WIP
Witch Punk
- Thread starter Diomedea
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
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- Recent readers
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Statistics (2 threadmarks, 3.5k words)
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Character/Setting Creation
Diomedea
A piece of the continent
- Location
- The interblag
- Pronouns
- She/Her
People hurried out of the way as the carriage hurtled down the street at a near-reckless pace, the driver's only care for those in his path being repeated shouts to make way. It was with surprising suddenness then that the carriage begins to slow before coming to a halt at an intersection, the streets seeming the quieter than before the carriage had appeared. Most onlookers hurried away with their heads down, but those who stayed watched with wary eyes, and little conversation. For a single moment the only sound was the laboring breath of the horses through their masks, steam rising from their flanks in the cooling evening air after their exertion.
But only for a single moment.
The carriage door opened from the inside with a bang, and a tall imposing figure stepped out and down into the street. Immediately most of the onlookers made themselves scarce, or made themselves busy, with the exception of a trio of men who instead hurried towards the carriage. Grey frock coats, matching unadorned facemasks, and their badges clearly displayed on the front of their conical helmets made them the very picture of the modern policemen. The man they were meeting was dressed much more finely. His black greatcoat was fastened with silver buttons, and his black facemask was subtly embroidered in the same color. Combined with his stovepipe hat and intense gaze, he simply radiated authority.
Which was good, because that was the whole point of the exercise.
"Inspector!" the lead policeman greeted, "It is a pleasure to meet you, now that you're here-"
"Where is the witch?" the black clad inspector demanded.
A brief gesture from the policeman, and the inspector strode down the street with the policeman hurrying after him.
"We tracked her down to this bakery, where she has been boarding above for some time." The officer began his explanation, "The owners are a married couple and are already being questioned about their involvement. The witch herself we chased on foot to-"
"She already knows we've come to arrest her? You weren't supposed to engage before my arrival." the inspector rebuked.
"W-well she was separated from her broom, and is trapped in an dead-end alley. We thought then it best to wait-"
"You mean you didn't aprehend her? Imbecile! You're just giving her time to-," the large man stopped himself, "Never mind, order your men to close to capture immediately!"
Before the policeman could follow any such orders, shouting from further down the street drew both of their attention. A figure concealed under a heavy black cloak clung desperately to what looked like a sickly and twisted branch, while policmen rushed about below. Now, the policemen were clearly not shouting at this person for clinging to a branch, but instead due to the fact that this branch was not attached to a tree, or even anything at all. To every appearance, it was floating about ten feet off the ground at a sedate walking pace. Well, it wasn't accurate to say the police were shouting because the branch was floating, no, it was because this meant the person on the branch was the witch they were looking for.
And it was to the inspector's credit that he almost immediately realized the branch was slowly picking up speed and creeping higher.
"Shoot her down!" he roared, and the policemen finally stopped shouting and rushing uselessly about and dutifully unclipped the stubby metal tubes they were all carrying from their belts and raised them in the witch's direction. Almost immediately sharp cracks could be heard as they discharged their weapons, but the witch merely seemed to rock side to side as if buffeted by a heavy wind.
Caster guns, despite their name, did not cast magic. Magic was the superstitious half nonsense witches used. No, caster guns were firmly based in the science of elementalism, but even then their name was something of a misnomer. Unlike an Elementalist's casting rod, which let a skilled user cast a plethora of effects, a caster gun simply broke an elemental casing with a spring loaded hammer, and the tube directed it away from the user towards their target. For city policemen the elemental casing of choice was of course air, useful for knocking criminals off their feet or even into walls for easy capture.
While quite effective in the tight confines of the city, it just so happened to be less effective against a target who was both in the middle of the street away from any obstacles, and already airborne through their own control of the wind.
Seconds slipped by as the policemen continued to fire a barrage of air upward at the witch, dumping and reloading casings as quickly as they could, but it quickly became clear they were not even really inconveniencing her. With a scowl, the inspector drew his own caster, and dropped a casing down the barrel as he stepped out to stand in the middle of the street. The witch was coming towards him, now moving at a brisk jogging pace, and still rising. Soon, she'd be above the rooftops, and impossible for him to follow. He cocked the hammer, and aimed carefully. He'd only have the one shot, but one should, no, one would be enough. He pulled the trigger, and the hammer crashed down with a sharp crack. And for a moment nothing happened.
But only for a single moment.
A column of flame erupted from the tip of the caster gun, and the witch only had time to thrust her hands out before she was engulfed in the conflagration. For a full second, fire poured towards the sky and the inspector smiled in satisfaction. This proved premature, as no sooner had he smiled than the column of flame burst apart to reveal the witch, eyes glowing blue, and apart from some smoked wafting from her cloak, entirely unharmed. Letting out a hysterical laugh, she accelerated faster than before finally rising above the rooftops where she could simply cut over several streets faster than any ground bound pursuit could follow, land, and disappear.
