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Magi-Kin: A timeline game about wizards

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Premise/Da Rules
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    Donald Darf

    (Heavily inspired by WORLD OF SCIENCE! By @ScottishMongol, also, I'm putting this here cause I doubt my own knowledge on history and this probably won't be too accurate cause this is history with wizards)
    Mankind always dreamt that there was more to this world then what was seen, then what was logical, of wielding powers beyond comprehension to bring their ambitions into reality, flying through the sky, weaving flames, and seeing miracles with just a snap of their fingers
    In the year 1900, the first 3 Magi-Kin unlock their power, ready to change the world
    We will write a new history, one where physics is but a suggestion, one where things from myths and legend can potentially become real

    Now, onto the rules

    Da Rules
    1 ) Each of us take a turn during this game writing the events of a single year in the timeline

    2) All you need to do is simply claim a Year and you'll be allowed to write it, you cannot claim multiple years at the same time, once your year is up, you have three days to check in, and one week after that to post what occurs during the year, although you may be able to request an extension, if you cannot post, you will be bumped to the bottom of the claims list, you can immediately request a new year after you finish writing a turn though

    3) Make sure to build off of and use what has come before, and do not treat the creations of others lightly without good in-universe reason, if someone made a Magi-Kin, a nation, Magic System, a faction, or item you don't like, simply destroying it and wiping their slate clean will be treated as a violation of Rule 12, also make sure not to contradict anything previously established

    4) The Butterfly effect is somewhat malleable to you, certain historical figures will and will not be born according to your whims if you desire to it so, same goes for original timeline events

    5) This is a game about a Earth with magic, so no aliens, mutants, mad scientists, or robots and other such sci-fi things, but there is a another stipulation, you can only add fantasy resources, phenomena, and entities sparingly, gods used to power holy magics will have to be treated as other-dimensional forces with will that can be channeled with faith and stuff, other dimensions, access to afterlives, mystical creatures, stuff that can confirm some sort of cosmology, and enigmatic resources must be done very rarely (Or at least ask permission), manmade magic stuff is very allowed though

    6) Each year, you can Awaken up to 3 people in the Setting as Magi-Kin, people with a natural talent towards magic and likely specialized in a Magic System and or bringing along a new one, the downsides to being a Magi-Kin is gaining a incredibly different sense of logic and understanding of the universe matching the themes of their Magic System, enough to make it difficult to be truly understood as a person, it is not hereditary, genetic, and cares not for the moral character of the individual, and truly random, fate manipulators can't produce Magi-Kin

    7) Wieldable Magic comes in the form of Magic Systems, different styles of magic that do different things, new Magic Systems that people can learn only get discovered and learnt from Magi-Kin who bring them along in their Awakening and manage to teach them to others, Natural Magic just belongs to inherently magical creatures, basically just their abilities, like a dragon's fire breath and flight

    8) A good template for a Magic System is Results (What it does), Methods (How its done), Conditions (Variables & restrictions), for example, the Result of my Magic System could be transforming things into other things, Transmutation, the Method can be physically touching the target of the magic, and the Conditions could be the magic is difficult to use unless the target symbolically and physically matches the intended new form, easier to turn water to blood, harder to make a man into a lamp, if you fail a spell, you get somewhat altered yourself to match your personality as a individual, this template is suggestes but you can use your own methods to think stuff up

    9) A common rule of Magic is that the more powerful and reality breaking it is, the more skill required, the more conditions needed, and the restrictions added, unless you're a Magi-Kin, in which case you're a natural at it, but conditions and restrictions still apply, but still, others can definitely learn it

    10) The different Magic Systems operate on different logics, one could use energy from the results of consuming psychadelic mushrooms and another could summon beings from the hellplanes, Anti-Magic is impossible unless you make a antithesis for every possible alternate law of reality, in which case you just make Anti-Reality Magic

    11) The game begins in 1900, remember to use references, such as Wikipedia, to know what it was like in the in the year your turn is set, just to help you out

