[Guido, Training] All About Glyphs...

[Guido Faragas]

Timestamp, 52nd day of Fall, 509AV
Location: Syliras -Silven’s residence.
Thread Type: Self-mod Training - Glyphing/Reimancy

The home of Silven was located in one of the better off but quieter areas of the city - some distance away from the bustle of the city taverns and the lively trading district. A perfect location for the retirement of a moderately wealthy old man. Although, as Guido Faragas now knew only too well, Silven was no ordinary old citizen. The grey-bearded human certainly looked frail and, on occasion, he could be forgetful; yet, he still had a logical and inquiring brain, a sharp tongue and enormous appetite for decent food and ale. Unfortunately, his consumption of the latter tended to make the aged fellow rather sleepy, a state of mind which rapidly induced loud and prolonged snoring.

It was the sound of snoring that emanated from behind the closed door to Silven’s study as Guido made his way down the long hallway that traversed the centre of the small suite of rooms within which the old man lived. I should have come for my lesson before lunchtime. He’s bound to have downed a mug or two of that brew I brought back from the Stallion. He paused before the door, reluctant to disturb his mentor. Yet, he had missed his sessions with Silven for a few days, having been out of the city on one of his father’s regular scavenging trips. The memory of the trip still made him grimace and he was sure he still stank of the fetid, swampy water where he had been forced to dig. Since his bedraggled return, he had avoided visiting his father, furious at the waste of time and effort involved in the expedition. Indeed, he wasn’t even sure if his father had returned.

Making a firm decision, he slowly and quietly opened the door. However, his attempt at a cautious entry met with little success, for he promptly tripped over an empty mug that had rolled across the floor to booby-trap the entrance to the room. Arms flailed, feet slid from under his body and he ended up in a tangled heap on the floor. The snoring stopped. The floored youth peered upwards from his indelicate position. A beady eye and a raised eyebrow regarded him with condescending amusement. “Practicing our stealthy movement skills are we, Guido? Or, is it some new art form that involves intertwining one’s limbs in haphazard fashion. Oh no! You must be inspecting the detailed pattern of the floor rug. I always thought you might have a penchant for weaving and the like. Perhaps more suited to you than the magical arts?”

The old man stirred from his chair, stroking his long but well-kept beard and then twirling the end around one long finger. “I wasn’t asleep, you know,” Silven confided to his visitor, as the long-legged youth clambered to his feet. “Just resting my eyes. Contemplating. Medidating. Preparing your lesson. I take it that is why you are here.”

“Oh, er, yes,” stammered a red-faced Guido. “Glyphing..er.. runes and er...”

“Well, shall we commence, or would you rather stammer for a few bells?” The wizard’s words snapped like a whip, suddenly business-like and to the point.

[Guido Faragas]

The first time that Silven had mentioned Glyphs, Guido had reacted with excitement. He had dreamt of the strange symbols that he had seen in the books and scrolls that were scattered around the old man’s laboratory. He had fantasised of the manner in which they would enhance his growing Reimancy skills. Yet the reality had, thus far, been somewhat of anticlimax. Silven had insisted that the young man spend hours drawing and redrawing a number of basic runic shapes.

“You will thank me in the long run,” explained the wizard. “There are no short cuts. Simple mistakes can have deadly consequences. You must be able to recreate the shapes perfectly, time after time. You must dream about them, visualise them during your waking hours and recreate them from memory.”

Thus, Guido had spent much time with a pen and parchment, slowly and meticulously inscribing the symbols. The old man would not even tell him what specific runes did, although the novice felt certain indications the more he drew the symbols. Indeed, there was one in particular that he was sure he knew the meaning of.

Having recovered from his embarrassing fall, Guido followed Silven into his laboratory, which was housed in a deep basement reached by a long flight of narrow steps. The old man complained every time he had ascend or descend but, despite his infirmity, he managed the steps more easily than Guido would have thought possible. Indeed, the young human sometimes thought that the elderly fellow played up his frailty, for he enjoyed having his assistant run around tending to all his many needs.

