Solo Sabotage

[Pandaemus]

32nd Day of Summer in the 514th Year After the Valterrain
Early Morning in the Gug Adjak

It had been two long days since the over-giving accident in the Prairie. Pan had yet to full get over the memory of the event. It was a scar upon his mind. The memory of the now sour ecstasy disturbed him deeply. He had become so irrational, so illogical. The apprentice had believed he could actually control such an ambitious portal. No one had been there to check him. He had lay in the dirt for hours afterwards, trying to regain the motor function and the strength, the willpower to make himself move again.

Since then he had been feeling vulnerable. It was obvious that he was far from a competent wizard, but the extent to which he was on his own here in Sahova had not hit him until that day and its aftermath. He had no guidance, besides the purely academic guidance of senior wizards, and the rather forceful orders of Cid. Pan was ashamed to admit it, with how far he had come since Lowych’s death and the his own rebirth into undeath, but he felt like he needed a friend. Such sentiments should be foreign to a Nuit. Pan was rather embarrassed by his loneliness. But he had only been a Nuit for a short year, his humanity was not finished leaking out of him. Leaking out like pus from a bloated corpse. He was sour about the loss.

On one hand he wanted to excel as a Sahovan Nuit. He wanted to be the driven academic that could someday find a place of power in the Citadel. He wanted to disregard his old nature for the cold efficiency of the new. But on the other hand, his emotions and memories were what made his identity. Fear of the loss of self kept him consciously acting human. It was disturbing how much more it had become a conscious effort. But…

The solution he had found, after only a few days thought, was to acquire a familiar. But, of course, Pan had too much dignity or pride or delusion to admit that it was his loneliness that pushed him to think about it. He told himself he needed an extra mind, another helping hand in his work. A familiar could help him climb the ladder. Or so he thought. He did not have much experience with the creatures.

He had seen a few on Sahova, floating next to a Nuit or else straddling the shoulder of an apprentice. Their existence was common enough knowledge, especially here on Sahova. However, Pan really didn’t know what exactly the bond entailed. It was for life, and the death of one meant the death of the other.

All this had lead Pan to where he was now, standing in a hallway amongst a cluster of summoning labs. He had come with the intent of inquiring about the process, the risks. He wanted to be informed before he pursued it in earnest. So here he was, searching for a willing apprentice of the master summoners, Guvronsek.

Self-consciously he began to ask vague questions of apprentices who hurried about their business. Most ignored him. Some took the time to spitefully deny him. A few just shook their heads. Pan was feeling lost, as if he didn’t really know what he was doing there. He knew this was an impulsive decision, but it seemed to have its merits, even after he had spent two days thinking about the downsides. He found that not being lonely was still worth whatever cons the familiar would bring. He could't trust anyone in Sahova. What better was to build trust that to tie two lives, two fates, together?

Actually, there were probably better ways... But none were available to Pan.

[Pandaemus]

Goyan Prag was sitting at his desk, near the door to the lab with his head in his hands. Sillius was on the desk, his liquid body shifting continuously. The familiar was agitated at his partner. Sure their situation was bad, had just become much worse, but there was no point in sulking. That would never get anything done. They needed to get the research back, and as Sillius looked at Prag he realized his partner was not the man for the job. But who would be bold enough, no scratch that, who would be naive enough to help. Every other apprentice in the lab knew them too well to help a rival. So the best logical explanation would be to strike a deal with a exterior apprentice or wizard that worked out of some other lab.

“Prag. Prag!” Sillius raised his voice, reaching out telepathically to his partner. Goyan moved his hand and looked at the familiar with the gaze of a dejected, hopeless man. His dead, pale face framed by a beard. The wizards body was kept in ill repair, his priorities of late were far from aesthetics. “We need to enlist some outside help.” Sillius explained. They bickered, as they had many times before, about the ‘recklessness’ of that idea.

“No, that’s final Sillius. I will not be embarrassed by seeking a stranger’s help!” Prag said, trying to lace his voice with steel. “Besides, we would be indebted to them. It could put us from the frying pan into the perching reimanced enhanced fire!” Prag’s prudence had gotten then into this situation, but Sillius wouldn’t let it keep him from getting out of it.

“Embarrassed?!” Sillius spat djed out at the desk, propelling himself into the air a few inches as he was prone to do when feeling especially angry. “More embarrassed than losing a month worth of research to a rival?!” Sillius had hit a nerve, Prag sprang to his feet.

“I did not lose it! It was stolen from me!” Goyan Prag’s face was contorted, making the corpse look revolting. He was ancient, not by the same timeline at Guvronsek, but still old. There was little that agitated the Nuit, but Sillius could always rub him wrong. Maybe it came from over ninety years of practice.

“Fine Sillius. We can do it your way.” The words came like ice, calm and cold. Sillius was glad the Nuit had finally agreed to do something about their lost notes.

As the two entered the passage outside of the lab they shared with a few of Master Guvronsek’s other apprentices, both the wizard and the familiar noticed another Nuit loitering. As they approached it seemed the wizard was attempting to harry anyone in the hallway, distracting them from their work. This just forced Prag’s already sour mood worse. He picked up his pace as he passed the other.

“Hey you, I need some information about familiars. Do you have any time to talk?” The Nuit said, turning as Prag and Sillius passed him.

“No-“ Prag started to bark, but Sillius cut him off. The slippery familiar saw opportunities where his partner saw obstacles. And this may just be the opportunity they were looking for. The familiar slid from Prag’s shoulder and up to the other Nuit.