    12) I will not tolerate jerks, genuine support of historical atrocities, racism, sexism, generally if you're a hateful and or disgusting individual you better fix that before joining in on this and certainly not put that into text on this thread, we can bring up the horrible parts of history but NEVER endorse them

    13) If you have a question about the rules or are unsure about something, ask me, I'm here to help you have fun, also to have fun too, but helping you enjoy this is a priority

    14) As the GM, I will be enforcing these rules, editing them, and adding new ones if there is a flaw I find in them is part of the job too
     
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    I'll temporarily claim 1900, if someone else with better writing skills wants it I'm more then willing to give it up, just remember that it all begins with 3 new Magi-Kin
     
    By the way, you can give a Magi-Kin inhuman traits as result of their Awakening, it doesn't have to be a possibility of their Magic System, you can just give one stone skin if you're making them a earthbender or something
    Just a option
     
    I wonder how many days it has been, hopefully the deadline hasn't been passed
    Edit: Just checked, it says on Gracie's post that it was on a monday, and I've check my clock and it says friday, so all thats left is the weekend, unless my devices clock isn't working
    Which would be weird considering that it never made me late for work, in which case I am ridiculously lucky
     
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    1900 - Dog, Seer, and Tiger
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    • Trigger Warning: Death, Murder, Implied Infant Mortality

    5th February, Year 1900
    Yorkshire, Bilton
    The St Peter Bilton Church was not a very impressive structure, it was definitely the grandest in the village. Yet one had to travel to Kingston upon Hull to see either the St Mary Church or St Borromeo Church if you were… Catholic. Most proper folk would say that Bilton Church, was just right. For the village it serviced and was named after. Servicing quite a few others in the area, much easier, less hectic than in Hull. The wall's weren't too tall and much like the river barriers in Hull they failed to keep out the flooding, not of water but of the sea mist which flooded the dales. Outside of service only the local priests spent too much time inside of it and well of course those who uttered about, speaking of the good old days when youngsters listened. Well their was a permanent resident of the Church, even the visitors who came for Saturday knew them but none had the heart to drive them out.

    To the corner of the Church, lay a grave that seem to hide away from the rest, quiet much like its resident. Upon this small and humble grave, was a smaller and humbler hound one of the local terrier breed. Those of polite company would have said it was such a shame to allow the creature to dwell here, dirtying it long and silvery coat. While those of lesser pedigree would say that it reminded them of a dirty mop. Which perhaps was not unfair as the smell of unearthed earth and wild grass clung to their rather mattered coat. Preference for the grand enclosed walls of the church then the village outside or the hills outside. If one was to be a bit cruel, one could say the dog state is reminiscent of its master, one of many farmers who could never quite seem capable of ridding himself from the stench of manure and the dirt beneath his nails.

    Once upon a time the family of the old farmer had tried to coax the hound, away from the fog filled graveyard and into their well-light homes. Yet no matter what they tried, dragging from one yard to another. The clever little thing would find himself trotting back down St Peter road, only for the vicar to let him in, resting upon the modest grave. Whether it was a bitterness or a business they were left to do as they pleased, which was mostly resting and begging for leftovers. A sorrowful little landmark, curled up in the corner.

    The hounds mind would drift, as the minds of elder often do. Remembering the time when dirty nails would scratch at his ears, with the smell of stained pipe curling in their muzzle. Those were the days, before the sorrow came and the other hands scratched at his ears. The restless pacing, followed by frantic escapes and peaceful walks down the street. Before a manner of peace befell their mind as they lay upon the grassy knoll. Sharp ears perking, for the church bell tolled and for a mere moment the canines eyes opened, the heaviness clenching down upon them. Keeping them shut before their melting eyes could see. For in the distance at another corner of the church yard a gathering was taking place.

    Funeral processions are not too common in Bilton, not because few pass away. More-so the village is growing smaller with time and so fewer are here to be buried. For the young men and women want to leave behind the toils of hard and good labour, to live in the centre of industry that of London! Yet they'll have to settle for Hull of all places, dreary as it may be. Still this it is gloom when the young are taken before they can be foolish, wooden coffin no larger than a basket that one would carry common tatters with. The choked sobbing which stalked the breeze, frayed. Overcome by the sound of the church bell tolling, the sound rolling over the dales.

