Vignette- Elemental Birth

Miranda took a deep breath, smoothing her pure white dress down in a nervous gesture. This was the most important moment in all of her fifteen years. The moment when the direction of the rest of her life would be determined.

She was excited, but also terrified! A good result from the ceremony would set her on the path of the guardian. A bad result would see her consigned to the waste bin of humanity. Fated to be nothing more than a broodmare for future humans that might succeed where she failed.

She slapped her cheeks abruptly. She would NOT fail. She refused to consider it. With her head held high and her spine forcefully straight she strode forward with all the confidence she could fake. She began to pass down the ramp of reflection. With every step a different memory would forcefully intrude. With patient care she considered these memories. Fears and hopes intermixed with regret for poorly chosen words or tantrums thrown. But alongside the regrets there was also a great deal to be proud of. She’d not done such a bad job of growing up, all things considered. At last she stepped off the ramp and left the memories of childhood behind. Stepping through the gates that marked adulthood.

“Supplicant, what do you do here?”

Breath, she told herself, just breathe. “Masters, I come to claim my adulthood and to find my place in the community.”

“Then approach the orb and let us see.”

She stepped forward, ignoring the curiously solid darkness that surrounded the platform and hid the owners of the voice that spoke. All she could see was the platform, and the crystal ball on a tripod at its center. With steady steps, she hoped, she strode to that crystal and placed her hands on its surface. It's incredibly cold surface, it was not crystal but perfectly formed Ice. Cold enough that her hands were already beginning to turn numb even as her heart beat like a drum in her ears.

The moment passed. There was no response from the ball. “You have no affinity with the ice. Pity.“ Her heart dropped, but not too far. Ice was a rare affinity. But it contained water and cold. Without a response both of those sub elements were lost as well. “Proceed.”

The darkness in front of her fell back, revealing another small circle of light with another tripod at its center. Gratefully she pulled her painfully cold hands from the ice crystal and began to walk towards the polished sphere of stone. This surface was actually quite pleasant to touch. Cool without being cold and with a very pleasant texture. As if in response to her thoughts the ball pulsed. “A low affinity for Earth. Not enough. Continue.”

It was with regret that she removed her hands from the friendly stone. Since she had an affinity, no matter how small, for earth, she would have no chance for its antithesis air. The options were beginning to dry up. She held back her fear, turning right to pass onto the next lighted circle. Ignoring how the darkness crowded in behind her to hide her failures.

The next tripod held a braiser, red with heat from the smoldering coals inside. For a moment an lance of greater fear struck her with images of her hands burning away while she waited for a response. A foolish fear, she placed her hands above the fire, into the smoke. The moment passed with no response. Another avenue denied her.

“Continue.” The voice was beginning to show exasperation. Those who could proctor an awakening were not weak, nor unimportant people. It wasn’t wise to annoy them, but then she didn't have a choice. Annoy or not, she wouldn’t simply slide into obscurity without a fight!

She stepped forward again, anger warring with fear as her spine straightened and her steps firmed. The next circle of light held a large potted plant. A sunflower in fact, no one in their settlement would be unable to recognize their source of bread. Not that she got bread more than a couple times of year. But if she succeeded that would change. No, it WOULD change!

She placed her hands around its stem, not able to fully encompass it, while looking up several feet to the flowering top. She didn’t have to wait this time, the pulse slid through her, warming her body greatly with a feeling of acceptance. Her fears evaporated, plants were an excellent affinity! Jobs like gardeners for the hold food supplies or as a herb finder with a hunting team. It didn’t have the best offensive power, but it had a great deal of utility.

“Close. Enough for an awakening, but I think there’s more.” The exasperation was gone, excitement took its place in the master's voice. With true regret she stepped back, taking a moment to caress the plant one last time. With earth and plants accepting her it greatly narrowed the field, but she’d already passed the lowest finish line. She would not be sent below in shame. Her heart relaxed a great deal as the fear dissipated and only hope and expectation remained.

