Solo [Irriari's Residence] Protections

[Irriari]

Season of Winter, Day 1, 514 AV

The zith glared at the walls of her small house as she paced from one bedroom to the other. For now, the small house was to be her prison. The vexing puzzle that plagued her was not helped by the canals and loud merchants trying to sell their wares. The one journey she had taken was to the Institute. In vain, she had tried describe the green substance she had created in the Sea of Grass many summers ago. While she wasn’t entirely convinced the substance was real, the memory burned within her chest, urging her to replicate it. In truth, the zith ached to feel the warmth and comfort she had experienced that day. The streets and humans of Ravok were more familiar now than when she had arrived, but they constantly tore at her civilized veneer. It was taking more and more effort not to attack each and every one of them. Even the ones that dared smile at her.

The zith sat on the straw bedroll and stretched her limbs forward, breathing solely through her nose. Thoughts of bathing Ravok in the blood of the humans that resided there took twenty minutes of concentration to quell. Every time the memories of their awful language and jeering faces threatened her sanctity, Irriari stretched her arms further, willing that the pain in her muscles would distract her. The twenty fifth chime proved to do the trick. Her breathing was slow and even, and her mind was free to drift back to the spring day that she had created the substance she sought.

Her thoughts had been focused on one idea: ‘destroy and protect’. Any human that knew of the zith would swear that her kind were simply creatures without any ability to understand what it meant to protect something. They were fools. Reveling in the glory of pain and the hunt was an animal instinct. The humans had given up this prized instinct in favor of their delicately structured lives. They claimed to know more of protection than destruction, but they never had to protect anything. The zith snarled aloud at the thought and muttered in zithanese. What a joke. Humans protected the wares in their stores and houses, but they were never hunted like her kind. They were safe, tucked away in their cities. No, they knew nothing of protection or the value of having but a few possessions that kept you alive. The zith reached out to the bow that was balanced against the wall to her left. She caressed the upper limb as gently as one with claws could. Without it, she would have been dead ten times over. Her bow meant nearly as much as her wings. That was the essence of protecting something.

Her thoughts then moved to the opposite side of the coin. Destruction was what created and sustained her people. Without the ability to rend the flesh of prey beneath her claws, the zith was nothing. The rage of the blood sight fueled her more than water, more than air. Whether humans knew that destruction was the same as protection mattered not to the zith. She was sure they had other matters to attend to.

It took another twenty bells of deep reflection before she saw the deep green wispy substance appear at the edges of her clawed hands. The substance clung to the tips of her claws and was formed into small spheres of various sizes. The one connected to her pinky finger claw on her right hand had a hole that pierced the middle of the sphere. She frowned at it and moved her pinky to touch her thumb. As she did, the zith noted that the balls joined together, forming a slightly larger ball that adhered itself to the claw on her thumb. Irriari breathed slowly, knowing that her concentration and focus was the only thing that kept the substance around. The purpose of the substance was irrelevant. The feeling of warmth and security was her only concern. It was reminiscent of the great feasts in the colony that left everyone excited and jubilant. It felt like home.

After a few more deep breaths, the zith moved the fingertips on each hand together and then moved her hands together. The orbs adhered to each other and she was now left with a sphere the size of an apricot. Delighted, Irriari laughed. She held the ball in her right hand and slowly pressed her palms together, marveling at the way the sphere flattened. If asked, Irriari knew she wouldn’t be able to describe how the substance felt. It didn’t have a feeling at all. As it flattened the sphere developed holes and thinned in various places. Alarmed, the zith tried to quickly form it back into a sphere, but failed. The substance disappeared and was gone as quickly as it came.

