Derivative affinities are a subset of the six fundamental affinities. While they're seldom talked about because of their rarity, they're still worth noting. That said, some derivative affinities are more common than others; such include nivalis, derived from aqer and fulmens derived from aer. Some derivatives are a combination of two or more synergistic affinities however and may have esoteric names. For example, Aer, Aqer and Lux give rise to vitalis. Excerpts from ‘A Primer on Magic for Mageborn’ by Nys’vera Aesterith

The group made sure to park out of the way, well from prying eyes before they went to the little town. There was an unused quarry surrounded by a grove of trees and a pond, still filled from spring’s rains. While the ground was a little soggy for the landing struts to prop up the ship without leaning towards its heavier parts, it was a small matter to just have the vessel float on the water.

The draught difference between the outrigger hulls and the main hull was not so big, only designed in such a way that water wouldn’t go into the main intakes. Parking close to the bank meant they wouldn’t have to wade through the brackish water and get tangled up in pond lilies. While the synth girl and a certain convalescing farm boy remained on board however, Elena and the rest made their way to the town on foot.

As they approached from the grove, Elena noted the difference between Aldmoor and the wayside town ahead of her. The walls were not imposing nor were they that high. She could however hear the buzz of wards that kept monsters away like static against her skin, at least those that could keep silver ranked threats away.

Atop the walls, sentries walked around in a variety of mismatched armor; the town did not have a formal guard but still took its security seriously. They even had a mage cast mage lights around the walls to dissuade any would-be monsters from making a stealthy approach. Keeping to the well-worn dirt trail from the quarry, Elene and Nevine made it to the town gates.

“[Light]” Elena murmured as she touched her ear cuff. Of all the utility spells, the tier one magic was one she hadn’t thought to learn; however, snapping the spell matrix into its ethereal slot was child’s play and she felt the magic go out from her mana well to power the construct.

“Halt! who goes there!?” a gruff voice called from the walls as they approached the gates. It was a middle-aged man in a kettle helm, a brown studded gambeson and a spear at his side that caught their approach well before the others did. Elena willed the mage light to float over the two of them.

“We’re travelers! “Elena responded, having to shout over the walls.

“Travelers on foot?” the sentry crouched down and squinted at the duo and the space behind them as if looking for non-existent mounts and wagons, “What a load of troll! How do we know you’re not just bait to have us open our gates for bandits?”

‘Hah, these types,’ Elena sighed as she shifted from foot to foot. ‘ Rot, I wonder what Orhill has to say about misusing our guild badges. I will have to send a letter to Aldmoor,’ She bit her lip. ‘And to Halen too, I hope he’s alright.’

Nevine was right behind her looking around the walls as if appraising what it would take to knock them down.

“We have news about alleged bandits and raiders taking villager’s hostage,” Elena called out. “ We need an adventuring party post haste, if you doubt me—” Elena fumbled with the inner pockets of her cloak. The guardsman on the walls tensed, several other sentries had come about drawn by the commotion.

Some of them had crossbow bolts that were already primed but held in a non-aggressive manner. “Easy, easy, here is my guild badge!” Elena showed the man. She couldn't see the man’s expressions but they hurriedly acquiesced and bellowed something on the other side of the walls. The gates were then pulled apart with a groan to let the duo walk in.

The outpouring of sights, sounds and smells hit them like a wave. The wayside town had warmer colors bathing the surrounding buildings in a soft pastel of oranges and yellows.

Most of the structures were made from a mix of wood and shaped stone and none went beyond the third story. There were inns and taverns and a motley of other establishments like apothecaries, farriers and hostlers.

Awnings and tarps were suspended over various wares as late evening shoppers browsed and haggled. Stray owlcats chased their quarry between people’s leg’s earning indignant cries and insults as they knocked over a barrel of vegetables.

The main isle was not cobbled like what she was used to but it was no less dusty even with the bevy of wagons and foot traffic making use of it. Some of the wagons in the curb were also makeshift shops where the sideboards had been unlatched over crates, with a farmer or two trying to catch a prospective buyer before they closed up for the night.

Street food vendors were still open as they prepared mouth-watering delicacies by the sidewalk as a menagerie of passersby either stopped to sample or stopped to make enquiries. The majority of the throng choking the streets at the late hour were travelers but the locals were also out in force.

Most of the crowd was human, but there were a couple sylvani, a party of adventurers from their armour. Centaurs just had to be there with their rickshaws and wagons albeit in a different line of business;they seemed to be selling wheels of cheese, tanned leather and leather products and milk. Those had to be local nomads no doubt; the area surrounding Gallowick was a massive rolling plain of glens and knolls and there were no better herders than centaurs.

