Category Archives: worlds

A Treatise On Magick Part 2

So when I miss a day of posting, it’s a terrible event and I have to post the next day. When Derek does it, he gets to write it off as “thesis prep.” Seem fair? I don’t think so either. I’ll be sure to drop a box during his move next week to protest this inequality in our posting expectations. That’ll show him! I may even jangle some hangers!

In the meanwhile, I’ll continue posting about the development of my magic system for my first novel. I actually did a short excerpt as some notes to myself between drafts. My original intention had been to post that but I got a tad long winded during Part 1. So here’s the first bit.

Wauters-Emile-Charles-Scholar_at_the_Table

Scholar at the Table by Wauters Emile Charles

A Treatise on Magick

by Scholar Henrik Wulfgang

It is a fact that the primeval energy of the cosmos flows through all things. Within each object, each natural item beats the softest drum of the universe’s heart. The vibrations from these essences can be felt through the natural aether that buoys all objects. A trained mind can perceive these vibrations, can sense their differing frequencies and react with them.

This is the core principle of magick. It requires the carefully trained and honed senses of the practitioner to navigate the aether and its cacophony of noise to pinpoint the source of certain frequencies. A trained practitioner recognizes the very same frequencies that they, themselves, project and learn to focus and manipulate their own projections in order to funnel the natural energies through the aether to produce the desired results. In this manner, a practitioner could funnel the heat energy of a flame into a focused concentration around the reactive energy of another object to create a spontaneous combustion.

However, it requires more than just mere concentration of one’s own energy to manipulate the aether. Due to man’s natural own peculiarities in their own projections, they cause certain repeatable contaminations to different sources which either interfere with their channelling or mutate it into a wholly different form through a process known as transmutation.

It is this mixing of different energies that gave rise to the classification of different magicks and to the development of the glamours in particular. It seems that man’s higher cognitive functioning often transforms even the basest and wildest energies into a subtle perceptual form. It is the belief of this scholar that human energy contains within it a certain higher quintessence that has a profound energizing effect upon most energies. This excites the energy frequencies, causing them to work on a higher level output. While this would create a diffusion of concentrated power, this scholar feels it is a more pure and divine creation that turns even the rawest energy form into something more sophisticated.

Human channelled energies can thusly be a vivid representation of their primal forms but to be elevated to such a level that they no longer possess the entropic qualities of their previous sources. Simply put, human transformed energy is insubstantial. It is more cerebral. It works on a perceptive level while being channelled harmlessly on a physical sense. A human practitioner can turn the raw fiery essence of heat into a blinding conflagration to the senses but leave the actual natural world unaffected by the energies. It turns highly reactive substances and makes them inert. It makes even the most languid of energies fluid and flowing.

These are what the laymen call illusions. Because these energies lack a lasting impact, they are under the impression that the energy never truly existed in the first place. This is incorrect. Energy always exists within the aether, it is just the manipulation of that energy that creates the different effects. Essentially, man can move the energies about the aether of their own accord regardless of the natural frictions inherent in the rest of the essences.

Because of man’s natural affinity to the production of glamours, these techniques are typically the first taught to the initiates. While it takes a tremendous amount of skill and at least some creativity to form these glamours into the most remarkable forms witnessed, the basic glamours are quite easy for beginning initiates to grasp. One need only to step into the classroom to hear the phantom sounds of the beginner effortlessly ringing about the hall to understand our own natural affinities.

This scholar believes the reason for this affinity is due, in part, to man’s highly developed social sense. Few animals appear to possess the natural tendency to perceive and interact with high order social structures and these complex relationships are wholly unfeasible in lower based life. Quite often, the status and rank of a member is determined by almost imperceptible cues and indicators and, as such, our minds are primed to attentiveness for these subtle elements. It is in manipulating this natural propensity that a practitioner can trigger the most subtle of man’s perceptions and play into his natural biases.

While glamours may be the most common, they are certainly not the only skill to be taught. The second classification of magick arose through the manipulation and experimentation of various other substances.

Wards are based on the unmoving energies of rocks and earth. While man has a very transient energy, earth does not. It is this immovability, this unyielding force that gave rise to the development of the wards. These are, perhaps, the sorcerer’s most famous abilities. These are static, focused fields that require a physical sourced anchor. The first wards were protective, creating fields that would alert the practitioner to any outside influence that disturbed its natural order.

However, through the careful application of transmutation, wards could be created to produce just about anything. Most remarkable are the anti-magick wards. These incredibly powerful fields dampen and restrict the flow of aether through their area. Most will weaken the abilities of a sorcerer within, reducing the amount of energy they can channel from all sources. The most powerful, however, can reduce the movement of energy so much that a sorcerer can find that he is just unable to channel enough energy to produce any magickal effect at all!

As with all magicks, the advancement of the knowledge on wards came through the creative use of their energies. Some sorcerers were able to create small, inverted fields that rippled within the aether at such a frequency that they could be tracked far further than one could naturally. Other fields flow through the natural energies of their areas that they can accurately reproduce any changes within, allowing a sorcerer to sense all activity within its area.

