Solo [Kinell Hotsprings] The Merlin's Visit

[Bennar Witt]

20th of Fall, 515 A.V.
Kinell Hotsprings

This, this is what I needed. Ben sighed deeply. He let the hot water caress his chest and felt the aches of his body melting away. Ben could feel the stress that tightened his upper back and neck slip away, as if washed off in the hotspring’s waters. The effect of the waters was something he had been skeptical about for a long time, since coming to Lhavit really. As he luxuriated in the hot water he felt glad he had swallowed his stubborn pride and decided to try out the natural baths.

Ben traced a circle in the water’s black surface with the tip of his thumb. He slid back into the water until only his face was above the surface. The sounds of the world around him disappeared into the watery song of the hotspring. Ben stared up at the clouded sky. Grey cotton drifted across a pale blue expanse. High up and impossibly far away he could just make out the crescent shape of Leth. Perhaps he drifted near because Syna was hidden behind the dark clouds.

Either way, the weather did not bother Ben. He had developed a cold and thought that this jaunt out to the Kinell Hotsprings was exactly what he needed to cure his ails. Ben turned his head to either side, stretching his neck. The water around his face wavered but he was careful not to move so suddenly that it splashed him. He sighed again, letting the crisp air fill his lungs.

How did I let this place go ignored so long?!

Hee hee hee hee!

What the shyke? Ben blinked and sat upright again. The water dripped down his body as he peered out across the hotsprings. A few other patrons were lounging in their own places amongst the pool, but none seemed to have made the odd noise. Ben was just about to shrug it off when he heard it again.

Hee hee hee hee!

He twirled around in the water much less gracefully than would be ideal. He did not know who he expected to be crouching right behind his head making odd noises at him, but what he found was not it. On the stony finger outcropping which he lounged against sat a large bird. Ben had seen them before around the skies of Lhavit. Naia had called them merlins when he asked her.

This one had a proud orange tinted chest and a fierce, hooked black beak. It stared gravely at him with bulging black eyes. Cloaked in silver black feathers the thing looked regal, even though it stood little over a foot and a half tall. Its yellow feet ended in black talons that looked like they could do some harm. It turned its head and looked at Ben full on when he faced it. Ben stared at the bird. The bird adjusted its wings and began grooming one wing industriously, paying no attention to the man in front of it.

[Bennar Witt]

Ben didn’t know what to do. He sat in the dark water, treading slowly. He had never considered the birds dangerous when admiring them far above. Sure for rabbits and other little creatures. Now, this aerial predator sat feet from him and he Ben wasn’t sure he could paddle away in time if the thing decided it wanted to make a souvenir of one of his eyes. Ben glanced around again. No one seemed to disturbed by his dire situation, or rather, they hadn’t noticed. The bird wasn’t exactly the largest of Lhavit’s predatory raptors, and may not have appeared as viciously armed as Ben now knew it to be.

The merlin turned its attention back to Ben when he lifted a hand out of the water. He made his call again, raising his wings in warning. The white underside of the wings grew visible for a moment before the bird settled back down. The bird’s significant chest rose and fell with his breathing, making him seem an indignant lord peering down at his unsatisfactory subject. That was Bennar. Ben wondered vaguely how some animals were gifted with such beautiful grace while others meandered along with none at all. At this moment, the merlin seemed to reign supreme as far as grace was concerned.

Suddenly the merlin hee hee’ed again and raised his wings. In a flurry of motion he was off, swooping low over the hotsprings. His body cut through the autumn winds with the ease of a practiced hunter. As the silver orange bird left, one of his silver wing feathers was pulled free and fell slowly into the water with Ben. It landed on the surface just as the merlin perched a few dozen feet away, on a jagged outcrop of rock. Ben watched the feather spin lazily in the spring water. He picked it up and examined it closely.

The thing was impossibly light. The dark silver was stripped across the feather with lighter grey. This pattern seemed to give the merlin a camoflague with most of the rocks around Lhavit. Ben twirled the thing in his hand and glanced over at where the merlin was now surveying the hotsprings. The bird turned its head towards Ben’s direction for a moment and the mage thought for an instant that the bird might come and take his feather back. Ben laughed at the idea.

The feather sat, almost weightless in his palm. It was the core device of flight. This bit of djed construct was what allowed the merlin to be such a beautifully effective predator. It was what lead to the freedom of the skies. Just this bit of bird-essence, this bit of djed.

What could I do with that freedom? Ben’s mind let the thought fall into the forefront of his attention alone. It sunk through him against a backdrop of void. A new ambition ignited within him. What could he do with such freedom? He had the means to mimic this! He could change his djed at will. Albeit, he did not have as much experience as he would have liked.

