It does, and is rather attractive a notion! For that matter we could also study photosynthesis and develop that as a possible passive ritual energy scourge and be solar powered! Make use of the gardening we'll be doing.
Kinetic energy well does sound neat-any ideas what we should hook such a thing up to?
The book illusion has a ritual binding it to something. Maybe we could hook it up to a bead on a bracelet or something, to serve as a battery. We can use that magical energy to charge future spells, perhaps with a transfer ritual.
In the future we could have it built into our clothes or armor. Imagine a reactive kinetic shield built into our armor that reacts to an attack, using the energy we stored from walking. Magical reserves might even build up faster if we are running or moving quickly in combat.
It's not tying to the heart beat, it's reacting to it. That's why I used the example of the watches that wound themselves by moving your hands. Or have a kinetic battery. You know what I mean?
Yeah, I understand it. But your idea leaves absolutely no room for mistakes and flukes which are bound to happen with such an inexperienced wizards. You want it to react to heartbeat. Fine. But you can't be sure that this is what Dorian will actually do.
Could we make a ritual that reacts and gains power from our heartbeat, built into a watch or something on our wrist? I was thinking a magical version of one of those watches that winds itself or recharges it's battery from the movement of your hands. It'll probably be slow and take a while to charge, but we can do it while we sleep constantly. I think we could charge a battery enough and feed the book sufficiently it could last a week.
It's a clever idea, but (as Varder and Flashkannon have pointed out) there are a couple of flaws in this plan:
1. Rituals use magical energy as fuel. Where does your ritual get its magical energy from? (If it's meant to get energy from the heartbeat, that seems potentially very dangerous and anyway it's the wrong kind of energy. You'd need yet another ritual to convert kinetic energy into magical energy, and then store it, which is doable but kinda fiddly.)
2. It's way beyond Dorian's current capabilities. Even some of the teachers would hesitate to perform such a complex, fiddly, and potentially dangerous ritual on themselves. Anyway, a novice wizard shouldn't be using magic anywhere near their heart, even if it doesn't actually draw energy from their heart.
(One way that the 'heartbeat' ritual is more commonly used is by wizards who want to maintain one of their ritual spells without obvious effort. All rituals tend to deteriorate over time and eventually stop working, which is one of the things Apollinus Witt was alluding to in the most recent chapter.)
Then if this works we can improve upon this wrist ritual in the future to gain more power to charge future rituals. And who knows, maybe it will be useful to have an emergency reserve of magic at hand. Sort of like Harry's Kinetic Rings from the Dresden Files.
Having a ready store of magic you can use at any time is an excellent idea and I thoroughly recommend it, when you've worked out how to do it safely. One of the reasons why wizards in this setting need to use rituals is because they can't muster enough magic at any one time to be able to cast the more powerful spells they want to cast. But if you've got ring or a bracelet that stores magic energy, you could use it to cast a quick, very powerful spell without the need to stop and draw out a ritual.
However, wearing dozens of stores of magical energy at any one time is extremely dangerous and should never be attempted. You'd be lucky if you didn't blow yourself up before you'd even stepped out of your bedroom. Yeah, I know what SVers are like.
It's not tying to the heart beat, it's reacting to it. That's why I used the example of the watches that wound themselves by moving your hands. Or have a kinetic battery. You know what I mean?
Kinetic battery might work. Or you could just have it absorb body heat. Either way, you'd need another ritual (or an extra part of the same ritual) to convert it into magical energy before you could use it.
Or, you could just have it absorb magic out of the air in the intensely magical environment of the wizarding school you're currently attending. That's what most of the upper-year students do.
It does, and is rather attractive a notion! For that matter we could also study photosynthesis and develop that as a possible passive ritual energy scourge and be solar powered! Make use of the gardening we'll be doing.
Yeah, I understand it. But your idea leaves absolutely no room for mistakes and flukes which are bound to happen with such an inexperienced wizards. You want it to react to heartbeat. Fine. But you can't be sure that this is what Dorian will actually do.
Kinetic battery might work. Or you could just have it absorb body heat. Either way, you'd need another ritual (or an extra part of the same ritual) to convert it into magical energy before you could use it.