Elsewhere beastkin in drab travelling clothes conversed in their tribal vernacular interspersed with a little trade pidgin, at the corner. A twinge of sadness hollowed her breast when she saw one of the canis females with the ear tufts and a tail that reminded her of Yssinia even though the color of the fur was different.

“What's a sylvani like you doing out all the way here?” the guard said as he trudged down the stairs nestled against the town walls. As he stepped into the light, Elena saw him for the first time.

There were streaks of white in his wispy hair which was rapidly giving way to a bald spot. He held his kettle helm under the crook of his arm, while his spear was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he had a saber holstered to his hips.

His buff physique bespoke a [Farmer] or a [Smith]'s lifestyle more than a guardsman. Elena had never seen a guardsman with calves as thick as his. His calloused hands spoke to it as well; he looked like he could tussle with an auroch cow and come out on top.

“Like I said, we're looking for adventurers,” Elena spoke, handing her guild badge to the guard who'd shouted down from the walls. He held the badge of silver against the light and, unabashedly bit into it as if he was a merchant appraising the authenticity of a coin then furrowed his brows.

“Aye, me [Guardsman's Gut] hasn't lied to me yet but Galls don't got a Guild building hereabouts,” he grunted, jowls quivering with sparse mutton chops. He handed the badge over to Elena who gingerly took it while muttering [Cleanse].

“So then?”

“You've never been outside of your town aintcha?”

His face seemed to switch from endearing to serious countenance almost as if he were a mimic as he regarded passersby he knew and the trio following behind him.Nevine was ever observant as he took in the sights albeit not in the gawking manner as the next teenager from the boonies whose face was constantly on a swivel like a saloon door.

“Wayside towns like Gallowick don't have standalone Guild buildings,” Nevine remarked. “ Best we can hope for is a franchised tavern,” he raised his brow.

“Aye,” the old guardsman said.“ Look for the Ole Sailor's Swill, fourth building on yer right—can't miss it; now off with you and don't cause trouble in me town…” he added, flicking his palm as he turned on his heel.

Elena sighed in relief, at least the guard didn't ask many questions or interrogate them; it would have wasted precious time. Now that was out of the way, Elena could think of what they'd do next—she remembered that they'd needed to resupply and what other place to do that than the town's sprawling farmer's market? Elena decided they'd grab a few things if they had time to spare.

‘Well, no need to dither' Elena thought as she and Nevine resumed walking following the directions she'd been given. It wasn't that hard to follow despite the colorful evening roadside market obscuring the main buildings. The tavern that doubled as a guild for that town was easy to spot from the groups of adventurer types hanging around it. No gathering carried a plethora of weapons and mingled so noisily as them.

With their Guild badges on display the adventurers were conversant enough to give Elena her due consideration. With a curt nod, she made her way to the tavern unperturbed by the din belting out of the swinging doors and stepped in.

The Old Sailor's Swill was no guild building alright, but there was no better place to outsource Guild services than a tavern. It had the run of the mill layout as any other tavern; a bar countertop at the furthest end, with a door to the kitchen and back exit, stairs on the left to the second floor, tables and seats…lots of them at that and a dais where a bard was strumming a shanty on a mandolin. It was like the Griffin's Roost—but that's as far as similarities went.

For one the main room was thick with the smell of smoke, wet sawdust and unwashed bodies. The musk of sweat hung heavy in the air almost seeming to compete with the nose searing fumes of alcohol.

Nevine coloured as a buxom tavern wench brushed him by as she bussed the tables while cacophonous adventurers slurred expletives and jests while. There were even a few hushed conversations where the Lux crystals were too fickle to illuminate the corners.

Nonetheless Elena did not let the heady ambience distract her from what she'd come for. She made her way to the front of the bar where a swarthy male with hair pulled into a top knot busied himself with a few slightly inebriated sorts. There was a keg on the bar top, a wall to ceiling row of alcoholic drinks and on a bare wall, a request board with a handful of slips pinned up.

“Ale, airy spring water, honey dew?” the bartender said, not taking his eyes off the tumbler he was wiping—bartenders were always wiping something. Elena and Nevine both took a seat and the sylvani showed her guild badge. The barkeep furrowed his brow in realization and nodded to the patrons at the bar who took that as their cue to find another corner for their pleasures.

“We're not due for a Guild audit in a few months,” he said in a guttural timbre as he placed the tumbler under the keg tap.

“I'm not here for that,” Elena said. “We've got an emergency of sorts, something that warrants compensation under Guild emergency provisions.”