The next circle of light held a tree. No forest giant this, it was only 20 or 30 feet high. She wondered for a moment how they fit it inside? She shook that thought aside, it wasn’t important right now. She stepped closer and knew. She didn’t have to make contact, didn’t even have to fully approach. Did she think the sunflower had welcomed her? She hadn’t known what a true welcome felt like.

Acceptance, happiness, excitement and hope. They thrumed through her and they weren’t just from her. The tree didn’t speak, but it did feel and it shared those feelings freely and with something she longed for, more than she had previously realized.

Love.

Step by step she approached her future. With every step the tree shrunk down, becoming smaller and slightly more see through with every step. Right up until she embraced it and where she ended and the tree started became impossible to tell.

She came to, subdued chanting was echoing around her. Her eyes opened to see a small chamber that could not possibly have fit all that she had walked through and experienced. A hand slapped down and gripped her shoulder lightly from the side. “Congratulations, guardian. Welcome to adulthood. May you and your bond have a long and productive life.”

Jean-Pierre himself stood beside her smiling. But it wasn’t just him, what before she couldn’t feel was now so clear. It wasn’t the room that was large enough to fit each of those elemental tests. It was just this man. Flickering in and out at the edge of her vision she saw them. The stone, ice, flames, plants and a dozen other images that slid past far to quickly for her to make out. A master elementalist, she hadn’t really understood what that meant before.

“It’s been a while since anyone has awakened with an affinity for trees. I’m not sure exactly what you’ll do with it. Just remember, there are no trash affinities. Only trash people. If you take your time and think, you’ll find a niche for your strengths. Good luck child.”

She nodded, too excited by the feel of the tree elemental that was merged into her aura, to care about that right now. In the future she would have to work, and work hard, to make her talent useful. For now though, she was going to enjoy every minute of having a talent to work with!

Chapter 9

The noon sun was already beating down overhead before Timothy managed to find some free moments. The morning had been filled with catching up with the little bits and pieces of enchanting he had fallen behind on. Money might not be tight, but neither was it overflowing. To many places where he needed to spend.

Nice as the money was, it wasn’t just for money that he sold enchantments. Some of his reasons were noble, acting the ambassador to improve the lives of their allies or just providing some safety for fellow humans. Other reasons were less so. People had experienced too much in the way of luxury, both in their last life and in Runehold or some of the upgraded thresholds. If he didn’t supply some measure of it, they’d find another way. A way that didn’t include Timothy. Having his runes so widely used and even more widely enjoyed created a self reinforcing effect on their potency. They worked so people expected them to work, which made them work all the more.

A useful, if unreliable effect. Dangerous even. People were fickle, and their beliefs even more so. A few public failures, manufactured or real, and that built up belief would disappear like smoke on a windy day. Much better to rely on his own will and understanding, but if the belief was offered, he would be a fool not to use it in passing.

But enough of that. His chores were done, he’d pawned off the underground connections testing on Pa. Or at least on whichever minion pa would con into doing it. It didn’t even cost Timothy any extra enchanting time. He had several early prototype versions of the threshold wards available as is. They were made with common wood and stone without any of the special bindings and linkages that made the Threshold defenses so robust.

Good defenses were all about delaying the opponent and storing up attacks over time to use on them while they were delayed. A moat and a castle wall would stop no one on their own, but they could delay the attack. When there were defenders standing atop the wall they could take advantage of that delay to reap a bloody harvest. How do you reap that harvest though? By spending the days, weeks, months or years before the attack preparing.

Even without magic it could be described as carrying stones to the top of the wall. Piling them up over long lengths of time. Eventually the battle will come. Standing on top of that wall a much weaker man can defeat a stronger one. Like David and Goliath. Simply pick up the stones and fling them down. How can the instant strength of even a strong man compare to weeks of labor no matter how weak the laborer.