“You want a familiar then?” He said smoothly, like a veteran merchant enticing a naive shopper. “A sound decision. Very helpful, especially in fields like…” Sillius’ eyes searched the Nuit’s hand, deftly quick. He wore the ring of an animation apprentice. “Oh animation say, or any of the world magics really. Could always use an extra pair of hands.” Sillius’ friendly manner seemed to take the wizard by surprise. Indeed his joke about hands was met with silence.

Prag cottoned on to what Sillius was doing and nodded, backing him up. Over the years Prag had learned that when Sillius started employing his silver tongue, it was usually for the mutual benefit of both of them.

“I don’t know if I’m ready just yet for a familiar. I have been thinking about it though, and I’m looking for information.” The other wizard began, but Sillius dismissed his caution with a swirling of water.

“What’s there to be ready for? It’s a smooth and easy process that doesn’t take up much time. I could have two or three of my kin here as soon as we get the summoning ready!” Sillius babbled coyly. He was trying to downplay the wizard’s caution. He was right to be wary, look at the bag of sand Sillius had been bonded with for the past ninety years!

The wizard, perhaps unsettled by the friendly manner, narrowed his dead, red lidded eyes. “Why are you being so… amiable?” His words were now overly cautious. “It’s true that I wanted a familiar, but it should not be so easy as this.”

Clearly this wizard was unaware of his this typically worked. True, Sillius had an ulterior motive; true, Sillius would have thought long and harder if he could go back and do it again. But most familiars were more than eager to push their kin from back home onto other wizards. This was simply how the game was played.

“Okay, I see you aren’t stupid.” Sillius said, changing his tone to a more ‘straight-talk’ approach. “It wouldn’t happen just like that. We need something done for us in return. Think of it as payment. You help us out, and we’ll get you a familiar, today!” Sillius would have smiled if he wasn’t an formless body of water.

“That’s more like it.” The apprentice said, frowning. He looked as though he was almost as stressed at Prag. Even for a Nuit, he looked harried. His robe was gathering dust and so has the mop of dead hair that sat haphazardly atop his pale cranium. “So what do I need to do that you can’t?”

“Apprentice Prag and I recently had our research stolen by a rival apprentice.” Sillius floated forward conspiratorially. “The snake used our research to further himself and now he is a full Wizard. He is too suspicious of us, so there is no way we could get close enough to steal it back. But another could…”

The familiar’s voice gave the impression of silky sinister intent. Prag’s scowl broke into a dark smile behind the familiar.

[Pandaemus]

Two hours later…

Prag and his glib familiar had somehow convinced him to help them by stealing back what they said was their own research journal from a full wizard. Pan had managed to spend almost an entire year out of the mucky politics of Sahova, mostly because he was content with what he had in Lab15, but now it appeared that he would have to dive into it. The moment you wanted something, Sahova figured out how to corrupt you for it.

The apprentice, Prag, had told Pan that this ‘upstart’ stole the research he and his slippery familiar had done on some higher world or some such. The summoning talk had largely gone over Pan’s head, his only experience with summoning had been watching a few rituals his old master did when he was still a living child, and then the one experience with Marin a few seasons prior. Pan had only the basic concept and was truthfully not too interested in the art. But more importantly then the contents of the journal, the former apprentice had used Prag’s research to augment his own project and earned himself the title ‘wizard’. A rather common underhanded tactic here in the Citadel, Pan had not been surprised to hear it.

Prag and Sillius wanted Pan to steal the research back for them.

But stealing from a full wizard was dangerous, especially for a world magic user like Pan, who really didn’t have tools to do it with. What could he do?

Prag had lead him to where the Wizard’s new private lab was, on the same floor as Prag’s own community lab. Then Prag and Sillius had left, saying only that Pan had a week to complete the task. Pan had been standing in the hallway for the entire time since then, plotting. Pan had been less than impressed with their level of help or preparation. The two seemed entirely too shady for Pan’s liking. Now, of course Pan could respect amorality, it was a very common trait here on Sahova. One for which he was developing a certain affinity, though he worried over it. But when one conducted oneself that way, a certain finesse was needed to pull it off. Prag and Sillius had about as much finesse as a rusted meat cleaver.

So what other weapons did Pan have? He had a very minor skill in voiding. Could he perhaps void the lock on the Wizard’s desk? That could be possible. But since he had been standing in the hallway the wizard had yet to leave his lab. He, like Prag and Pan, was a Nuit. Apparently he had been on Sahova for some time, and to a Nuit, ‘some time’ could mean hundreds of years. He was probably not coming out of his lab unless it was very important. The older Nuit were prone to spend all their time working, only leaving their work to change bodies or confer with colleagues. Pan would not get an opportunity to enter the lab without the Wizard there.

So, what manner of stealth tools did Pan have in his arsenal? None. He was a corpse with very little experience sneaking about or stealing. His life had been largely an academic one. He really had no hope of entering the lab without the Wizard’s knowledge, let alone break into his desk. Pan was a clumsy corpse with very little physical skill. So a clandestine sort of method was out of the question.

What did he have?

He had a debatable proficiency in animation. Not very conducive to success in this situation. He had a decently analytical mind. Then he had all the knowledge he had gained over the past year. Knowledge of Sahova, knowledge of Lab 15. He knew a lot about sitting behind his desk and toiling through whatever work Cid put him to. He knew about the life of an apprentice.

An apprentice…

The knowledge of an apprentice. Pan smiled.

[Pandaemus]

Pan walked up to the Wizard’s lab, nervous about his intended plan. It was a gamble with a set of possible outcomes, only one of which was beneficial to Pan. Even if it worked, it would mean a lot of effort on his part anyway. He didn’t know the Wizard, or what his temperament was. This was going to take some stones.