Ben let his mind slip into the self-focus he needed when practicing his Morphing. The expanding and compressing of his lungs, the twitching of minute muscles. He let his mind drift from the bigger details into the tiny ones. His understanding of himself slipped readily deeper, to the very djed that made up his body. It was this understanding that truly defined a Morpher. Once you could make that journey into yourself you could be a Morpher, but mastering the art meant a fluency with the manipulation of it. Ben was nowhere near there.

He just had his toes through the doorway, so to speak. Ben decided that he would try to replicate the feather. He settled his mind on the djed of a single hair on his left forearm. He brought the image of the feather to his mind, glancing at the real thing occasionally to get it right.

With a mental urging, he began to will that single hair to change. He manipulated the minute djed of the hair to grow. He could feel the subtle change on his arm, barely. He made it grow longer and thicker. As he did so he kept referencing the feather in his right hand. The once hair was now thick and as long as the feather. Ben focused on the flat silvery barbs that made up the rest of the feather.

He frowned. This seemed very intricate and quite possibly beyond his ability. He returned to his task, the water of the hot springs slapping dully against his chest and back. He continued to manipulate the djed of the now thicker hair, pulling it out into what he imagined the barbs to be like.

[Bennar Witt]

Ben looked at the product of his magic. The thing was vaguely feather-like, if one squinted and looked to the side. The main vane, or stem, was long and thick, but still a hair. It was not stiff or straight like the feather. It coiled and wavered as any hair wound. The barbs were, to be blunt, revolting. It was odd to see on his arm, like a long, many legged insect perched on him, They were both uneven and inconsistent in their spacing and thickness. They also coiled like hairs in odd ways.

Ben frowned deeper and prodded the creation with an exploratory finger. It shifted and dangled off his arm. A thousand of those and he would plummet to his death rather than soar like the merlin. The sight of the psuedohair-feather-insect creation made him queazy.

Well, that is a failure if I’ve ever experienced one. With a force of will Ben shifted the hair back to it’s rightful state on his arm. He rubbed absently over the skin and stared at the dark water around him. What had he done wrong? Obviously I had missed some vital parts of the whole thing. Maybe a closer look at the feather? Ben held the thing up in front of his face by the tip. It wavered in a slight, chilly breeze like a banner.

Ben brushed a finger across the edge of the feather. The barbs of silver flittered across his much rougher skin, tickling him minutely. They caught what little light there was and glinted. Ben held the feather closer to his face. There was a distinct pattern to the barbs that he hadn’t noticed before. They were entwined together to form a structured lattice. Ben peered down at it, making a face. It all seemed very complicated for a bird.

He glanced again at the merlin. It sat inspecting its nether region with a probing beak. Its yellow feet still clung to the jagged rock with a vicious set of talons. It was as though the thing sensed his attention. It looked up directly at him from its grooming and tilted its head. He got the impression he was being judged.

It’s not fair that you get them naturally, I bet you’d love some opposable thumbs, eh? Ben thought at the bird.

He began to focus his attention again. First on the larger aspects of his body. He felt the muscles in his torso and leg tightening and relaxing as he shifted his body in the water. He felt the bones in his spine moving as he rolled his head slowly. The water lapped against him warmly, melting the stress from his physical form.

He deepened his focus, letting his mind’s attention drift down to the very djed that made up his essence. He brushed across its surface with his mind, knowing it was ready to be changed, if only he had that right knowledge about how to do it.

Such an ability could easily cause severe harm. He could change something and it could never be changed back. He could shift something in his djed and it would cause a wound that could kill him in minutes. So he was careful. He did not change anything he found, until he refocused on the same small hair.

With the merlin’s feather as a model and a focal point, he began to gingerly manipulate the djed of the hair. Once again he elongated it. But this time he knew the hair was not enough to hold a feather. He searched his body for some other thing to change it into.

Bone? No, no bone was far from what he needed.

He searched down the length of his arm. Ben smiled when he got to his hand.

Nail. Perhaps the fingernail was the right sort of thing for a feather? Ben decided to give it a shot. He willed the djed of the hair to become like the fingernail. He could feel it stiffen and raise slightly off his arm, though he did not bother to look at it with his eyes. He was focused on the feather.

He extended the barbs from the fingernail-hair-feather on his arm. With each tiny barb he changed it too into the same stiffer consistency as the fingernail. He painstakingly mimicked the latticework style of the feather with his own reproduction. It took him more than a few minutes, but he finally finished the work. When he turned to examine the thing on his arm he was halfway pleased.

