Personal Preparation

[Thomas Cosa]

21st of Spring, 512AV

"Tasks can vary depending on a the mage's own skill and creativity, from the standard task of blocking djed, to blocking light and sound. As the shielder's ability grows, shields can be tasked to do multiple things, whereas a mage just introduce to this branch of arcana can hardly manage a single task," Thomas sighed, turning the page. He had only just discovered the magic a season past, and had yet unexplored anthing more than what he was able to create naturally.

"Just one," Thomas nodded, convincing himself. Shielding itself was one of the safer of the personal magics, but managing even the simplest of shields tired the young mage, and it was difficult building up his stamina.

But it had to be done -- at the level he was at, his shields were awkward and almost completely useless. If he wanted to protect himself, he would have to better his ability. And that was only possible through practice.

"Breathe," he meditated, focusing only on himself, on his breathing, counting.

"One," he thought, his body stiffening as he concentrated on what he was going to create, a shield. Solid, unmoving.

"Two," he continued, his limbs shaking slightly, his temperature rising as the Djed boiled inside him, bubbling, forcing itself against his skin, his pores pathways for the escaping essence.

"Three," he breathed, his forearms tingling as the Djed escape, the invisible force coagulating over his skin. "Block, block, block," Thomas repeated, trying to force the released essence to form to his wished, to block foreign Djed from passing.

He let out a low sigh, stopping the forced flow of Djed, his essence settling. His body trembles, his brow glistened with sweat, but a smile graced the youth's features.

Invisible to his eyes, Thomas still managed to catch the odd shimmer as he moved his forearms, the shield catching the light. He imagined it would disappear soon, he lacked the ability to keep up the shield, but as soon as he built up his energy he would try again.

[Rayage]

”Shielding?” The nuit asked, having been watching over Thomas’ shoulder almost the entire time. The human had been so absorbed in what he was doing that he hadn’t noticed her, or perhaps he did and did not care. Rayage didn’t know for sure, nor did she really care. She was just wondering what the human was up to. It was an odd sort of fascination with things unwanted, the living, and life in general. Parts of her wanted nothing to do with this… trash, but the more human side of her wanted to reach out and help the little Pulser. Surely not everyone can be as great as she. It would be awful not to help those less fortunate.

The small glimmer of the shield was present to Rayage’s eyes. Not because she was using auristics, but because she knew shielding too and was able to see shields of lesser quality of her own. It was sort of pathetic, taking that into account, that Ray was able to see anything at all. Though she had to remind herself that everyone starts somewhere… it’s still not excuse not to progress thoroughly with practice and dedication. That is what human mages these days were missing, a big piece of magic. They thought they could just pick anything up and practice it willy nilly and they’d be fine. Any magical discipline takes practice, dedication, and heart. Emotions played deeply into anyone’s success, including hers. If she was not driven by her passion, she doubted that she would be the nuit she is today.

Originally Rayage had come to the library to return some books on Projection, which were tucked under her arm. A dark purple cloak enfolded around her form, the mark of immortality on the shoulder, of the beginning and end, of life and death, of eternity. Quite unlike most nuit this one did not look dead at all. There was a living tone to her skin, and not one sign that she actually is dead physically. It, however, was all an illusion, but a useful one at that.

”Though, I suppose practice makes perfect.” that is if you are doing it right to begin with. To perform a flawed maneuver over and over will only get one good at that flawed practice.

”As an Animator, don’t you have more important things to be doing?” Rayage questioned, crossing from behind the human to the other side of the table. Taking a seat right in front of him, the nuit smiled politely setting the books down on the table. Truth be told, she did not have to come to the library. All she needed to do was send word and she could have had golems deliver the books. However, she needed a break from her research, especially after getting news of her immediate departure on the 50th from Sahova.

x

[Thomas Cosa]

"Practice makes perfect, or so I've been told," Thomas smiled pleasently enough, studying the stranger as she took the seat opposite his own.

His smile faltered momentarily at the next question -- a blink of time, but perhaps long enough for the more observant to catch.