But if the thresholds were mighty citadels, then his early prototypes were a children's tree house. Still, for testing they would do the trick. The testee would just have to check how tall the tree house could be with and without a tunnel linked to it. As for the tunnel, plenty of his early shovels were lying around.

No, he pushed the matter aside, what needed to be done was done, at least for now. He had a bit of time to prepare for the coming graduation. Something he had been working on for a while now, with the enthusiastic support of the gaming group, and the not so enthusiastic support of Oscar, or Spirit Father as most called him now. He snickered a bit remembering that conversation…

“Come on Oscar, just call it a spirit journey for their coming of age!”

“Timothy, first it's called a vision quest. Second, what tribe do you think I’m from?”

“...ah, no idea.”

“Exactly. Not every tribe does a vision journey. We all don’t look alike!”

“Come on Oscar, I try not to ask anyone about the old world. They lost a lot, no reason to rip the bandaid off. What tribe you were isn’t the point here. WIth your help we can let them experience a bit of hardship and reality with massively reduced risk.”

“Then go do it. Why do you need me?”

“Well that's a bit awkward. Let's just say that if you're involved, most people should make the connection with a ‘vision quest.’ Should make it considerably more palatable than the alternative.”

“Not selling it to me with that sort of lead in. But I’ll bite. What alternative.”

“That I picked the idea up from Bullshit Bensen.”

“....You want to introduce our youngest and brightest to that damn dream? The one that even now holds a portion of the norms like zombies? Why not set up a crack party while you're at it.”

“Now you're exaggerating. Yes, he is abusing the hell out of the dream. Druggies meet the lotus eaters. I get it. But it’s just a tool. The user makes it evil or righteous. ♪Some of them want to use you, some of them want to be abused by you♪ … Not quite your speed of music hmm? Never mind then. You still get the point don’t you?”

“Is cocaine a tool to you as well?”

“How about peyote if we’re talking about vision quests.”

“Again, what tribe do you think I am?”

“Alright, alright, I’m not an expert on tribal anything. I confess to it! But let's get back to the point. Letting these kids experience life threatening situations without, I hope, dying.”

“...wait, you hope?”

“It’s in their heads, sure. That doesn’t mean it’s not real. Just a different form of reality. Getting gored by a hog should hurt to all hell, but it won’t kill them. But if they cast too many spells? Or screw up badly enough while casting on empty? Backlash could kill either of us at any time if we’re careless, much less these kids. The dream we create won’t kill them, but I can’t guarantee they won’t kill themselves.”

“... You’ve lost a few that way already, haven't you?”

“..Unfortunately yes. Four.”

“You willing to lose even more? This is risky. The two most likely situations I can think of for an overdraw or backlash to occur would be showing off to win a contest or stressed to limit in a near death event. You’re suggesting putting these kids through both in one event.”

“I am. But your two situations pale before the third. Being out in a threshold under siege with no reinforcements available. This way they at least do it under my watch. I might be able to save them here, we won't always be able to later.”

“...There is that.”

He shook the memory off, no longer laughing. It may have started funny, but that conversation had gotten dark quickly. Ah well, life did that. He shook his head a few times before referencing his notes and beginning to lay down a series of geometric shapes in a dark red powder. Chalk mixed with sloth blood, chamomile, mugwort and powdered silver. Chalk for definition and control, Sloth blood for sleep and violence, chamomile for sleep and mental clarity, mugwort for vivid dreams. It was a somewhat nasty mix. Many of the components were toxic in their own right. Not something he wanted to breath in. The blood helped with that. Binding the components into blood red chalk sticks, albeit sticks well wrapped in cloth to protect his hands. Nasty as it was, it fit with what he had planned. A small scale Kobayashi Maru for his students, before he set them loose on the world. But no way in hell was he letting some schlepp hack it for an easy win.

