[Bronze Wood] The Shape of Magic

by **Aoren** on May 1st, 2013, 5:23 pm

61st Day of Spring, 513AV

Spring. It was always the time of year when Aoren felt the most at home. The renewal of life after a season of cold silence. Aoren didn’t think of Winter as a season of Death. He thought of it as merely the cycle when life rested that it may flow back into the world with the joy that comes each Spring. He stared up into the blue sky with a sense of clarity that had been lost to him for much of the year. There would be something different about the coming days and Aoren had the feeling that it would mean leaving much of what he knew and had grown accustomed to far behind.

Mistress Blackleaf had given him leave for the day so he had chosen to leave the city and go into the Bronze Wood. There he sat in his favorite clearing surrounded by the trees and disturbed only by the sounds of the forest. It was here that Aoren found he was most at ease. With an open sky above his head, the earth beneath his feet, and fresh air filling his lungs.

First breath.

He closed his eyes and focused on the tension in his muscles. He folded his arms behind his back and spread his feet shoulder width apart falling into a parade rest stance. He felt the knots in his back just beneath his shoulder blades. The tension spiked as he rolled his shoulders.

Second breath.

He cleared his head of all thought except one. He focused on the wind. He listened to the gentle breeze that wafted through the trees. It caressed his face, wrapped around his body and made the grass in the clearing sing the perpetual song of a renewed meadow.

Third breath.

Aoren reached inside of himself. He reached for the spark of energy that filled him with the whimsical desire to follow the winds. There he found the magic that allowed him to conjure the Air and bend it to his will. Deep within his lungs. Aoren opened his eyes and exhaled. As he did a stream of royal blue gas billowed out from his nostrils he focused on the Res.

“Alright. Today we’re going to see just how far I can go.” Air was probably the element that came most naturally to Aoren at this point. He looked at the gas cloud for a moment before bringing his arms up over his head. Right now he was focused on simply manipulating the Res in order to develop his techniques. The Res moved with his arms and encircled them like two cyclones spiraling down from the clouds.

He brought his arms down quickly, tucking his right arms to his side and thrusting his left hand forward. His palm faced outward, the fingers together with his thumb angled slightly toward the center of his palm. He willed the Res to push forth from his arm. It snaked around his forearm and collected at the center of his palm before quickly jutting forward toward the trunk of a tree. Before it could collide with the tree trunk however, he splayed his fingers and twisted his wrist pulling backward. The untransmuted Res recoiled from the bark as if it were a repellent to his magic.

The gas rebounded on itself and rocketed toward Aoren. The young Drykas brought his other arm forward willing the second portion of the gas cloud to lengthen and expand before him. With little more than a flick of his thoughts he formed a wall with the gas. As the second portion struck the wall it was absorbed into the weave of the Res causing the wall to tower upwards. Before it could grow above Aoren’s height however he made a downward motion with his hands and the gas cascaded into a waterfall motion.

Aoren spun slowly in a circle and the gas followed his movements forming a ring around the young reimancer. He twisted his twisted his torso so that he was looking over his left shoulder as the ring of Res encircled him. With a swift motion he made as if to throw the Res away from himself. The ring halted in its tracks and snaked around his torso. The tendrils snaked over his arms and jutted outward away from Aoren. Again just before the gas could collide with any object and thus dissipate he recalled it to his body.

Before the gas could reach him however he made a parting motion with his arms and the cloud split in two. Aoren willed the Res to move past him and again form a circle perimeter around himself. He brought his hands closer together and the ring contracted to spin around his legs just short of brushing up against his knees. Aoren then quickly threw his arms outward and the ring expanded in rapid succession. When it was furthest away from him Aoren transmuted the gas into air with a flick of his thoughts to create a strong gust of wind that billowed away from him in all directions. He watched the grass flatten against the sudden wind then resume its normal sway in the natural breeze once things quieted.

Aoren didn’t feel terribly drained from that exercise. He hadn’t expended much magic in the effort, merely manipulated the shape and flow of it before releasing it. He sat down at the center of the clearing and folded his legs cross legged. Aoren brought his hands up to chest level palms facing inward. This time he reached for a different spark inside of himself.