But before she did so, she threw something over her shoulder. It was difficult for the inspector to see, his eyes still adjusting back to the gloom from his firing of his caster gun, but he managed to make out the small glass bottle just before it impacted the pavement mere feet away from him. Not that managing to spot it made any difference, as he was immediately swallowed by the gas cloud that billowed out and filled the entire breadth of the street.
The Quest takes place during the elementalist revolution, where amazing new technologies based in the science of elementalism have brought forth a period of rapid change and advancement. Unfortunately, widespread use of Elementalist technology has some...side-effects, which was a concern immediately raised by witches. Instead of listening, the government branded witches as agitators and enemies of progress, driving those who practice the craft underground in all but the remotest regions of the country. This is a bit of a problem for you, since, well, you are a witch.
*****
Author's Note: Some sharp eyed viewers will notice that I'm shamelessly stealing ideas from Avalanche and BAHHSCQ for the character and setting generation of this quest. Y'all will be voting on our cast, the main characters and the "Messiah" character who ties into the overarching plot but isn't part of the main party. Each character comes with their own personal character arc, "helpfully" and "in no way misleadingly" referred to with references, and impact on tone.
Tone is how positive or negative the setting is. No matter what, this is going to be a Punk genre story, but there is a lot of room there for tone. A +6 universe isn't sunshine and rainbows, and a -6 isn't a grimdark world, but it does impact things like if deus/diabolous ex machina appear, how black/white or grey vs gray the conflicts are, and the types of outcomes that are available to achieve from story lines (a -6 world has, at best, esoteric happy endings available).
The Protagonist
[][Protag] The Protagonist was taught her craft on her mother's knee, in her rural village where the elemental revolution has not yet reached. Now she's leaving home to find her own way in the world... (Wish You Were Here, +1 tone)
[][Protag] The Protagonist stole her knowledge one morsel at a time, until she was discovered as a practicing witch. After a spot of bother, she's fled her factory town and is seeking a way forward... (On the Run, -1 tone)
The Rogue
[][Rogue] The Rogue is a loveable thief and grifter. He may skirt the law to survive, but his targets are deserving, and no one truly needs to get hurt... (The Phantom Thief, +1 tone)
[][Rogue] The Rogue is a hardened criminal. He is a survivor, and he will do whatever it takes to survive... (Link by Link, Yard by Yard, -1 tone)
The Apothecary
[][Potions] The Apothecary hides in plain sight, selling potions as traditional cures and remedies along side her more mainstream wares... (Miracle Cure, +1 tone)
[][Potions] The Apothecary is well-connected in the capital's underworld, the best source for anything from poisons to love potions as long as you can meet her price... (Killer Queen, -1 tone)
The Veteran
[][Veteran] The Veteran returned from the war and was decorated for his efforts, but has found home to be very different from how he left it... (Fortunate Son, +1 tone)
[][Veteran] The Veteran returned from the war and was discarded, now that no one needed men like him. One wonders how he's made ends meet... (The Enemy Never Slew Ya, -1 tone)
The Activist
[][Activist] The Activist is organizing, be it on the university campus, at the factories, or at the local pubs and cafes. They're tireless towards striving towards a better future... (Wait For it, +1 Tone)
[][Activist] The Activist has been silenced. They're still alive and around, but unsurprisingly are keeping their head down and not saying much of anything anymore after what happened... (Look Down, -1 Tone)
The Messiah
[][Messiah] The Messiah figure is all-loving and compassionate in her quest to restore the balance of the world... (That Sad Feeling That Keeps Us Going, +1 Tone)
[][Messiah] The Messiah figure is a dark and uncompromising one, who will see the balance restored no matter the powers in her way... (We Will Have Our Eden, -1 Tone)
Please vote for every option, and tallying will be done by task.
But only for a single moment.
The carriage door opened from the inside with a bang, and a tall imposing figure stepped out and down into the street. Immediately most of the onlookers made themselves scarce, or made themselves busy, with the exception of a trio of men who instead hurried towards the carriage. Grey frock coats, matching unadorned facemasks, and their badges clearly displayed on the front of their conical helmets made them the very picture of the modern policemen. The man they were meeting was dressed much more finely. His black greatcoat was fastened with silver buttons, and his black facemask was subtly embroidered in the same color. Combined with his stovepipe hat and intense gaze, he simply radiated authority.
Which was good, because that was the whole point of the exercise.
"Inspector!" the lead policeman greeted, "It is a pleasure to meet you, now that you're here-"
"Where is the witch?" the black clad inspector demanded.
A brief gesture from the policeman, and the inspector strode down the street with the policeman hurrying after him.
"We tracked her down to this bakery, where she has been boarding above for some time." The officer began his explanation, "The owners are a married couple and are already being questioned about their involvement. The witch herself we chased on foot to-"
"She already knows we've come to arrest her? You weren't supposed to engage before my arrival." the inspector rebuked.
"W-well she was separated from her broom, and is trapped in an dead-end alley. We thought then it best to wait-"
"You mean you didn't aprehend her? Imbecile! You're just giving her time to-," the large man stopped himself, "Never mind, order your men to close to capture immediately!"
