wildestmods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wildestmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wildestlogs2021-10-01 09:11 pm
wildestmods) wrote in wildestlogs2021-10-01 09:11 pm
TEST DRIVE ※ 1
TEST DRIVE #1
These woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but being lost in them is pretty alarming to most people. Perhaps it's lucky you're hearing what sounds like... a party?
If you follow the sounds through thinning trees, a brick-paved road rises from the ground ahead. Keep going, and you'll find yourself approaching a bustling festival. Small, jaunty, colorful buildings line a way bedecked with flags, banners, and (of course) ever-present vendors.
Good morrow! Dost thou carest for a turkey leg? Some funnel cake? Modestly priced costume jewelry? Come right this way, dear visitor! The faire is here!
First, however, the faeries would like a moment of your time. At one of the entry gates, a spritely, brightly-dressed faerie tells you, "Tickets are long-since sold out, but joy is one currency we accept. So as long as you plan to enjoy yourselves, you may enter with a day pass. However, please read the sign. By entering, it means you agree to the terms."
The faerie points to a large wooden sign with words painted on it. The sign says something to the effect that the summer faeries are not responsible for anything that happens at the faire, and by entering you're agreeing to exempt them from indemnifying you for not offering the same magical protections they offer proper ticket holders in the unlikely event of surprise and disaster, etc etc.
Fortunately, it's actually not that different from a standard legal agreement for some kind of dangerous activity like go-cart racing. Of course faeries would be careful about any legal disclaimers for events.
USEFUL LINKS
A FAIRE SHAKE
A renaissance faire is in full swing in the woods today, or so it would seem. But no one here is just playing a part: these outsize personalities, bright costumes, and pseudo-Elizabethan voices are perfectly real.
It's the only place you can go for food and appropriate clothing. Also there's magic at your feet, drawing you towards others bound by the Quest magic, making it so all paths seem to lead to the Faire. Even if you don't want to enter, it feels like you have to, like there's something important to find.
a) The Faerie Toll
Some of the faeries are lighthearted and cheerful, with round and heart shaped faces and brightly colored clothes. These summer faeries are willing to part with some faerie coin in exchange for certain actions. Anyone that watches others take them up on their deals can see that the actions are indeed harmless, and there is no catch. Apparently happiness and frivolity really can be exchanged with the faeries here. Ways to earn a small bit of coin: physical comedy, agreeing to a round in the dunk tank (yes they have one), telling the faeries a good joke (but it really has to be a good one, by faerie standards), letting oneself getting pied in the face, and pieing someone you're with in the face, among other things. Silly dances are also in high demand, especially ones with actual rules vs. ones that are made up on the spot, with a clear preference for moves like tiktok dances, the macarena, or the Hustle.
Some of the faeries are lighthearted and cheerful, with round and heart shaped faces and brightly colored clothes. These summer faeries are willing to part with some faerie coin in exchange for certain actions. Anyone that watches others take them up on their deals can see that the actions are indeed harmless, and there is no catch. Apparently happiness and frivolity really can be exchanged with the faeries here. Ways to earn a small bit of coin: physical comedy, agreeing to a round in the dunk tank (yes they have one), telling the faeries a good joke (but it really has to be a good one, by faerie standards), letting oneself getting pied in the face, and pieing someone you're with in the face, among other things. Silly dances are also in high demand, especially ones with actual rules vs. ones that are made up on the spot, with a clear preference for moves like tiktok dances, the macarena, or the Hustle.
b) New and In Stock
You tried to steal from the faeries instead of paying their toll, or have otherwise misbehaved. The faeries like your moxie, though. They'll let you keep what you took (if you took something), but first you're gonna have to do some time in the stocks.
Will anyone take mercy on you and bust you loose? Does anyone have a tomato? Perhaps you meet someone else while they're suffering a similar punishment in the other stocks across from you. If you didn't actually steal, maybe you got framed. Or you're in the stocks with your "partner in crime" who you were falsely accused of being affiliated.
Fortunately, you won't be in there overly long. Even if you can't escape and no one busts you out, the faeries aren't particularly cruel and the absolute worst you'll get thrown your way by the crowd is a fruit.
If you push, the faeries might also let you out if someone else agrees to be responsible for your good behavior. This could, naturally, lead to both of you doing more time together.
You tried to steal from the faeries instead of paying their toll, or have otherwise misbehaved. The faeries like your moxie, though. They'll let you keep what you took (if you took something), but first you're gonna have to do some time in the stocks.
Will anyone take mercy on you and bust you loose? Does anyone have a tomato? Perhaps you meet someone else while they're suffering a similar punishment in the other stocks across from you. If you didn't actually steal, maybe you got framed. Or you're in the stocks with your "partner in crime" who you were falsely accused of being affiliated.