Then again, it might be amusing to watch them try. He snickered a bit, but didn’t stop sketching out clusters of linked runes, indicators for the eventual enchantment. Enchanting that would take considerably longer than he had today, but prior preparation and all that. The large, round ritual room was rapidly filling with indicative shapes, timing notes, quantities and directional indicators. All the extra bits required to control how the many separate enchantments would work together to make a greater whole. His willpower had grown massively over the past five years, but even he had limits. Five linked runes was something he could manage. More than manage he could do a couple in a single day. Six he could pull off if he was willing to spend the next day in bed recovering. Seven would take a serious sacrifice. Several fingers at the least. More depending on the enchantment.

Nothing he was willing to go through without a real and lethal need. Even then, he doubted he could pull this idea off even with a single seven linked enchantment. No, doing all in one go wasn’t a plausible solution. But thankfully it wasn’t the only way to go. A properly linked cascade of smaller enchantments building off one another could do the trick. It would just take far longer to set up.

Thankfully, this wasn’t his first rodeo. Many small bits were already prepared, just requiring proper linkages and control. It would start with the many small tri-rune enchants that spotted the outer round walls of the room. Aspect filters he called them. Specifically identifying the aspect native to the area and either blocking them entirely or at least controlling how much was allowed in. Like spigots on an infinitely large tank. These were permanent enchantments carved into the walls of the ritual room and inlaid with precious materials of those same aspects and reused with every new enchantment.

Stepping in from the walls were a series of premade quad-rune extractor enchants. Small portable altars, two feet in diameter by half a foot tall, that were enchanted for a specific aspect and material. As with the outer wards, even if they were mobile, these were permanent enchantments and he had a large number of different aspect altars already fully enchanted and a number of blanks in case he needed something new. Each was made from a chunk of a forest giant's tap root. A tap root was designed to extract nutrients and water from deep underground. Its primary attributes may be of wood, but the extractive nature was nearly as powerful and when enchanted correctly would take the driver's seat.

This was needed as each altar would supply the enchantment with an aspect that wasn’t available in the area. They would instead take the aspect from a material placed on top. Materials like mercury extracted from cinnabar, acquired and processed at ruinous expense. The aspect of mirror could be extracted from it. A less potent version could be acquired from silver, or even still water if he was really desperate. There was some kind of ranking on aspects that he didn’t fully understand. A qualitative difference between simple and profound connections. What he did understand was the results. Using reflective water would drastically reduce the effect.

Thankfully he had sufficient coin not to have to settle for the cheaper options. Unfortunately that wasn’t the only aspect mercury held. Metal, toxic, malleable, flow and many others. It wasn’t just mercury. Everything had more aspects than just what he needed. The altars were carefully enchanted to ensure that only the desired aspect was extracted and passed on, tightly containing everything else.

From there the aspects would be filtered an additional time for purity, then passed on in specific quantities to a series copper cauldrons. These were unfortunately not something he could often reuse. They required a set of penta-runes to mix the aspects in precise ways and quantities while impressing upon them a portion of the final intent that would define their effect. Tuning what could be as simple as the aspects of reflect, self, clarity and belief into an actual spell effect to force true, clear self reflection. There were many other ways those same aspects could be combined or interpreted, intent was what took the resources available and started to turn them into a coherent story, or perhaps a painting. A pallet of aspects pre mixed and prepared with small scale sketches included.

Then the final step, a Hexa-rune (Full day of recovery and all), would take those paints and sketches to make a masterpiece. A masterpiece, many paintings were beautiful, but that wasn’t enough. It also needed to tell a coherent story. All the components were here, now he just had to make his vision happen. And that would require a sufficient canvas. Something large enough and synergistic in its aspects that could hold the finished painting.

He glanced at his notes and compared them to the lines and descriptions on the floor. Excitement rose in him, but he ruthlessly stomped on it. Dropping to his knees he went over every line, every rune and every altar placement and connective trace. Any mistakes and he would have to clean up and recreate that entire subsection from scratch. A circle made smoothly in one precise movement was strong, a circle with a couple pieces erased and re-sketched would have multiple failure points just waiting to happen. The same theory held for runes or any other geometric shape. They had to be done correctly, in one smooth flowing gesture.