Before the policeman could follow any such orders, shouting from further down the street drew both of their attention. A figure concealed under a heavy black cloak clung desperately to what looked like a sickly and twisted branch, while policmen rushed about below. Now, the policemen were clearly not shouting at this person for clinging to a branch, but instead due to the fact that this branch was not attached to a tree, or even anything at all. To every appearance, it was floating about ten feet off the ground at a sedate walking pace. Well, it wasn't accurate to say the police were shouting because the branch was floating, no, it was because this meant the person on the branch was the witch they were looking for.
And it was to the inspector's credit that he almost immediately realized the branch was slowly picking up speed and creeping higher.
"Shoot her down!" he roared, and the policemen finally stopped shouting and rushing uselessly about and dutifully unclipped the stubby metal tubes they were all carrying from their belts and raised them in the witch's direction. Almost immediately sharp cracks could be heard as they discharged their weapons, but the witch merely seemed to rock side to side as if buffeted by a heavy wind.
Caster guns, despite their name, did not cast magic. Magic was the superstitious half nonsense witches used. No, caster guns were firmly based in the science of elementalism, but even then their name was something of a misnomer. Unlike an Elementalist's casting rod, which let a skilled user cast a plethora of effects, a caster gun simply broke an elemental casing with a spring loaded hammer, and the tube directed it away from the user towards their target. For city policemen the elemental casing of choice was of course air, useful for knocking criminals off their feet or even into walls for easy capture.
While quite effective in the tight confines of the city, it just so happened to be less effective against a target who was both in the middle of the street away from any obstacles, and already airborne through their own control of the wind.
Seconds slipped by as the policemen continued to fire a barrage of air upward at the witch, dumping and reloading casings as quickly as they could, but it quickly became clear they were not even really inconveniencing her. With a scowl, the inspector drew his own caster, and dropped a casing down the barrel as he stepped out to stand in the middle of the street. The witch was coming towards him, now moving at a brisk jogging pace, and still rising. Soon, she'd be above the rooftops, and impossible for him to follow. He cocked the hammer, and aimed carefully. He'd only have the one shot, but one should, no, one would be enough. He pulled the trigger, and the hammer crashed down with a sharp crack. And for a moment nothing happened.
But only for a single moment.
A column of flame erupted from the tip of the caster gun, and the witch only had time to thrust her hands out before she was engulfed in the conflagration. For a full second, fire poured towards the sky and the inspector smiled in satisfaction. This proved premature, as no sooner had he smiled than the column of flame burst apart to reveal the witch, eyes glowing blue, and apart from some smoked wafting from her cloak, entirely unharmed. Letting out a hysterical laugh, she accelerated faster than before finally rising above the rooftops where she could simply cut over several streets faster than any ground bound pursuit could follow, land, and disappear.
But before she did so, she threw something over her shoulder. It was difficult for the inspector to see, his eyes still adjusting back to the gloom from his firing of his caster gun, but he managed to make out the small glass bottle just before it impacted the pavement mere feet away from him. Not that managing to spot it made any difference, as he was immediately swallowed by the gas cloud that billowed out and filled the entire breadth of the street.
Welcome to
*****
*****
The Quest takes place during the elementalist revolution, where amazing new technologies based in the science of elementalism have brought forth a period of rapid change and advancement. Unfortunately, widespread use of Elementalist technology has some...side-effects, which was a concern immediately raised by witches. Instead of listening, the government branded witches as agitators and enemies of progress, driving those who practice the craft underground in all but the remotest regions of the country. This is a bit of a problem for you, since, well, you are a witch.
*****
Author's Note: Some sharp eyed viewers will notice that I'm shamelessly stealing ideas from Avalanche and BAHHSCQ for the character and setting generation of this quest. Y'all will be voting on our cast, the main characters and the "Messiah" character who ties into the overarching plot but isn't part of the main party. Each character comes with their own personal character arc, "helpfully" and "in no way misleadingly" referred to with references, and impact on tone.
Tone is how positive or negative the setting is. No matter what, this is going to be a Punk genre story, but there is a lot of room there for tone. A +6 universe isn't sunshine and rainbows, and a -6 isn't a grimdark world, but it does impact things like if deus/diabolous ex machina appear, how black/white or grey vs gray the conflicts are, and the types of outcomes that are available to achieve from story lines (a -6 world has, at best, esoteric happy endings available).