The final field of magickal inquiry is in the charm classification. The most recent magickal discovery, through the application of advanced channelling techniques, many prominent scholars have demonstrated that the natural energies of items can be increased or decreased if properly admixed with similar or opposing energies. Thus, a sorcerer could physically turn a small flame into a roaring blaze or turn the strike of a thunderbolt into the most harmless of jolts. These charms are, perhaps, the most misunderstood by the layman’s mind.

To the uninitiated, charms can give the impression that the sorcerer is conjuring or creating new energies seemingly from nowhere. As previously state, this is impossible within the aether. To create a flame from nothing, that object must first have a very reactive energetic source. Then, the practised sorcerer could fill that source with even greater reactive energy that causes that source to ignite, reaching its potential energetic state.

The practical application of these techniques, however, are rarely so obvious. A charm can make just about anything better: a charmed sword is sharper, a charmed sweetroll is sweeter and a charmed door is stronger. Likewise, one could induce a state of weakness into substances by interposing contrary energies. The trained sorcerer could cause a new sword to become rusted and brittle, the tastiest cake to turn dry and bland or make even the sturdiest wall crumble at the slightest touch.

However, in order for any charms to reach such effectiveness, the sorcerer must have an intimate knowledge of the properties of its target and their spell’s ingredients. They must know the exact type of energy produced by sandstone compared to marble in order to properly enhance or detract from it. Otherwise, they will find they have burned through their ingredients and produced nothing or worst, cause an aetheric flareback from the unused energies. Furthermore, a sorcerer must be careful to not naturally contaminate the spell with their own innate energy else they will produce a rather useless glamour effect which will do nothing but reveal the amateur abilities of the practitioner.

These three techniques – glamours, wards and charms – form the foundation of modern magickal study. They are well established principles from which all other research is based. The proposed existence of other techniques or forms of energy are wholly hearsay lacking any applicable empirical evidence. Most are based on the exaggerated accounts of historical abilities captured by past historians working with an incomplete knowledge of magickal practice and theory.

To understand further the magickal practices and how a sorcerer can use these principles in a practical setting, I would like to draw the curious reader to my next paper on the components of Ritual and Invocation.

A Treatise on Magick – Thyre Part 1

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Heroic Landscape with Rainbow by Joseph Anton Koch (1815)

So, I wrote a fantasy novel.

I feel one of the hallmarks of fantasy writing is the magic. People love stories of wizards, witches, sorcerers and what have you. King Arthur had his Merlin and Morgana. Shakespeare had his Weird Sisters. In a sense, magic is the easiest way to express the core of the genre. It gives a sense of wonder, excitement and intrigue that lets the imagination free from the expectations and rules of the mundane. It inherently is mysterious. The reader never truly understands how magic works. Partly because the characters themselves don’t know. It’s magical.

However, being who I am, this wouldn’t do when creating my fantasy world. First, I was setting my fiction in a much later time period that general fantasy. My societies have had their Enlightenments. They’ve already gone through their age of superstition where the unknown was an omnipresent entity and their lives were guided by elements and forces beyond their keen. They have studied. They have learned. They have begun to categorize the life around them and tease apart the elements of their world. Of course, they’re mostly on the breaking point of this revolution of thought but to give that sense of no longer leaving the explanations for daily life in the hands of mysterious otherworldly beings there needed to be some theories for why magic existed.

So I had to create a system.

But where do you begin?

I knew that my story was going to have a greater emphasis on steampunk. I also wanted the world to be somewhat familiar to our own. Furthermore, I have a personal bias against high fantasy and all three of these elements naturally led me to a low magic impact. There weren’t going to be giant stomping suits of magitek kicking around. Steam and electricity were the wonders of the age, not doddering old men waving their hands. I felt I wanted magic to be less this awe-inspiring, grandiose affair and something that had become almost forgotten. Sure, you would have some elements worked into everyday life but for the most part the average citizen didn’t feel the weight of spells. I didn’t want my narrative being hijacked by some mad sorcerer with the aims to ruin the world and the ability to reign hellfire from the skies.

But I didn’t want magic to feel isolated either. Merlini is almost cut off from the rest of Avalon and the knights with his studies and his abilities. The world isn’t shaped by those great wizards of legend. They were there as just mystics who dispensed helpful advice or a timely incantation despite the apparent ability to turn into anything they wanted or to shake the foundations of reality itself (depending on who’s telling the story of course). I did like the idea of a faded glory, however. That there were sorcerers who looked back on those legends fondly believing them to accurate tellings of the day. For them myth and legend were the stored records of an age long past where magic controlled the fates of nations and people looked upon those wielders with respect and awe.

Instead of seeing them as conning charlatans just looking to weasel a little more money from you.

I’ll confess, in our age of skepticism, this is hardly a unique point of view. But I felt it would add that element tension towards change that I wanted to capture with my story. The institute of magic was something that was old tradition. They were used to prominence but in the wave of technological advancement they were being slowly brushed aside. Here were men who had once felt they had all of creation in their palm and now few would give them the time of day.