Thermal is a good one. Its consistent, its actually a benefit(summer personal airconditioner!) rather than cost, and if you're smart you'd want to tie it to a removable item you could leave in the sun to charge
Thermal is a good one. Its consistent, its actually a benefit(summer personal airconditioner!) rather than cost, and if you're smart you'd want to tie it to a removable item you could leave in the sun to charge
Maybe the gardening club has some ideas? Some plants require specific levels of heat, so maybe they have rituals to control or absorb temperature/heat in their green houses? Might be a good starting off point for our own solar battery ritual studies. And asking for advice from your seniors can't be a bad thing right?
Maybe the gardening club has some ideas? Some plants require specific levels of heat, so maybe they have rituals to control or absorb temperature/heat in their green houses? Might be a good starting off point for our own solar battery ritual studies. And asking for advice from your seniors can't be a bad thing right?
Actually not good for the greenhouse. Such a ritual would be simple only if it just did one thing: consume heat energy to store as magical energy. Its effectively an anti-fire, it just keeps taking away a fixed amount of heat, and lets natural processes rebalance.
To CONTROL heat to stay within a particular range would cost complexity to identify the temperature and to drain more or less heat depending on that.
Eeh, it depends on what qualities are being looked for. Maybe daring and self-sufficient students will be praised or maybe careful and thorough. I think that this is a small and unimportant enough project that we can try it ourselves.
So creating a ritual for converting solar or thermal energy into magical energy is the long term plan. But we only have 2 days before the illusion runs out of magic so we need a much shorter term solution. We produce have magic energy right ourselves right? Then we can make a ritual that absorbs slowly amounts of our magic energy and then store it and another ritual to transfer the energy to the illusion.
The problem with this is testing it, too little and nothing happens, too much... you get the idea. Does plants also produce magic energy? we can use the plants in our not empty garden as test subjects to check if the ritual is done right. When the plant didn't shrivel up in a seconds it should be safe enough for us to try it ourselves. I doubt a small mundane plant like lavender can have a large magic reservoir so if no adverse effects happen to the plant like them shrivelling up, it should be safe for testing.
It doesn't take much effort for you to persuade the other members of Cadre 1F to meet up this evening for an impromptu 'study session': they agree that it would be a good idea to work together to complete the homework task given to you by Professor Glossoloria. The problem you have is finding a suitable venue. You want somewhere quiet, where you can talk in private. However, the library is crammed full of older pupils busy with their studies, the junior common room is raucously loud with all the new first years demonstrating how glad they are to be released from lessons for the day, and hanging out in either the boys' or girls' dorm room seems kind of wrong, somehow. Anyway, there's nowhere to sit in there, except on the cold stone floor, or huddled awkwardly together on one of the beds.
Fortunately, Green Flame comes to your rescue, when you ask her for suggestions. 'You can use my office,' she says generously.
You remember the dingy little room she showed you on the first day. At least there's a desk you can use and some chairs to sit on. In a moment of vague distraction, you wonder why she was given such a miserable little office. Does it signify how little she is esteemed by the other members of the faculty? Or were they taking advantage of the fact that she wouldn't care about being assigned such a shoddy workspace?
Although you're grateful that she's offered you a place to meet up with your teammates, you're not sure that you want her to be there at the same time. You'd much rather have a chance to get to know your new friends without adult supervision. Uh… "friends"? Are they your friends yet? Can you really call them that?
Apparently sensing the reason for your misgivings, Green Flame says, 'I'm not going to be there. You'll have the place to yourselves for a few hours.'
'Uh, thanks,' you mutter. 'Are you going anywhere nice?'
'The Society of Pyromancers have their usual meeting tonight.'
You hesitate, staring at her for a moment. 'I thought… um, you said that the Society of Pyromancers was banned. Don't you remember? Isn't that why they've been crossed out on the noticeboard?'
'Oh. Yes, you're right.' Green Flame's face is impassive, as expressionless as a wooden doll. 'That's why I'm going to meet with… a study group for people who want to learn more about fire magic.'
'Is that different from the Society of Pyromancers?' you ask.