“Hoh?” The man muttered not breaking stride as he watched the tumbler fill up with an amber liquid; it frothed as soon as he shut off the tap and bubbles fizzed from the bottom of the glass tumbler.

The bartender placed the drink in front of Elena, and looked pointedly at Nevine who shook his head profusely. Nevine looked as if he could throw up just from the ambience and the alcohol fumes in the air. Nonetheless, he got him a glass of spring water suffused with sour citrus apples and mint leaf instead.

“Name's Orsen, proprietor of this here tavern and den of adventurers,”as he ducked beneath the counter top and retrieved a dusty ledger that'd seen better days. Quickly rifling to an empty leaf , he said,'' Since none of the guild beacons went off, I'm guessing it's a bounty rather than a mobilization; guild badge or not I need details,”

Elena took a tentative sip of the honey dew lager, a sickly sweet taste with a sour tang hit her tongue. She did all she could not to scrunch her face as the drink tickled and burned her throat on the way down. Leaning over the counter top she motioned,” There's a village out of the way called Dorn, we found a survivor on the run—said bandits took some captives two days ago.”

”Hmm, that's what, four days away? they'd be long gone by now,” Orsen grunted despondently as he proceeded to close the ledger.

”That's the thing," Elena said as soon as the burning sensation had passed,” We sent a team on their trail,”

The barkeep seemed nonplussed as he folded his meaty arms, he hemmed and hawed, “ even if you were to chain riding skills end to end, by the time you arr—”

Elena forestalled his excuse and motioned for him to lean over. Orsen gave the tavern a once over before bent, palms on the countertop to listen to what the sylvani had to say

“What about a ship?” Elena whispered.

Orsen clammed his mouth shut, as he bit back a snorting laughter; fortunately it was not enough to shift the tavern's attention to the front of the bar.

“ Hah, that's new,” the Orsen narrowed his eyes with mirth, ”when did the Guild get an aership—Did the damn dwarves finally bow?”

“That's confidential information…” Nevine murmured, as he tried to make himself as small as possible. He felt out of place and looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but the tavern.

Orsen shrugged and turned back to the rows of alcoholic drinks, leaning on one of his elbows while he kept an eye over Elena's head. “I don't know whether yer lying or not. But even with a ship all the way out here,”he shook his head tutting. ” No one’ll go all the way to the sticks if the bounty or the threat has not been confirmed. Assuming you have a way to reach your associates as it were.”

‘He's fishing for information to sell; damn franchised outposts’ Elena clenched her fists. ‘We're running out of time.’

Elena worked her jaw and mulled her course of action—unlike the main Guilds, franchised outposts were very particular about reputation and information. The proprietors always got a cut of what the Guild would pay and the Guild did not pay Adventurers who punched above their threat levels; those were obviously dead.

Therefore proprietors often kept a tight watch over adventurers within their areas of operation because each adventurer kept alive meant recurring business for them. A high number of deaths would automatically get tongues wagging if it was associated with a certain Guild outpost—Once again, information was king.

It was hopeless, the outposts being self financed were driven by profit and then pragmatism, it was the only way the Guild could cover as much frontier as possible. Outposts were the only way to establish a foothold before committing Guild resources after all; just like the dwarves had their trade outposts.

Elena's hand twitched towards her ear cuff; she could send a [Message] and have Arcis bring the ship to the front of the tavern so that the barkeeping proprietor could see for themselves.

“Hail yo lassie,” a buff woman interrupted Elena's train of thought as they squeezed between Elena and Nevine whilst placing their arms on the duo's shoulder. Nevine yelped from his invasion of personal space, devolving into a series of coughs as water went down the wrong pipe; Elena suddenly found herself slouching with the weight of hard biceps.

“ Barkeep running a hard bargain?” she said leaning over the countertop with an empty bottle pinched between two fingers. Her breath emanated the fumes of strong liquor and as Elena turned to see who was being so personal, her head met a generous couple. Turning her face upwards she met face to face with a smiling, slightly inebriated woman.

She was of half-giant blood and was taller than the Orsen bartender, had one side of her salt and pepper hair shaved and tattooed with giant-folk script. The rest of her hair was plaited into a fishtail braid tapered off into rings and clinking beads.

She was busty, her chestplate being two cobbled together bucklers attached to a leather tabard that came up to her bare midriff. Chain main had somehow been worked into the bottom of the leather dropping down to her waist where it was tied off by a belt of pouches, teeth, bones and other tribal paraphernalia

A pair of wooly boots ended up to her sinuous mid thighs that could no doubt crush rocks while the rest of the tabard began from her waist to her legs. On closer examination, she wore a type of thin pelt stitched together by string. Otherwise her ensemble would have been rather practical for adventuring unless she fancied being tickled by tall grass and brush. A cloak of alpine goat mohair was draped over her back like a cape.

