[Flashback] Wings and Bones

[Wrenmae]

Continued from Bones and Snakescales http://www.mizahar.com/forums/topic17226.html He rested beneath the spindly branches of a mountain tree, clinging to the rock with fierce ardor. Behind him lay the winding passage water pushed through stone, the same path he’d taken from the peak with Bones, the Dhani. Pausing here, Wrenmae dismounted his horse and sent it forward, a ways away from him while he took his pack and laid it on the stones. He was tired, more tired than he should have been. The night had been spent almost entirely at the beck and call of his companion, Bones. He’d learned morphing, the Dhani shapes, and had begun work on some of his own Maledicted items. Now he needed to complete them, a skull and claws. What they could become, what they were…it was irrelevant. Malediction was the two faced art of chance and coincidence. Nothing existed in a state of stagnancy and so these grisly artifacts he had procured would remain just that until he completed the ritual necessary to bring them to their pseudo life. Sitting, his back to the stone, he retrieved the skull first and drew his blade. The markings he had made were light, more guidelines than actual truths. The circle formed was slightly elliptical, necessitating him to recarve it in light lines on the crown of the skull. Blood patched the white bone, vacant eyes staring out at nothing. There was Void there, the Void that Wrenmae understood. He knew what it felt like, the nothingness, had to become it in order to summon the Void here. Placing the skull down between his lap, Wrenmae held out both hands, cupped, and closed his eyes. The first step to summoning the Void was always the systematic destruction of senses. First his eyes, then his hearing, then his taste, then his smell, then his touch. Touch was always the hardest to eradicate. It existed on a level instinctual and left little room to be pushed around. Muttering incantations that meant nothing to anyone but him, he called for the shadows to coalesce, to become darkness then more than darkness.

[Wrenmae]

He pulled the Void into being. Although it may not be advisable to calm or concentrate by summoning the Void, Wrenmae always felt relaxed when he did it. There was a simple serenity in the apple sized hole sitting on his palm. It led to nowhere, could be nothing, and yet it existed. That now, even now, the endless entity that was the Void could exist…and so could he. Holding it for a few minutes, he finally let it drop and fade away, filling it in with the somethingness around him. He was ready to begin. With his dagger he etched around the crown of the bear skull, careful to follow the lines he had traced for the circle. Once completed, he carved the word ‘knowledge’ into the bear’s skull, directly inside the circle. It would direct the magic, task the Djed with bringing out what the bear knew, how it survived, what it was…hopefully it could impart some of that knowledge to him as well. The claws were a different matter entirely. Smaller and curved black, they required much more effort in order to carve and task. Each one he carefully and painstakingly carved with his dagger, cautious not to make the lines too jagged or the circles incomplete. In these claws he wrote single letters, together spelling out Power and Strength. Of the claws he pulled, five of them, he needed three fangs from the skull to complete it. In these he wanted to imbue the essence of the bear’s ferocity. Not how he killed it before, with trickery and guile, but something of what it was…a survivor, a beast of ability. Laying out the items across the rock, Wrenmae pricked his finger with the blade, seeping Djed into his blood and placing a dot of blood on each circle, completing the process to Maledict. They did not shine, did not moan or rattle. The wind blew and the blood stain soaked into the bone, was consumed, and then vanished. Wrenmae sewed up the teeth and claws into a little sack of skin and hair he’d fashioned from the bear, a small fetish he tossed into his bag.

[Wrenmae]