This spark was not whimsical nor was it fleeting. It was raw and passionate. It was intense and edged with a wild grace that fascinated him. He took a calming breath and as he exhaled Res flowed in between his palms forming a ball that floated between them. He narrowed his eyes and the outer most layer of the Res ignited into azure fire. The blue flames danced in the breeze that flowed through the clearing.

Careful not to lose his focus Aoren slowly moved his hands further away from the fireball. He never looked away from it nor lost his train of thought which was devoted entirely on keeping the sphere hovering at his chest level. Finally when he was confident that the fireball wasn’t going anywhere, he lowered his hands.

Fire was quite a different element than Air. Air was free and a reimancer could dance with it openly if he but let himself follow the currents that flowed within their own body. Fire was wild. It was fueled by different things. Passion. Anger. Raw emotion. Aoren knew how easy Fire could slip away from the control of an unwary wizard. While the magical fire could not harm the wizard who conjured it, the wild and uncontrollable fires spawned from the magic were as volatile as any wildfire.

Aoren straightened his posture with an intake of breath. As he did he willed the fireball to hover up toward eye level. The young reimancer brought the tips of his index fingers together then made a splitting gesture. The fireball divided into two separate spheres. He made the gesture again and was left with four small orbs of flame. Aoren opened his right hand with the palm facing upward and rest it upon his thigh. The four orbs drifted down to float just above the open hand. There the four spheres of fire rotated lazily in a circle. He occasionally made the sphere combine and then split again but always he kept them rotating in that slow circle. After a few minutes of that he decided to play with shapes.

Aoren willed the four small fireballs to hover slightly away from him at eye level. From right to left he made each one change their shape. The first he willed to take the form of a cube. He then willed it to begin a slow orbit around his body around chest level. Close enough to maintain good control over the Res within the cube but far away enough to not light himself on fire. The second fireball he willed to take the shape of a cone. It took some thinking on his part as he needed to reference a few cone shaped object in his mind but eventually he got the shape he envisioned. As with the cube he willed it to join the slow orbit around his body.

Aoren’s thoughts were divided into three tasks at that time. The first was to keep the fireballs in orbit around his body at an acceptable distance. The second was to maintain their shapes. The third was to keep the inner layers of Res from transmuting into fire. It was difficult but he was managing thus far. He needed the practice and this was one of the few days he’d have to simply focus on his magic. The third fireball he willed to take the shape of a cylinder. Not a terribly difficult shape but it was beginning to grow taxing in terms of keeping all of his lines of thought steady and distinct.

Finally, the fourth fireball he kept in the shape of a sphere and willed it to join the others in their slow orbit. Aoren took up a meditative pose and closed his eyes. He focused on maintaining the shapes of the Res and keeping them in their slow rotation around his body. After a few minutes of concentration he willed the fire shapes to pick up speed. They began to hover a little faster, leaving small trails of flame in their wake. Again he willed them to pick up speed. Faster they spun leaving a distinct trail of fire behind them.

He continued this pattern until a ring of fire burned around him. He could feel the heat of it and a trickle of sweat trailed down the side of his head. He was exerting a fair amount of magic to maintain this exercise. Finally he willed the fire shapes to a screeching halt. The excess fire dissipated around him and Aoren squinted slightly. Bringing his hands up Aoren took a deep breath and willed the four shapes back into one spherical fireball. He stared into it for a moment. He was getting more adept at this particular magic. A fact that made Aoren smile.

He flicked his wrist and let the fire expand and the Res collapse upon itself. The fireball dissipated into nothingness. Aoren stood up and stretched his legs. That was enough practice for one day. At least in terms of magic practice. He padded over to a nearby tree where rested his quarterstaff and a pack of supplies. He took out a hunk of bread and bit off a chunk then picked up his waterskin and took a swig. Aoren shouldered his small pack, little more than a piece of cloth tied up to hold things in it and grabbed his staff. He took one last look in the clearing then began the walk back to Syliras.