The Protagonist
[][Protag] The Protagonist was taught her craft on her mother's knee, in her rural village where the elemental revolution has not yet reached. Now she's leaving home to find her own way in the world... (Wish You Were Here, +1 tone)
[][Protag] The Protagonist stole her knowledge one morsel at a time, until she was discovered as a practicing witch. After a spot of bother, she's fled her factory town and is seeking a way forward... (On the Run, -1 tone)
The Rogue
[][Rogue] The Rogue is a loveable thief and grifter. He may skirt the law to survive, but his targets are deserving, and no one truly needs to get hurt... (The Phantom Thief, +1 tone)
[][Rogue] The Rogue is a hardened criminal. He is a survivor, and he will do whatever it takes to survive... (Link by Link, Yard by Yard, -1 tone)
The Apothecary
[][Potions] The Apothecary hides in plain sight, selling potions as traditional cures and remedies along side her more mainstream wares... (Miracle Cure, +1 tone)
[][Potions] The Apothecary is well-connected in the capital's underworld, the best source for anything from poisons to love potions as long as you can meet her price... (Killer Queen, -1 tone)
The Veteran
[][Veteran] The Veteran returned from the war and was decorated for his efforts, but has found home to be very different from how he left it... (Fortunate Son, +1 tone)
[][Veteran] The Veteran returned from the war and was discarded, now that no one needed men like him. One wonders how he's made ends meet... (The Enemy Never Slew Ya, -1 tone)
The Activist
[][Activist] The Activist is organizing, be it on the university campus, at the factories, or at the local pubs and cafes. They're tireless towards striving towards a better future... (Wait For it, +1 Tone)
[][Activist] The Activist has been silenced. They're still alive and around, but unsurprisingly are keeping their head down and not saying much of anything anymore after what happened... (Look Down, -1 Tone)
The Messiah
[][Messiah] The Messiah figure is all-loving and compassionate in her quest to restore the balance of the world... (That Sad Feeling That Keeps Us Going, +1 Tone)
[][Messiah] The Messiah figure is a dark and uncompromising one, who will see the balance restored no matter the powers in her way... (We Will Have Our Eden, -1 Tone)
Please vote for every option, and tallying will be done by task.
So a vote might look like this, options selected in no particular order:
[][Protag] The Protagonist stole her knowledge one morsel at a time, until she was discovered as a practicing witch. After a spot of bother, she's fled her factory town and has lost herself in the crowds of the capital... (On the Run, -1 tone)
[][Rogue] The Rogue is a loveable thief and grifter. He may skirt the law to survive, but his targets are deserving, and no one truly needs to get hurt... (The Phantom Thief, +1 tone)
[][Potions] The Apothecary hides in plain sight, selling potions as traditional cures and remedies along side her more mainstream wares... (Miracle Cure, +1 tone)
[][Veteran] The Veteran returned from the war and was discarded, now that no one needed men like him. One wonders how he's made ends meet... (The Enemy Never Slew Ya, -1 tone)
[][Activist] The Activist is organizing, be it on the university campus, at the factories, or at the local pubs and cafes. They're tireless towards striving towards a better future... (Wait For it, +1 Tone)
[][Messiah] The Messiah figure is a dark and uncompromising one, who will see the balance restored no matter the powers in her way... (We Will Have Our Eden, -1 Tone)
This vote selects an option for every character, and assuming these characters won, would result in a setting with a tone of 0, falling perfectly in the middle of the scale.
[][Protag] The Protagonist stole her knowledge one morsel at a time, until she was discovered as a practicing witch. After a spot of bother, she's fled her factory town and has lost herself in the crowds of the capital... (On the Run, -1 tone)
[][Rogue] The Rogue is a loveable thief and grifter. He may skirt the law to survive, but his targets are deserving, and no one truly needs to get hurt... (The Phantom Thief, +1 tone)
[][Potions] The Apothecary hides in plain sight, selling potions as traditional cures and remedies along side her more mainstream wares... (Miracle Cure, +1 tone)
[][Veteran] The Veteran returned from the war and was discarded, now that no one needed men like him. One wonders how he's made ends meet... (The Enemy Never Slew Ya, -1 tone)
[][Activist] The Activist is organizing, be it on the university campus, at the factories, or at the local pubs and cafes. They're tireless towards striving towards a better future... (Wait For it, +1 Tone)
[][Messiah] The Messiah figure is a dark and uncompromising one, who will see the balance restored no matter the powers in her way... (We Will Have Our Eden, -1 Tone)
This vote selects an option for every character, and assuming these characters won, would result in a setting with a tone of 0, falling perfectly in the middle of the scale.
Last edited:
1 - Unsolicited Offer
Diomedea
A piece of the continent
- Location
- The interblag
- Pronouns
- She/Her
A/N: Sorry about the wait. I (minorly) burned my dominant hand while cooking last Friday which meant I was unable to really type during the time I had set aside to do it. I'm mostly better now, so here we go!
1
You have no idea what you're going to do. Looking back on it, you know very well that you're something of an idiot. You had been told as much before, and it wasn't like you had really proved anyone wrong.
You ignorant, foolish girl!
Right now you're sitting at a table in a corner of a public house not too far from the market square, no, a market square. The capital was so large it didn't just have a single market. It was...much larger than you had expected, but that was good. With so many people, you wouldn't stick out so much, even if you stuck out a bit with your very stereotypical highland looks. In the few hours you had been in the city you had already seen a score of highlanders like yourself, an uncountable number of lowlands, and everything in between. Coming here was the right decision, but now that you were here, you didn't know what to do!