'Yes. Legally distinct.'
'Right. Well… have fun,' you say, giving her a nod.
She smiles tentatively at you. 'Thank you, Dorian. Good luck with your homework.'
Before you go to dinner that evening, you inform your teammates that you've found a place where you can study together. 'Green Flame says we can use her room while she's away,' you explain.
'That was kind of her,' says Venta.
'Trusting, too,' Philander adds. 'Although, I doubt she's got anything worth stealing in there. She's probably none too worried about one of us running off with her inkpot, huh?'
Venta groans. 'Is that all you think about? Lying, stealing, and general skulduggery?'
'General Skulduggery sounds like an awesome name for a warlord who's also an evil necromancer,' Philander replies. 'Thanks for the idea.'
'Why would you need an idea like that?' asks Venta, exasperated. 'How does it benefit you?'
Philander gives a shrug. 'It's always good to have options. Y'know, if the magic school thing doesn't work out.'
'You're a very strange person, Phil,' says Venta.
'Thanks, I try.'
Some time later, after you've found your way out of the cloud of befuddlement which seems to accompany every meal in this place, you join the other members of Cadre 1F in Green Flame's office. You've each brought the illusory textbooks you were given yesterday: they seem to have faded slightly and become somewhat translucent. When you hold yours, it feels less solid than it did before. Or maybe that's just your imagination.
'So, what do you reckon?' asks Philander, leaning back in his chair. 'As far as I can tell, the glyph needs more magic, but there's no way to feed it.'
'The glyph consists of three interlocking arcane circles: one that stores magical energy, one that uses it as fuel to power the illusion, one that keeps the illusion bound in place,' says Venta. 'We need to add a fourth circle: one that gathers energy and adds it to the store.'
'How do you know that? Was that written down somewhere?' asks Isolia, looking stricken. 'Oh… I have so much to learn…'
'Don't worry about it,' you say. 'We'll help you as much as we can.'
'But…' The expression on Isolia's face is a battle between frustrated anger and tearful upset. She looks like she doesn't know whether to punch the wall or burst into tears. 'I don't understand anything! Because I can't read!'
'That is a problem, but it's a problem you can overcome with hard work and effort,' says Philander. 'You'll get there. Like Dorian said, we'll help.'
'This first year, they're not going to teach us anything really important,' says Venta. 'It's mostly just laying the groundwork for what we'll learn later on. You've got time to catch up.'
Philander nods. 'Yeah. I heard that too.'
Taking out a scrap of much reused paper – practically a palimpsest – you indicate the sketches you drew earlier. 'I decided to practise drawing my arcane circle, first. Just in case I made a mistake. I didn't want to do it for real until I was sure I'd got it right.'
'Let me see that, please,' says Venta, holding out a hand. You give her the paper and she examines it carefully. 'Hmm. Looks good to me, but… how is it supposed to work? Do you plan to gather the magical energy yourself and pour it into the circle?'
'Yeah, I can do that,' you say. 'Seems like it'd be the easiest method.'
'As long as you don't overload it,' she says dubiously. 'I suppose it would be easier, but only if you've already got a degree of fine control over the magic you use. Me, I'd prefer to design an arcane circle that would siphon ambient magic out of the air. It'd be more difficult to draw, maybe, but I think it'd be more reliable. And I wouldn't have to keep feeding it: I could forget about it for a few weeks – or months – and then when I came back it'd still be fine, supporting itself by absorbing magic out of the air.'
'Why don't we all practise? I've got some more scrap paper here,' says Philander, getting out a sheaf of dogeared parchment. 'Along the way, we'll explain each step to you, Isolia. When you know what each part of the diagram does, you can have a go at drawing your own.'
'And if you make a mistake, we'll help you correct it,' says Venta.
I rolled a Literacy* check for Dorian's drawing skill: 2d6+3 = 10
*Yeah, it's not a perfect fit, but it was as close as I could get.
Over an hour later, after much practise, you feel ready to try this out for real. Turning over your illusory textbook so that you can see the glyph inscribed on the back, you draw out the arcane circle you've been practising for a while. Your drawing is a little crude, but it seems functional enough. When it's ready, you draw a link between your arcane circle and the pre-existing glyph, joining them together as a single unit.