[Irriari]

Temporarily discouraged, the zith stood up and stretched her aching hands out. They were far tenser than they had been just a bell ago. In her desperate attempt to keep the substance around her, Irriari had clenched her hands tightly enough that her fingers felt sore. Would it be worth it to risk going to the Institute again? Would anyone believe her, or would they think that she was just an insane hallucinating zith. You thought that too, before it happened again. It was easy enough to ignore her thoughts. Zith were creatures of action, not philosophers. However, it was true. What if the beautiful green substance was just an illusion that she created when focusing? No. It couldn’t be—the circumstances were completely different each time, and she had actually manipulated it this time. Maybe it was magic. Sevrai had spent plenty of her time spinning tales of great magic users that could conjure fire and move through portals. Her spookier stories around midnight featured hypnotists and illusionists. While the zith in the colony had appreciated the attempt to deviate from the traditional hack and slash stories filled with fair maidens, few had put any stock in the concept of magic. If any zith could practice magic, they probably lived far away in Xy. If humans could practice magic, they were humans and it hardly mattered. When pressed, Sevrai admitted she had never seen magic being done with her own eyes, so that settled the debate for Irriari. Still, a part of the zith wondered. There was no other explanation, other than madness. Perhaps Ravok had affected her more than she admitted to herself. Grabbing her quiver and bow, Irriari exited her house, locked the flimsy lock, and threw the key into the bottom of the quiver. She almost hoped someone would attempt to break in her house. There was very little of value there, and if she was home at the time of the break in, she would have an excuse to kill some of the scum that populated the streets of Ravok. Nothing beat free training that came with a hearty dose of adrenaline. Focusing her thoughts to the streets in front of her, the zith made her way to the Silver Sliver. A cold silver sliver in a dirty mug would do wonders for her nerves. While she had originally disliked the liquor and wine humans imbibed in, it had grown on her as the years passed. She flipped a golden miza and a silver miza to Jeb, and nodded in his direction. As long as she didn’t speak too much or drive his other customers off, Jeb welcomed her at the bar. The zith downed the drink quickly and hoped that the buzz would give her some indication as to what her next move should be. Finding no inspiration in the pockmarked bar or the loud arguments of the drunks, she decided to wander to Black Tar’s Alchemical Services. Irriari had visited the shop many times in Ravok, and though the sinister shopkeeper often sounded annoyed at her inability to read labels, he seemed happy enough that she was a poisoncrafter and had the coin to pay for the reagents his store offered. After walking in the door and nodding in the general direction that the voice usually came from, Irriari began moving towards the books. A low chuckle emanated from the back. “Was that philtering book not enough for ya? I don’t have any others, so you’re out of luck.” Irriari shook her head and thought about explaining the substance. No, that wouldn’t do. Instead she approached the conversation from a different angle. “Does magic exist?” An exasperated sigh met her question. “Of course it does. Why else would I have the books on it?” Ignoring the slight, she pressed on. “Do you know of any books that cover some sort of… wispy magic that covers things?” The zith clenched her hands, expecting to be met with laughter. “Sounds like shielding. I have one book on it, that one there, with the blue spine. It isn’t popular in a shop that deals with *my* merchandise. But it won’t come cheap. No more of that 50 miza nonsense for this ‘un. One hundred. There isn’t another one like it in Ravok.” The zith picked up the faded book gently. A few pages in, there was a diagram of a man with a substance similar to the one she had summoned earlier in the day. Notes with scrawled in the margins, with arrows pointing to the man. A few chapters later, there was a picture of the substance being molded into something between someone’s hands. If this wasn’t shielding, then she truly was hallucinating. “I suppose there wouldn’t be a discount for a repeat customer?” Her quip was met with silence, so she placed the mizas in the tray and departed, thankful to have a lead. After two bells of wandering, she found the haggard woman who had read her the book on philtering. Her appearance was wretched, and the zith knew she would read the book for far fewer mizas than she did last time. An offer of five mizas sealed the deal and they sat near a quiet canal. A few patrons of ravosalas looked on with interest. Who could possibly seek to read to a zith? Glaring at them, she listened to the woman read the chapters. “Chapter 1: Shielding: An introduction, Chapter 2: Purposes of Shielding, Chapter 3: Casting of shields and the importance of concentration, Chapter 4: Shielding with purpose Chapter 5: Limitations”. The woman looked up expectantly, surely hoping to only have to read a few of the chapters before leaving. “Read them all, or I’ll take back my mizas and a pound of flesh as well. Read slowly enough that I can think or I’ll make you wish you were anchored to the bottom of the canal.” The zith laughed at the shudder that went through the womans body as she began to read. Her voice shook, but it served to slow down the pace with which she read, so the zith could actually meditate on the words. “C-c-chapter 1: S-s-shielding is a discipline of Personal magic that allows the user to weave djed into very specific three-dimensional barriers that serve the primary purpose of blocking foreign djed from passing through these barriers so as to protect o-o-objects and people within from the effects foreign djed can produce.” Irriari interrupted the woman. “Wait, it blocks what? Jehd? Gee-ed? What is that?” The vermin had no idea, and so the zith commanded her to continue. Typical worthless human. “Shielders must always think in three dimensions in regards to what they protect. Shields are used to block the passage of djed across their spaces. Through layering and tasking, shielding mages can then secondarily and tertiary task shields to do many other things like block weapons or people from passing through shields.” The zith brightened at the thought of being able to use the substance to deflect weaponry. Still, she could hardly cover more than two fingertips. How would it be possible to get to the level needed to cover her entire body? The woman continued and outlined the creation of a shield. “Shielders create shields in a variety of ways. Some extrude djed that they then weave into a sort of magical fabric that covers their own bodies, doorways, or even other objects. Some Shielders cast shields by painting on djed like a master painter would, creating layer after layer until the shield is the size and consistency they desire. Others form shields as one would manipulate a gas like breath, breathing out the djed and forcing it to surround an object like a fog or dense cloud. Better focus and concentration creates better shields.” By the time the woman got to the section concerning the appearance of shields, a whole two bells had passed. The city was growing colder, and the zith cared not about the way shields looked.