You sigh and take another spoonful of your soup. The cheapest and most filling thing you could afford here and it had still taken almost all of your money. Everything in the capital was so expensive! It had taken several hours to decide on a place to eat simply because you couldn't believe the prices. You had checked out over a dozen different places before finally settling on one that smelled much better due to the large wind canister you had spotted behind the counter. You had made it to the capital, a place where you couldn't be recognized; where you couldn't be caught. Now you were here though...you had no place to stay, you were broke, and had no employment. You should start with finding a job but...
You need to learn! You'll have to know these things once you're married.
The only skills you had were household ones that just about anyone knew, and you knew you weren't particularly good at any of it. Not like your mother, whose needlework meant she had a tidy business sewing clothes, or your neighbor Dilys whose skill in the kitchen meant she was often invited to help cook for special events, or...everyone had something, it seemed. You though, were just passable. In terms of other skills, you had picked up a bit of knowledge about machines secondhand from your father when he talked about repairing them but not enough to do anything useful. And your parents hadn't been interested in apprenticing you to anyone to pick up any other useful skills, and just wanted you to focus on preparing to marry, hopefully another factory worker like your father. You knew they were getting a little concerned that none of the boys, you refused to call them young men, in town seemed interested in you since your, ah, what your father called "willful personality" kinda intimidated them. While your mother had insisted you were ruining your prospects, you had hoped that they'd give in and support you seeking an apprenticeship, but now that would never happen. And your only other skills, well...
Noise and chaos. Something heavy crashing to the ground. Smoke and Fire at the edge of your senses. Fear blossoming in familiar eyes.
You really didn't have a way to make money, did you? You sigh again, and then slump a bit when you realize your soup was pretty much gone. Maybe you could work as a maid somewhere? You could do housework, but you didn't really have the connections to get into that kind of work. It couldn't hurt to ask around, right?
"Hey, what's a pretty girl like you looking so glum for?" a deep voice that you're pretty sure is aiming for smooth disrupts your thoughts. You look up to see a lowlander man taking a seat across from you.
"Just thinking how I never get to eat in peace," you say sharply, a frown and a glare completing the message of 'I do not want to talk to you.'
"Ah, don't be like that!" he says with a chuckle, " I just thought I might be able to help you out. You look like you're just in from the country, probably looking for work and a place to stay?"
He's...not wrong. Is it that obvious? You know your hat and boots, a fur lined hunting hat and workman boots, respectively, are strange, but they would have been strange back home too. They were, after all, men's clothes that you stole from your father, so it wasn't like it was something a country girl would wear. And you were wearing a proper and unexciting grey dress! With your maroon cloak you felt you fit right in with what a lot of women in the streets had been wearing. Dark, muted colors, simple and unexciting dresses that weren't always the easiest to move in, and scarves were a popular face covering for this time of year.
Is it just because you're a highland girl?
You take a closer look at the man. He's somewhat handsome, and probably about ten years older than you, which would put him in his late twenties or early thirties. His looks are pretty typically lowlander, "clean" brown skin without the reddish tones more typical among highlanders, blonde tufts of hair peeking out from under his flatcap, a tad more flaxen than the honey or golden color that was the "standard" for lowlanders but you had seen just about as many who didn't fit that as who did. Your own red hair was a darker and deeper color than the usual flame red-orange folks in the highland usually had, after all, though there was less variety in town beyond those of obvious mixed ancestry. Less variety is the difference between a town and a city though.
His clothes are a bit more odd. A workman's jacket and trousers, with the flatcap makes him look pretty much identical to almost any number of men you've seen since you arrived, but little details betray a near utter lack of wear you'd expect if he actually did work in them. You don't really know what that, other than making you even more uneasy.
"My aunt runs a small place, I'm sure she'd let you stay there until you're on your feet. Maybe help point you in the right direction for work?" he continues, taking a small case out from his jacket.
"That's very kind, but I'm not really sure what you're getting out of this, Mister...?"
"Oh, how rude of me, I forgot introductions!" he says not sounding the least bit sorry, "I'm Riagan, and it's my pleasure to meet you." He adds too much emphasis on giving his words a sincere tone to come off as natural.
He's really trying too hard, isn't he?
"I'm Tesni, and you didn't really answer my question," you point out, and start looking around as you think of how to get out of this conversation. He clearly has no intention of leaving, so you'll just need to come up with an excuse...
"Well, I'm just a sucker for a pretty face," he says as if it's the smoothest line you've ever heard, as he flips open the case revealing a pipe, pouch, and small metal device. He begins packing the pipe, and you give him a disapproving look. "Mind if I smoke?" he finally asks.
"I rather you didn-" you start to reply, before you're interrupted by him clicking a lever on the device. A small flame shoots out, and he lights his pipe. Almost immediately he looks extremely self-satisfied, and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. One of your father's friends, a foreman, had picked up the habit thinking it made him sophisticated. You had just thought it made him smell worse than the miasma from the factory. In the capital...that might not quite be true, but it was still disgusting.