You're not entirely sure how you can 'draw' something on an illusion. Something about it must be real, you suppose, but you really don't know how it works.
I rolled a Magic check for Dorian's gathering power and using it to feed the ritual: 2d6+3 = 15. Wow, that's fantastic!
Magic is in everything. The entire world was made from magic, in the beginning, by the power of the elder gods. So you have been told.
For your ritual, you gather some of the magical energy you can feel floating in the air around you, draw it into yourself, and hold onto it with the force of your psyche. Then, you need just a tiny amount – just a spark – as a stimulus to start off your arcane circle and get everything working, ready for the next stage. Finally, you pour the magic you've gathered into the ritual, drip-feeding it just a little at a time, so as not to swamp it with too much energy all at once.
Afterwards, it seems like you've been successful. The illusory book now seems weightier and more solid than it did a few moments ago, much more like it did yesterday.
'Nicely done,' says Venta with an approving nod. 'You have a talent for this.'
'Elven blood. It's useful for some things,' you reply, scarcely raising your voice above a mumble.
'It's a compliment! Learn to take it as such,' she says with an exasperated hiss.
The addition she's drawn onto her glyph is much neater than yours, but it doesn't appear to be working as well: it's sucking in gasps of magical energy at irregular intervals, slowly and fitfully. Still, it does seem to be working and that's probably enough. It only needs to last until next week to complete Professor Glossoloria's challenge.
By the time you need to go back to your dorms to avoid breaking curfew, Philander and Isolia have completed their rituals as well, re-energizing their glyphs and preserving their illusory textbooks for at least another week. Overall, you're very happy with how well this study session has turned out.
You've gained 1 experience point towards learning Ritual Magic and 1 experience point towards improving Dorian's Social Skills.
'Yesterday, you asked if we had any cantrips we might be able to share,' says Isolia, as you're tidying up and getting ready to leave. 'Well, I… I can control small animals. Or birds. Or insects. Only one at a time, usually. It's not very consistent.'
'And how did that get you noticed?' asks Philander with one eyebrow raised. 'I mean, you must have had a sponsor to get you a place here.'
'I put on a show to amuse people. Earned a few coins that way,' says Isolia.
'I can create a few minor illusions,' says Venta. 'For example, I can create an illusory duplicate of myself. That's been useful a couple of times, as a distraction.'
'Is this where you reveal that this entire time the Venta we're getting to know has been an illusion and the real Venta is somewhere else – uh, sunning herself on a beach somewhere, maybe?' asks Philander.
'Don't be silly,' Venta scolds him. 'Of course that's not true! I can barely maintain the illusion for more than a few seconds.'
'And I know a cantrip that makes me faster and more agile, for a little while,' you say. 'What about you, Phil? Know any cantrips?'
'Nah. Magic doesn't come as instinctively for me as it does for some people,' he admits. 'But… my brothers and sisters all have potent magic, so it seemed like a safe bet that I would as well. And I completed that ritual well enough, didn't I? I learnt that glowing lights cantrip yesterday and I can do it just fine. Yeah, I can be a wizard just the same as anyone else as this school. Just because I didn't start off with any special powers doesn't mean I can't learn them.'
You spend a few moments thinking about the implications of that. You, Isolia, and presumably Venta were selected for this school because you demonstrated an instinctive ability to use magic. Even if you're not entirely sure who your benefactor was, you're pretty sure that's why they did it. On the other hand, Philander didn't have any obvious magical talents, but someone decided to sponsor him because his siblings did. And their gamble seems to have paid off: in the lessons you've had so far, Philander seems just as capable of learning magic as anyone else. Does that mean there are lots of other people who could learn magic, but never will be given a chance because they didn't demonstrate any natural flair for it? After all, legends say that magic was a gift of the gods to all men, not just a chosen few. Does that mean that all human beings are capable of learning to use magic, given the right opportunities?
'I guess that I'm one of the lucky ones,' you murmur, thinking out loud.
At this point, the door opens. Green Flame steps into the room. 'Oh. You're still here,' she says, looking somewhat surprised.