Pan raised his fist and knocked on the door to the Wizard’s lab. He glanced around for sign of Prag or Sillius, not wanting to be caught by the two incompetents. When the door opened the Nuit facing him was short and pale. The body of an Inarta held his soul, though it was not his original. Wiry red hair was pulled back and tied and blue eyes held Pan in their phlegmatic gaze.

“What?” His voice carried the often felt air of supreme apathy. Most Nuit slowly lose the drive to emote, and then they lose the drive to interact socially, then they slip into a work obsessed eternity. This Wizard was clearly in the space of that eternity. He seemed completely neutral as he held Pan’s gaze.

“You don’t know me, but I have some information that you may find useful.” Pan said quickly and quietly. “May I come in?”

The Wizard glanced down at Pan’s hand, no doubt looking at his ring. “What could an animator’s apprentice possibly have to tell me?” The Wizard asked slowly, suspicion thick between the two Nuit.

Pan glanced down the hallway again. Sillius and Prag could spoil his whole plan if they saw them talking. “We should talk inside.” Pan tried to sound urgent, but wasn’t sure if his vocal inflections would have any effect on the Wizard’s mindset. But after a moment of cold staring, the Wizard stepped aside and let Pan enter. If nothing else, Sahovan Wizards were a curious kind. Pan had been counting on that.

The inside of the Wizard’s personal lab was dominated by an open area with a summoning circle painted carefully on the ground. The walls were lined with artifacts the Wizard had collected and a few sparse books or scrolls scattered across the shelves. His desk was piled high with what looked to be more current research. A torch sat in a sconce in the center of each wall. It was not a very large lab, but it provided privacy where a community lab for apprentices provided rivalry. It was, to Pan, almost minuscule compared to the massive hub of work that was Lab 15.

“Well? Explain yourself.” The Wizard seemed to be weighing his decision to let Pan enter the lab. Pan did not like the look he had on his face.

“I have some information about a plot to steal from you.” Pan said quickly. Now he was committed. The Nuit prayed to any divine to make his plane work.

“What?!” The Wizard let anger and shock ripple across his face momentarily before composing himself just as fast. “Tell me now.”

“Apprentice Prag has hired someone to steal his research back from you.”

“…Who?”

“Me.” Pan said the word and watched the white lips peel back from the Inarta’s teeth. “But I have a different idea!” Hastily the words slipped out of him. Getting murdered in this Wizard’s lab was not an outcome he wanted to experience.

“I’m listening.” The Wizard was scowling at him, but clearly wanted to know more. The seed of curiosity could be depended on in Sahova. That was one of the most useful things he had learned here on the island.

“Prag wants his journal back, and he and his familiar have agreed to help me acquire a familiar if I get it back for him.” Pan began, careful to be clear and quick in his explanation. “I propose you let me copy his journal and give the original back to Prag.”

The Wizard snorted with bitter humor. “What? Are you appealing to my good nature?” The words came out with the poisonous tone only sarcasm could usher in. “Why would I ever agree to that? I wouldn’t benefit at all.”

Pan smiled. He raised his fist and let the light shine off his ring. “Because I can help you.” Pan needed to entice the Wizard, he needed to make it seem like what he had to offer was worthwhile. “I will also, if you agree, fashion for you a witness golem. I will place it covertly near Prag’s workspace so it hears everything he and that despicable familiar say. And I will program it to only respond to you.”

He let the words sink in. The Wizard stared at him for a long moment. “Hmm.” He made the sound after a long moment of contemplation. The Inarta walked back to his desk and sat behind it, staring over at Pan.

“How do I know you won’t just steal it and give it back to him?” The Wizard asked slowly. Relief, he was at least thinking about the prospect. Pan just needed to drive the logic home and hope the redhead agreed.

“With my way, I won’t have made any enemies.” Pan explained. “I am an animator, and really I don’t want a place in your quarrel. But there is a way that all three of us can benefit from this situation, so I thought I’d offer.” Pan said, appealing to the Wizard’s reason in as straight a way as he could. He waited.

The Wizard touched his fingertips together, deep in thought. Undoubtedly he was weighing his options. He could either keep the status quo between Prag and him, or he could gain advantage by monitoring Prag’s research from afar. The only real decision would be if giving Prag back his research was any threat to the Inarta. The Wizard bent and opened a drawer slowly. He muttered a few words in a language Pan did not know and then raised a battered leather journal onto the desk in front of him.

Pan wondered if this petching journal would really be his key to a familiar. “Prag gave me a week to get it back.”

The Inarta stood and gripped the journal greedily, pale fingers pressing into the soft, worn leather of the binding. He walked around the desk and approached Pandaemus. “Bring back my copy in three days or I’ll come make your existence down in those animation labs a living hell.” The icy whisper cut through the silence whilst still maintaining the subtle gravity of silence. Pan got the point.

“Alright, three days.”

[Pandaemus]

.

Two and a Half Days Later…

Pan was immersed in his work, carried away by the sound of his own quill scratching at the parchment in front of him. Cid had come by about twelve hours earlier. Pan had been so entranced with the copying of Prag’s journal that he almost didn’t see the wizard in time. The journal and notes had quickly been stuffed onto his lap. Pan wasn’t sure what Cid would have made of his extra-curricular project, but he didn’t want to find out.

Pan had been copying the scribbled notes that Prag, no doubt with the assistance of Sillius, had crammed into the book in uneven lines. The wizard had been far more concerned with getting his information down than his penmanship, which is something Pan could understand. Sometimes the information was only comprehensible for a moment, a flash of understanding in the brain before external stimuli carry it away like a feather in the wind. Pan was prone to frantic scrawlings at times, usually after hours of study.