And to insure this, I had to have limits on magic. I had to come up with the reasons for the fall of mysticism. Arthur C. Clarke famously stated that “An reasonably advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. ” I took that idea and ran with it. Not only could technology produce what magic could, but it could do it better. A gun can kill a person with the pull of a trigger. A spell could kill a person but it would require you to sit and mumble and wave your hands and possibly sacrifice a goat while you’re at it. Given the two options, any reasonable person would take the gun over magic.

So my magic had to be unwieldy. It had to be inconvenient. It demanded sacrifice and it produced often results that in this day and age were unsatisfactory. Before the explosion of inventions from the industrial revolution, magic would have been really swell when there were no alternatives to produce the results. But once everyone could light their houses by just installing some gas piping, people are going to wonder if keeping a sorcerer on staff and constantly paying for his supplies is really worth it.

Stodgy old Newton. He probably didn’t even like apples.

But even with this fall of magic, I still liked its existence. The rules and limitations of the practice would be seemingly well understand by my societies. But just like physics felt like there was nothing else to learn after Newton’s Laws, I wanted to leave room for the current understanding to be wrong and there to be something more. Magic is, after all, a systematic way of explaining the workings of our universe. And even in our day and age with quantum theories we still struggle to come up with an all encompassing scientific theory that explains all phenomena. In the end I didn’t need a system that would accurately explain how magic worked. I needed a system that adequately explained the magic that could work at that time.

I had my feel for my system but none of the particulars. I hadn’t quite yet worked out the particulars or how it all fit in the big picture. That would take extra work and tweaking. And to find out what I made, you’ll have to wait for a later post.

Clockwork Caterpillar Sketch – New Fusang

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Awhile ago I mentioned the new novel I was working on and gave a brief insight into the process I go about preparing for its writing. Progress on it continues as I juggle it amongst some other projects at the same time. But I thought the character sketches I wrote were somewhat interesting and they really don’t stand any chance of seeing the light of day unless I put them up here.

One of the characters I’m currently struggling with is a nine year old girl. Writing children is always a tricky proposition. It doesn’t take a degree in psychology to understand that children see the world different than adults. Quite often they make connections and associations well beyond what we would expect. While this gives them that stereotypical air of “innocence” it also creates a bit of a challenge for an adult who wishes to capture that wonderful essence.

What I attempted in this passage was to try and imitate a childhood nursery rhyme. I spent time working on sound play and the cadence of the actual passage in order to replicate the youthful spirit. I don’t think it worked but part of the process of writing is trying new things even if they turn out to be a disaster in the end. So here’s some of my dirty laundry, so to speak, as an example of me stepping out of my comfort zone and pushing my abilities as a writer.

Inspiration can come from the most peculiar places. My idea for the Jader colonies came from a mythological Chinese settlement supposedly founded in America long before English colonial hegemony. A veritable Eastern Atlantis, if you will.

Clucked and cuckold were the markets of New Fusang. Women in pretty coats spoke with men in dirty shirts. Clink, clink, clink went their fingers. Clink, clink, clink went the wen. Dangled the strings of coins, their square holes holding tightly to the lines as they were stretched and counted. Glasses raised and eyes presse. Clink, clink, clink went the fingers that counted the disks. Squawked went the chickens. Wan went the dogs. And the cages rattled.

Chatter and chat. Sing and spat. Round and round they prat. From stall to stall stepped the pretty ladies. And clinked went their strings. Whirled and wove like a little leaf on a stream. Fingers pointed and hands were filled. Mouths chomped and chewed round words and wan. Sticked fish and lizards, scorpions and pigeons. Barbed and bite, boxed and bundle. Fingers flick and all is bought.

The smell of roasted corn, fried jellyfish, cooked cat and brewed tea scent the air. They mixed with sweat, perfumes, cows and poop. Everywhere you looked something was passed, eaten, purchased, tossed, fed or tried. No place was like the markets of New Fusang.

She sat upon the roped boxes kicking small, tight shoes. They were simple cloth with colourful floral patterns of strange pink and white flowers and long petals. They were her favourite for the black embroidery around the anklet slip studded with colourful beads. At the tips were the worn remnants of long lost tassells. She liked kicking her feet and making the little stubs bounce up and down in the air. The frayed ends flapped like a bird’s tiny wing.

Across from her twanged the stringed wood. She watched slender fingers splay across the rows of wires. Picked and plucked. Notes echoed and twanged. Picked and plucked. Talon fingers like small claws of a little bird. They danced and jumped. And the board warbled. While the talons danced, the other fingers jumped about their ends. Ten and more strings stretched over the polished wood. Along the side ran pretty little symbols that she couldn’t read.

She tried to get her tassells to jump to the beat.

Suddenly, the tassells began to flap of their own accord, jumping and pulling without her kicking her feet. As she turned, regarding them curiously, she felt her jacket pull as a great wind nearly toppled her from her perch. She turned a small head with its little cap skywards. Overhead came the thump, thump, thump of great propellers as an enormous bladed vessel gently drifted past the stalls.

The gust of wind sent merchants scurry, reaching for tarps and cloths to tie and bound. Cotton and silk caught in the draft, fluttering and lifting like banners in a parade. She clapped her hands at the colourful twirling and twisting of the clothes as women and men jumped and danced after them.