Thomas knew the woman before him, and more importantly -- she knew him. Whoever she was, she knew him well enough to know what he did, and probably where he worked, given that the only animators Thomas knew worked in the caverns. He would have guessed her as a nuit, but she was alive -- or was she was doing an excellent job of looking it. Besides, in their arrogance, the nuit had essentially made the library into a sanctuary of sorts -- the librarian golems only listened to the corpses, no undead had the need to look for anything.

Not like Thomas, or anyone else alive. They had to work for their answers.

Again, he looked at her familiar features wondering where he had seen her before -- but from where?

"The masters encourage practice in other disciplines," he replied curtly, waving his arm as the shield dissipated. True enough, although 'other disciplines' refereed more or less to the paramagics that aided in Animation -- gadgeteering, math, and physics; not shielding.

"Projection," he said, nodding, guessing from the various titles. "I must admit, I am not the most knowledgeable regarding personal magics," he smiled again, more sincerely. Had he known the woman before him for a nuit, especially Rayage, Thomas would not be as open with his own weakness, but looking alive as he did, Thomas offered a little more trust.

Perhaps with more conversation he'd realize who she was.

[Rayage]

Rayage’s hands wrapped tighter around the books in question when the man guessed the discipline. It was like she was protecting them from something, someone, and inched them closer to her. Briefly looking down at the books and then back at Thomas, ”Ancient Tongue is a beautiful language, isn’t it?” she asked, ”So much can be said with just a few words. It is something quite unlike Common.” she professed her love for the language, ”However, here in Sahova is the only place one seems to have a grasp on the language. Other places it is simply forgotten, unseen, unneeded, or maybe it’s just unwanted.”

”I dabble in personal magic.” she admitted, no shame found her voice, ”Being not so good at anything. It is hard to find respect in a field you cannot demonstrate excellence. Yet, here we are, practicing, hoping, dreaming of a better tomorrow. That is the kind of wizard I am, and strive to be. The wheel of change is spun by the cogs of innovation after all, and what are dreams but realities hoping to come to fruition?” her grasp on the books loosened and she looked around the library. There were Pulsers and golems scurrying around the place looking for precious information.

”Would you mind telling me why you came to this place, Sahova, to begin with?” the nuit asked just hoping to waste some time. She might have heard it before, but it was amusing to see if the answer changed or not, ”And does that reason still match why you are here now?” she asked the follow up question in advance, ”If you tell me, I’ll tell you why I came here.” she smiled briefly at him opening up a contract, one that would swap stories and tales.

”That is, if you are not too busy with your studies. I, myself, have some time to kill.”

x

[Thomas Cosa]

"Sahova is the only place with native speakers," Thomas countered, "The only place the Alahean still speak, and walk, freely at least. It would make sense that if nader canoch would survive anywhere, it'd be with the undead, no?" he smiled, softly closing his own book, So You Don't Want to Die: Shielding, an Introduction.

"And why did I come to Sahova? To learn, I suppose. It is the obvious choice for an up and coming animator," he shrugged, the half-truth so rehearsed Thomas half believed it himself -- but he could never forget what had brought him here, what drove him to stay amongst the dead, to deny himself an easy existence.

Power. The pursuit of power and strength called him to the Citadel, and there was no longer any doubt in his mind he would be staying for it. It had teased him all those years, the vision of his own greatness. The glimpses into the potential of his future had brought the youth to magic, and magic had brought him to Sahova.

"And I can't imagine my motives have changed so much," he added, "And what about you -- have you changed since your arrival?"

[Rayage]

Rayage listened to Thomas with a sly smile, an almost knowing smile. Magic always started out for the search of knowledge, but then as the wizard goes along it turns into something more. It is a sickness that infects even the best and most vigilant wizards. It is called the Sweet Whispers, the lust for power, the lust for more, more, more. More everything! More knowledge, but oh so importantly more power. With magic knowledge is equivalent to power, and so when one seeks knowledge they actively are seeking more power. Rayage understood this, for she too seeks power, always wanting to do a little more. A little more, pushing the boundaries, twisting reality to her whim, the power to actively change the world!

”No,” she answered, ”I do not think motives change. Perspective does, but motives often do not.” she pondered the question asked of her for a moment before pursing her lips, really thinking. ”I do not think I have changed much since my arrival, but even that thought is a lie.” she said, ”I have changed, and I think so have you.”