Fortunately, you won't be in there overly long. Even if you can't escape and no one busts you out, the faeries aren't particularly cruel and the absolute worst you'll get thrown your way by the crowd is a fruit.
If you push, the faeries might also let you out if someone else agrees to be responsible for your good behavior. This could, naturally, lead to both of you doing more time together.
c) I'm Just Here For the Turkey Leg
Wandering lost in the woods is hungry work. Maybe you know better than to eat food offered by faeries, but the humans of the faire should be safe enough, right? Where else are you going to find a whole turkey leg, a funnel cake, or a cold beer around here? The lines can get pretty long though, and sometimes orders get mixed up, or someone swipes what was yours! Maybe they bump into you and spill food down your front. Or perhaps you see someone with no money and decide to offer to share.
Some of the food seems out of this world or is clearly made for a more alien palate (not always in an appetizing way). Most of the food has big enough portions if you're not the only one eating
Wandering lost in the woods is hungry work. Maybe you know better than to eat food offered by faeries, but the humans of the faire should be safe enough, right? Where else are you going to find a whole turkey leg, a funnel cake, or a cold beer around here? The lines can get pretty long though, and sometimes orders get mixed up, or someone swipes what was yours! Maybe they bump into you and spill food down your front. Or perhaps you see someone with no money and decide to offer to share.
Some of the food seems out of this world or is clearly made for a more alien palate (not always in an appetizing way). Most of the food has big enough portions if you're not the only one eating
d) Surely, You Joust
Whether you're just watching, betting on the outcome, or have convinced someone to armor you up and put you on a horse, the jousting tournament is a major event! Will anyone be able to unseat the intimidating Black Knight? Have you started a rivalry with a competitor you just met in a line twenty minutes ago? Are you helping another member of the squad by pumping them up for their match? Or are you just over here to see how many horses you can pet without anyone noticing?
Even those not interested in the competition might want to give it a whirl. There are different rewards for unseating certain levels of competitors like food supplies, flasks of boozeahol, small bags of silver or gold, and weapons of moderate quality, like swords, knives, or bows.
For those that don't own their own armor and lances, some light armor and lances are on loan but the armor is all dinged up and the lances are easily broken, putting someone using them at a disadvantage.
Whether you're just watching, betting on the outcome, or have convinced someone to armor you up and put you on a horse, the jousting tournament is a major event! Will anyone be able to unseat the intimidating Black Knight? Have you started a rivalry with a competitor you just met in a line twenty minutes ago? Are you helping another member of the squad by pumping them up for their match? Or are you just over here to see how many horses you can pet without anyone noticing?
Even those not interested in the competition might want to give it a whirl. There are different rewards for unseating certain levels of competitors like food supplies, flasks of boozeahol, small bags of silver or gold, and weapons of moderate quality, like swords, knives, or bows.
For those that don't own their own armor and lances, some light armor and lances are on loan but the armor is all dinged up and the lances are easily broken, putting someone using them at a disadvantage.
e) Everyone's a Comedian
You (and maybe your threadmate) are being teased by a pair of funnymen doing a bit, be they jesters, Punch and Judy style puppets, or a pair of washing well wenches. The audience is delighted, but are you? What are you both going to do?
You (and maybe your threadmate) are being teased by a pair of funnymen doing a bit, be they jesters, Punch and Judy style puppets, or a pair of washing well wenches. The audience is delighted, but are you? What are you both going to do?
f) Wares, If You Have Coin
You're here! You have some gold! Time to get yourself some "period appropriate" (for varying values of both words) gear. Have you found a shopping buddy? What if you resell some goods you just picked up at a slight markup? Are you suspicious of the quality of a vendor's goods? Maybe this item over here is the last of its kind, and you and this stranger want it!
You're here! You have some gold! Time to get yourself some "period appropriate" (for varying values of both words) gear. Have you found a shopping buddy? What if you resell some goods you just picked up at a slight markup? Are you suspicious of the quality of a vendor's goods? Maybe this item over here is the last of its kind, and you and this stranger want it!
g) Stop! Thief!
Someone picked your pocket or snatched something out of your hands! It might even be your thread partner. Do you give chase? If your threadmate isn't the thief, are they helping you chase the thief down or getting in your way?
Someone picked your pocket or snatched something out of your hands! It might even be your thread partner. Do you give chase? If your threadmate isn't the thief, are they helping you chase the thief down or getting in your way?
h) Archery Range
Are you taking the chance to start learning a new skill on the practice targets? If it's any incentive, several fair maidens and handsome young fellows are hanging about, flirting with the best shots. If you're already good, you might be competing in the archery competition for a prize! The targets are close enough you can make conversation with the person one target over.