'We're just leaving now,' you say. 'Thank you for letting us use your room.'
'No problem. I hope your study session was productive,' she says. 'Have a good night, children.'
After saying your goodbyes, you gather up the rest of your things, troop back to your dorm, and go to bed. It's the end of another day.
On Wednesday, I'm going on holiday for a week and a half. I won't have time to update again before I leave, so I guess I'll see you when I get back. Au revoir!
'As long as you don't overload it,' she says dubiously. 'I suppose it would be easier, but only if you've already got a degree of fine control over the magic you use. Me, I'd prefer to design an arcane circle that would siphon ambient magic out of the air. It'd be more difficult to draw, maybe, but I think it'd be more reliable. And I wouldn't have to keep feeding it: I could forget about it for a few weeks – or months – and then when I came back it'd still be fine, supporting itself by absorbing magic out of the air.'
I thought the dialogue was great throughout the chapter, but these two in particular were excellent.
I'm unclear how much we can repeat actions with the same degree of success. Could we do another excellent outcome on charging something up with magic in general, only for illusions, only for illusion books, just this particular one, or is it just general experience to avoid a massive list of specific abilities?
Thats only if ambient magic is constant, if ambient magic fluctuates then it'd be charging sometimes and discharging other times. Since the storage circle holds enough magic for a week of the illusion and we're about halfway through it'd be charging at some times of day and draining at others. For it to explode or drain out it has to be either in a drastically more powerful area or left in one place for a long time.
I'm unclear how much we can repeat actions with the same degree of success. Could we do another excellent outcome on charging something up with magic in general, only for illusions, only for illusion books, just this particular one, or is it just general experience to avoid a massive list of specific abilities?
If you're made to do this exact same activity again, I'll lower the difficulty of the skill check to represent the fact that you already know how to do it and have done it very well. I think that's unlikely, though.
All of the skills in this quest are abstracted to some extent. The experience points you gained from this activity have been added to a general pool which will eventually allow you to gain a level in Ritual Magic.
Thats only if ambient magic is constant, if ambient magic fluctuates then it'd be charging sometimes and discharging other times. Since the storage circle holds enough magic for a week of the illusion and we're about halfway through it'd be charging at some times of day and draining at others. For it to explode or drain out it has to be either in a drastically more powerful area or left in one place for a long time.
You hesitate, staring at her for a moment. 'I thought… um, you said that the Society of Pyromancers was banned. Don't you remember? Isn't that why they've been crossed out on the noticeboard?'
'Oh. Yes, you're right.' Green Flame's face is impassive, as expressionless as a wooden doll. 'That's why I'm going to meet with… a study group for people who want to learn more about fire magic.'
Magic dissipates into the air with time. Perhaps it might be more correct to view it as a bucket of water that you pour more water into. If the bucket is full, the water will simply spill over. Which would mean the magic would return to its ambient state.
'The Society of Pyromancers have their usual meeting tonight.'
You hesitate, staring at her for a moment. 'I thought… um, you said that the Society of Pyromancers was banned. Don't you remember? Isn't that why they've been crossed out on the noticeboard?'
'Oh. Yes, you're right.' Green Flame's face is impassive, as expressionless as a wooden doll. 'That's why I'm going to meet with… a study group for people who want to learn more about fire magic.'
'Is that different from the Society of Pyromancers?' you ask.
I think she has taken the top spot as my favorite teacher, and I am not sure how herculean the effort it would take to unseat her would be. Definitely someone who understands what it's like near the bottom of the social ladder, and was neither broken nor embittered by it.
Hey folks, I'm back! Well, sort of. I'm going to a wedding tomorrow, and then... uh, I hope you understand that it'll take me some time to write the next update.
Anyway, I wrote this. Hopefully, it'll tide you over for a while longer:
That night, you dream. In your dream, you see a great green meadow. Spread across that meadow, you see two armies arrayed against each other. Armies of small, spindly creatures, like human beings in caricature, with bald heads, pointed ears, and bulbous noses. Their eyes are black, smooth and shiny like river-washed pebbles. Some of them are armed with twigs, others with sprigs of mace, and the rest with blades of grass. Even in the haze of dreams, you are amused by this spectacle; it seems so ridiculous. Then, your amusement turns to alarm as the two sides charge into battle, uttering bloodcurdling oaths and doing their best to tear each other to pieces. Magically hardened and reinforced, their makeshift weapons are surprisingly effective.