But as he approached the last few pages of Prag’s research, he sighed in frustration. He had spent the last fifty=something bells copying the journal. And he had copied it neatly, or as neatly as his penmanship could accomplish. It was quite amazing, Pan thought ruefully, what undeath could do for you. In life he could have never sat there and copied so many pages without rest. But when you have no sustainment to worry about, no distractions, and all the time in the world you are able to accomplish great things.

Inky blackness blotched the tips of the fingers on his right hand from hours of exposure to his inkwell. Lab 15 moved around him, people always shuffling about with different projects from Cid, Filch, or Kromby. The sounds of people building or tinkering with golems echoed across the cavern occasionally. From the pusler sleeping area above came the noises of life. Occasional mutters, and even laughter a few times a month. They were not distracting noises, they were what he had come to associate with home. As much as it irked him to admit, Lab 15 was the only place he felt he belonged, and yet still did not belong.

Pan continued to scrawl.

As he wrote his mind drifted. It had been a year now. Well, two days more than a year since he had descended into his new, cold state of being. His heart had stopped over a year ago. And his life had changed enormously since that moment. At first the terror of his condition had consumed him. He had spent half a season sitting in Lowych’s cabin, trying to cry. But the dead shed not a tear. Besides, he had not been mourning Lowych, but wallowing in his own traumatic condition.

The reverie Pan had drifted into was so deep he sat staring at the parchment for a long time before realizing he had completed the new edition of Prag’s journal. Pan blinked a few times and inspected the original once again to make sure it was really finished. The task had been completed, and Pan was not too humble to admit he had done a sight better than Prag. The newer copy was neat and new, not battered by the wear and tear of time and frequent use.

Slipping both copies over to the corner of his desk he thought about his next task. Finding and animating a Witness Golem for the Inarta would be a trivial task. He was an apprentice in Lab 15, it could not be more convenient anywhere else.

It took him about five minutes to acquire the shell, a refurbished Witness shell that was awaiting reanimation. Perfect. Pan had sidled up to an apprentice who had a whole pile of the refurbished shells and was systematically reanimating each one and stacking them in another separate pile. The man was a pulser, and Pan had picked him for it. Pan knew the pulsers were more prone to distractions of a human nature. Sure enough, the man had happily engaged Pan, someone he could only have talked to a few times before. He was grateful when Pan offered to take a Witness or two off his hands. Perfectly executed. The Witness shell would not be missed for another couple of days. Depending on how well organized the other apprentice was, it might never be missed.

Back at his workstation Pan set the Witness down carefully. He was about to command his golem into action, but thought better of it. The thing could create animation circles for him, but the Witness was so small it was just easier for Pan to do it himself. He bent and fumbled with the golem’s clamp, pulling the chalk out from it.

The fine white powder rubbed off onto his hand, partially covering the black ink. Pan crouched, not needed much space for the Witness Golem’s circle he quickly pressed it into the floor next to his desk. Then he drew the short link that would serve to connect the two circles. That thin line of ivory powder would be the conduit that made this magic possible. Pan then positioned himself and drew a circle around himself, connecting it’s edge with the link. He stepped out of the circle and contemplated it. He had been experimenting with different methods of glyphing the animation circles to enhance the productivity.

He decided on attempting a new pattern that was similar to one he had moderate success with before. Pan could make the animation without the aid of glyphs, it was relatively simple. But to strengthen his magic, a wizard must be willing to look sideways as well as forward. Pan lowered himself to one knee clumsily, bracing himself with the hand holding the chalk. Damn his Nuit corpse-body!

He placed the chalk to the floor once again. Carefully Pan pressed softly against the ground, moving the chalk to form a spiral. The white line curved around itself, the Focus sigil he had come up with the day he was introduced to the craft. From there he decided to connect the Focus directly to the link with a trail of Path glyphs, which was a simple diamond pointed longways. Pan took extreme care in drawing the glyphs, knowing that this could affect the outcome of his magic. Finally he connected the line of symbols to the link and stood to examine this portion of his work.

Pan frowned. The majority of the Path glyphs were wavering off track from each other and the link. Pan could see he had subconsciously corrected his path, but it was sloppy. He was pleased, at least, with his Focus. Pan twirled his wrist and caught his sleeve. Bending down once again, Pan rubbed away the offending Paths. He started again, this time standing after each and observing its orientation in relation to the others from above. He was just finishing his last Path before stopping at the link when he lost his balance and fell backwards.

“Petching Shyke!” Pan yelped, frustrated at his own lethargy. He pulled himself up and looked down at his work. Petch! Now the Focus had been smeared from his foot sliding across it. Pan impatiently wiped it away with his sleeve as well, grimacing. He carefully touched chalk to floor again, recreating the swirl of the Focus. Finally, when satisfied with his revised work, Pan moved to the smaller circle.

Pan left himself calm from the anger he had built up. Botching simple glyphs! Pan liked to believe he was past that, but apparently not. He decided on an inwardly closing spiral of Path glyphs to simply smooth the intake of djed to the Witness shell. Pan began to etch the diamonds, more slowly this time. Care and time lead to success, speed and excitement only lead to completion. Pan did not want to finish, he wanted to succeed.

When Pan finished he stood again, careful not to smudge any of his work. The spiral pitched together in an area. Pan bent and erased the section. He re-sketched it with a steadier hand. In the end, his glyphing was passable. Now it was time to start the animation and earn his familiar.
 

.

[Pandaemus]

.