[Irriari]

The zith grabbed her book back from the woman and laughed as the human recoiled backwards hastily. The pathetic thing actually thought she would expend the effort to strike her. Scaring and harming prey was only fun when they presented a challenge. Hurting her would be no more entertaining than kicking a lame horse. The walk home was a lengthy one. It gave her enough time to think on the principles of shielding. It was real. Magic was real. Her dearest Sevrai had been right. The applications of shielding were a topic that Irriari lingered on even as she unlocked the door to her home and sat down on the straw pallet. She could already imagine the shock warriors in the colony would feel if she shielded against them specifically, using their fur. Their claws would do nothing and they would be forced to use a weapon. It was even possible to shield against the weapon, if she knew what she hoped to block. Her joyous thoughts were diminished slightly at the realization that her best attempt at shielding had barely covered her hands. Her second attempt was somehow worse, and there were even holes and inconsistencies in the shield she had made. It didn’t even last as long. Shielding was nothing like combat, and while the magic fascinated her, it also infuriated her. You couldn’t practice shielding until your muscles screamed in protest. If you couldn’t produce the shield, you had nothing, and no amount of goading or self-encouragement would change that. The zith breathed in deeply, stretching out her muscles and chuckling slightly at the memory of the book reading woman from earlier. If nothing else, that experience had made her feel alive. Perhaps tomorrow she could hunt that woman down, book in hand. While the prospect amused her, the zith knew that she would be far better suited going to the Institute. Now that she knew shielding was real, she could begin the hunt for an instructor. The next thirty chimes were spent breathing deeply and stretching her torso and legs. Meditation wasn’t an activity that any of the other zith in the colony had practiced, but Irriari feared that she wouldn’t be able to produce a shield without it. She fell asleep a few chimes later, happier than she had been for a long time. When the zith awoke, her arms and legs tingled with energy and she was brimming with the desire to run to the Institute. It took ten chimes of breathing in and out to slow her heart rate, and another ten chimes to rid her head of the thoughts that were urging her forward. What was it that the Elders had said? After a few moments of trying to remember, she decided that their lessons were hardly important here. While they had seemed like bastions of knowledge, they didn’t even know that magic existed. Something about that bothered her, but now wasn’t the time to reflect on the inadequacies of her colony. They had survived the hunts, and that was enough. Irriari grabbed her quiver and took out the arrows before strapping it to her back. Without her quiver, there was nowhere to store her housekey or citizenship papers. With that, she left her small house and headed to the Institute. The headmaster at the desk looked up for an instant and sighed “Zith, I already told you, we don’t teach whatever it is you asked about last time.” A flash of anger moved through her, threatening the new found calm she had acquired from meditating. She breathed in for a moment, knowing that maiming this idiotic male would get her no closer to a shielding instructor. “So no one here teaches Shielding? I expected more.” While her response was feisty, it caused the man to raise an eyebrow before replying. “Yes, we do teach shielding. Leah teaches it. You can go speak with her, but she rarely accepts new pupils. I’ve never seen her teach a zith.” The last comment was biting, but Irriari was already moving towards the main hallway. Pathetic humans had to lash out- they had nothing so wonderful as the thrill of the hunt to occupy their time. The door to Leah’s classroom was ornate- beautiful scrollwork covered the surface. The zith knocked, knowing from past lessons that striding into a classroom at the Institute was far from a wise choice.