    The toll sounded of sweet relief, a lightness in the joints and the hip which had dragged upon them. Rising to their feet, well leaping from their perch they tore across the yard with a furore for the gates had been swing upon. There was stillness in the world for only the old church bell seemed to sound in the silence, not even the sound of claw digging into grass or the huffing of small lungs. There was a piercing sound that shook the enchantment which had curled around the pleasant memories in the loyal hounds mind, a frightened thing of confusion. One that stopped the terrier as they almost tumbled down in their flight, their head swivelling with an oddly owlish speed.

    Wailing, not sobbing but wailing.

    For amidst the gathering of darkened figures, not one flinched, none stretched their hand to comfort the wailer. One could have said this was a typical stiff upper lip but the gathering was far more attentive to the words of the vicar, who raised his hands and spoke in the tongue the hound had only learnt a few words. Eyes drawn away from the gate which beckoned with open arms, the tiny canine made its way back. Passing through the legs of the attendees and their large, shiny eyes looked upon the little thing at the centre. Pudgy fingers stretching upwards with a mouth opened wider than a cuckoo bird, cowing the ears of the canine as he knelt before it.

    The pale little thing paused its almost deranged screaming. Bluish eyes tinged by a shade of the pale, glancing at the old hound before them with their hand outstretched till its smallest pinkie curled in their mattered fur. Grasping and pulling, with the dog yipping at the strong little grip that didn't wish to let go. Till they were curled up before on the little beings feet. Remaining there, as the crowds dispersed and the sun began to fall from the sky. There the hound remained through all the attempts of the poor thing to seize their attention. The wagging of a tail, the playful yips and nudging of the small giggly thing would ease, till she shimmered like the morning mist and was blown out just as easily.

    The hound padded back across the brittle grass, back to the masters grave.

    The church gate closed.

    Result - Church Grim, are supernatural entities descended from an English bloodlines of canine, who carry in their metaphysical sense a "spiritual gene" which can be activated under the right conditions. These Church Grim's act as protectors for those who enter their "domain" which are usually graveyards or places of worship, where the Grim dwell ensuring a shepherding of the dead. Allowing the recently departed to pass on, while also acting as a source of compassion and companionship for a time. They're able to influence the mortal world through a passive ability to bring up memories both remembered and forgotten in the living, as a way to help ease guilt or mourning in their presence. Outside of this Church Grim can momentarily materialise in the physical world, allowing them to physically interact with the mortals for a very short period of time, during a death or a symbolic death, such as a Church Toll.

    Methods - Church Grim are created through a rather strenuous process, where any canine is able to become a Grim in theory but only descendants of the original can expand their ranks. Any canine which has formed a deep and loyal bond to their "master" and if their master perishes before them, becomes eligible in essence replicating the originals creation. The soul of these canines will be left to wander the world until they stumble upon a Church Grim upon which depending on their origin they begin to experience deep but opposing pulling at their essence.

    All canines will then feel an instinctual desire to see their master, as their souls are nudged to depart the physical world for the spiritual world. Yet at the same time another instinct shall appear one of duty in which the canine shall replace the Grim they have found, taking on their role and allowing them to see their own master. Notably, all descendants of the original Grim can instead choose to become Grim's themselves carving out their own "domain" of influence and helping ease the load of shepherding.

    Conditions - Church Grim outside of rare circumstances are unable to interact with the physical world, due to their spiritual nature only materialising during short periods. If a "death" occurs within the domain of a Grim their physical body takes form, allowing them to physically act for as long as this is occurring. If say a human perishes within the domain, ambulance siren or a death knell occurs the Grim is able to manifest. Outside of this the Grim can only passively interact with mortals by resurfacing positive or negative memories, through spiritual touching the living being.

    Not only that Church Grim protective abilities are weakened the further they are from their "domain" which limits their ability to protect souls from malicious influence. While supernatural influence on souls is impossible while within the domain of the Grim, the further a souls travels or remains outside of it the weaker the protection. Finally, if their domain is destroyed the Church Grim ceases to exist having been wiped from existence.
    24th April, Year 1900
    Île-de-France, Paris

    "I should be happy..."