The apprentice animator placed the Witness golem, now merely a shell ready to absorb its simple soul, into the destination circle. He fumbled at his waist and drew the rather intimidatingly sharp kris from its sheath. Pan had owned the weapon for nearly half a year now and still did not know much about its use as a killing utensil. He used it for cutting or whittling down a piece occasionally, and of course what he was about to use it for. Pan pressed the tip into his thumb until the dark, black ichor pooled out. The apprentice breathed deeply as he crouched and let a single drop of the liquid drop from his appendage. It hit the chalk line with practiced efficiency, absorbed slightly into the white powder.

Pan sheathed his kris again. As he did so he felt the animation circles come to life. The subtle hint of djed ran through them like an invisible flame over oil. Pan closed his eyes. Concentration was key, he needed to get this right or else his plan would fail. Pan began to concentrate on himself. He focused his mind on the djed within his own body. In respect to djed, he was much the same as any living wizard. It flowed through him as it did every living thing, and he was able to pull it from himself. He let himself extract djed and guide it into the circle. It swirled around him, stagnant and calm.

As he added more djed to the mix he began to shape the Life Principle. Care must be taken at this step, he reminded himself. The abilities of the golem were rooted in the base of knowledge that the life principle provided. Pan shaped the djed, crafting it into a mimicry of his own soulcore. As he pulled the djed from himself and wove it into the make up of the tiny life principle that would bring the Witness golem to life he pushed memories of listening out with it. The raw djed twined with the memories. He made sure he thought of every sound possibly made in Mizaharan common. The pulse of memory flowing out of him was consistent until he had finished infusing the life principle with entirety of the Common language. Pan could feel the knot of djed shifting in front of him. It was a gentle feeling. Nothing about the Witness Golem had to be complicated really. Since he was working with a single sense, the base information would serve for both of the functional Directives, speak and listen.

Pan relaxed a bit now. The majority of the information was there. The apprentice animator’s next task was to focus the information and apply the Directives. Using the base knowledge of sounds associated with the Common tongue, Pan would weave directives to record the auditory stimuli then to repeat the sequence of sounds when commanded to.

Pan began to push a feeling of happiness out into the Life Principle. He always struggled with that part, mostly falling back on his acceptance as an apprentice as a happy memory. He had few others that constituted a pleasant recollection. He was careful to keep the pleasure away from the rest of the djed. The golem had to feel the pleasure only when performing it’s proper function. Pan fused the happiness with the thought of listening and remembering exactly the sounds he had melded into the djed. He shaped the Listen Directive by weaving the pleasure sensation in with the idea of listening and remembering all the sounds the golem heard. When that was suitably done Pan attached the command word that would initiate the Directive. Abase. The ancient Nader-canoch word for beginning. It seemed like a suitable trigger. When he finished with the Directive he let it be taken into the fold of the Life Principle.

Again he manipulated the pleasure stimulus, weaving it into the beginnings of another Directive. A Speak Directive. Pan introduced the idea of repeating the sounds it recorded. He integrated the pleasure sensation with the mimicry of remembered sounds. His djed bound the two strands into one single invisible entity that he could feel. Pan associated canoch, the nader-canoch word for speech, with the Directive. Pan gently let the Speak Directive be taken in by the Life Principle. It become wrapped in the mass and eventually was indistinguishable from the rest of the djed in his mind’s eye.

Lastly there was the Loyalty Directive. Pan, as an apprentice in Lab 15, usually formed this to encompass all Nuit on Sahova and higher level golems, but this was not one of Cid’s projects. So instead Pan would infuse the loyalty with the Inarta completely. Well… The Inarta and himself obviously. He didn’t think he would ever have need of eavesdropping on Prag, and would probably never see this particular Witness again. But since he was here crafting it, why not at the capability?

Authority. Authority was always his primary concept when instilling loyalty. Authority was the one who struck the most fear in you. But that would call for the crafting of yet another directive, the Self-Preservation Directive, and Pan had neither the time nor the ability to program more than a handful of directives. He did not want to have the thing fail, in case the Wizard wanted him to test the golem in front of him. So instead he pulled on the pleasure again. And again he wove it into the djed containing a concept of obedience. He envisioned the feeling of obedience he had felt his entire life. First towards Lowych, now for Cid and those above even him. The following of orders from the voice of the Inartan Nuit became a trigger for happiness, and was incorporated into the Loyalty Directive. Pan then did the same for himself.

He smiled to himself as he worked. The worst was over and he was now nearing completion. Pan moved the djed about with his mind, forming the Astral Body. It was a very simple task, since the Witness only moved the thin leather membrane wrapped tightly around a wooden ring on one of it’s surfaces. It basically acted as a drum does, and served as the mouth. Pan had seen some older Witnesses come with a cross of wires as a mouth, but he preferred the leather drum to those. It came out a low pitch rather than the uneven high of the wires. Pan formed the Astral Body around the core of the Life Principle and introduced the minuscule movements of the leather in projecting the mimicked sounds.

Finished with the crafting of the artificial soulcore, Pan began to push the Life Principle through the link with the assistance of his glyphs. The movement was smooth, smoother than it would even be normally. This was not a particularly difficult animation, but it was nice to know he could make it even easier with the complimentary magic. Then he felt a drag in the link, like a blockage of djed movement. It was not enough to slow the djed too much, it actually moved normally. It was like the glyph stopped working once the djed reached the link.

Pan scrutinized his glyphing work. He had forgotten the Switch in his glyph! The djed could run along his Paths fine, but since there was not Switch the transition into the link was slowed back to normal. He scolded himself inwardly. A truly novice mistake.

But it did not matter. After a bulk of the Life Principle had poured itself through the link the rest of it gained momentum. The Life Principle was through the link and spiraling quickly into the Shell thanks to the Path glyphs Pan had painstakingly laid out. It was fully ensconced in the brick looking golem within the minute. Pan’s work was over.