Your eyes involuntarily drift over for a moment to the small fire spirit dancing among the smoke. You had seen less and less spirits as you had approached the capital, and this was one of the few you had seen since you had set foot inside it. It bothered you, and you had...questions about that but it wasn't like most people could see them, much less admit it if they did.
We don't talk about such things!
Still, this did give you an excuse. "Since I came in for clean air, I'll be departing then," you say with a smile, but it seems he had been prepared. Before you had worked your way out from your seat, he had stood up and blocked your way.
"Don't be like that, sweet. If you're ready to get out of here, I can show you to my aunt's place in just as soon as I finish my smoke," he says, sporting what even the most charitable person could never call a "smile."
Your lips pressed together, as you forced yourself to think for a moment on what you should do...
[] Don't make a scene. You're on the run, so you can't draw attention to yourself. You'll just have to endure and say you'll think about it until you get an opportunity to slip away.
[] Don't make a scene. You don't want to draw attention to yourself, but you're a witch! You don't have to just take this. You can risk a little magic to snuff out his pipe, and then when he's distracted and confused you can slip outside and lose yourself in the crowd.
[] Make a scene. You're pretty sure you know his intentions at this point, so verbally rip him apart in such a public and humiliating fashion that he'll have no choice but to tuck his tail between his legs and leave.
[] Make a scene. Yeah, you've had enough. You're probably not the first girl he's tried to trick, either. Use magic so everything in his pipe burns at once. It'll singe his eyebrows, and you can use to distraction to just leave.
[][Protag] The Protagonist stole her knowledge one morsel at a time, until she was discovered as a practicing witch. After a spot of bother, she's fled her factory town and is seeking a way forward... (On the Run, -1 tone)
[][Rogue] The Rogue is a loveable thief and grifter. He may skirt the law to survive, but his targets are deserving, and no one truly needs to get hurt... (The Phantom Thief, +1 tone)
[][Potions] The Apothecary hides in plain sight, selling potions as traditional cures and remedies along side her more mainstream wares... (Miracle Cure, +1 tone)
[][Veteran] The Veteran returned from the war and was discarded, now that no one needed men like him. One wonders how he's made ends meet... (The Enemy Never Slew Ya, -1 tone)
[][Activist] The Activist is organizing, be it on the university campus, at the factories, or at the local pubs and cafes. They're tireless towards striving towards a better future... (Wait For it, +1 Tone)
[][Messiah] The Messiah figure is all-loving and compassionate in her quest to restore the balance of the world... (That Sad Feeling That Keeps Us Going, +1 Tone)
[][Rogue] The Rogue is a loveable thief and grifter. He may skirt the law to survive, but his targets are deserving, and no one truly needs to get hurt... (The Phantom Thief, +1 tone)
[][Potions] The Apothecary hides in plain sight, selling potions as traditional cures and remedies along side her more mainstream wares... (Miracle Cure, +1 tone)
[][Veteran] The Veteran returned from the war and was discarded, now that no one needed men like him. One wonders how he's made ends meet... (The Enemy Never Slew Ya, -1 tone)
[][Activist] The Activist is organizing, be it on the university campus, at the factories, or at the local pubs and cafes. They're tireless towards striving towards a better future... (Wait For it, +1 Tone)
[][Messiah] The Messiah figure is all-loving and compassionate in her quest to restore the balance of the world... (That Sad Feeling That Keeps Us Going, +1 Tone)
1
You have no idea what you're going to do. Looking back on it, you know very well that you're something of an idiot. You had been told as much before, and it wasn't like you had really proved anyone wrong.
You ignorant, foolish girl!
Right now you're sitting at a table in a corner of a public house not too far from the market square, no, a market square. The capital was so large it didn't just have a single market. It was...much larger than you had expected, but that was good. With so many people, you wouldn't stick out so much, even if you stuck out a bit with your very stereotypical highland looks. In the few hours you had been in the city you had already seen a score of highlanders like yourself, an uncountable number of lowlands, and everything in between. Coming here was the right decision, but now that you were here, you didn't know what to do!
You sigh and take another spoonful of your soup. The cheapest and most filling thing you could afford here and it had still taken almost all of your money. Everything in the capital was so expensive! It had taken several hours to decide on a place to eat simply because you couldn't believe the prices. You had checked out over a dozen different places before finally settling on one that smelled much better due to the large wind canister you had spotted behind the counter. You had made it to the capital, a place where you couldn't be recognized; where you couldn't be caught. Now you were here though...you had no place to stay, you were broke, and had no employment. You should start with finding a job but...
You need to learn! You'll have to know these things once you're married.