It had seemed impossible at first. But as with most things in life, if at first you don’t succeed… Years worth of practice stood him well. Only one subsection of runes and a filter had to be removed, cleansed and recreated.

He stepped back to the beginning, ready to place the consumable components and adjust the aspect filters. Aspects of night, moon, restful water, humanity and some specific scent based aspects were allowed in. The elemental, seasonale and other celestial aspects were fully blocked.

The numerous altars, split into three widely spaced, but not equally sized, triangles were next. The first triangle was for lucid dreaming. The night, moon, scents and restful lapping of the river currents were bled into this triangle to mix with an additional supply of mugwort, the eyes, windows to the soul, of a beast that died peacefully in its sleep (rare that!) and a well used enchanted bridle, purchased from Tucker’s boar cavalry, to symbolize control.

The next triangle stood for stress, violence and the tests of life. It was by far the largest of the three triangles, but surprisingly also the cheapest. Tiered beast parts were expensive, but mostly the meat and specific bones. That rarely included the skull. Only the piranha were widely used and those mostly by Timothy. He carefully placed a different skull on each altar, having to prop them up to fit considering their significant size. Hog, panther, piranha, Earth and poison toads, hovercroc, blood bat, terror bird, compy, dilo and raptor.

He would have loved to have a Rex skull, but even if High Plains Hold had one, no way in hell would Holla sell it. Not for the moon on a platter. Still, each skull held a few symbols drawn on them in their own blood. Spirit evocation spells Holla had been willing to part with, and at a reasonable price. Just so long as he got to try out the finished product. Only a few non-skulls filled the remaining altars. A cup of three toed sloth blood for violence and sleep, like the mugwort in the first triangle it would tie the spell together with the chalk lines and allow all three triangles to merge when it was time. And finally some coca leaves. To symbolize and evoke the rapid heart beat that accompanied high stress, fear and adrenaline.

The last triangle was fairly small, but exceedingly expensive. The outer aspect of humanity bled into this triangle to mix with only four altars. Mercury lightly mixed with powdered silver for reflection in one. A floor tile from the stage of truth down stairs for belief, or perhaps sincerity would be the better term, in the second. Chamomile for sleep, relaxation and mental clarity in the third. Finally, he grimaced as he pulled out his pen-is-mightier and made a small cut on his left palm, blood for self in the forth. The cup the blood poured into was something he’d purchased from Bloodhaven, capable of purifying and preventing the blood from rotting or clotting (another promise to let the brothers try the finished product). He quickly bandaged the wound once the cup was a quarter full. The enchantments and connecting runes would not be done in a single day. He would have plenty of time to finish filling the cup.

Until then, dripping blood around would ruin everything so he was careful to fully contain the injury.

“It’s coming along quite nicely!” he muttered as he glanced at the massive swirls of colors and seemingly random objects with a wide smile. Only one thing was left to add, then it would be time to start carving the actual enchantments into the floor. Nearly the point of no return. Any mistakes now could be easily, if time consumingly, fixed.

No point worrying about that now. He walked out of the ritual room on tiptoes, smudging a line now after half a day of work would be beyond depressing, and with a grunt, picked up the results of his talk with the Spirit Father. A large bag of incense for true dreams and a harpy eagle feather fan. One that took both of his hands to hold.

It was an amazing find. The birds were not only rare, but also not something you wanted to find. They represented an extreme of speed. Circling so high they appeared like a dot for hours on end, only to disappear in a moment. Trading height for speed in a way that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye, striking like the wrath of the divine on an unsuspecting target. Then back into the sky to circle in the span of a few blinks. So fast the watcher could be forgiven for thinking it had never left in the first place… Except now it held something in its claws and was feasting while it circled.