And still those fingers plucked and danced. Twisted and bent were the scarves to the notes. Hopped and jumped went the women and men like guests at a pretty little party. Their voices cried and the strings sang and chirped, warbled and waned.

No place was like the markets of New Fusang.

The great air ship passed overhead, groaning with its journey. As it passed the wind followed. She jumped from the roped boxes, chasing after the plucky notes and twisting scarves down the crowded streets. Sails caught in the passing gust pulling their little carts on large, creaky single wheels as owners shouted and gave chase. A fancy little parade followed after the big boat as they all ran down the lane. She laughed and clapped and jumped and stomped all while scarves played and flapped about.

It was a parade of bright red and orange with small bursts of green and blue. Lapis lazuri and jade, vermilion and saffron. All were on display as they marched and skipped after the great wheeling boat. Doors burst open as others came to investigate the sounds. From a pile of colourful cushions arose cut sleeved robes, the two men joining in with others as they wove and wound down the lane.

Skipping, jumping, hopping, twirling.

Plucked were the guzhengs. Twanged were the sanxian. Whistled the xun. Banged the bolang gu.

A happy little parade chased the whirling, beating, churning air ship.

But it made not for the docks. Groaning and twisting, the metal turned as the wind caught at ladies’ dresses and men’s robes. Voices gave rise to the music as the procession made its way. Chattered and chittered and shouted and sang. She laughed as she skipped after them and their feet pounded the dirt.

Great dragon heads bit down on the large propellers. The undercarriage had magnificent carved lions with great flowing manes watching over their windows. So close flew the great ship that she could swear she could almost see the faces of the passengers looking out the silk drapes at the canvases of the markets.

A long row of bells gonged as they rushed past. Their great tubes were studded, intricate woven castings decorating around them like a beautiful ribbon wound too tightly. The supports were iron cast men, their bare arms balancing the heavy bars upon their heads and outstretched arms. The iron had begun to wash orange and green as if their skin and skirts were shedding the tarnished flakes to reveal their colours hidden beneath.

She stopped long enough to give a bright smile at the man watching over the row of bells. But his eyes followed the ship. So she quickly reached out, pushing on the largest of the bells and listening to it peel it’s bright, clear note.

Then she shouted and hurried after the fantastic ship.

Eight_Immortals_Crossing_the_Sea_-_Project_Gutenberg_eText_15250

The Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea from Myths and Legends of China

“What is it?”

“Where is it going?”

“Where are the soldiers?”

“Where did it come from?”

“Is that it? It’s bigger than I heard.”

“Isn’t it early?”

“Isn’t it late?”

“It looks magnificent!”

They chattered and chitted as they hurried, clutching to their hats as long braided tails bounced after shiny heads. Hurried they went through the streets of New Fusang. Doors burst open. Windows raised. Women emerged from kitchens and men from taverns. Even the pagoda’s doors were pushed open as orange robed old men emerged, raising wise hands to shield their eyes as the ship thrummed over their tiered tower. The very tiles of the roofs clapped in anticipation as the vessel veered towards the plains on the outskirts of the town.

The gates were stuck with people pushing and jockeying to get a look. As their parade got closer, they got slower. And she had to duck and weave amongst the silk dresses and leather pants. The thin shoes and the heavy boots. In and out, under and between. Around and around.

Everything could be seen in the markets of New Fusang.

Everything but a ship that could fly.

Gears creaked and croaked. The dragons seemed to roar as the propellers shook. The sky banged and smoked as the ship turned and broke. People craned and watched, questioned and gasped. All stood watching in fascination as the great ship banked on its airy waves.

Whistles cried and soldiers stomped. Guns and swords shook. But the people did not make way, grabbing arms, sleeves, jackets and coats. They pointed, they gaped and they spoke.

“Is it from the Emperor?”

“Is it from the ministers?”

“Is it from the merchants?”

“Is it from the generals?”

“How does it fly?”

“How does it turn?”

“How does it land?”

“I want to ride!”

She shouted and pointed, watching as the ship began to sink. Shook and shake, ring and clank. The dragons roared. Bore aloft on their slender backs came this great metal egg. It was a sight and a show and she had to see it for herself.

She pressed against the gate and its thin metal studs worn and marked from the old blades and arrows of the wildmen in the hills and mountains. She tried to press her fingers into the dented and torn wood, pulling herself up as much as she could to look over the hats and heads, braids and parasols. The ship brought itself around, the great fins turning beneath the chains of working gears like a great puffed metal fish.

And then something loud popped.

And the crowd gasped.

And the ground shook.

And the air hissed.

Before she knew it, something warm and strong pulled her from the perch and to the ground. A frightful sound erupted from the air. Shouts and screams churned from the crowd as people pushed and ran. Like little birds scattering before a coming cat they took back to the streets they had hurried along.

Whistles blared and voices shouted. The soldiers stamped their feet.

She looked up to the ship and only saw the frightful burning of a sun. Lines dropped as fire rose. It ran all along the green and red sides. It licked the balloon and grasped the sky. In seconds the entire ship was ablaze as it tore and broke.

And it came crashing down.

She pushed herself to her feet but was bumped and pushed. Feet kicked and clopped and she shouted in pain as they passed. But no one noticed in their haste and fear. They ran and they screamed and she shouted and she cried.