The only skills you had were household ones that just about anyone knew, and you knew you weren't particularly good at any of it. Not like your mother, whose needlework meant she had a tidy business sewing clothes, or your neighbor Dilys whose skill in the kitchen meant she was often invited to help cook for special events, or...everyone had something, it seemed. You though, were just passable. In terms of other skills, you had picked up a bit of knowledge about machines secondhand from your father when he talked about repairing them but not enough to do anything useful. And your parents hadn't been interested in apprenticing you to anyone to pick up any other useful skills, and just wanted you to focus on preparing to marry, hopefully another factory worker like your father. You knew they were getting a little concerned that none of the boys, you refused to call them young men, in town seemed interested in you since your, ah, what your father called "willful personality" kinda intimidated them. While your mother had insisted you were ruining your prospects, you had hoped that they'd give in and support you seeking an apprenticeship, but now that would never happen. And your only other skills, well...
Noise and chaos. Something heavy crashing to the ground. Smoke and Fire at the edge of your senses. Fear blossoming in familiar eyes.
You really didn't have a way to make money, did you? You sigh again, and then slump a bit when you realize your soup was pretty much gone. Maybe you could work as a maid somewhere? You could do housework, but you didn't really have the connections to get into that kind of work. It couldn't hurt to ask around, right?
"Hey, what's a pretty girl like you looking so glum for?" a deep voice that you're pretty sure is aiming for smooth disrupts your thoughts. You look up to see a lowlander man taking a seat across from you.
"Just thinking how I never get to eat in peace," you say sharply, a frown and a glare completing the message of 'I do not want to talk to you.'
"Ah, don't be like that!" he says with a chuckle, " I just thought I might be able to help you out. You look like you're just in from the country, probably looking for work and a place to stay?"
He's...not wrong. Is it that obvious? You know your hat and boots, a fur lined hunting hat and workman boots, respectively, are strange, but they would have been strange back home too. They were, after all, men's clothes that you stole from your father, so it wasn't like it was something a country girl would wear. And you were wearing a proper and unexciting grey dress! With your maroon cloak you felt you fit right in with what a lot of women in the streets had been wearing. Dark, muted colors, simple and unexciting dresses that weren't always the easiest to move in, and scarves were a popular face covering for this time of year.
Is it just because you're a highland girl?
You take a closer look at the man. He's somewhat handsome, and probably about ten years older than you, which would put him in his late twenties or early thirties. His looks are pretty typically lowlander, "clean" brown skin without the reddish tones more typical among highlanders, blonde tufts of hair peeking out from under his flatcap, a tad more flaxen than the honey or golden color that was the "standard" for lowlanders but you had seen just about as many who didn't fit that as who did. Your own red hair was a darker and deeper color than the usual flame red-orange folks in the highland usually had, after all, though there was less variety in town beyond those of obvious mixed ancestry. Less variety is the difference between a town and a city though.
His clothes are a bit more odd. A workman's jacket and trousers, with the flatcap makes him look pretty much identical to almost any number of men you've seen since you arrived, but little details betray a near utter lack of wear you'd expect if he actually did work in them. You don't really know what that, other than making you even more uneasy.
"My aunt runs a small place, I'm sure she'd let you stay there until you're on your feet. Maybe help point you in the right direction for work?" he continues, taking a small case out from his jacket.
"That's very kind, but I'm not really sure what you're getting out of this, Mister...?"
"Oh, how rude of me, I forgot introductions!" he says not sounding the least bit sorry, "I'm Riagan, and it's my pleasure to meet you." He adds too much emphasis on giving his words a sincere tone to come off as natural.
He's really trying too hard, isn't he?
"I'm Tesni, and you didn't really answer my question," you point out, and start looking around as you think of how to get out of this conversation. He clearly has no intention of leaving, so you'll just need to come up with an excuse...
"Well, I'm just a sucker for a pretty face," he says as if it's the smoothest line you've ever heard, as he flips open the case revealing a pipe, pouch, and small metal device. He begins packing the pipe, and you give him a disapproving look. "Mind if I smoke?" he finally asks.
"I rather you didn-" you start to reply, before you're interrupted by him clicking a lever on the device. A small flame shoots out, and he lights his pipe. Almost immediately he looks extremely self-satisfied, and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. One of your father's friends, a foreman, had picked up the habit thinking it made him sophisticated. You had just thought it made him smell worse than the miasma from the factory. In the capital...that might not quite be true, but it was still disgusting.
Your eyes involuntarily drift over for a moment to the small fire spirit dancing among the smoke. You had seen less and less spirits as you had approached the capital, and this was one of the few you had seen since you had set foot inside it. It bothered you, and you had...questions about that but it wasn't like most people could see them, much less admit it if they did.
We don't talk about such things!
Still, this did give you an excuse. "Since I came in for clean air, I'll be departing then," you say with a smile, but it seems he had been prepared. Before you had worked your way out from your seat, he had stood up and blocked your way.
"Don't be like that, sweet. If you're ready to get out of here, I can show you to my aunt's place in just as soon as I finish my smoke," he says, sporting what even the most charitable person could never call a "smile."
Your lips pressed together, as you forced yourself to think for a moment on what you should do...
[] Don't make a scene. You're on the run, so you can't draw attention to yourself. You'll just have to endure and say you'll think about it until you get an opportunity to slip away.