Are you taking the chance to start learning a new skill on the practice targets? If it's any incentive, several fair maidens and handsome young fellows are hanging about, flirting with the best shots. If you're already good, you might be competing in the archery competition for a prize! The targets are close enough you can make conversation with the person one target over.
i) Fortune Told
A stubborn young blonde woman in a long purple robe with a pointed hat - one that looks more than a little bit witchy - is determined to read your fortune for you. Loudly. Whether you like it or not. She has to demonstrate her skills to drum up business, you see! Now please hold your hand still, she just needs to get a good look at your fate line...
(Note: Players will have to npc the fortuneteller says in their thread and can go absolutely wildly wrong. However, sometimes the fortuneteller suddenly gets more intense and guesses a few things closer to the truth...)
A stubborn young blonde woman in a long purple robe with a pointed hat - one that looks more than a little bit witchy - is determined to read your fortune for you. Loudly. Whether you like it or not. She has to demonstrate her skills to drum up business, you see! Now please hold your hand still, she just needs to get a good look at your fate line...
(Note: Players will have to npc the fortuneteller says in their thread and can go absolutely wildly wrong. However, sometimes the fortuneteller suddenly gets more intense and guesses a few things closer to the truth...)
j) Out of Water
You draw attention to yourself with your behavior, or by how strange your manner of dress is (according to the faire folk, anyway.) Perhaps you have a still-functioning small electronic like a smartphone that's unlike anything they've ever seen. People are starting to give you the stink eye or ask you invasive questions. Will your threadmate help you out?
You draw attention to yourself with your behavior, or by how strange your manner of dress is (according to the faire folk, anyway.) Perhaps you have a still-functioning small electronic like a smartphone that's unlike anything they've ever seen. People are starting to give you the stink eye or ask you invasive questions. Will your threadmate help you out?
k) Bargaining With the Fae
There are some faeries here that are different from the sunny, cheerful summer faeries running the fair. These are the winter faeries, more ethereal and elegant, more immaculately dressed in finery that's a little too fancy for the event. Despite their beauty - or maybe because of it - these faeries are...colder. Many of them are busying themselves with maintaining magical lanterns around the edges of the faire. If asked, they tell your character they're handling security and to bug off.
But some of them maintain stands in shadier-looking areas of the faire. They're willing to offer more in exchange for greater payment. Warm, durable clothing to cut through the slight chill that comes at evening and night time. Swords made of much stronger metals than can be found elsewhere, of better make, with edges that take forever to dull. Bows with strings that rarely ever break.
Their deals are definitely backhanded though. For payment, they might say something like "we could really use your view on something, just a half hour of your time" and instead of having you participate in conversation where your insight is welcome, you lose your ability to see for a half hour.
These effects are unpleasant but usually temporary, lasting no longer than a half hour or so - but it's not like they'll tell you that. And if you try to go back to the stall afterwards to confront them, they'll have mysteriously disappeared. You'll at least get to keep whatever your bought and it will be of good quality, but the joke is definitely on you.
There are some faeries here that are different from the sunny, cheerful summer faeries running the fair. These are the winter faeries, more ethereal and elegant, more immaculately dressed in finery that's a little too fancy for the event. Despite their beauty - or maybe because of it - these faeries are...colder. Many of them are busying themselves with maintaining magical lanterns around the edges of the faire. If asked, they tell your character they're handling security and to bug off.
But some of them maintain stands in shadier-looking areas of the faire. They're willing to offer more in exchange for greater payment. Warm, durable clothing to cut through the slight chill that comes at evening and night time. Swords made of much stronger metals than can be found elsewhere, of better make, with edges that take forever to dull. Bows with strings that rarely ever break.
Their deals are definitely backhanded though. For payment, they might say something like "we could really use your view on something, just a half hour of your time" and instead of having you participate in conversation where your insight is welcome, you lose your ability to see for a half hour.
These effects are unpleasant but usually temporary, lasting no longer than a half hour or so - but it's not like they'll tell you that. And if you try to go back to the stall afterwards to confront them, they'll have mysteriously disappeared. You'll at least get to keep whatever your bought and it will be of good quality, but the joke is definitely on you.
l) Wild Card!
You can make up anything your character might reasonably see at a normal Renaissance Faire, or place an encounter in the woods nearby! Go wild!
You can make up anything your character might reasonably see at a normal Renaissance Faire, or place an encounter in the woods nearby! Go wild!