“What are you doing Bruhilde?” Orsen snorted as his nostrils flared.

“Just helping a sister out ya know?” Bruhilde grinned toothily. “ Hilde of the Hill Maidens,” she winked towards the slyvani's barely drunk lager,“Heard you say something about a ship and bandits?—”

Elena sighed, staring at the tumbler of lager before she pushed it over.

“Aye, now we're talkin'!” Bruhilde crowed as she swiped the tumbler and chugged it in one go. It was going to be something of a long night.

Arcis was alone once again, this time however it was out of her own volition—she volunteered to stay behind and watch the ship just in case. Also, there was no way they’d let Remus stay inside the ship by his lonesome. After wandering about the ship from top to bottom, playing hide and seek with the little scuttle drones as she called them, she went onto the sun deck

The tapestry of the night sky was resplendent with varicoloured pinwheel galaxies and meteoroid flashes, burning out in the sky in streaks of light. The stars here were more prominent as if Eryth was closer to the star birthing cluster of whichever galaxy it was in. Like her father, Arcis found herself what sort of planet Eryth was; maybe the Numen would know something like that being from an advanced bygone civilization and all of that.

Come to think of it, she hadn't thought to ask what the Antecessors looked like—like her soul sister, she was ardent about discovering and assimilating new knowledge despite the fact that there was still much to parse from Arthur's former phone.

She also watched the water ripple between the Stormbreaker’s outrigger hulls, disturbed by the movement of frogs as they carvoted on the floating vegetation. The quarry had to be quite old for the ecosystem to have taken hold.

There were some similarities between the fauna therein with that of Earth. She compared the information she had in her head with what [Identify] was showing her. For instance fireflies being glitterbugs in Eryth seemed okay because of the connotations the former had; it could have been misconstrued to mean flies that had the ability to bloom fire with magic throwing darwinism for a loop. The agile flits of the hoverflies also matched dragonflies from Earth to a tee; understandable that since Eryth had had actual dragon's in the past.

Besides, Numen had also been trying to perform the equivalent of diagnostics and defragmentation on some of the memory matrices that she thought to have degraded. It finally made sense why she had two pools of mana.

‘Such a bummer,’ Arcis thought. ‘Speaking of Numen,’ she abruptly stood up, realization dawning on her. ‘Wait wait wait, ‘she shook her head. ‘ The dream was real…and the class was triggered by it,’ her eyes went as wide as saucers.

A smile bloomed on her face as she went over her Class. Unfortunately aiming [Identify] inwards did not avail anything new about the class. There was no flavor text that revealed itself nor any hovering tooltip for additional information. For arcis, it was like meeting a giant firewall.

‘Right, Why did I think to do that?’ she murmured as she slowly sat back down, folding her legs under her. Despite that she had an inkling that the class was meant for her because she had knowledge of magic and a magic well irrespective of the fact she could not construct any matrix to conjure spells outside of her body. She could however channel magic through another artifact , assuming they had preloaded spell matrices.

‘The Runic Rail Gun,’ She squealed inwardly, bubbling with anticipation. If what she thought about the skills associated with her class was right, it meant she could snipe at things using spells if and when she got the weapon. She was itching to just go back into the ship, towards the stern section was a small workshop compartment and if her [Scan] was to be believed, the congregation of ARACHNE’s was a surefire tell that they were building something.

Her wool gathering was interrupted by an incoming hail, eyes lit up anticipation that Arthur was calling in with an update. They’d been silent ever since she dropped them off at the village of Dorn. Her shoulders slumped when she realized it wasn’t a hail from Arthur, but from Volemhir,

“ Hello, Grandpa Volemhir,”

“ Hail to you young ‘un. I’ve been trying to reach your father to no avail. Where is he? We need to discuss something forthwith.”

“ Were you scrying us Grandpa?” Arcis rolled her eyes. ‘Insufferable old man,’ Arcis winced. ‘ Now I get why Papa doesnt want to reach out to him.’

“ Pshaw! Why would I do that; such an archaic method of surveillance. I have a rough location of where you are based on your magical signature. I don't know what kind of prank you’re pulling —”

‘Are you sure about that?’ Arcis crinkled her eyes mischievously. She could switch up her magical signature at the drop of a hat. By default, if Arthur’s Psiphone or any of the other telecry she’d doled out was nearby, she could sub-in for their [Farspeak] hails and [Messages] just so she could obfuscate their location, just like a proxy.