It was a guess but the birds were probably over 10 feet long and with a 30 foot wingspan. Such size could be approximate from the massive size of the fan. It was made from a single feather, carefully mounted and protected in strips of hide and wood. All of it elegantly arranged in an art form that seemed to be unique to Paradise these days. Even there the new world shone through. The setting was beautiful, no doubt about it. A masterwork. Even so it paled in comparison to the feather itself. Tall and vibrant with an inner life that seemed to persist even so long after being disconnected from its owner. The beauty was terrifying in a way. Those with a weak will could lose themselves just staring at it. And yet when pulled away they wouldn’t be able to tell you much about the feather. Timothy had the will to resist the hypnotic effect, but he wasn’t any better off when it came to details. Even now he couldn’t tell what kind of feather it was. Tail feather? Pinion? Back? Nor could he ask the supplier. It was a discard found by chance.

That was unfortunate as It would have held far greater power if it had come from the bird more directly. Cast-off wasn’t precisely a great symbol to add to an enchantment. Still, needs must. It wasn’t like they were going to get a feather any other way. If there was a score in eagle hunting then it was definitely, Humans 0 -Eagles who knows? Afterall, no one who got in that fight was alive to talk about it.

Despite the cast off status, it was a powerful relic. Eagles were called the kings of the sky, and as birds that were part physical but also largely spiritual. At least to shamans. Oscar had really done him right with this piece. It’d taken months to create, Delicately incorporating the feather without damaging it, and without allowing its future use to do the same, then a time as the centerpiece of spirit wakening and empowering rituals. Nightly rituals for the entire town of Paradise that were usually used to empower the town's guardian spirit. For a time sidetracked to give birth to a protospirt to control the fan. Those kinds of rituals weren’t something simple coin could buy. Nor a massive pile of those coins. They were too important to the survival of the entire town. No, he'd had to convince Oscar and Lotsee that it was worth the cost. That and burn quite a few stored up favors.

The result should be a consciousness that would control and drive the dream. A simple mind and soul at first. But it wouldn’t stay that way. With regular use and care, the spirit inside could become something truly special. It would take a considerable amount of time, though. In the meantime someone would have to augment the spirit and guide it through the tests.

Timothy would likely be that someone but, thankfully, he wouldn’t have to oversee it’s entire growth. Raising a spirit was something and nothing like raising a child. It wasn’t a clean slate on which parents would slowly write their own experiences and expectations in hope of allowing something new and special, though only within the expected boundaries, to step forth.

No, it was an already messy slate filled with the many memories and expectations of the crowd that participated in its creation. It would have memories but it wasn’t born knowing what to do with them. In effect, it didn’t yet have much in the way of personality. Spirit raising required the ‘father’ or ‘mother’ figure to carefully help the spirit integrate those disperate attitudes and expectations into a useful whole. Sifting out the contradictions and irrelevant parts and fitting together what's left into a being capable of standing, and growing, on its own.

It was a delicate and painstaking profession. One Timothy was happy to leave for the experts. He had enough of his own work to do. Stepping back through the room he carefully propped the fan upright, with the 6 foot feather sticking straight into the air while surrounded by six small three legged copper braisers with the outer two legs melded into a hexagonal inlaid copper band and the inner leg melded into a starburst of copper that housed the fan at the center.

Yes, it was coming along very nicely. The full moon was two weeks away and the aspects at large would be in a good alignment to complete the ritual. With graduation being over a month and a half out, that would give Oscar and Lotsee another two weeks to help the proto spirit settle in and then a final two weeks for the students to each get a turn.

He nodded his head in satisfaction, then got out his tools and approached one of the three cauldrons. Just because he had time, didn’t mean he was willing to waste it. Besides, waiting till the last minute, something always went wrong.

The demon Murphy was probably already manifest somewhere… He shuddered at that familiar thought.