❧ This counts as a plot and is part of game canon! This means that new players aren't the only ones that can make top-levels. Current characters can be thrown in like it's any other plot or event. The default for threads is that they're game canon if all characters involved are apped in or already in game, but prospective players may opt out and consider a thread non-canon if they're not happy with it.
❧ Feel free to play around with powers. If your character has powers from canon you want to play around with, go for it. If you'd like to test out possibilities for game powers, also go for it. Feel free to change it up from thread to thread if you need to. If you want to keep a thread as canon this can be handwaved as the magic making characters' powers shift a few times before settling.
❧ Potential players may use test drive threads as their log samples. However, at least one post in their thread must fit the requirements for apps, and in quality and length (200 words). If you do plan on using a thread as a sample, please make sure the writing throughout your threads is a good example of your writing skills and has some solid examples of the character's voice.
❧ Players can count TDMs towards AC, with the same AC rules as any other threads.
❧ The game is invite-only. Players without invites are allowed to tdm since some of them may know someone in game to ask for one, and since some people enjoy TDMs just for fun in games they don't plan to app into. But an invite is required during the apping process.
❧ The game is at a starting cap at 30 players. Right now the current number of invitees is likely to not exceed the game's 30 slots, but if we go a few over they will still be allowed to app during this first round. Future apps will be rolling apps and will have a wait queue if the cap has been exceeded.
❧ Invites at game start are limited to current and former players of the mods' previous game Piper90 (
piper90), former players of the first incarnation of Wilderlands (wilderlands, and people friended to the main mod's plurk. If any of those individuals want to invite someone outside those pools in the first app round, they can request it when the mods make a headcount of potential appers. If the game will be under (or only slightly over) 30 players to start, some extra players may also be invited, but the mods want to limit it to exceed the player cap too much. ❧ The first game round will be apps only, no reserves. Apps open: 10/15/21. Game start: 11/01/21
no subject
The mind behind the face is keenly-honed, painstakingly organized, and painfully secretive. If a personality can be likened to a house, his was the kind where no one is permitted past the foyer, and the foyer itself is an intentionally uncomfortable place to linger. Not an evil person, by any means, but certainly an asocial and solitary one.
As soon as Raistlin feels the touch at the back of his mind, he lets go. For a moment he stares at the blade in shock.
"What are you?" he breathes.
no subject
But she can't just hang on and think about it or go probing because she has to go and be a person now. She rouses further, a bit at a time, like bubbles trickling up from deep in a well.
:Could... ask...: It's always such an effort to use Mindspeech again as she wakes. Flakes of image and emotion come with the slow, gravelly words - women pounding metal with hammers, a blade glowing from the forge, the elevated purity of purpose that came with wedding smithcraft and magic together. :...the same... of you. Boy.:
no subject
He's heard of artifacts like these. The most famous are the dragon orbs, holding the living essence of dragonkind, the souls of dragons good and evil bound within a glass sphere for eternity. And other, lesser artifacts, made by aspiring immortals. Most end in failure. The soul trapped here - or living? - cannot be mortal - or if they are, they are a mage of profound power.
And knowledge. And skill. And yes, it was entirely possible that the entity might try to wrest his soul from his body or sap his life away or hollow him out for a skinsuit or any number of unpleasant things, but such risks were the price one paid for magic. And magic was the only thing Raistlin had ever found worth living for.
"I am Raistlin Majere, a mage of the Red Robes," he says softly. "Can you hear me?"
no subject
:It's not... as hard as that. I was strong... am strong... but far from the best. You only need... the will. And technique... and... know how to keep your... self from eroding over time.: She laughs, then. Gradually Need's Mind-voice is becoming clearer and steadier as she warms up. :So maybe it's difficult... after all. Yes, boy... I hear you. I won't take... those things.:
She doesn't say she doesn't want them, because lies told through Mindspeech are transparently obvious. Of course a part of Need wants, it comes with the territory. She just doesn't act on it, she is scrupulous about limiting her control. :You should really... know how to shield yourself... against spirits, you know.:
no subject
"Damn you, Caramon," he wheezes, the tightness in his chest not easing at the thought of his missing twin.
( - Need can see that oily flash twine around his spine, squeeze hard and vampiric at his lungs - but only in the corner of her eye, and then it's gone, or maybe was never there.)
Raistlin brings the pouch off herbs to his nose and inhales. The sharpness cuts through the worst of it. He's able to order hot water without dying, at least, and soon his tea is steeping.