[Irriari]

A voice from behind the door beckoned that the zith enter. She opened the door quickly, too excited about the chance to learn shielding to be calm or collected. The office was far more plush and elegant than any others she had seen within the Institute. Thick velvet drapes covered the windows on the west wall. Reclining sofas were strewn about in a way that could be called artfully chaotic. Large paintings of various landscapes accented the walls, the largest of which was centered behind a sprawling oak desk. Leah Satore sat behind the desk, carefully appraising the zith that stood in front of her. When it became clear that Leah was not going to speak, Irriari did her best to try to explain her sudden appearance into the office. “I’m here to learn shielding. I don’t really know what it is- I don’t even know what djed is, but I think shielding would be useful to me. I like the way I feel protected. It feels like home.” While Leah had no way of knowing it, this introduction was the closest thing to begging that Irriari had ever attempted. Shielding was both a mystery and a dangerous preoccupation for the zith. Other than the art of poisoncrafting, nothing else had drawn her interest so quickly. While others in the colony gravitated to swords and maces, Irriari found herself searching for that which the hunters would never expect a zith to employ. The thought of being rejected by the instructor she so desperately sought out was an unpleasant one. Instead, she focused her attention on Leah as she began to speak. “I rarely teach shielding. So many students come in here with the thought of blocking weapons or magic. To them, shielding is just another tool in their defensive arsenal. I understand why they would think that, but they are wrong. Shielding is far more than a tool to save you if you get into a fight. Shielding is a discipline that has more possibilities than most people can fathom.” Leah paused for a moment before continuing. “Tell me zith, how would you use a shield in combat? Think of something that won’t bore me to tears. Take your time and make this good. You’ll only get one chance.” The zith gulped and looked around the room, hoping to stumble across something inspiring. Seeing nothing of note, she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, focusing on the essence of combat. Perhaps she could shield herself from poison? If done correctly, her own poisons couldn’t be used to harm her. No. That idea was silly. How often did anyone actually know she used poisons, much less gain access to them? Panic began to set in. What if she couldn’t think of a good idea? The zith’s heart rate rapidly increased and the beat echoed in her ears. Irriari breathed again, deeply, willing herself to calm, thinking of Sevrai, grasping at any happy memory that might quell the anxiety that coursed through her veins. She couldn’t lose. Not again. Think, damn you, think. You are a zith, a warrior and huntress first, above all else. Her mind drifted back to her crafted bow. Simply shielding the bow wouldn’t work. Few things ever came in striking range of her precious bow, and if they did, there was likely nothing she could do to prevent it from snapping in half. The zith focused on the passages from the book that discussed making items hard to see, smell, or taste. In the daylight, an arrow shielded from sight would likely be more visible, but at night, it would be as black as the sky without stars. Triumphant, the zith smiled and explained her plan to Leah. “I don’t know much about shields, but I heard that you could task a shield with obstructing some senses. What if you shielded and arrow to obstruct sight, and fired it at someone in the dead of night? Even if they had perfect vision, it would be impossible to see until it was too late.” The zith held her breath. The idea seemed silly now that she put it into words. Surely many apprentices had tried a similar approach and failed. Leah paused and tilted her head slightly, taking in every inch of the zith’s short stature before answering. The wait was suffocating. “It isn’t the cleverest thing I’ve heard, but it’s good enough to keep me interested. However, do not become lax in your pursuit of learning the art of Shielding. This is a far more difficult discipline than shooting a bow or training your muscles. If you displease me, I won’t hesitate to throw you out of my office. You won’t get a chance to return. I expect complete dedication to the study of this discipline. Do you understand?” Irriari nodded. Adrenaline surged through her body at Leah’s acceptance. Now she simply had to succeed at impressing her instructor.