He stepped out of the circle and stretched. It had taken a little over an hour and his three days were almost up. Pan grabbed the Witness golem and tucked it under his arm. Then he covered it with the old and new copies of Prag’s research. Pan walked unusually quickly for a Nuit as he left the expansive caverns of Lab 15. He had places to be and familiars to acquire.

.

[Pandaemus]

.

Pan became very cautious as he reached the section of the Gug Adjak where most of the summoners resided. Catching the eye of Prag or Sillius would mean the end of his plans at this stage. If they were prone to grudges, as he suspected they were, maybe even his unlife was in danger. Pan tried to look all the part of a determined wizard who had spent an eternity here on the island. Perhaps he would be less suspicious if he left no doubt that he belonged in this part of the Citadel.

It was all in vain however. Pan reached the Inarta’s lab easily enough without causing a stir. His paranoia had forced him to assume too much. Not many summoners cared why an apprentice animator was up to. He hurriedly knocked on the old iron hinged wood of the door. It was compact, black, and unembellished, practicality reigned here in Sahova more than any other architectural creativity.

The door opened and the Wizard stood gazing out at Pan. He wore the same sort of universal dissatisfaction across his face, though now it was tempered with surprise. “You have returned.” From anyone else besides a Sahovan Wizard the statement would have sounded like an exclamation of pleasant surprise, now it just sounded like a slightly surprising finding. But Pan had not expected the man to act pleased to see him. Such trivial social mechanisms were lost on the Sahovans, and Pan was finding that more and more pleasing as he spent more time here on the island.

“I have the copy here, and the other item. May I enter?” Pan asked after waving the two leather-bound journals. He wanted to get on with ending the whole situation. Pan hurried past the Inarta as he shifted his weight to let the apprentice through. Before the Wizard could say something snide he held out the copy of the research for him. “It is all recorded word for word, though my penmanship is more organized than Prags.”

The Wizard tucked his lips tightly together in the most human mannerism Pan had seen from him yet. The Wizard said nothing but took the journal with care. He opened and lipped through it. For a silent fifteen minutes the Wizard inspected various pages and referenced charts with the original in Pan’s hand. While he stared down at the research Pan stared at him. The Nuit understood that the Wizard wanted to make sure they were identical, but he still found the imperious nature with which he did it offensive. The quicker he could leave, the better.

“This seems to be an adequate reproduction.” The Wizard said begrudgingly, his tone conveying much surprise. Arrogance was always quite ripe with fresh wizards. “Show me the golem.” Command was woven easily into the tone he used. Clearly he had spent much time as a senior apprentice before climbing his way to where he was now. Pan did not take offense to the tone, but was simply thankful for the chance to continue with business.

Pan set the original journal down at the edge of the Wizard’s desk and pulled out the brick of a golem. He held it out to the Inarta. The other took it looking less than impressed. “So this is my payment? It looks unimpressive.”

Pan let himself roll his eyes in a very human way, hoping the Wizard picked up on it. “It is a witness, it only needs to be able to hear and to speak. See this leather here? That is it’s ear, and this here is the mouth.” Pan indicated the two parts before continuing. “Abase. There I have just activated its directive to listen and remember sound associated with the language. The Ancient tongue word for speech will activate the speech directive. It is animated to respond to only you.” And me. “Go ahead and test it.” Pan folded his arms, waiting for the Wizard’s doubts to be dispersed.

“Canoch.” The word came with a carrying tone that was not needed. But Pan felt saying it would just upset the situation. They both watched as the Witness hummed into life.

”There I have just activated its directive to listen and remember sound associated with the language. The Ancient tongue word for speech will activate the speech directive. It is animated to respond to only you. Go ahead and test it.” It murmured in an oddly deep tone. The words seemed to come as a slightly more frequent rate than normal conversation, but still easy to follow. Pan smiled, it was always good to see your work successfully employed.

The Wizard could not hide a momentary smirk of satisfaction. “Very well. You will be placing it near Prag?”

“I’ll get it underneath his desk, you just have to retrieve it when you deem it time.” Pan explained. He would try his best to get it under the desk and hoped Prag would not find it there.

“Very well, good luck with the rest of your plan. I’ll remember you if I ever need an animator again.” The Wizard said dismissively, as if his words were some sort of rare compliment. Please never need an animator again. Pan thought ruefully.

“Thank you. I’m going to take the research back to Prag now. I’d appreciate it if you happen to interact with him again that you carry on the ruse that it was stolen.” Pan said carefully as he tucked Prag’s journal under his arm.

“Of course, that is the most beneficial strategy for both of us I think.” The Inarta said, moving back behind his desk with the new edition of the research. He turned back to has work and seemed to completely dismiss Pan.

So the apprentice turned without any formal goodbye and exited the private lab with a wash of relief. Now the rest would be relatively easier. There was little activity in the hallways of the Gug Adjak as he slipped over to the lad he had first encountered Prag and Sillius outside of. Before entering the lab he hastily shoved the Witness golem into his belt in the small of his back. It bit into him in an uncomfortable way, but he paid it no mind.

Pan found the apprentice and familiar at their desk in a heated argument. As Pan approached they both averted their attention to him. Prag’s face split into an ugly grin. [/color]“Outsmarted the old shyke, eh?” He said as way of greeting. The wizard stood and extended his hand. As Pan went to shake it the apprentice avoided his hand and instead slipped his fingers around the journal under his arm. “You got it back!”

Pan let his arm drop to his side, staring indignantly at the man. Sahova was full of the self-absorbed. “Yes, it was not easy, but I managed to cause a distraction and slip into his lab.” Pan said dismissively, trying to gloss over how the journal actually came into his possession and onto his payment.