"My apologies," he mutters, still not quite sure of this - mental communication. "Artifacts such as yourself are not common, in my homeland. My mental defenses are considered perfectly adequate for anything a mage can usually expect to encounter."
no subject
Figuring out what's actually wrong promises to be complicated, because while this is like consumption there are some things that don't fit, like that twist and squeeze that she half missed (it isn't at all the way she would draw life-energy away from someone) but she knows she could ease the symptoms. She does not do so. Need has no arrangement with Raistlin and owes him nothing, and unlike, say, Jadrek with his chronic pain, he would notice and not appreciate it. She's familiar with that, too. Pride isn't just something for the healthy and wealthy.
:You don't have to... speak out loud,: she says when he's ready to talk again, as if there had been no pause. :As long as you aren't... blocking me out, I see your thoughts. As long as they don't hold... the intention to rape anyone... or prey on the vulnerable, then I don't... care.: Need is very old and has been touching minds for a long time. She's long, long past being shocked at passing fantasies and how petty people are in their own heads. She's past being shocked at most things. :But I could teach you... to block out spirits, all the same. Most of them aren't as... kind as me.:
She doesn't think of herself as kind, so that word is layered with sardonic amusement, a kind of scoff, the backhanded admission that there is cruelty in her.
no subject
Indeed, the brief flashes his inexperienced mindspeech grants give her the sense that he finds the prospect of consensual sex daunting enough. The idea of forcing himself on someone is repulsive and, frankly, undignified. Then he quite forcibly takes his mind off the subject.
:And as for preying on the vulnerable,: he adds dryly, :I find that the powerful tend to have more worth taking, and you feel less guilt about it:
Though one may end up nearly burned at the stake is the underthought he can't suppress. There's a deep emotional well here: memories of fire, and smoke, and a tear-stained young mother reaching for him only to be swallowed by a jeering crowd.
:I would be grateful if you shared your skill with me, master: he concludes, ignoring the memories. :What could I offer in return?:
no subject
There is a strongly feminine quality to her, even if most of the signifiers would seem outwardly masculine. Her Mindvoice is low and gravelly, here sounding like an old person who's breathed much smoke, here like metal scraping metal. And, well, she's pinned to a sword. It's not a large sword and the crossguard resembles multiple crescent shapes, but this is a weapon more associated with men.
She presents a calm front to that underthought, as though she didn't see it and it didn't spike a reaction. Need's old. She knows the world is full of suffering that she can do nothing to ease, and if she lets herself be carried away by all of it, or goes to know every thought and moment of someone's history, it will consume her.
:I'm blind and deaf... not to mention every other sense and ability that comes... with having a body. I can only see through others' eyes, hear through their ears... so on.: She's not at all bound to only the senses of whoever has her at the moment, but that is a central focus. And yes, it does mean always having temptation at hand, always taking the tiniest, slowest sips when she could be gulping. That's the way of things. :If I can't touch people and talk to them... I fall asleep. As I was asleep, but I'm normally... slower to wake. I'm different when I sleep. I join my soul to another's and I stay with her until she dies or grows old and passes me on. In that time I support her with magic or physical skills, I heal her when she's hurt, and I call on her to act for me and fill my purpose. When I'm awake I don't need the soul-bond and I expect to spend time with more than one person, but my purpose remains.:
She is absolutely building towards revealing the letters that can form on her blade. Look, sometimes fire and drama are highly enjoyable.
no subject
Raistlin can talk and think at the same time, a surprisingly rare gift. As he makes small talk, his mind is racing, turning over the implications of what she's saying. Oh, yes, there is danger here, and hunger, too - but no malice. He's sure of that, though he can't put his finger on why. Perhaps it's only that her mind seems too disciplined for malice. No - if she destroyed him, it would be because she deemed it necessary.
He can live with that.
:If you have a purpose, then can I presume you chose this fate?:
no subject
It is a rare gift! Need can multitask and follow and hold multiple conversations at a time. She was less able at it when she was alive, though she knows that once her meatheaded fighter days were over she'd had to develop her until-then latent intelligence. She's a little impressed.
...and Raistlin is correct. If she kills him or does something irreparable to his psyche, it will be on purpose. Even when she's asleep and acts without thought, she has bound herself too well to drift far. Though, in her sleep she is more likely to kill bearers for reasons that later don't seem as sound. Asleep, Need has some trouble parsing that women, like anyone else, can be evil, and therefore her bearer killing one isn't automatically a betrayal.