The laboratory consisted of several rooms, including the main area which housed many books, scrolls and unusually shaped bottles containing strange substances and ancient artefacts. The rooms were illuminated by a series of oil lamps which created a surprisingly vivid display of light. Silven led Guido through this room and opened the door to what could only be described as a small cell. The room was bare save for an upright wooden chair and small table on which sat a pile of parchments, an ink well and several writing implements. Silven claimed that “writing with no distraction will enhance your progress.”

With a sigh, Guido took his accustomed seat in the chair. “Practice: Asch, Khen and Lagu. Concentrate on writing them as small as you can without sacrificing precision.” Silven named the three main glyphs that he had forced his student to recreate time after time. Without another word, the old man left the room, humming a quiet but rather jaunty tune as he closed the door.

Grimacing, Guido picked up a pen with a fine point, pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and began his task. As he did so, he envisaged the shape of the three runes in his mind:

[Guido Faragas]

Guido carefully dipped the end of his pen in the ink, ensuring that the correct quantity was available for his next rune. Lagu: a relatively easy rune to transcribe. Start at the bottom, then upwards with one flowing stroke before a quick movement down to the right at the appropriate angle. He finished with a flourish before blowing carefully to dry the ink and then setting his writing implement down on the rough surface of the table.

Fifty times. I’ve written fifty copies of these three damn glyphs. How many more does he want me to do? I am so bored. This is too much like hard work. Magic should be exciting; adventurous, It shouldn’t make you yawn.

He sat back in the hard chair, wriggling his aching rear to try to obtain a little comfort. His mind drifted back to the first time Silven had instructed him in glyphs...it had all appeared to be so exciting...an opportunity to further develop his skills after his fairly rapid progress with the fire aspect of reimancy... after all, how hard could writing a few glyphs be....

(flashback)

“...glyphs are the foundation of wizardy. Yet it has become a rare art; many no longer acknowledge its importance. Yet, a wizard is incomplete without this key skill. A wizard without magic is akin to a swordsman with one arm tied behind his back.” Silven paused and smiled, as if pleased at his allusion. I have always preferred to operate with both arms, both legs and any other appendage that will grant me an advantage. The time has come when your reimancy must take a back seat to the acquisition of your skills in glyphing...”

“...glyphs are the alphabet of wizardry as letters are the alphabet of language. They combine to forms words and sentences and take the form of sigils. These sigils may be of immense power and danger, not least to their creator. So, great care must be taken in the construction of the building blocks – the glyphs. They must be constructed with an eye for perfection. Every stroke of the pen must be measured for the correct weight; the lines must be of the correct angles – the curves of the correct curvature. All this you must learn....”

“Examine these glyphs.” The old man handed Guido a curled parchment. On its surface were inscribed six symbols.

“These are in turn Asch, Tak, Lagu, Birith, Suhil and Khon,” continued the bearded mage. “You must learn to write these before we can move on. It will take patience and time....”

(end of flashback)

Patience and time.

Guido picked up the pen and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and clattered to the bare stone floor.

[Guido Faragas]

“Oh very clever, most impressive. You clearly have well developed throwing skills.” Silven stood in the open doorway to the room, arms ostentatiously placed on his hips. He shook his head and bent down to retrieve the pen. The creaks in his old joints were audible as he returned to an upright position.

“I’m sorry, Master Silven,” the youth said in shamefaced manner, his complexion colouring to a deep shade of red. I let my frustration get the better of me. I have copied these....these glyphs so many times.”

“And are they perfect?” The old man walked wearily to Guido’s side, picking up the scroll and then perusing it for a few moments. He stroked his beard in a slow and deliberate fashion. “Not bad, just a little more practice.”

Guido failed to stifle a groan. Silven cackled with laughter. “Oh very well, you have progressed well enough. In truth, your writing has been adequate for some time now.”

The young human frowned. “Then why....”. The words drifted away as Guido’s countenance took on a perplexed appearance.