    Jeanne couldn't help but mutter, fingers straddling her scalp as they straightened her brown locks for a little while. Before she let them fall back down on the circular table in the twilight of the tent. Hidden away from the blazing sun as the Parisian summer sent its sweltering heat waves to welcome the Olympic seasons and the grand Parisian Exposition, that had settled itself in the streets. You could hear the bouncing of the wheels upon the cobble and the sounds of leathery steps. All the while Jeanne was stuck inside but she was glad to at least be out of the sun.

    She was half tempted to stand up and leave, walk down the Seine enjoying the atmosphere more than this. Yet of course her mother's words always bound her to the charlatans table, this was a time of good business. For everyone all across Europe and further abroad was now in Paris the swell of energy filling the capital. As her mother would say,     "Money moves when people do," which wasn't exactly wrong she knew that from experience, travelling from town to town most of her life. Follow the crowd, follow the money and the noise. It's why were camped here in Montmartre, near enough to the city centre to catch the scent of it people and yet far enough that the police wouldn't be to quick to do their jobs.

    The smell of old incense and dust, was momentarily combated as a fresh breeze of air came in. The draped purple silks and golden threads, shaken from their resting place as a couple began to enter. With quick fingers and quicker smiles Jeanne was all ears as she tuned into their hushed whispers. She almost reached for the tarot cards, finger flicking inward as to halt her own instincts. Mother was right the morning warning still fresh,     "Hands only, Jeanne. No cards. No 'visions.' You're too good at it... lately."

    Instead Jeanne let her fingers fidget with something else, her shawl covering her face partially. For one to hide her face from an angry repeat customer, for two to give of an air of mystery. They love such things. Play up the accent and they'll listen even more, "Bonjour, madame et monsieur. Please, please come and sit." Two fingers raised, the man seemed to be humouring his love make it seem like a deal, "Palms, two francs no one for both."

    It was the man who went first, offering his hand but my eyes weren't focusing on that just yet. Their was more to palm reading then looking upon once hands, you could always tell with a look. Tall, sharp nosed, stiff posture the typical fellow who'd never skip a Sunday Mass. His fingers were dry to the touch and yet calloused, must have worked somewhere dirty a need to cleanse ones hands regularly. Some labour needed for those callouses or maybe it was from the past, living on some grandfathers farm.

    "Ah... long life. Health, most good. Some stubbornness in the heart. It shall bring you quarrels if you do tempt it." The usual nonsense she had been spouting, she could have said the real thing but would there be a point? He wouldn't believe her, he expected compliments of his strength at best and at worst, some cryptic warning. It was over, then it was her turn.

    On the other hand she was excited, the type of Parisian women who's excited more for the spectacle then any belief. Her hands were softer and far smaller. Nail skating across her palm, might as well give her the real deal with how she smiled giddily. Eyes fluttering such as the room grew still and her senses sharpened for the space of many things was empty for but a moment. The loud of buzz of screaming images filling the tent, like flood water filling the small chamber.

    She'd die tomorrow, pushed.

    Jeanne hesitated to say nothing. To say something.

    Then she smiled, the taste of iron in her mouth, the feeling of a cold barrel near her shoulder blade. She'd always wondered since the day when she read her own future, her eyes glancing at the tarot neatly stacked. Once known it became, she knew it to be true. She'd told many before and all of them had come to be. Eyes returning to the madame who waited with a grin, what if she lied? Would the future come to pass if she knew not of it?

    "You have many years ahead." The words were like glass, a murmur, "A quiet life, full of tiny surprise. Avoid the street tomorrow."

    The sessions came to an end quite quickly after that, the women's eyes flickering with a curiosity? Maybe, worry. She gave her little nod and stood up, her lover following hardly noticing the glances she gave. With a small whisper of thanks, they were gone and the young Romani was left to her own devices. Hands shaking as her fingers curled around the franc, twirling it between them. With a curt little laugh, "I should have asked her name... could have read the obituary..."