:Yes and no. I chose it in less than ideal circumstances. If you find somewhere more secure, I can show you.: Need would prefer to be inside solid walls, where people can't see someone lost to the world and take advantage of that as easily. There doesn't seem to be an inn here, of course. And sure, it doesn't take as long to relive as it took to live for the first time (demonsbane, that would be terrible) and she can respond to interruptions, but it's just bad operational security. :Or I suppose if you're skilled enough with warding and have... how do you measure time, anyway?:
no subject
no subject
:One hour, maybe one and a half,: she decides. :The memory won't take very long from the outside, but it will feel longer to you, and you may find it jarring and something to stop and recover from. Don't worry too much about that. If something happens, I'll protect you. Just don't get to expecting it from me.:
It's not that Need knows that there's an attack inbound. She does not, having only a vague and dreamlike recollection of anything the Winter Court Fae was thinking when she was in his hands. But she is exactly paranoid enough to know that danger is always a possibility, and these circumstances are strange.
no subject
But he had the magic, and Caramon did not. That was something to cling to. He stands, taking the sword with him, and tips the barmaid on the way out.
The place he finds, a short walk later, is a private tent one can rent for sleeping and, judging by the smell and the proprietor's polite amusement, other purposes. But it's safe, quiet, and charges by the hour; he could give a damn what the plummy little man he hands his coin to thinks.
If Need uses his senses as they walk, she notices something extremely horrible. Raistlin doesn't see the world through normal eyes. Quite literally: in his sight, the faire is a barren winter wasteland, populated by walking corpses and rotting shells of threadbare tents. No life, no bright colors, no living things. Just desolation and death. That's not what the faire is - popping over to passerby will confirm - but it is what he sees.
Once inside, he ties closed the flaps and sits cross-legged, Need naked across his lap.
:We are as secure and private as I could manage: he informs her.
no subject
That visual distortion is extremely horrible, and Need takes several other perspectives as they go just to make sure she hasn't ended up somewhere very different. There's a lot of subjectivity to what people see, colored both by details of the actual eyes doing the seeing and by the brain that processes that information. Most of the workers see their surroundings as far more mundane than the visitors do, for example, and to a particularly aggravated one there's no beauty in this at all.
Whatever's happening with Raistlin's sight is a lot worse than that, and it's not even really registering to him, so it isn't new. She could probe for what it means, but she stops herself. This seems bigger and more important than checking for what an hour is, more like something that requires an actual conversation. Also, it's probably not good to just reach into someone's head every time she's curious. It will be more satisfying if she draws the process out anyway.
Which is probably also not a good sign.
:I'm not confident of that. Tents are neither secure nor private,: she says as he settles. Whatever the visual effect means, it doesn't put new visible holes in the tent, or not this one, anyway. Afternoon is shading to evening outside, and it's dark in here. :My shields aren't working right. Magic is different here, and I probably won't figure out how to get around that for some decades,: she says gloomily, as if talking about a year or two. :Best I can do right now is put up one that keeps anyone outside from sniffing us out with magic or mind gifts. Might reduce visibility too.:
So she makes a shield. Spellcasting, for Need, is a process, the creation of a structure that obeys various laws of physics. It's like building a simple arch bridge out of stone, each piece shaped and positioned with relation to the pieces around it and the total shape, with her will for mortar. Throwing the shield up takes her about half a second. She's not satisfied with it.
no subject
He watches as she throws up her wards, trying to understand the shape and nature of her magic. His own has been - not changed, but redirected by this place. For one heart-stopping moment on arrival, he had thought it lost. But the absence of Solinari, Lunitari, and Nuitari from this realm had not extinguished the arcane fire in his heart. Which was really quite interesting, when you thought about it. Either the gods of magic were even greater than he realized, or magic itself was greater than them.
...and how strange it is, to seek such answers and not feel Lunitari's warm and cryptic smile.
:My magic has also been affected by this place. I am still trying to understand exactly how.:
no subject
Need's shields are things of ridiculous intricacy, making a number of component pieces that each on their own, even all at once, would have barely a whisper of effect on the world. They have friction and tension with each other that gives them cohesion and structure and makes the whole thing much more efficient, lets it use less power. To be sure that's not the only way to make a shielding spell that does the same thing. Young mages learn to fling such things out with will alone at first, burning spectacularly through reserves to do so. Practice and understanding of the theory lets them refine the process so they can make more and more deliberate constructs at speed. Need has had a lot of practice.
:Your gods and your magic are very different from mine,: Need observes, and then she calls up the memory and opens it to envelop them both.
This world goes away. In its place is somewhere else, curiously distorted - like most things are covered by fine, gauzy veils that erase detail. The things that do have detail are sketched out in an odd way. Such is, comes the certainty, the nature of old enough memories shared again and again. It feels real, despite the oddness, and the perspective comes through so clearly and completely, with such inexorable force, that after long enough in it Raistlin's own identity and sense of self will quietly go dormant, unless he objects enough to struggle out of full immersion.