She found herself up against the wall, pulling her legs close. Her pants were torn and her legs were bruised and bleeding. One of her lovely little shoes was missing and she looked at her dirty foot. She pulled it in close, wrapping herself up in a little ball.

Then the wall shook.

It crunched and snapped as a great series of steel beams and chains smashed overhead. Fire dropped like thick raindrops about her head as the metal crushed the roof of a nearby home. The wood caught and blazed. People shouted and screamed as soldiers rushed to the spreading flames.

Smoke filled the air, choking her mouth and stinging her eyes. She crawled away from the fire and the people. She crawled along the wall. Few people ran along side now, but all of them still jumped and struck. The fire and the heat was so strong as the house and its friend caught the dancing red and orange. She watched as the sailed carts smoked up like little firecrackers during a new year festival.

The wall shook and crashed again and she crawled crying away from it as the great metal nose of the ship came crashing through. Stones and dirt sprayed over her as she hid her face behind her arms. She stumbled and scrambled, spun and slipped. She sprawled against the dirt and crawled into the alley seeking silence and cold.

The noise and the shouts were loud and overbearing. She hurt and she cried but no one came. The air grew heavy and dark as black smoke was the only hand that tried to comfort. She coughed and tried to spit the burnt taste from her mouth. Frightened and alone, she curled up waiting for it to stop and for it to end.

There she would have stayed and lay but something stirred from the wreckage around her. From the broken and burning wood, from the gasping metal fingers of a crushed cage, poke two small coals that peered at her through the smoke. Tumbling and turning flopped a small little creature, it’s large tail singed. It plodded towards her, skittering around the flames and metal. It pressed its cold nose against her bloody hand.

And as she peeled her knees away, she could see something red beneath the soot. Two white ears pricked as she cried and its red fur was not from the fires that burned around it. It pawed with its little foot then trotted a few feet away. Turning its white streaked face, it blinked its eyes before giving a sharp, airy cry.

She blinked back.

The spirit of flame took a few more ponderous paces, turned and cried again. Slowly, she followed. Step by step on hands and knees. She slowly made her way ofter its bobbing round tail, ringed and inviting, skirting fires and sliding on its belly beneath twisted metal and smouldering wood. Past darkened bodies and bleeding faces they moved. Over tumbled stones and along cracked metal bones they climbed. She followed and he scampered.

Through the ruins of New Fusang they wound until they broke from its burning shell into the soft grass and green trees. They climbed and scampered up the hills. As she fled, she turned and looked back at the city burning and choking in a dark black haze.

No place would ever be like the markets of New Fusang.

Ikan’s Light – The Creation of a Character

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So today marked a monumental moment in Derek’s Ikan’s Light campaign world.

Today is the day we made my character.

The following photos are pieces of the mural by Edwin Austin Abbey, faithfully photographed and restored by this website: http://www.thefriendsofenglishmagic.com/

I was planning on posting my process for making a character since some of it overlaps with the way I create characters for my story. Then Derek decided to do something different with character generation and take it from a computer role-playing perspective. Which is to say that he asked me a bunch of questions and kept the details hidden behind his DM’s screen.

Which isn’t completely fair, I suppose. I had an idea of what I wanted to be for this game before we started. I’ve played a few role-playing games prior and found that I usually made characters in the same vein. Generally speaking, I gravitated towards the handsome, dashing, daring and glib individuals who relied more on their smarts and guile to see them through trouble. Often, this led to characters with a focus on magic or the arcane and bonus points if it could be a non-standard system.

So, for Derek’s campaign I wanted to do something different. I wanted to go completely on the other end of the spectrum. Knowing he wanted to create a low-magic setting, I decided I wanted to be a paladin. Course, when making that decision, I wanted to do the paladin ideal justice which is to say that I wanted to make a character that would communicate the inherent hypocrisy of the class. Working under the auspices that magic didn’t really exist, I was fully prepared to make a fighter who was deluded into thinking he was a holy warrior.

But then plans change as is always the case. As more and more pieces of Derek’s world came to light, I grew increasingly interested in the struggles of the upstart rebellion in Steinessern. Here was a group that seemingly were cast in the villainous role. Not only were they upsetting the status quo but they were so successful and so brutal in their victories that they were seen as a major threat by all other nations. Being the natural contrarian, I wanted to explore what would drive someone to participate in such a bloody rebellion and the motivations for joining a group that from all other perspectives was nothing but evil.

I still wanted to play a paladin, however, but now I had my god. My character would be wholly devoted to the cause of the rebellion, holding truth to the tenants of this false faith and leading the vanguard against the enemies who held power and tyranny for so long.

What initially drew me to the paladin ideal is that whole abandonment of the self for a greater cause. So often were my past characters balancing questionable morals with self-gain and personal interest. They rarely held to any morality beyond what they deemed was correct and often they scoffed at established laws and structures. They put so much faith in their own reasoning that to prescribe to someone else’s wasn’t just lazy but almost an intellectual sin.