”I did not come seeking knowledge, but rather sanctuary.” she explained, ”A place where I can practice my magic without persecution, without restriction, without fear.” she laughed at that, ”But Sahova is a very scary place.” she looked around, ”I realize that now, but I am in far too deep to stop playing their game now.”

”My perspective has changed. My motives have not, but do know that I intend to win. I intend to stand atop the Sahovan hierarchy, and I intend to use any power at my disposal. I will then create my own sanctuary, and eventually make the world a more harmonious place.”

”There will be war.” she said, ”I intend to show the world the power of Sahova, and give the wizard kind sanctuary once more.” It all was a very self-righteous speech.

”However…” she began, ”There are things I need to know myself before I can even begin to do what I desire. Shielding is one such thing.”

x

[Thomas Cosa]

"Sanctuary?" Thomas echoed, a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "True enough, I suppose. If ever there was a place for a mage, it is Sahova," he agreed, nodding.

"A new perspective on a very old place," he mused to himself, thinking. The pulser had always seen the Citadel as a place of knowledge, a place to seek and learn, but never had he seen Sahova as any kind of sanctuary. He had been tortured and starved since his arrival, most of wizards barely taking the time to consider him for anything more than a possible new experiment. But he had never had to keep his magic secret, not like he had to on the mainland. Thomas was a slave to the island, but in some ways, he was freer than he had ever been when he lived in Syliras. The pulser could practice as he saw fit, openly dialogue with his betters on the theory and application of animation.

"Perhaps, though, that is why Sahova is so dangerous," he realized, speaking out loud, "Somewhere where the true masters of magic have free reign over their experiments? Over their apprentices and no one to openly oppose them?" he shrugged, "No one to say enough?"

"A lofty goal," Thomas muttered, watching the strange woman with a new interest.

Did everyone come to Sahova looking to rule? He smiled, wondering whether magic truly corrupted as they always told him, or if the personalities magic attracted were already susceptible to megalomania.

Perhaps magic just showed them who they really were?

"Shielding is...a useful magic," Thomas replied, focusing on the strange woman.

He knew he had seen her before; perhaps his own magic would help him remember.

He calmed himself as best he could, his breathing becoming slow and meditative. With each passing his breath, Thomas could feel his djed changing, stretching, boiling over inside him. Slowly, the edges of his vision blurred and dimmed, sweat beading down his brow -- the shield had already pushed past his point of comfortably, but he had to know.

The world was lightened by a collage of vibrant and swirling colors, but Thomas focused intently on the woman opposite him.

"And one of...the safer magics...as well," he managed to continue the conversation, his sentences broken and strained. He frowned, not realizing the woman's aura -- although, there was something interesting there; some kind of shield or cloaked draped over her figure. Thomas focused intently, the cloak seeming dampening his own magic -- still, he could make out the bright yellow of magic tinging the outer layers of her aura, and the whiff of decay stuck to his nostrils.

Was she dying? Thomas wondered, trying to push past the cloak, to see more of her aura. A headache began to form, biting at the back of his head annoyingly.

What was that?

[Rayage]

”Dangerous?” she asked, laughing a little before covering her mouth, ”I guess it depends on what you are doing, and your rank within Sahova. I’ve never considered Sahova itself dangerous. It is the wizards that make it so, but I guess that is what you are trying to say. You shouldn’t trust any wizard here.” She told him, ”Including myself, your master… even yourself.”

”If you are a wizard, you should question everything and take nothing for granted, especially in these halls.” She sat back more, relaxing a bit.

”Shielding is an ever useful magic.” she agreed, nodding, verifying her own response.

”Tell me, what do you like most about magic?” she asked purposely trying to get him to think about his own path, but oddly oblivious to the reason which Thomas was so… quiet. He was concentrating and she was missing all the signs, too caught up in her own game of question and answer.

”What fascinates me is the possibilities.” she said, ”One can do so much if they only know how and have the skill.” however that is quite a dangerous mind set to fall into, but at this point Rayage had gladly taken a bite of the poison apple. Might as well eat the whole thing. ”Wizards can do such amazing things. Have you heard of Rupert Pycon and his race of clay-men?” she asked, ”The one man created an entire race, formed and molded life itself.” her voice sounded almost dreamy as she talked about Pycon all the while knowing full well what the wizard did to achieve the end result of the Pycon race.