    Result - The Art of Divination is a Magic System created by a young French Roma girl in the Summer of 1900, during her time in Paris, participating in the tricks and cons. Divination is a practice of occult ritualism and spiritual beliefs of varied origins, regarding the scrying of the future and insights into lost knowledge. Through the use of mediums called "anchors" in the physical world a practitioner with the applicable knowledge, skills and keen mind is able to Divine information they would otherwise not be able to possess.

    Methods - The Art of Divination varies wildly in the methodology used to invoke it, due to it being a hodgepodge of belief systems and older traditions strung together. Examples of such methods are simple palm readings, shapes of the clouds, tarot, aleuromancy, etc. The act of Divination itself is the same despite the different approaches as all Diviners rely on instruments. All anchors are in some form a medium of randomness, which cannot be predicted not even by the Diviner themselves. The anchor is used as a ritualistic catalyst for the prediction of the future, with the Diviner through this act experiencing a vision, in which their mind for but a moment departs their body.

    The mind is brought into an extra-sensory space, one separated from the physical world which at first is merely empty. Only to be flooded by a metaphysical swamp of uncontrollable and near impossible to understand information. From which they will have to search and sift through if they wish to gain any insights. This extra-sensory space is an echo of the physical world, with it quite literally echoing in this space, quickly filling up as every little actions, thought and such floods this place. The practitioner of the magical art must quickly grasp what they need before they are overwhelmed by the flood of knowledge and forced painfully back into their physical form. This process takes mere seconds and so Diviners require either a great breadth of knowledge to piece together disparate visions of the future or a well honed intuition to simply find what they need before departing.

    Upon either achieving their goal by finding exactly what they need or simply failing and being thrust back, they have gained some level of knowledge regarding the future. With the anchor they have used representing the vision they have seen and helping them interpret it. From then on they use their own wit to form a coherent narrative from the vision they have now gained, basing it off the anchor and so they interpret the future as best as they can.

    Conditions - The Art of Divination is not easy to master, as it requires for those who use it to have a certain level of obsession regarding their craft. The anchor they used in divining their future relies on cultural and religious connotations to help organise the information they have gained in the extra-sensory space. Without a well developed understanding of such things a Diviner will find themselves relying purely on guess work to establish what they have seen, leading to misinterpretation. Even more so if they are attempting to divine things of grander nature as the more individuals involved, the further the distance and the greater point of divergence. With the extra-sensory space becoming even more compact, as more random jargon fills it and leaves the Diviner struggling to find answers.

    Yet more importantly the Art of Divination in itself is dangerous, as the visions which the Diviner experiences work to combat the randomness of life and bring about predestination. The act of Diving is sparked by chance and by embracing the idea that from this chaos can come order, it is brought into the physical world. In essence before the future is divined there is no set future, when divined that future becomes true. The more knowledge one has of future events the less power they have to change the context of the vision, as the world changes to make it happen. As such Diviners who delve into their own future deeply may becomes slaves to what they see, forced to act in certain ways without desiring too, for their fate has been written by their very actions of divining. Ultimately everything seen through divination will happen, though simple misinterpretation or ignorance can act as a shield against such things, preventing those who hear their futures from being forced to enact them.

    Ignorance is bliss.
    30th October, 1900
    Inner Mongolia, Unknown.
    He pressed his lips to the warm clay cup, the rice wine was sharp against his crack teeth. Letting his lips smack in satisfaction as he stretches his toes for that small feeling of relief. The dull pain in his back, the constant reminder. It was a gift from the foreign damned devils, the prickling pain of many thorns threaded into flesh. The wind was howling outside and he grumbled to himself, slamming shut the shutters and allowing himself another sip of the wine. The winds of Inner Mongolia were like the wolves that prowled these mountains, they wished to gnaw at the bones of the old and lame. Like him, the man grumbled.

    He was thinking of that day again, more then he'd liked too.