So, in crafting this new character, I had to consider what would drive someone to complete devotion. Practically every complex belief structure has inherent contradictions and flaws yet people still are drawn into believing them whole-heartedly. And I didn’t want this to be some lazy faith either. Here is a man who is joining a movement that, probably by all accounts stands little chance of success, but is prepared to give his body and soul towards.

This, of course, left me with the age old question: why?

For most of my character creations, I start right at the roots. I look not at my character but at those that made him. What is the relationship with his family and how did that mould him into the person that he is today? Oftentimes, the core conflict driving my characters arises from these relationships. For this one, I felt that there was no stronger motivation than that of blood. No other cause would drive a man from his faith to a new revolutionary ideal. He may be wrong, but it is the wronging of his kin that would make him willing to sacrifice himself.

It was when Derek wrote about his Reclaimers that I got my justification.

To recap: the Reclaimers are an arm of the Ikan church tasked with investigating and searching for lost or hidden magical artifacts. Due to the church’s fear and control of magic items, their punishments for harbouring or possessing such devices can be quite strict. In the Reclaimer’s arsenal of solutions for dealing with magic artifacts and their keepers is alerting the Adjudicators. From what I can gather, these are very similar to Inquisitors save for one special exception. As this is a world fueled on magic, they are able to use spells in order to drain a victim of their intelligence instead of outright executing them.

This struck me as an incredibly harsh and brutal method of dealing with people. There are truly some fates worth than death, and reducing a loved one to little more than a quibbling, drooling idiot seems like such a fate. Imagine a loved brought under such justice. Well, it’s the sort of thing that could push someone to extremes. It could motivate them to raise arms against such horrible practices and seek out vengeance against oppressors far too willing to invoke such cruelty on the innocent.

I just had to create an innocent first.

Pulling on the histories, I devised that my character’s mother possessed a magical artifact. What it actually did was, inevitably, irrelevant. In my mind, it was some rather potent item capable of warding off hostile undead from an area. Such a trinket would have been incredibly useful during the scourge, when settlements were struggling to find ways to keep their dead from dragging the living with them back into the graves. In that dark past, this trinket was crafted and served much like a ward to repel these creatures and see this settlement’s continuation from one generation to the next. In order to insure the ward was kept intact, each daughter of the line was entrusted with the artifact.

By the time the Ikan Beacon was light, the need for such an item was gone. However, the thing with traditions is often they persistent long after they are necessary. In my mind, the families continued to pass this trinket down, keeping it hidden from the Reclaimers as long as they could, probably under the belief that this item was incredibly important to the well-being of the community.

However, all things must come to an end. My character’s mother was finally caught with the device. And, perhaps through a combination of rebellion and the power of the artifact itself, the Reclaimers felt that she had to be made an example of. She was turned over to the Adjudicators and consequently stripped of all her intelligence.

I can scarcely begin to imagine the horror my character would have faced, coming home to find his mother lying upon the floor. Likely, she would be incapable of speech. Certainly, she wouldn’t be able to take care of herself. The horror of that first discovery would be utterly heart wrenching for a son. Such fury would have only one outlet: revenge. And for my character, there by chance existed an opportunity. The Cult of the Wurm were the sole voice that spoke out against the church and its practices. The rest of their tenants were irrelevant. If they would see an end to the abuse of the Ikan church, then my character would join them.

That’s the basics of it and is what I approached the character generation session with. Derek proceeded to ask me a series of questions to work out the finer details. First was locating the actual site of this tragedy. Given my race (human), and the elements involved, he decided that Weelderige was the most likely place for this to occur. I had no grand visions of my character’s upbringing so an isolated farming community seemed the most likely. A community known for its lush produce farmed from the soil fertilized with the dead from the great undead wars was even better. Here would be a land steeped in traditions of blood and sacrifice. A fitting location to put my revenge focused paladin.

As a bonus, I get an excuse to hate Derek’s disgusting roshome. Not that I really needed their history of cattle wrangling to dislike the critters though.

Next was to determine my role in the community. I figure rebellion is a young man’s game, so I wouldn’t hold and prominent or settled position. Apprenticeship seemed like a decent start and I gravitated towards blacksmithing. This would explain my apparent physical prowess while also leaving me rather ill-prepared for waging a war against the church. I’m looking for a character strengthened by his will and faith – not some history steeped in secretive training and mysterious masters.

We skimmed some of the details, hopping right to the rebellion. Derek mentioned some positions in the Wurm’s forces that I didn’t understand but after learning my penchant for choosing hardiness over aptitude, he decided I was initially recruited into the Reapers. These delightful beasties were apparently thrown at the more monstrous elements of the opposing Grand River forces. They were tasked with bringing down magical golems and fearsome drakes. A rather terrifying position, I can only imagine but for a man who has little to lose, I felt my character would take such risks with glee. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he fully expected to die in some beast’s teeth – revenge unfulfilled but his duty served.

Apparently, however, the universe had other plans. My character survived, often against great odds, and his leaders took this as a sign of glorious Nidhoggr’s blessing. They took him aside and trained him in the deeper tenants of the faith, promoting him to be one of the first paladin’s in the army.

At this point, Derek had me take the very generic online alignment quiz. I, personally, think alignments are silly but I obliged anyway.

https://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/dnd/20001222b

I ended with Chaotic Good. Which makes a certain amount of sense from the right point of view.