“This was a test of your patience and ability to persevere as much as your skills,” explained the old mage."I saw in you, a young man who was in too much of a hurry. The magic arts are not for the impatient, or the lazy. This was, in part at least, a test of your character. And, you have surprised me. You have written out these letters without complaint for a much longer time than many of my previous students. You still have a tendency to slack at times but I see that the draw of the arts has helped you to overcome some of this character defect.”

Guido’s jaw dropped and his mouth splayed open revealing a gleaming set of white teeth.

“Well, I’m not really interested in inspecting your teeth,” continued the mage. “Follow me into my study and I will tell you more of glyphs and perhaps we might even try a little experiment.”

Without a further word, Silven ambled out of the cell.

[Guido Faragas]

The mage’s basement study was a small room that lay to one side of the main basement area. The walls were lined with several rows of dusty books and scrolls. In the centre of the room was an oak desk behind which sat a tall, high backed chair with carved arms. It was in this chair that Silven liked to sit when he delivered his lectures on magic to his pupil.

As Guido entered the study, the bearded mage was already ensconced behind the desk. He motioned for the youth to sit in a small, low chair that stood in front of the desk. Guido ambled to the chair, pulled it out and perched himself on the edge of the hard seat. Placed immediately before him on the desk was a scroll on which was inscribed the six runes he had been assiduously copying.

“Tell me,” began Silven. “Do you know any of these symbols?” His blue eyes twinkled in the dimness of the room which was illuminated by a single oil lamp that stood on one edge of the desk.

“Know,” replied Guido hesitantly, not at first understanding his companion’s meaning. “I know them well. I have drawn them continually...Oh, I see...do I understand their true meaning?” Asch, Tak, Lagu, Birith, Suhil and Khon. I know their names but their meaning. Yet there is one that I feel I know...

“This one,” he pointed at one of the glyphs.” Suhil. I believe that it is a focus glyph.”

“Very good,” nodded Silven, raising one eyebrow in appreciation. “You are correct. Now remind me, what is a focus glyph?”

Another test...The aspiring mage recalled Silven’s description from his first rather long lecture on the subject.

A focus glyph is a crucial key to the understanding of glyphing as a whole, for it is the cornerstone of many sigils. A focus stores magic. It is a well into which energy may be poured for future release. If you mark yourself with such a focus, it may assist you in channelling your djed; it is often combined with barrier and trigger glyphs when written on scrolls or carved into objects...

The pupil faithfully recounted the words of his tutor, who nodded sagely.

“Right then, shall we have a go at decorating that rough old hand of yours with Suhil?”

Guido’s eyes blinked faster than they had ever done. He says it just like that. After all this time. I thought I’d be excited but all I feel is apprehension. Damn it, I’m scared.

[Guido Faragas]

“We will try a controlled experiment,” explained the mage. “You will draw the focus glyph on your hand and then attempt to manifest a small quantity of djed through your hand. If done correctly, the focus will facilitate the process, for it will channel your djed. Of course, without a barrier it will not retain the djed, you must do that. However, you should be able to create power more rapidly than you have been able to do hitherto. Yet, you must take care. Channel only a little djed until you have a feeling for the amplification provided by the focus. There is a danger of overgiving. And you know what that entails."

Overgiving. How could I forget... .You will never let me forget that lesson. I can still taste the metal on my tongue, as if I had tried to lick or eat some metallic implement. I can still see my blood red eyes reflected in the mirror. I can still see those eyes burning within the flames I conjoured. I can still feel my screaming limbs, as if I had climbed the highest mountain in the land with no rest or pause. Does he think I want that again! I may be impatient but I know my limits, you have taught me well in that regard.

Silven handed his pupil a thin stick of charcoal. “Use this, I find it more practical to carry around than ink, and blood is such a showy way of proceeding.”

Taking the black stick, Guido placed his left arm on the desk and slowly drew the glyph on his hand. It took more effort than on paper, for his hands were rough and the flesh folded if he pressed too hard. Yet he knew the rune well – the firm upward stroke and then the loop down to the left and then upward once again to form the hook. It was a little strange to draw the familiar symbol on his own body, yet he sensed its power immediately.