    His lips muttering on repeat,     "Support the Qing! Destroy the Foreigners!" A mantra he'd taken to heart, one he stitched into all the cloth he had, every red sash and shawl. Back when he was apart of the Hushenying (Tiger Spirit Division). For the Heaven's sake he had even had the glory of meeting Prince Zaiyi! Recommended for the role, for his service in the Dadao Hui (Big Sword Society) during the invasion, against the Japanese devils. Now he was here hiding amidst the mountains and keeping to yourself. The ragged call to arms had come weeks ago against the Russians now carving their own bit of land from the border...

    It was Cathedral of Beitang, it stood amidst the buildings of Beijing. Foreign stone, foreign god, foreign men. It was the other place of resistance aside from Peking Legation Quarter where the foreigners and their allies hid. His brothers had come dressed in red and carrying hooks, it was time to finally break the siege. To bring down this house of falsehoods, for the tiger eats the lamb. He smirked a little at the pun as he swallowed another bit of the wine. Vision tinting red as he smashed the clay cup on the table, sending the pieces flying around the cottage.

    His powers had done him so much good, he'd risen fast amongst the ranks for his vision was bloody in combat. He could see the gaps in the ranks of the foreigners, the weakness, the feebleness, the beats between heartbeat when men forgot to guard their throat. He remembered how good it felt to slit the throat of their defenders. The explosives sundering the western wall, as they charged inward and the foreign and converts tried to stop them. The shaking voice of one, raising his sword and screaming,     "Aspettare! Per favore!" The Italian falling to the ground as the hook impaled him, the French next to him unable to raise his bayonet in time.

    They broke through the line, it was all thanks to him. Their bullets would miss for he saw every movement before it happened, before they could fire and he could slink his way forward, unstoppable like a tiger on the prowl. Oh, he was good. Then he saw the filthy wench. Her skin was pale, in the Cathedrals shadow hiding amongst the pews. She was stuttering speaking in foreign prayer. Corrupted it was her presence and other like her that poisoned their power, made them weak to the magic of the gweilo. If only he hand't grown so focused on her...

    The bullet hit from behind, making him fall and writhe on the ceramic flooring. It was burning his muscles as he spasmed and pulled himself away, over the broken stone. His vision was growing blurry but his power had not yet abandoned him, he was a fool to forget them, if only he'd remained calm. The victorious cries of his brothers were turning the foreign fire power, turning the tide of battle. For none of them could do what he did, none. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, the society would have finally freed China from the Europeans. Restored the Qing and bring about the Heavens Mandate... he would have been rewarded, with land back home.

    And yet here you are, hidden away in a cheap northern hut.

    Not all had been caught when the Eight-Nation Army had swarmed Beijing. He'd made it out by those two nitwits coming his way, he could hear them talking loudly and stupidly. They were soft, idealistic, an irony that they were the only ones to remain. They still saw him as something more than human, that the tiger was still beneath his skin, he wouldn't correct them. Grabbing the bottle he swallowed the last bits of the white drink, the final pain killer for his aching back.

    He reassured himself, he'd teach them today... the Spirit Tiger Li She was not dead yet.

    Result - The Way of Hu Gan is a form of magical martial arts devised by Li She in 1900, with practitioner of said martial arts being able to invoke certain supernatural abilities. The Hu Gan aids the combatant by giving them a sixth sense while in combat, guiding them in the flow of battle. As their otherwise normal vision shall be infected with all manner of signs and colours, which help convey information to the warrior. Telling them of weakness in enemy combatant formations, vulnerabilities in the human body or even best routes to reach a target within sight. In this way the combatant gains a large advantage in close combat, while also being able to dodge long ranged fire in advance.

    The secondary ability is known 'sha qi' named after an eerily similar concept in Chinese belief, where the warrior is able to generate a pressure around them. This pressure is capable of causing fear and paralysis in those who are within its range, especially if a singular individuals is being targeted rather than the area around the warrior. This ability strength is measured by how many beings that have been slain in open combat, the more one has ended life in one on one battle the stronger the sha qi.

