy and return energy. Energy cannot be destroyed. Mana is one such energy that many are capable of utilizing. Your body is capable of taking in and returning energy. The way your body does so is a result of the template your patron has placed over your existence.

Ruth stood with his mouth open for a moment. It was only a moment though as he eagerly asked after the meaning of certain words. Utilizing. To make use. Universe. Worlds. Existence. Awareness of self and others. Energy.

The next question was obvious to Ruth to ask. “So, I am utilizing mana to…” He struggled, and this time, the immortal and deadly text box actually pre-empted him and helpfully supplied:

Shape.

“...shape existence.”

No.

“Isn’t that what I do when I use my mana to make the…” He raised his hand up and wiggled his fingers making fwooshing noises and then pointed to the ground imitating a boom with his mouth.

Yes.

“So, I am shaping existence.”

No. You are making lightning with a template that was supplied to you. Mana from your internal structure could be used to accomplish the same shaping. You are not shaping existence. You are shaping lightning. Imagination and understanding are both required to shape mana.

“I don’t have either?”

No.

Ruth narrowed his eyes. This piece of shit box. Did it really just imply that he, a great dragon, was lacking in not just one but two things?

Ruth crouched down as a horrifying thought occurred to him for the first time in his life.

Maybe…

It was possible, however unlikely…

Dragons weren’t the absolute best.

Ruth felt dizzy and started to breathe rapidly. He needed air or something but the faster he breathed the more lightheaded he became. Dragons were the best, right? There was no way. No way…

The immortal and deadly text box must have been concerned because it was bouncing up and down animatedly in front of him trying to encourage him. Ruth felt briefly grateful.

Ruth fainted.

↢↦

The immortal and deadly text box hovered nearby mournfully. It had almost been able to close. It had answered all queries and updated the Ruth creature on important information. The Ruth creature had been advised of his current status and the spells he was capable of as well as the remaining mana and spell slots that were available for his consideration.

The Ruth creature started to have some sort of mental attack and the immortal and deadly text box deemed it unimportant, getting ready to leave.

Then something horrible had happened.

Updated:

Mana Remaining Now: 19/20

The immortal and deadly text box had tried to get Ruth’s attention before he blacked out but it was impossible. The Ruth creature had fainted and now the immortal and deadly text must remain to be acknowledged.

A baleful wind rustled the grass nearby as birds once again landed and had second bird brunch.