“How?” Sillius asked with embellished cordiality. The familiar was much more sly than his Nuit counterpart. Pan decided on the fly to be vague and hope that would be enough to deter further investigation.

“I have other skills besides animation.” The words were spoken with enough gravity to hint at something sinister. “Now, how do we go about this familiar business?”

Sillius grew from the small swirling mass of liquid on the desk into a larger swirling mass of liquid in the air above the desk. “Right. Well Goyan and I will get to setting up the summoning circle. Don’t you worry yourself over it. It won’t take too long to do.” The familiar’s salesman attitude returned. No doubt he was looking forward to pushing a family member onto Pan or some such hidden agenda. Pan made a mental note to be very suspicious of Sillius throughout the whole process.

“Yes, no time at all. We’re very practiced at the art.” Prag added needlessly. He stood and grabbed a brush and special vial of ink from a drawer.

Pan felt the Witness golem loosening behind his back. He needed to find an opportunity to slip it under the desk. As Prag and Sillius moved into action crafting a summoning circle in front of the desk Pan moved himself to the opposite side under the pretense of giving them space to work. Pan waited until the pair was preoccupied with glyphing their work to bent quickly and shove the golem unceremoniously under the desk. Judging by the thick layer of dust and numerous quills laying dormant under there Prag did not concern himself with the underside of his desk.

Pan stood and tried to look innocent. Prag was still working on the circle whilst Sillius swirled next to him on the ground, advising in an authoritative tone. Each time Sillius would offer advice Prag would mutter that he already knew it.

Pan felt a jolt of horror as he realized he had not given the golem the command to enable its listen directive. He calmed himself, it could easily be rectified. Pan bent down low behind the desk and whispered. “Abase.”

“What are you doing?” Sillius was on the desk, bubbling in front of Pan’s head. Pan stared at him for a long moment.

“There was a quill on the floor.” He said, indicating the feathered writing utensil that had appeared in his hand.

“Oh. Thank you. We are ready for you now.” Sillius responded, sliding across the desk and leaping like a wave onto the ground.

“Good, very good.” Pan breathed. That had been a bit too close for his comfort…
 

.

[Pandaemus]

.

Prag and Sillius were situated on either side of the summoning circle as Pandaemus moved around the desk to watch their work. Pan was eager to see quality summoning at work. He had only a rudimentary knowledge of the art, but planned on becoming at least slightly more proficient once his situation on Sahova stabilized a bit more. As Pan watched with avidly, Prag drew a knife from his belt. He ran the rusted blade across a digit and pressed it into the edge of the summoning circle.

The inner circle began to change. Pan felt the raw, subtle power of the magic in the room as it began to liquidate. The surface wavered like a pool of unsettled water before calming. The liquid was too murky to see into, but Pan craned his neck anyway, eager to get on with the process.

“The first is another Sarawanki like myself. A wonderful person who could undoubtedly help a wizard like yourself.” Sillius said, his tone thick with the manipulative friendliness Pan had come to expect out of the slippery little creature. He felt he should be wary of all Sarawanki. Perhaps the glib tongue was a common trait. However, Pan was still eager to get on with it.

He did not have to wait long though. The surface shifted and seemed to rise up in the center. It elongated like some sort of fountain and then broke free from the circle. The mass of water swirled into an orb about the size of Pan’s head and then swirled again into a chaotic mass. The watery familiar glowed with an aura commonly seen in summoning. “Greetings wizard! I am Sanctus. I know that together you and I can do great things!” Its bubbly voice held the same false friendliness that Sillius often employed to him.

“Greetings Sanctus, I am Pandaemus.” Pan said warily. As he spoke Sanctus swelled momentarily and then broke into many globules before forming an orb again. “Why do you think we would make a good pair?” Pan was not sure how the whole thing worked, but it seemed like a reasonable question for the situation. He did not have to wait long before the Sarawanki’s voice rang out confidently.

“Because I know that you seek power and a trusted friend! I can deliver on both points. We can scour the world together, collecting the untold mysteries of the past!” The familiar seemed to shiver with excitement.

Pan looked at him for a brief moment before deciding that Sanctus was perhaps too related to Sillius for his liking. He shook his head. “I don’t think we are the right match, friend Sanctus.” As the familiar sunk back into the dark water of the summoning circle the Nuit apprentice was sure he could hear a bubbling curse spat in his direction. So much for the Sarawanki’s cordial manner.

Just a few short breaths after Sanctus disappeared another very different familiar began to emerge. This one was a mass of stone, dark and grey. As it emerged Pan realized it was in the shape of a crab and it was about the size of his torso. “Hello there, wizard. I am called Maladran.” The voice held an edge that was different from Sanctus’ bubbly falseness, but no less unsettling. It had an icy command about it, as if it would never settle for being second, or even tied with first.

“Hello Maladran, I am Pandaemus.” Pan bowed stiffly. “I will pose the same question to you that I asked our first visitor… Why do you think we would make a good pair?” He tried to keep the mistrust out of his voice. He had heard a few rumors of the Kirt. None were especially endearing.

“We? I don’t know you at all.” The familiar snipped. “I know myself though.” The voice was hushed, as if it only meant for Pan to hear. “I am ambitious, I seek power. I know how to get it too. To be bonded to me, you must want power also. You must be willing to forget about certain other… virtues in order to attain it. I don’t know about how we’d be as a pair, Pandaemus; But if you seek power and might I would help you get it.” Maladran finished. His serious promise hinted at the unspoken sinister nature of his methods. Pan was impressed with Maladran’s assertiveness and straightness, but it did not overcome the uneasy feeling he had. Maladran did not seem like the type of person Pan could trust with his unlife if it came to a power struggle between the two.