    Methods - The Way of Hu Gan is reliant on the usage of the spiritual power that of qi, which is invoked through a mixing of traditional methods developed by Li She. Through the mimicking of a tigers movements such as low crouching, coiled positions and stalkerish movements they evoke their power while in combat. With chanters and invocations being called upon as a stabilising measure for those who lack the same level of skill and natural aptitude for the martial art. Allowing them to enter this combat trance and so enact their magical abilities.

    Conditions - The Way of Hu Gan relies on a clear and calculating mind, for the power to see weakness and exploit it which means strong emotions can disrupt the magic. If a warrior is driven into a great rage or experience great fear, their ability to see weakness quickly dissipates until they can calm themselves enough to re-enter the warrior trance. Furthermore, while the powers given by the Hu Gan greatly increase ones combat capabilities they do not make them superhuman. With the power relying on the physical skills of the fighter, the less skilled they are the less useful this vision of weakness becomes.

    The ability to attain Sha Qi is troubling as the power is gained by the slaying of another living being in combat, merely killing another while they are tied or unable to fight back does nothing. The firsts signs of this pressures begin to appear roughly around the fifth life taken, with it growing stronger in increments. After more or less fifty lives the Sha Qi can cause even brave men to fear their opponent due to the sheer power of the pressure.
     
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    • Fantastic work! Definitely wasn't expecting the first Magi-Kin to be a dog but damn is it a welcome surprise
    Definitely worth the wait

    @Royalist
    Your turn is up
     
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    Donald Darf said:
    Quick question, if I were to draw a couple simple portraits of each of your Magi-Kin, how would you prefer they look?
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Well the first Magi-Kin who I'm just gonna call Bones cause I didn't actually name him... oops, was in my head a Yorkshire Terrier with an overgrown and bit dirty fur coat, who is now ghostly.

    Jeanne I have a vague image of her being on the younger side, having brown curly hair and otherwise dressing in more stereotypical Romani clothes to play on the mystic.

    Li She I don't have any set image for him aside from having the queue hairstyle due to him being Manchuria and that seems typical of the area.
     
    Just a small door. I've finish my stuff, so no matter what happens I will be able to get something out. Will be trying to write a couple continuations for already established magical arts/people before I publish though
     
    1901
    Adrianople Vilayet, Ottoman Empire


    Bulgaria, since the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-1878, had been an independent principality and later tsardom, liberated from Ottoman rule. However, the Treaty of San Stefano, which had brought an end to hostility and promised not only liberty for the Bulgarian people, but full unification of all Bulgarian lands from Macedonia to Varna, was brought to a quick and sudden death via the intervention of the western powers.

    The dream of San Stefano was replaced by the 1878 Treaty of Berlin, which carved out a small independent Bulgarian principality and an autonomous region in eastern Rumelia under continued Ottoman rule. Collectively these two entities made up about two thirds of all the territory which had been promised Bulgaria in the Treaty of San Stefano.

    While Eastern Rumelia would be unified with Bulgaria in 1885, the territories of Macedonia and Adrianopel remained in Ottoman hands. But the Bulgarians would continue to oppose the Ottoman yoke. In the winter of 1894, the Bulgarian Macedonian-Adrianopolitan Revolutionary Committee would be founded, with the aim of gaining autonomy for the two regions and later on, unifying both with Bulgaria.

    * * *​

    Ilian didn't know what he was going to do.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

    When Boyan and his friend Tomislav came running, in the middle of the night, yelling about the Turks being after them, Ilian simply thought they simply had had too much to drink that night.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

    Then he saw them. They were wearing ragged uniforms he hadn't seen since the April Uprising, weapons in their hands that looked almost as old as Ilian himself.

    Breath in, breathe out.

    Don't think about the pain in your knees.