Similarly, if Arthur’s Psiphone was out of range, as their [Relay Mage] Arcis could instead pick up their correspondence and forward them as she saw fit.

“I am filling in for the [Relay Mage] Grandpappy,” Arcis said. “ I swear I am not pulling any pranks; let me see if I can reach him…”

“ Ho, that youth never ceases to amaze me, adopted and trained a girl to be [Relay Mage] already? Preposterous…but nonetheless possible.”

‘Old news Old man, your senility must be catching up,’ Arcis thought as she tried to hail Arthur—the connection seemed to go through then it petered out like a spool of thread thrown through the air.

‘Strange, we’re still in range but—,’ She boosted her telepsychic connection again but the results were similar.’Okay, there must be a rational explanation for this,’

“Ah, Grandpa, I can’t raise his hail on [Farspeak],” Arcis mumbled. ‘ Maybe it was a trap’ she thought,going to the worst case scenario.

“ Hmm?” Elder Volemhir cogitated on the other end of the connection. “ [Messages]?”

Arcis tried to compose a message, the matrix formed, took hold and then she released it. She felt it leave but there was no metaphorical delivery receipt that showed it had reached its recipient, almost as if it was being swallowed into the void somewhere along the way. She ceased trying to reconnect; someone was advertently or inadvertently interfering on the other end.

As if reading her mind, Volemhir remarked, “ Hmm, telepsychic interference; might be an anti-scrying ward.” There was a grim tone to his voice. “ How far are you from him lass?”

“Ah, tens of leagues give or take? Why?”

“Ah, I see Gallowick, where is he and what was he doing when you last saw him?”

“ I dropped him off a village; we were looking for people who’d been captured by a band of raiders,”

“ Hmm, why would raiders need an anti-scrying ward? No—residual telepsychic interference from a translocation gate might be more likely.

“So he's okay?” Arcis' perked up.

”No child, mere conjecture. Something smells of rot; this looks too convenient . However, you too have a question to answer; why is one magical signature split two ways?”

‘Schizzes, I just slipped there’ Arcis started, realizing her ruse had been found out. ‘No, that’s not the point, why a translocation gate?’

“ Haha, I jest, ‘twas a commendable method of obfuscating your location but I didn’t invent the telecry yesterday,” Elder Volemhir’s tone seemed mirthful, almost triumphant.

“ Grandpa Volemhir, you’re going off on a tangent again; what was so urgent that you wanted to reach him at all cost and what does a Translocation gate have to do with all of this. I thought they ceased functioning?”

“ Ah right, scattered my thoughts around here somewhere have I? [Eidetic Notes]” Arcus heard the Elder murmur a skill. “Old translocation gates always give off some residual telepsychic resonance—they do not necessarily have to be functioning.”

“Ah, so raiders some way or another happened to find a disused Translocation Gate, kidnapped a bunch of villagers and went to hide out there just to prevent being scried? But who would go looking for some random villagers?”

”Rot and Shroom gnats! “ the old elf cursed. The change in demeanor almost gave Arcis whiplash. With an almost precognitive hunch that things were going downhill, Arcis slid off the sundeck landing with a crouch and startling a fellow stargazer. Remus saw Arcis run inside the ship and followed suit, hobbling as fast as his sore ribs could allow.

“Aeris breath lass, I meant to tell you to pass a message that—”

“Mistress Arcis, Whit's wrong?, “ Remus heaved. Arcis was already flying up the hatch ladder to the bridge deck. The farm boy vacillated between securing the external hatch and going after the synth who had not offered any explanation for her state of duress.

“ My informants tell me an unsanctioned mercenary company and a Seeker are hot on your tail…”

Arcis burst into the cockpit. She jumped onto the helmsman's seat and started flicking levers and tapping runes.

“No, that's besides the fact...I meant to ask you to watch out for suspicious activities if you ever leave Aldmoor. That slew of disappearing villages seems like the properly orchestrated maneuver…”

“Whit aboot th' rest?!”

“ We’re picking them up,” Arcis said, just in time to have the aership rumble. “Get back there and secure yourself,”

The farm hand didn't dispute and limped-run to the passenger compartment.

“ Things are getting hairy out there; I would advise that if need be, seek out my acquaintance at Kingsfell; Ask for Halgred. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find out what this nasty business you've all got your noses into is all about—Ah, almost forgot [Eidetic Notes] when you reach your father; tell him we need to talk about what he did in Aldmoor.”

“ So soon, so soon…” Arcis muttered, as the Stormbreaker hovered and gained altitude. Arcis pushed the steering yoke and hailed ahead, alerting Elena that they had to move then and no later. They'd take whichever party would go—