Thus, Kees van der Nevel was born. He’s a big, physically powerful and handsome young man who may not be the most agile of individuals but he has a resounding constitution and almost unearthly ability to take a beating. Through sheer stubbornness and willpower, he seems to shake off the mightiest blows. And, perhaps it was the fact he’s apt to take a hit or maybe it was the isolated upbringing but he isn’t the wisest or smartest man to walk beneath the Green Mountain. But his unending devotion and commitment to the rebellion saw him rise through the ranks, surviving one of the harshest and deadliest divisions of the army.

Trusting in the sense and will of his lord, Nidhoggr, Kees demonstrates a remarkable ability to sense the faltering allegiance of his fellows. Rumour has it, feeling his closest friend’s wavering devotion to both the rebellion and Nidhoggr, Kees sacrificed his comrade to his glorious lord. The young man makes a fearsome sight, striding boldly into the thick of battle dressed in the scales of one of the fearsome Dracfearann mounts. The armour, salvaged from the field of battle and forged through the training he’d received before leaving his village is a grim reminder of the foes Kees has faced without flinching or remorse.

But despite his brutal reputation, he still manages to tend to the armies beasts and mounts with relative skill. Though he may not be the most glib of the Wurm’s agents, he seems to channel a natural connection with the animals and companions, tending to them as if they were comrades in arms, even if his ability to ride isn’t that great. Of course, his smithing skills aren’t just useful in crafting but the proper breakdown and salvaging of items after a battle has been won. Sadly, these skills come at a price and he’s not the most knowledgeable in applying poultices and salves to his fallen comrades or even engaging in a duel of wits when it comes to haggling for supplies from reticent merchants hoping to profit off the conflict.

However, no other member of the Wurm’s forces is as pure in his intentions of bringing about the end of the Ikan faith. For he truly believes the three tenants of the Wurm’s faith, and can be found reciting them each night in a quiet prayer to the one route he hopes to find the salvation of his family:

Oh, great Wurm! See to the end of the monarchy’s oppression for the magocracy is but a false tyrant seeking to further the grip of the throne and the democratic republic is naught but an illusion cast before the gullible masses

Oh, great Wurm! The world has been poisoned from the root, and only by cutting down the rotten tree can a new one truly grow.

Oh, great Wurm! Only once the lost world is purged of the reminders of its failure will it become the cradle of enlightenment and salvation.

May the forces of the weak, cowardly and cruel be not but the blood and soil for a better tomorrow. Let fall their bodies so we may reap a stronger harvest from their bones and their souls. There is no way but the way of the Wurm’s.

Edit: From Derek

Kase van der Nevel(Human, Male)
Paladin, Soldier of the Wurm Army, blacksmith

ABILITIES

Strength: You are strong than all but the strongest, able to wrestle even drakes if you get advantage.

Dexterity: You are average. You can dodge the occasional blow, but you can’t rely on it.

Constitution:You are hardy and stout. You can weather more punishment than most, and are very resistant to illness.

Intelligence: You’re slightly less intelligence than most people. You’re not a dimwit, and you’re literate, but most people would beat you in a battle of wits.

Wisdom:You have average wisdom, with common sense and the ability to perceive your surroundings on par with your peers.

Charisma: You have a stunning, commanding presence capable of calling people under your banner.

FEATURES

AURA OF PROTECTION: When a nearby ally faces danger, you can use your reaction to improve their odds of survival.

CHANNEL NIDHOGGR’S DIVINITY:[2] times per day.

When you channel Nidhoggr, you allow yourself to temporarily become a conduit for Nidhoggr’s will. While you’re letting his majesty flow through you, you can choose one of three effects:

Smite Heathens: After hitting any creature, you can channel divinity to call down Nidhoggr’s wrath and ask him to burn the enemy.

Dreadful Vision: After hitting any creature, you can channel divinity to reveal a vision to your enemies, showing them the death of Ika at the hand of the great Nidhoggr. You can force this vision on as many nearby targets as you wish. Those creatures who fail to shake off the visions are frightened of you for a minute.

Rebuke Undead: As an action, you can use channel divinity to rebuke an undead creature. You choose a creature at medium range, and attempt to charm it. If you’re successful, the undead creature falls under your command for an hour. The undead creature must be weak, though as you become a more powerful paladin you can control more powerful undead.

DIVINE SENSE: As an action, you can allow Nidhoggr to enter you and give you divine sight. For one turn, you know the exact location of any supernatural creature or object nearby, and such creatures cannot hide from you.

DIVINE GRACE: Whenever you face a dangerous effect such as possession, catching on fire, etc, your connection with Nidhoggr guarantees a greater chance at avoiding the danger.

DURABLE: Whenever you’re healed (with magic or mundane), it is more effective.

GUILD CONNECTIONS: You’re an apprentice in the Blacksmith Guild, and can get support from local guilds (barring cultural or racial prejudice).

SKILLS

These skills come naturally from your character’s abilities. Green skills he’s best at, blue skills are good and black skills are fair.