“You pose a very appealing offer, Maladran, but I do not think we are compatible.” Pan said.

Though he seemed sinister, Maladran was not prone to nonsense. “Very well. I will leave in that case.” The stone crab sunk slowly into the summoning liquid and disappeared.

Sillius trembled with some emotion. “You can’t say no to all of them!” He seemed frustrated. “Here this next one is probably not going to appeal to you but I promised… He is family after all…” The familiar seemed to hold his next choice in low regard. That boded well for the familiar, Pan thought with a small grin.

The water rose in the center as it had before, but this time a much smaller orb of clear liquid appeared out of its depths. The aura shimmered around the familiar with a majesty that only magic could achieve. The small orb of water, little larger than Pan’s fist, wobbled and spoke.

“Greetings! I’m Crail.” It said. The tone caught Pan off guard. It seemed eager and genuinely happy. He had expected another sly salesman like Sillius and Sanctus. “Who are you? You are the wizard in need of a familiar?” The Sarawanki after only a short pause, clearly too curious to wait for a response.

“I…uh, I am Pandaemus. And yes I am the wizard interested in acquiring a familiar.” Pan was caught off guard by the familiar’s intensity. Sillius made an embarrassed noise and Prag smirked from behind Crail.

“Well, here I am.” Crail said, accentuating the sentence with another wobble and a spouting of water.

Pan raised his eyebrows. “Indeed you are. But before we can do anything I’d like to hear a bit more.” He cleared his throat. It was a habitual gesture, not out of any actual function of his throat but as a way to clear his mind.

“Shoot.”

“Why do you think we would make a good pair?” Pan asked once again.

The Sarawanki spiraled down and up again, sprouting more water into the air and catching it. “Well I’m very curious about this world. I’m eager to learn and experience new things. I want a loyal partner who could be a trusted friend throughout our time together. Loyalty breeds loyalty after all. I am confident that with enough time I could become a good partner to tackle life with.” Crail’s voice wavered at the end, as if he realized he had been rambling.

Pan stared thoughtfully at the young Sarawanki. “I believe you would be too, Crail.”

Sillius started to speak about a few more relatives he had lined up but Pandaemus cut him off. “No no. I have made my choice. What is the next step?”

Prag and Sillius exchanged a look, then Prag shrugged and pulled up a document. Pan approached and the small Crail followed, his liquid form trembling with excitement. Prag indicated a pair of lines on the contract. “This here is your contract. You both have to sign here, in ichor or…water, for it to be done.”

Pan glanced from Prag to Sillius one last time before drawing his kris out of its sheath. It hissed with a promise of pain. The Nuit brought the blade’s tip to his thumb as he had done so many times during his animations. He awkwardly moved his thumb across the page. When he was done, his black ichor was smeared across the surface of the contract in a crude but undeniable scrawling of his name.

When he was finished Crail eagerly floated up and whipped a tendril of water across the parchment, chaotically penning the letters of his name.

Then Pan felt it. He could not hear, feel, or see anymore. His ability to feel stimuli faded out. He felt a cold, still panic overtake his undead form. For one excruciatingly long moment he was stuck in oblivion. The void has taken me. He knew it nothing else that this feeling could be. But the moment was over almost as soon as it had come. His senses faded back in as if he was waking groggily from a dream. He felt different, as if he was more than he had been before, and yet still the same.

When he glanced around to look at Crail, the familiar was even smaller than before. The tiny blob of water could easily fit into his cupped hand. He felt an undeniable connection. It was strong enough to almost unnerve him. But it was also very natural. It was as if he had always had the connection, but was just realizing it was there. “It is done?” He asked hesitantly of Prag and Sillius.

“Yes, can you not feel it?” Prag asked.

Pan definitely could. “Yes, yes I definitely feel it.” He was at a loss for words. Prag and Sillius seemed to dismiss the whole business, having experienced many summonings before and probably seen their fair share of bondings as well. Prag was packing up his small kit and Sillius sprung over to the desk to inspect the research Pan had brought. “We’re finished here. Thank you again for retrieving our journal, Apprentice Pandaemus.”

Pan nodded back at the two before turning to his new companion.

“So what now?” Crail asked. The familiar seemed as uncertain as he was.

Pandaemus held out his hand. Crail wove his way through the air in a short stream and landed on Pan’s palm. “I guess I show you your new home, Crail.” Pan was surprised when the Sarawanki leapt from his hand to his shoulder with a spout of djed.

“I’m eager to get to it then, Pan.” Crail said excitedly. He wobbled in a semi-upright mass on Pan’s shoulder.

Pan smiled, he had not heard that nickname since Lowych was alive.

.

[Ink]

Let me see what you have done with your ink. Pandaemous Skills Animation 2 Drawing 1 Familiary 2 Glyphing 1 Politics 2 Observation 1 Subterfuge 1 Tactics 1 Writing 1 Lores Crail: The Sarawanki The Loneliness of a Young Nuit Seeking a Familiar Finally Embroiled in the Politics Prag and Silius A Golem Owed: A Golem Made Animation: A Witness Golem Making Beneficial Connections Familiary Interviews Notes Familiar Granted! Please add a detailed description of Crail the Sarawanki to your CS, be as specific about the personality as possible. Remember an ST can take him over anytime. Between Black and White If there are any concerns or problems with my grading please feel free to toss me a PM. I am more than happy to explain my reasons or reevaluate them if you feel I've been unfair. Also please remember to edit your grade request as graded or delete it if possible. Thank you, Ink