It was not a feather. But it was also not what he had made originally. It was stiffer and straighter. Though it was a ghastly pale thing that did not resemble the visage of the sleek silver feather, it was the same general shape of the thing. Ben was immensely pleased that it had turned out so well.

He bent and plucked it from his arm with a grimace. A drop of blood appeared where it had been. The pain that shocked his skin was only a fraction more painful than plucking the hair from the arm. He held the ‘feather’ up in his hand and it slumped a bit more than a real feather. It would never be strong enough to fly with, though it was much better than hair feathers. Ben experimentally laid a finger to the thing. He brushed the edge of the nail-feather with his fingertip. Where the real feather had bent and reformed, this one bent and stayed bent, or broke off.

So it was a mixed victory. He still counted it as a step forward. He glanced back at the merlin but the bird was gone. Apparently the predator cared little for his attempt to mimic it.

[Bennar Witt]

Ben sighed and searched the grey sky for the bird. He had no luck though. The life of a falcon was fast and ever-mobile apparently. Ben swam his way over to the rocky edge and clambered out. He quickly found the linens he had left folded and dried himself. As he dressed, his mind wandered back to the merlin sitting so close to him. He carefully picked the silver feather up off the ground and tucked it into his shirt. He would keep it and continue to work on the morphing. Who knows, perhaps someday he would be able to utilize the entire form of the bird.

Maybe I’ll wander over to Pirambra’s Pets and see if she has any merlins. He had only been in the shop once or twice. And only ever to look at the animals. But his encounter left him thinking that he may want to adopt on of the majestic birds as his own.

Ben fastened his belt and began to make his way through the jagged rocks and pools of trickle down water toward the path that lead down the hill. He felt a noticeable difference in himself. The hot springs had served to ease some of the ache of stress the last few weeks had caused on him. He would have top return here soon, possibly make it a normal part of his schedule.

He granted down at his fingernail, thinking back to the malformed feather he crafted. It was not strong enough to be a true feather, not was it the right coloring. He frowned at the fingernail. It needed to be harder, and flexible.

Ben let his mind drift back to that familiar place where he could access his djed. He did not seek the minute djed of a hair, but the djed of his fingernail. He let his mind manipulate the nail of his pointer finger on his left hand. He wakefully hardened the nail until it was black and thick.

Ben stepped carefully down the path. His pace slowed to a wandering amble as his focus moved to his magic. Brown hair hung over blue eyes as he furled his brow at his own finger. The appendage was black and hard, possibly like a talon? But it was still just a fingernail.

He let the will of his mind shape the nail into the curved point that was the merlin’s talon. It was not hard to recall the vicious weapons. Their intimidating clutch had been only feet from Ben. He felt a pressure growing in his finger. The nail had grown into a curved crescent jutting dangerously out from his finger. He examined it. It was a damn good representation of the talons he had been so frightened of on the merlin, but it ached badly. He frowned at crouched down, holding it out in front of him. What could be wrong with it? It seemed to look the same as the bird’s talons.

Ben tapped the talon experimentally on a nearby rock, gently. A sharp pain ran through his finger and radiated in his hand. The talon fell off and lay on the dirt path. Ben yelped in pain and stared at his finger. The crusted under skin where the nail was supposed to be was red and radiated pain.

Shyke! He thought dumbly.

He growled in pain and anger at himself. Ben groped on the ground for the talon with his good hand, clutching it tightly. He had missed some vital structural or skeletal aspect of the bird’s foot obviously. The talon only worked because it was connected to that type of foot. The reasoning became clear to his pain-seared mind as Ben stumbled down the path.

His mood soured as he thought over the blunder. Of course the stiff, hard talon had fallen off! It didn’t have any support. He had been an idiot, and uncareful. Ben blew on the finger, the cool air giving the wound a moment of relief.

Ruefully Ben grinned. I did almost make a feather though. He placed the talon gingerly in his belt, tucking it behind the leather. If nothing else it would make an interesting story. He groaned at the finger.

Maybe a dip in the hot springs will make this feel better?

[Bee]

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If there's anything I may have missed, please PM me and I'll BEE happy to look into it.

 

Bennar

Skills

• Observation +3
• Morphing +3

Lores

• Lore: Merlin's cry
• Lore: Merlin: Graceful bird
• Lore: Morphing: Hair to feather, basic
• Lore: Morphing: Revolting failure
• Lore: Kinell Hotsprings: A warm bath

Miscellaneous

• 1 Merlin feather

Comments: Another great read from Ben. Enjoy your grades!