[] Don't make a scene. You don't want to draw attention to yourself, but you're a witch! You don't have to just take this. You can risk a little magic to snuff out his pipe, and then when he's distracted and confused you can slip outside and lose yourself in the crowd.
[] Make a scene. You're pretty sure you know his intentions at this point, so verbally rip him apart in such a public and humiliating fashion that he'll have no choice but to tuck his tail between his legs and leave.
[] Make a scene. Yeah, you've had enough. You're probably not the first girl he's tried to trick, either. Use magic so everything in his pipe burns at once. It'll singe his eyebrows, and you can use to distraction to just leave.
Magic, Elements, and Spirits
Diomedea
A piece of the continent
- Location
- The interblag
- Pronouns
- She/Her
This is all Tesni's in character recollection of a now destroyed text in a summarized and paraphrased form:
To understand magic is to understand the world. To wield magic is to wield the world. Just as there are always new things to discover, your magic may grow without limit. Just as no one may grasp the whole world, your magic will always be limited. This is the truth of magic.
The world is made up of five elements. Fire, Earth, Wind, and Water are the commonly understood elements, and the fifth element is spirit. Everything that exists within the world is some combination of these five elements. A witch is a person who uses the spirit to effect change upon the other four elements. This is the essence of magic.
Spirit is the strangest element, and is the element of life, thought, and emotion. Every living thing has spirit, from the meanest weed and insect, to the most majestic animals. People, of course, have spirit, and in fact have an overflowing abundance of it. So potent is the human spirit that with effort and care it can impart itself upon others, and even things that never had a spirit at all. A cherished pet, a lovingly tended garden, or a treasured keepsake all gain some measure of spirit from people, though minuscule and quick to fade. It is through a similar mechanism that familiars were once created, before the now obvious (but unknown to Tesni) consequences were discovered and the practice abandoned.
Magic involving the spirits of beings of complex matter (that is, things made up of different elements) is difficult, dangerous, and often of surprising little use. Therefore, my unseen daughters, I will focus on magic dealing with pure elemental spirits.
Pure elemental spirits are very different than people, or animals, or even plants. Their body is not a complicated mix of elements, but purely their own element, and the age and power of spirits vary widely. They arise naturally where their element exists, and just as naturally disperse, to reform again. This all is not quite true, but it is a useful lie to begin to understand. A witch gains the power to move the element by beseeching the spirit, just as a normal person might move another by asking. This is the beginning and ending of magic, but as the difference between a simpleton getting a lone man to take a step to the side and an eloquent speaker moving multitudes towards a single purpose is plain to see, so too is the difference between a novice and experienced witch.
To put it plainly, magic is simply asking a favor. You might improve your odds by using words your audience will find pleasing, by giving gifts that they are receptive to, asking for something they were already inclined to do, or simply being the type of person they like, but in the end it's still simply making a request of another. A witch has no power, yet a witch's request can topple the world.
To understand magic is to understand the world. To wield magic is to wield the world. Just as there are always new things to discover, your magic may grow without limit. Just as no one may grasp the whole world, your magic will always be limited. This is the truth of magic.
The world is made up of five elements. Fire, Earth, Wind, and Water are the commonly understood elements, and the fifth element is spirit. Everything that exists within the world is some combination of these five elements. A witch is a person who uses the spirit to effect change upon the other four elements. This is the essence of magic.
Spirit is the strangest element, and is the element of life, thought, and emotion. Every living thing has spirit, from the meanest weed and insect, to the most majestic animals. People, of course, have spirit, and in fact have an overflowing abundance of it. So potent is the human spirit that with effort and care it can impart itself upon others, and even things that never had a spirit at all. A cherished pet, a lovingly tended garden, or a treasured keepsake all gain some measure of spirit from people, though minuscule and quick to fade. It is through a similar mechanism that familiars were once created, before the now obvious (but unknown to Tesni) consequences were discovered and the practice abandoned.
Magic involving the spirits of beings of complex matter (that is, things made up of different elements) is difficult, dangerous, and often of surprising little use. Therefore, my unseen daughters, I will focus on magic dealing with pure elemental spirits.
Pure elemental spirits are very different than people, or animals, or even plants. Their body is not a complicated mix of elements, but purely their own element, and the age and power of spirits vary widely. They arise naturally where their element exists, and just as naturally disperse, to reform again. This all is not quite true, but it is a useful lie to begin to understand. A witch gains the power to move the element by beseeching the spirit, just as a normal person might move another by asking. This is the beginning and ending of magic, but as the difference between a simpleton getting a lone man to take a step to the side and an eloquent speaker moving multitudes towards a single purpose is plain to see, so too is the difference between a novice and experienced witch.
To put it plainly, magic is simply asking a favor. You might improve your odds by using words your audience will find pleasing, by giving gifts that they are receptive to, asking for something they were already inclined to do, or simply being the type of person they like, but in the end it's still simply making a request of another. A witch has no power, yet a witch's request can topple the world.
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