Even as you're watching it, the scene changes. It's almost as if, by looking at if from a different angle, you see something entirely different. You're still watching a battle, but a different battle, on a much smaller scale. Instead of ugly, spindly, humanlike creatures, the two armies are made up of ants: two warring tribes, vying for the same scrap of land. Thousands of ants engage each other in furious combat. Some of them spray toxic chemicals, some of them work together to pin down their enemies, and others use strong mandibles to rip them apart. They fight with surprising ferocity; before long, the ground is littered with hundreds of tiny corpses.
Another vision. Or rather, the same vision, at another remove. You're gazing down at the meadow from a great height. Vivid red poppies bloom where previously there was a battlefield. Sitting amongst them, looking as casual as if she were wearing a light sundress, there's a woman clad in the heavy plate armour of a Quellonian knight. That makes you instinctively uneasy; the Queli are old enemies of the Sambian Empire, though the last major battle between the two nations was centuries ago.
'Oh, but they were so young and beautiful,' says the lady knight, grabbing a handful of poppies, holding them in one steely gauntleted hand, and then carelessly throwing them away. She looks up, seems to notice you in the sky above her, and gives you an inscrutable smile. 'Have you come to play?'
'What game?' you ask. 'Uh… I don't know the rules.'
'Just listen, think, and then answer,' she says.
And then, in a singsong voice, she recites this riddle:
'Two heads talking in a grassy field.
One hums, the other whispers,
"Sons and daughters, I had many,
Warmed by the sun, watered by rain
Seven times as many sons as daughters
And half of my daughters were pretty as pearls.
All of my children were dear to me,
But six were eaten by bugs
Six were eaten by grubs
And three were devoured by snails.
Twenty-five were cut down by the farmer's scythe
Half that remained were burned by the flames
And four simply withered away.
Out of all of my brood, only
A quarter were left after that
But all of them drowned in the flood."
"Well, that's no good. Are they all dead?"
said the other head.
"Yes, every one," the first head said bitterly.
"But, I ask you, how many did I have?
How many sons? And how many daughters?"'
'Was that supposed to rhyme?' you ask, frowning. 'I don't think much of it.'
'Oh, so you're a critic now, are you?' With apparent carelessness, the lady knight lies down in the long grass, resting her head on a mossy patch. 'I'm just having fun, making patterns with words. Coming up with new riddles all the time isn't easy, you know.'
You pause, considering. 'What do I get if I answer your riddle correctly?'
'A prize, of course.' She smiles again. 'Don't be too long about it. Or you might wake up first.'
What do you say? (Choose one)
[] Give the correct answer (write in).
[] Say, "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at maths."
[] Say something else (write it).
Considering that they got themselves banned for burning down one of the school outbuildings, I think it's pretty clear that they were a society of pyromaniacs.
Magic dissipates into the air with time. Perhaps it might be more correct to view it as a bucket of water that you pour more water into. If the bucket is full, the water will simply spill over. Which would mean the magic would return to its ambient state.
Let's see... 96 children, 12 daughters and 84 sons?
I'm going to double check here...
n/4 drowned at the end.
4 withered away, we have n/4 + 4.
Half died in flame, so n/2 + 8.
25(farmer)+3(snails)+6(grubs)+6(bugs) + [8 + n/2] = n
48 + n/2 = n
n=96.
D = 96 / 8 = 12
S = 96 / 8 * 7 = 84.
Am I correct, or is there something I missed in the riddle that didn't involve just numbers?
Hrm. -40 then lose half, -4 and then a quarter is left before hitting 0...
I wonder at that half my daughters were pretty as pearls line, but it almost seems like the 'sons and daughters' were flowers given the causes of death.
Found it. This is (probably) The Riddling Knight, one of the aspects of the elder goddess of dreams Zora Alishanda. She's also the one who created goblins IIRC.