    They admitted they had become Komiti, rebels fighting the Turks. He could almost say he was proud of the boys, but the fools had not only been found out but were also bringing the Turks straight to his little mountain cottage. He thanked God that Teodora wasn't alive to see this.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

    He hurried to put on his shoes, took down the icon of Christ from where it was hanging about the dinner table and led both boys out the back. He knew this forest better than the back of his hand. He had travelled through it countless times and he knew every path and trek through it.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

    So here he was, leading his fool of a great grandson and his friend through the forest. Running below the trees waving in the summer breeze like he hadn't done since Abdülmecid was Sultan and he was a young man.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

    He didn't think about where he was eventually going, he didn't think of how far he had gone or for him long they had all been running. All he knew was the sound of three pairs of shoes beating against the earth, his firm grip around both boys' hands and the night darkness ahead of him.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

    The mist came suddenly and was thicker than he could ever remember it being. He took it as a sign that the Lord was looking over them, hiding them from the eyes of the Turkish soldiers. He righted the icon he held under his arm. He couldn't afford to drop it, especially now that the Lord had shown them all such mercy.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

    He ran through the mist, so thick that he couldn't even see the trees anymore. Still, he could feel the hand of God guiding him and the boys to safety.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

    They ran on, until finally the mist broke and finally he saw where they had ended up. They were on top of the mountain. It was a place Ilian had been many times, it was here he had asked Teodora to become his wife and it was here he had taken his sons when they were still boys.

    His lungs burned and his legs ached, but as he looked out across the hilly landscape and saw the sun beginning to rise, he knew the Lord had intervened and saved them from the vengeful Turks. The trek up the mountain was one which took the better part of a day and at times required one to climb for short periods.

    And yet he and the boys stood here, safe from the Turks. It shouldn't have been possible. He remembered the priest saying that "Through God, all things are made possible" and was filled with awe at God's power. Through His intervention they had run through the mist and had gone farther and higher than they ever could have on their own.

    He took out the icon from under his arm and kissed it.

    Then he handed the icon to Boyan.

    "Stay here, I must return. If the Turks do not catch you they will lash out against anyone they can find. With God at my side, I shall find them and bring them here to safety"
    And that he did. He grew tired quickly, his old legs aching and his breath short. He was forced to slow down, yet the mist of God remained around him, keeping unfriendly eyes away and the path the Lord laid out before him made all distances shorter than they would have been had he walked them alone.

    He was not able to save everyone, but by the day's end. Many had been saved from Turkish reprisals.

    * * *​

    Results: Mistwalking allows the practitioner and a certain number of people to shorten distances when traveling, as well as even out rough terrain and go undetected when doing so. This means that a practitioner could, for example, travel up a mountain which should take 6 hours to climb, by walking what feels like an uneven forest path for 1 hour.

    During the Mistwalking part of the journey, the group enters a secondary dimension, made up only of one long copy of the path they had been walking when they entered the dimension (So, if they're walking a cobblestone path, the entire way will be a cobblestone path). To the eyes of the group, they will be surrounded by a thick mist, allowing them only to see roughly half a meter away from themselves.

    Methods: A practitioner intimately familiar with the route they wish to travel. The practitioner may bring with other people, but those people must either be holding onto the practitioner or hold onto someone holding onto the practitioner.

    They must then begin the regular journey, with the practitioner leading the way. The practitioner should imagine the path they want to travel and go as if travelling it. They will then enter the Mistwalking dimension and disappear from the regular world until they step out of the mist on the other end of the journey.

    The Mistwalking dimension isn't a constantly existing thing, instead doing a Mistwalk will create an instance of the dimension which will then collapse in non-existence upon the exit or death of all involved.

    Conditions: The biggest initial hurdle for a practitioner is that they must be extremely intimately familiar with the path they're going, usually requiring them to be quite old and native to the region they plan on Mistwalking through. They must be absolutely certain that they will arrive at the place they are going and have a perfectly clear route in their mind as they walk.

    If they feel uncertain before entering the Mistwalking dimension, they will simply not be able to enter it. If they start to hesitate while in the Mistwalking dimension they may become lost and never be able to exit it, dying inside. The same thing happens if a non-practitioner were to enter and lose contact with the practitioner.

    If someone were to theoretically just enter the Mistwalking dimension without a clear idea of where exactly to go, but still remain absolutely certain they will arrive at "the right place", they can theoretically make it through safely. This is however dangerous in the extreme, even compared to the high risks involved in regular Mistwalking and will 99 times out of a 100 end up with everyone involved dead.
     
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