A crow watched him from the rock, cawing angrily as it beat its wings at him. Wrenmae watched it, curiously, questions already arising in his head. He spoke no words, not knowing the language birds spoke, but caught its eye and poured Djed into the connection between them. Hypnotism was better used on animals, simple creatures that fell to his beck and call. He called to it with calm hums and clicks, coaxing it down onto the rock to face him. Humming, keeping up the connection, Wrenmae extricated the small trap from his bag and tied the bird to a rock by its leg, securing it while he studied it. Glossy black feathers, inquisitive and dark eyes, the black beak slightly curved and pointed at the end…the creature watched back, placid. At least till Wrenmae released it. Screeching, it fluttered at its bondage, but Wrenmae gave it no freedom. Instead he disrobed, careful to concentrate his auristics through his eyes beforehand, scanning the area for signs of larger life, of predators. The process of Djed seeing left him tired, perhaps too tired for this next exercise, but he required it be done…needed to complete it. He concentrated first on the feathers, hard things with somewhat soft…something that held them together. He plucked one and held it between his fingers, examining it. It was not the first time he’d studied a bird, or morphed feathers. In truth, he’d wondered about flying for years now, ever since morphing became an option for him. Channeling Djed into his skin, he imagined and called for feathers to sprout up from his skin, a ruff of down collecting on his neck before long black glossy feathers spread from his arms. Bones had hollow bones, much like Symenestra, and so when he began to compress himself, to shape himself, he stole the strength and weight from his marrow and bones, forcing himself down and his back cracking. At first there was panic, his fingers elongating, his skin thin upon him and his body shrinking down. He almost let go of the shape, watching the bird watch him, his own head shaping and lips twisting forward, hardening into a beak shape. Still the world dwindled around him, shrunk down and vanished. He was small, his arms were wings, feathers glossing across his bones and out, reshaping, refocusing, falling in straight with every beat of the captured bird’s wings. His legs grew long, short, his toes and foot spreading out into talons. He felt like putting his wings behind him, folding them, a tail of feathers, direction feathers no doubt, pushed out behind him. His body was shifting, transforming, like liquid. It was easier now, easier than it had been. Now he was capable of reaching these shapes, harnessing them. His tongue lengthened, bones grew hollow, small hurt thumped in his chest.

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae, the raven, hopped experimentally foot to foot, unsure of himself. The world seemed so large around him, so vast. His captured raven shook against its prison angrily, watching him with marked suspicion. Raven Wrenmae hopped backward, then forward, then sideways, opening his wings and quickly being buffeted over by the wind. This wouldn’t do…how does one fly? He watched the raven now, the way it leaped from the ground and beat its wings in a flurry of feathers, almost tried to claw the air. Setting himself up near an open stretch of stones, Wrenmae leaped into the air and tried to beat his wings in unison. The first effort was a marked failure and he fell upon the stones, dashing himself in a tumble of feathers and startled squawks. Picking himself up, he beat his wings together before leaping, trying to get the timing right, the rhythm. Time passed, bells and chimes of practicing before he leaped and was born aloft by his own wings. The excitement of the experience was lost, suddenly, when Wrenmae realized he did not know how to land or steer. Cawing, frustrated, frightened, he beat upwards over the captured crow, over his horse and tried to think of what to do. The more he flew, the higher he got, the higher he got, the more it would hurt when he fell. He leaned sideways, banking and was shocked at how his body responded. His wings, they seemed to catch the air, his tail was like a rudder, directing some of the airflow and direction. He was like a ship, a flying ship of sorts, and in that discovery was elated, dancing in the sky like a lunatic. It didn’t last long, his wings grew weary from such aerial experiments and he circled back to land…only realizing he didn’t know how. It was a process contrived in both luck and guesswork, falling toward the ground and then opening his wings to stop the fall. He did certainly reach the earth, but was blown over by the speed of his descent, tossed upon the stones painful bump after painful bump, his shape already vanishing as his body rushed to fill in its normal dimensions. Wrenmae, battered and bruised, crawled to the small trap and released the crow, taking his clothes and gingerly robing himself again…wincing. Everything hurt, but he had flow…one of his dreams had been completely realized. Flight was possible, he was possible, everything he studied in magic validated his dreams. He just wished it hadn’t hurt so much.

[Phoenix]

Wrenmae

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Voiding	1
Malediction	5
Hypnotism	1
Morphing	3
Flying	1

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Morphing: Anatomy of a Raven
•	First Maledicted items
•	Learning to Fly

The Order of the Phoenix

Much better addition! Thanks for adding more detail Spoils include the two fetishes made in this thread as well as the Raven's feather used for the morphing model.

Bear Skull: Increases user's hearing and sense of smell by 10%, but user has insatiable urge to consume raw meat.

Bear claw fetish: Increases user's strength by one and a half, At the cost of forcing them into a state of constant anger and irritation. Also leaves the user on the brink of exhaustion for a few bells.

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.