Having inspected the rune to his own satisfaction, Silven rose from his chair. “Perhaps as a precaution, we ought to return to the cell. There is less to harm there.”

Less to harm? Shit....

[Guido Faragas]

The trainee magic-user followed his mentor to the plain writing room. As soon as Guido had closed the door, the old man turned to face his student. Silven had a smile of quiet anticipation on his face. “Prepare yourself; this will be your most interesting experience since your initiation and first appreciation of res.”

Interesting? Appreciation? Pain and exhaustion is more like it. Guido’s mind wandered back to his initiation... the cuts on his hand, skilfully drawn by the reimancer’s sharp knife...the grey, gaseous cloud that drifted in his direction and insinuated its way through his wounds, through his inadvertently open mouth and through even the very pores of his skin......the sudden intense pain as if the blade of the knife was cutting every nerve in his body....the strange feeling that related to the inner djed within his body...the scream that welled up in his throat...the taut arching of his back... and, finally, the overwhelming relief as the pain subsided, only to be replaced by a wave of fatigue and the sight of his teacher’s satisfied smile....

And then, his first lesson in manipulating his own djed, seeking out, forming and expelling the res...

“Recall the feeling that you had during your initiation, when you appreciated the existence of your own djed,” the old man had stated as he interwove the fingers of both hands in the form of a steeple. It was an action that he often performed prior to a period of concentration: it was almost a signal that Guido’s instruction had begun.

“You must contact your djed, expel it and then form it into a small ball of fire as your first step to mastering fire reimancy. Personally, I have always found the hands to be a convenient place to allow the res to make its way to the outer world. However, in principle, you may expel it from whatever part of your body or orifice you prefer. I once knew a colleague who...well, perhaps that story is one best left for another time. You must also appreciate the form the res will take: it may be gaseous, liquid or even solid depending on the task in hand. A gas is sensible to begin with, for it is the easiest to expel and will take the form of a flame with relative ease. Once you have mastered it, you may experiment with thin liquids. Controlling these effects will be hard and is the key to further progress. Emitting res alone is merely the prelude to control of the art.”

It had been hard at first. His mind associated the sense of his djed with the intense pain of the initiation and it took a force of will to seek it out; it was a sense of dormant energy waiting to be called, moulded and fulfil its purpose. He pictured it as a bundle of multi-coloured strands, permeating his entire being; waiting to be unwoven and then reformed as res. Yet, this was no simple process at first; it was like tearing out a reluctant tooth, deeply embedded in its socket. And yet after repeated failures and resting to recover, he achieved his first success. A small translucent, grey cloud tinged with red; the colouring of his own inner djed according to Silven. Perhaps a sign that fire and flame were to be his metier.

Each time it had become easier and he had progressed at expelling and controlling small balls of fire; throwing them across the room, igniting the wooden kindling in the hearth and then attracting the fire back to his palm. The master had also taught his pupil the importance of exercising control, forcing Guido to spend hours perfecting the lighting of the wick of a small candle.

“Guido!” The sharp, familiar voice punctured the youth’s reverie. “Are you ready to begin or are you daydreaming yet again?”

[Guido Faragas]

The novice reimancer began the familiar routine of attuning to his inner djed, unravelling the threads of magical energy and pushing the res through his hand. His eyes closed in concentration. However, this time it was different: he felt the itch of the glyph on his palm as if Suhil was anxious, greedy for the magical energy. Perhaps this feeling was a defence mechanism, for Guido tempered the fashioning of his res, limiting the flowing strands to a mere trickle. In hindsight this proved to be wise....