Rayage was enjoying the little break from her work. It was always entertaining to hear what the mortals had to say about magic itself. It showed just how much they knew about the subject, and she was all too eager to test this one.

x

[Thomas Cosa]

Thomas was still immersed in the world of auras, the woman's own identity still a mystery.

A rose shade erupted with each syllable, the stranger's voice sweet and soft and motherly. He wondered briefly if she had been a mother at some point, or if that was just her personality. Thomas frowned, hoping for her it had been the latter. A wizard could never afford to be motherly, to be kind, or unassuming with any other wizard.

One could die that way.

With a trembling hand, Thomas wiped the sweat off his brow, his headache slowly building in pain.

"Mhmm," he absentmindedly nodded, rubbing his aching temples. The cloak was still there whatever it was, and Thomas was close to seeing through it -- the muddled colors becoming more and more vibrant with every passing tick. The heading was almost blinding now; the edge of his vision slowly darkening.

And then he saw past it -- only for a second, before his auristics turned off. Decay. The sick brown colored swirled around her aura, but Thomas couldn't sustain his magic long enough to find it's source.

He blinked several times, his vision still blurred from his overuse -- he would have to be careful to remember to stop when the headache's started next time.

"Magic?" he repeated, remembering the question vaguely, "It's potential," Thomas smiled, "Perhaps even moreso; it's ability to change, to actually become something. Like what you said, the pycon race. I haven't met one, although I've read some about their creation. Apparently, they aren't keen on Pycon himself, or alchemy, they even refuse to acknowledge pycon as their creator. Or so I've read," Thomas shrugged, blinking oddly. His vision was slowly becoming clearer, but it was still uncomfortably blurry.

"Probably the most interesting though is how it effects people, mostly the ignorant," his smile curdled to a small smirk, "They fear it, and only see it as destruction, but never as a tool. Not like us, anyway," he shrugged, blinking again.

"So, you practice Alchemy?" he asked, taking an educated guess. An animator would have brought up Mashean, or Wotch. A magecrafter, Tallshade. Perhaps Pycon was who all alchemist looked to beat, to create something so amazing so as to throw all mention of their name from history's view.

[Rayage]

Thomas was acting very strange. Strained almost. She observed him silently, watching him wipe the sweat from his brow, and rubbing his head, the real lack of involvement in the conversation of theirs, and finally the blinking. Sheer concentration on what exactly? It shouldn’t take this much concentration to hold a conversation with her, especially one this simple. Her slight confusing turned to a boarding smile, he was using magic!

”You know,” she started after Thomas finished explaining why magic was important to him, ”it’s rude to concentrate on magic when I’m trying to talk to you. It’s like saying that I am not very interesting.” And that was a matter of pride to Rayage, ”And you’d rather be doing something else, such as using me for practice.” her tone was cold and condescending. ”I am not some doll or pebble for you to stare at intently, and if you must practice please do it more discretely. Not that any fool looking at you would know that you are preforming magic. Tell me, what were you doing just now?”

She didn’t sound too angry, but more so unimpressed because nothing really happened. ”Though I guess I’m glad you stopped when you did. Overgiving can be a killer here in Sahova. If you completely succumb and let your magic break you, then Sahova will dispose of you. Of course, not before torturing out every last bit of magical lore you might have wrapped up in that brain of yours. That is, if you were even doing anything important…”

”I would be tortured, she told him with a straight face, flat out, ”because without me all my research becomes mostly useless. The Alchemical formulas don’t decrypt themselves,” but instead of being horrified at this she laughed at it, as if it were a game she was playing with Sahova itself.

”I’m not too sure about you,” she was frank, ”however, I did like your answer. Magic can change. I think deep down we all are children with dreams of changing this world,” she smiled light heartedly, ”but only few get the power and the knowledge, through discipline, to really achieve anything worth mentioning. Rupert Pycon was one of those men. Blessed to have a legacy to carry on his name and make him immortal.”

”I am an Alchemist,” the undead answered the question finally, ”just like you are an animator.”

x