Her name is (lost). She is the daughter of a fighter, and once a fighter herself, whose Mage-Gift woke unusually late and was barely relevant to her when all she did was swing a sword; she developed it, and found her calling, after suffering that injury that was too much to be Healed entirely(what was that injury exactly, and how did it happen? All she remembers is that it was one of her legs, and she needed a stick some days, and she was never again able to run). Combining forgework and spellcraft, combining two fascinating disciplines into becoming a mage-smith, is enthralling. Filled with challenge and reward, and almost no getting stabbed or stepping in a friend's viscera.
After a few decades of it (did she put a hand into politics? Stars, she'd been young) she joined a religious enclave that shared reverence for the gods of her people (who were her people? She thinks some of them became the Kaled'a'in, who became other things in turn) and supported and taught women in a nation (an empire?) where women were disdained. Here they learned trades, and combat, and those with the ability learned High Magic. Here, with time, she found great respect and authority, and the peace she had not asked for and likely didn't deserve.
That all comes as things that are known as she gives a finished spell-sword a last polishing with oiled goatskin and slides it home into its sheath, satisfied.
no subject
He erupts out of her identity like a drowning man making it to the surface, on the edge of a genuine panic before he remembers what's happening. He grips himself with an iron will, gathering up the stray edges of his identity to sit behind the eyes of her remembered self and simply watch.
:You could have warned me: he thinks, with some rancor.
no subject
What is clear is that Need's initial response is irritation, outrage even. She's not used to being thwarted. Laid across Raistlin's lap that annoyance throws hints of something he'd noticed before into sharper relief, just for a moment - there's a sense of such power to her, held back and controlled, the way a mastiff would handle a day-old chick. He has more power over the situation than the metaphorical chick would, but that's the prevailing image.
Then whatever window into Need's thoughts and feelings was open closes, and the sense of great jaws becomes less strong. She ponders for a good long moment. In the present, soft pops sound from somewhere outside and overhead as a fireworks display begins, an early preview to the show planned for full dark. In the past, the old woman-who-was-Need nurses swollen, aching joints and arranges twelve plain, sheathed swords in a bag. There is a vague sense that they are magic, that there is a thirteenth hidden somewhere in the forge and that one's special somehow. Some thought about ornamentation?
Finally, Need capitulates with less than perfect grace. :Fine. If it's that important to you. Look, boy, this kind of thing doesn't hurt or even change people. They'll forget who they are, maybe, but then it ends and there's a little confusion and they'll remember again. I've fed people years before and the most it's done is get them over fear of crowds and that kind of thing.: A trace of dry humor creeps into her Mindvoice. :For that matter, it's close to how I end up when I'm asleep. If you hadn't woke me up I'd have dreamed I was you finding me. The horror.:
no subject
Not frightened. He'd never admit to fear, especially not now, when the sense of pressure and not-quite-threat is only just receding. His hands are shaking, a little. The conversation had been interesting enough that he'd forgotten the sheer power lurking at the heart of - whatever she was now.
:That being said, I would prefer to remain awake for the process. If that's possible and feasible:
no subject
:To a point. You can maintain a sense of being yourself and who I was, at least for a while. But you've still got to think what I thought or the only thing you'll get from it is sensory, and I'll tell you now, this period is so long ago that most sensation is fragments held together by patches from more recent memories.: It's a disgruntled admission. This sequence of memories is so foundational to her that she feels like it should have been impossible for any of it to slip away into the Void.
:The longer a memory is and the more thought and emotion it takes the more likely you'll lose your awareness of yourself as it goes. I can make some elisions, I suppose. And I can remind you of yourself when it ends.:
no subject
:I will follow your instructions to the letter, whatever they may be,: he assures her. :In the study of magic, such things are life and death. But let me make the attempt.:
no subject
:Child, I hope you haven't forgotten that you're the one who took me when I was handed over. You could have left me on the table when I stirred. You can actually put me aside right now and go. Oh, I'd keep you from dropping me into a well or something like that-: There's the hint, just the barest and most fleeting suggestion, of deep dark water as something that genuinely unsettles her. :But I haven't bonded your soul to mine. Even if I had, it's been such a short time that walking away wouldn't hurt you. You have a choice. All that keeps you here is curiosity.:
Mindspeech is filled with tiny intimations of imagery, sensation, and emotion, the way the air above a campfire is filled with heat distortion and smoke and sparks. Mostly it's all too fleeting and partial to easily track, beyond emotion. This time it contains flashes and particles of a mercenary in pain and her whole Company stopping to search a river, and of a rueful reflection on that. Need doesn't like people to depend too much on her, and that includes 'dying if they get too far away'.