As he reached the point where the res was ready to surge from his body, the steady flow of energy suddenly became more rapid. It was as if a small stream of slowly moving water had suddenly hit the strong current of a rapid flowing river. The youth let out an involuntary gasp, as the res reached the Suhil glyph and formed a rapidly increasing cloud of gas on his palm. The power of the res had been amplified by the focus and Guido struggled to control it. Then, he thought he had it and moved to ignite the gas, desperate to form the flame whilst the energy was under his control. Yet his control was flawed and the ball of flame was considerably larger than he had expected; he jerked and lost control, the flame flew out of his hand..

His eyes snapped open and then closed again to shield them from the bright light as the flamestrike hit the far wall of the room. “Silven...,” he began, scarcely able to force his eyes open.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face the stern face of the mag. “I thought it prudent to move out of your way, whilst you finished your redecoration of the wall. I can’t say that the large, dark burn mark does much for my sensibilities but you are free to decorate your room in whatever style you see fit.”

“It is more difficult than you think is not?”The mage put a kindly hand on Guido’s shoulder. “The first time I tried Suhil I burnt my mentor’s hat. It was his pride and joy. A horrible peaked thing. I was rather glad I destroyed it but he never forgave me.”

[Guido Faragas]

It was a matter of practice, Guido reflected. Yet such practice contained within it a paradox. Whilst the effective use of Reimancy required constant practice and attention to deal, this very practice wore down the mage’s energy levels and brought with it the danger of overgiving. It was a matter of balance and Guido had to consciously temper his desire for quick results. In this regard, the presence of an experienced mentor was vital and the trainee mage knew he would have overstepped the mark more often, with potentially dire consequences, if Silven had not constantly bored him with lectures on the dangers of Reimancy.

The second attempt was more successful. He took care to consciously limit the flow of res and strain it back to counterbalance the pull of the glyph. Balance is the key. The flow and the pull must be in harmony and then the external production of the res can be enhanced without losing control.

The ball of red-tinged res was only slightly smaller than his first attempt but the rate of its growth was much slower and the tall man exerted a degree of control that, whilst still imperfect, was sufficient to contain the glyph-enhanced energy. Still, he would not have retained the control for any length of time and so he rapidly ignited the ball and threw it to the far wall.

“Better,” nodded Silven. “And a matching pair of scorch marks are so more pleasing to the eye than a single one.”

“There is no great mystery to controlling the focused energy. It is simply balancing the flow with the pull of the focus glyph whilst maintaining control over the res as it forms in your hand. I would suggest that you rest now and then try again either later today or tomorrow. Once you can show me complete control, we can progress to some minor sigils.”

“Thank you, master,” replied Guido with a formal bow.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me master,” said the mage with a tinge of disapproval in his tone. “It will go to my head. I shall become vain. I am no master; merely an old and declining practitioner of a once noble art.”

You love flattery, you old rogue. You know it and I know it. “As you wish, m...Silven. I will avoid such compliments for I could not bear to be the cause of such distress.”

[Guido Faragas]

For once, Guido agreed with his mentor that a period of rest was required. Indeed, by the time the would-be reimancer had reached his home, he felt exhausted and immediately collapsed into his cot. He scarcely recalled falling asleep – a deep sleep that lasted well into the following day.

Buoyed by his success in controlling the flames, Guido returned to Silven’s apartment the following morning, hoping to continue his studies. However, his aspirations were dashed as the door was opened by a wizened, grey-haired woman who acted as housekeeper to the old man. In her shrill, piercing voice - which so irritated Guido - she informed her visitor that Silven had been called away on urgent business and she had no knowledge when he would return. She delivered the same message on subsequent days, as the increasingly disconsolate apprentice repeatedly returned, hoping to hear some news of his mentor.

The period following Silven’s departure was frustrating for Guido: at first, he diligently continued writing out the glyphs but he knew he required further tuition to make any substantial progress. He spent most of the remaining fall and winter doing odd-jobs and menial labouring tasks for his father who had now returned from his latest scavenging escapade. As winter turned to spring and summer, there was still no sign of the old man’s return. The old woman looked increasingly worried, for she had heard no news and even her excessively shrill voice appeared muted and sorrowful...

OOCA quick post to finish this dangling thread off and cover my absence as agreed