[Irriari]

Wasting no time, Leah dove into her own version of djed, with emphasis on how it related to shielding. While it didn’t differ tremendously from the book, Leah did fill in many of the gaps that confused the zith. “Djed is what makes you a zith. It differentiates you from the humans that surround you and the desk that sits in front of you. Living creatures have more control over their djed. They have a soul and can manipulate their djed, if given the training to do so. Djed is the substance you will use to create your shields. Its appearance is based on the person. It could be black as night or a light blue. Exuding and manipulating djed with intent gives your shield its purpose. You will fail if you simply try to make a shield with no purpose. You can create it, but it will block nothing and achieve nothing.” Leah paused, aware that she was getting ahead of herself. She glanced over at the zith, hoping she was comprehending at least half of the lecture. The instructor rarely had to go over such basic principles. Many of the wealthier students that enrolled in the Institute already understood how to exude and manipulate djed. At least the zith wouldn’t have any of the misconceptions that were common in students who thought they were prodigies. Leah cleared her throat and continued the lecture. “Djed is eternal. You can change the djed inside of you into a shield, but you cannot create djed out of nothing. You cannot destroy it. It is only repurposed and transformed into something else. This principle is at the heart of Shielding. The most common shields are created to protect against hostile magic. If I task a shield with absorbing hostile djed, the djed does not get destroyed – it gets incorporated into the created shield and that shield becomes stronger. If hostile magic destroys a created shield, the djed is released into the universe, even if it seems to be ‘destroyed’ from your observations. Shielding rarely leads to overgiving, but I will mention it anyways, on the off chance that you decide to pursue other magical disciplines at the Institute. Overgiving is the harshest consequence of using magic. If you try to do too much and go beyond your skill level or the amount of djed you have access to, your will draw djed from your bones, muscles, tendons, along with every other part of you. Your body will pay the price and you will be driven mad, seriously injured, or killed. It is good that you chose shielding. The risk of overgiving is very low. Once you run out of djed, you simply cannot add to your shield, and you must gain more djed through food and rest.” Leah took a gulp of water from a glass at her desk, and replenished her glass from a silver carafe. She waited a chime and then continued. “Now, you need to practice shielding. I won’t have you practicing here until you get better. I do not have the patience to wait for bells while you meditate and form a shield. Shielding is a process of self-discovery. You will learn that hastily made shields will lack structure and will have more holes than a tattered blanket. These shields are useless. However, if you focus, meditate, and pour yourself into tasking a shield to block light or sound, you will find that it will hold and serve its tasked purpose. The shield may be small- it might only cover this glass. However, the important part is learning to task your shields and making ones that are not flawed. I am sure you have heard of the glorious things you can do with shields. I will eventually tell you of shields that guarded great treasures. I will tell you of beautiful shields that can block nearly any hostile magic. These shields are far out of your reach. Do not be so foolish as to attempt them. Before you return for your next lesson, practice a shield that obscures a sense. Make it creative, as I’ll expect a report from you when you return.”