The scene of the forge has started to reassert itself over the inside of the tent, becoming more 'real' and relevant, much clearer and more coherent than the fleeting impressions of that river and those mercenaries. The old woman who would become Need is completely unaware of interruption and quite content.
no subject
But then he quiets himself and lets the memory unfold, waiting in calm anticipation for whatever instructions Need might have.
no subject
The memory opens back up and once again becomes the world. All in a few seconds the following context comes: Who she had been - part of who she is now - worked on many projects and supervised as her smithing students, of whom only one was another mage, did their own work. But she was best known in her semi-retirement for these spelled swords, each a month in crafting, each made with a spell she associates with the season, as well as enchantments that keep them from breaking or rusting. They are powered by drawing in magic unobtrusively as it's exhaled by the life around it. That's a difficult, finicky piece of work all by itself - most enchanted items have a limited power supply - but over her career she's worked with lyke-blades and even the lyke-library and seen the way magic keeps their spirits more or less whole and rooted indefinitely. It's rare for magic to outlive the one who cast it, and satisfying to think that these will. Nothing... Little of what she makes is truly unique or has been kept secret, but it takes a time and patience and level of skill that she's quite justifiably proud of.
Spring swords were made with the spell of Calm. It's been a long time since she saw a battlefield, but she remembers how important it had been to keep her head, and it's continued to be important since. That she forges swords with it is a sign of her skill because calming magic can easily induce passivity, and that's the typical use. It takes a deft hand and a spell with a lot of if/then variables included for it to be a steadying influence instead.
Summer swords were made with the spell of Warding. It's an invaluable enchantment, even limited as it has to be. No one carrying a Summer sword will be caught by spells of sleep or deception, or a few other common hazards. It does mean that if a Summer bearer wants a spell for sleep or a pleasant illusion they must put their sword aside, she's had some complaints about that and no patience for them at all.
Fall swords were spelled for Healing. It's the most prosaic of the sword spells. Anyone can walk into a marketplace and find items enchanted to heal. Some even work! It's just rare that they work this well, or this indefinitely. After various scares about counter-Healers these are in high demand as reliable methods of treatment.
And the Winter swords have that most subtle and difficult spell, Luck. She had had to work out how to create a sort of primitive mind that could evaluate a Winter bearer and their deepest desires and the world they live in and create small changes when it counts most. Just the fact that people see her mark and buy these is a sign that she's earned respect, because Luck is usually invisible.
Every month, she forges a new sword. Every four years, she only sells eleven of that year's swords and makes one with all four enchantments on it. These year blades are never sold. When a Sister she really likes - an intelligent woman, with intentions to travel and come to something, a woman with a moral compass who thinks beyond herself, and also has a bit of spine - decides to leave the Enclave to make her way in the world, the woman-who-was-part-of-Need gave her the year-blade in secret, only telling her of the healing charm. Why allow these chosen to get dependent on her magic? She's heard from them since and they, not being mages, have never mentioned discovering the other enchantments.
She comes out of the forge and watches the young Sisters at their exercises with a critical eye. All in brown linen trews and tunics, those with long hair keeping it bound and braided for this, they are a diverse group of diverse origins, as all her Sisters are. All who can are required to commit to a certain amount of warming up and healthy physical activity, though only the fighters have to train and practice a great deal. She likes virtually all of them, but no one interested in leaving soon meets her criteria. No fighters do. She watches her apprentice mage-smith Vena and wonders. The girl is powerfully built - she has to be, smith work takes plenty of labor - but doesn't have the interest or reflexes for swordplay. Still... still. She could learn. And if not, there's nothing about her sword spells that require the blades to be used as by warriors.
[I'm gonna skim a bit more from here and not retell the whole chapter, but I wanted the season spells and What Need Likes In A Person brought out.]
no subject
The story Raistlin sees confirmed much of what he'd concluded on his own. Need is - was - a master craftswoman, and mage besides. That's rare in Ansalon; most mages prefer to work magic on something ready-made, since magic itself requires such absolute focus that there's little room to learn anything else. But he can see the advantages, if you have the trick. Working magic in on every level of the item's creation, until the magic is as much a part of the blade as the steel itself. He wonders if her technique can be applied to other items. He also wonders if she'd teach him how, but it's a very quiet wonder, just a "to be raised later" asterisk on his internal list. Mostly he's giving his full attention to the memories she's showing him, and to keeping an ear out for instructions.
He does find himself drifting, settling into thoughts that come almost as easily as his own. It's a bit eye-crossing, actually, the double-vision of it, and with a certain reluctance he finds it is easier the more he lets go of himself and allows the memory to take him. But he still doesn't quite let himself slip under. A very small piece of him remains awake, and watching.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)