[Irriari]

The zith took a ravosala back to the docks, preferring the gentle ride through the canals. It gave her time to think, and the ravosalamen were rarely inclined to interact with her past the initial payment. The buildings blurred together as she breathed in deeply, closing her eyes just enough that the swirling colors lost focus. The ravosalaman knew which quadrant of the docks her house was in, so the zith was free to muse on shielding and the nature of magic. It was more shocking than the realization that humans outnumbered the zith by far more than the Elders guessed. Sevrai’s stories still seemed fanciful- surely there was no way for a mage to actually shoot fire out of their hands. If it was true, all of her training would be for naught. Zith were trained to deal with the crushing blow of a Morningstar or the sharp pain of a sword wound. Nothing was ever mentioned about elements. The existence of the sun was enough. After a few more chimes of worried thought, the zith nodded to the Ravosalaman and exited the vessel. After a few seconds of battling with the key that got stuck at the bottom of her quiver, Irriari made it into her home. While she wanted to eat and fly the skies to celebrate her successes, she knew that she would have to think of an idea that would impress Leah before she returned to the Institute. More than anything, the zith wanted the ability to shield and protect her wings. They were her most valuable asset and one of the most important distinguishing features she possessed. Shielding them from the sight of humans was both useless and insulting. No zith would willingly hide their wings. No one would ever taste her wings, so that was useless as well. Hiding the noise that her quiver made had merit. It was difficult to hunt prey when her arrows rattled against the glass jars she used to catch prey. It was hardly preferable to leave her quiver just sitting around. Excited by her revelation, the zith decided to try her new idea immediately. Meditating was important, Leah had affirmed that which she had already deduced. Sitting down in the middle of the room, legs outstretched, the zith reached for that place of calm that echoed the blood sight so well. The anxious she felt to get there hindered her measured breathing and she found herself quickly becoming frustrated. Snarling, she dug her clawed hand into her right shoulder until the pain refocused her attentions. Each breath took three seconds and the small pinpricks of blood pooling on her arm centered her attention on the only thing that mattered. Her heartbeat slowed gradually and the air that filled her lungs no longer came in the quick gasps characteristic of a panicked animal. Thirty chimes of slow breathing and focused intent on the pockmarked floorboards beneath her legs let the zith attain the state of concentration she craved. If her mind wandered her concentration broke and it was a struggle to maintain the measured breathing while she tried to manipulate her djed. Her thoughts drifted to protection, Sevrai, and the hunt. As her memories blossomed within her mind, her djed wrapped around her fingertips in swirling patterns reminiscent of the ripples caused by a rock falling into a lake. Slowly, the zith unfastened the leather buckle that fastened her quiver to her body. The quiver was placed on her knees where she could study it. Focusing her intent was far more difficult than the zith imagined it would be. At first, she imagined the rattling of the arrows and a large cloth smothering them. Her attention drifted from that line of thought as she realized that simply dampening the sound was far different than preventing it from escaping a shield. Irriari refocused her attention on the swirling djed at the tips of her fingers. Nothing else mattered in that moment other than the djed. She poured every thought into the thought of sound being unable to escape the essence of the djed pooled in front of her. She wove the concept through the djed, imaging the soundproofing as an impenetrable mesh that was a part of both her being and the djed that composed it. It took another bell, but the zith felt a subtle shift in the djed she was manipulating. It had worked. Next, the zith moved her hands over the cracked leather of the quiver, feeling it more intensely than she ever had in the past. Her djed swirled as it touched the leather, forming a thin shield over everything but the strap. The process of covering the entire quiver took a half bell, and there were small holes left at the bottom of the quiver around the base. She moved over this area again, methodically moving her fingertips over the holes, willing the mesh-djed to fill them and incorporate into the overall structure. When finished, the zith turned over the quiver gently, amazed that the shield held. The emerald surface was so thin that it barely tinted the brown leather. When she replaced the arrows and rattled them around, they were silent. The zith tried it again, this time shaking it more vigorously in an attempt to mimic the pressure the quiver would face if she ran on a hill. Still, the quiver remained silent. Too exhausted to do anything more, the zith placed the shielded quiver against the wall and made her way to her bedroom. It had been a long day.

[Nemesis]

. Thread Grade Pending Greetings! This is just a notification that I cannot grade this thread until you update your ledger to reflect active play in Winter 514AV (+10% for the Fish). Once you have done this, please resubmit your request to the grade request thread. Thank ye, -Nemesis