Bluff
Break an Object
Climb
Gather Rumours
Intimidate
Jump
Perform
Sense Motive
Blacksmithing
Swim

The Noble Truths (Vacay Post 2)

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Day two of my exciting remiss adventures leaves you with something a little different. Awhile ago, I made a post about the short creation history of a shared world that Derek and I are/were working on. I teased that I may give a bit more detail and for you, lucky reader, I fulfill that promise.

Yes, this is a Plemora post – the unfortunate world created from Derek’s own typos. It is a world that I find quite fascinating. It is really the first ‘alternate reality’ world that I created. Generally, I prefer fabricating my own reality where I’m given unfettered license in developing the people, history, science and understanding of everything. The one thing I enjoy about the fantasy genre is the complete artistic freedom you’re granted by your readership. They are, initially, willing to accept just about anything whether it be talking hamsters or entire cities powered by nothing more than bottle souls.

But Plemora doesn’t try that. It draws its fantasy from the unknowns of our understanding. It leans heavily on our past and our world, teasing at the familiar and lulling its audience into a sense of false security before completely upending all expectations. In a sense, it’s based on Lovecraftian horror. It draws on the areas of the unknown, filling them with horrors and wonders beyond our comprehension. But for these entities to work, it must create that initial familiar element. Yes, it is a world that unabashedly takes place on Earth around our proximate time.

It also is designed within the confines of a game system. Today’s particular element was developed from the initial musings of player ‘classes.’ I wanted to develop within the world a system of unique play experiences that would give players and game masters the freedom to play whatever sort of story they desired. The initial creation was focused around the demon ‘half-breeds’ of people suddenly ripped into a greater understanding of the world than they had before the moment of their ‘curse.’ However, there were other entities and peoples stalking the shadows and moving before the masses who had no idea the true nature of those that walked amongst them.

Usually when one talks about classes in a role-playing game, they are looking at something like a profession. Thieves, wizards and fighters are really just a representation of a character’s training before the start of their grand quest. Whether they be pupils or self-taught, it codifies a vast array of experiences and distills into into common attributes shared amongst its members. I didn’t want the same for Plemora and, given its philosophical bent, I settled upon the idea that class was a representation of belief. Ultimately, no one knew the true nature of universe and why there were demons and other planes of existence. But everyone had their own explanation.

What follows is a few of these ‘noble truths.’ Which one the player belongs to would ultimately shape how he conceptualized the world around himself and thus explain how he fueled and believed in the powers he wielded. What follows is pulled from my notes on the world, so some of it might be formatted a little strangely. Given that it’s from my notes, some concepts may not have the most clear classification yet, as well.

The one interesting thing about history is sometimes you don’t have to do the work in making the weird. Actual magic and demonology is far stranger than anything I have ever created and something I can heavily draw upon for this world building. It helps a creator be a little educated in a lot of things.

The Noble Truths

These philosophies act as a lens, colouring everything which a person sees and believes. Thus, it would be impossible for a person to be “multi-classed” as these theologies are almost completely incongruent with each other.

Daemonkin are a special kind of class. Completely at the mercy of Enlightened individuals, daemonkin don’t have to follow any of the Noble Truths as their powers derive from the essence impregnated into them from someone or somewhere else. Daemonkin are not really a class onto themselves but generally do not hold a class, as an Enlightened individual would not want to have a daemon within them and would be strong enough to reject the parasite.

Daemonkin are essentially the hosts of a greater Enlightened entity who has been weakened and infects an individual in order to survive. Consequently, being a Daemonkin prevents an individual from adopting a class so long as they are infected. Their powers stem solely from the belief of the entity residing in them and they feed upon their host preventing the ‘body’ from achieving its own, separate understanding so long as the stronger consciousness resides within. The Daemonkin essentially feeds her parasite too much energy to elevate beyond the plane of the mundane but the parasite grants her the powers and possibly knowledge to interact with the worlds beyond our own. Curing a Daemonkin of their daemon would, theoretically, place the host in a greater position to achieve Enlightenment but since they rely on the parasite as a crutch it could, paradoxically, make ascension even more difficult than an unaware individual.

The Noble Truths

Title page of Iconologia by Cesare Ripa (1603)

The Magus

The magus is privy to the most startling Truth than any other class. The Magus has awakened to the great potential within himself, realizing that every individual carries a spark of the divine within themselves. This spark can be honed, trained and strengthened. Through this spark, the individual creates their reality as they see fit. The stronger the spark, the greater their reality bends to their whims. In essence, there are billions upon billions of realities, one for each individual. They are as real and tangent as every other – to an extent. The stronger the individual’s spark, the stronger their own vision is. Through training, focus, meditation and ritual, a Magus can strengthen their spark and gain more control over their reality while shunting away those that conflict with their own. Their greatest difficulty is when their realities overlap with others. For a Magus to exert his will in these circumstances, he must be able to overcome the conflicting rules to his own desires. The overlaps are like a wave, and each builds upon itself. Since unenlightened individuals tend to share similar beliefs and congregate together to survive, a Magus has the hardest time enacting his will in these circumstances. The unawakened naturally form a strong, coherent understanding of their own shared world.

The Magi are aware that these change depending on the nature of the shared community. The realities of North America before the arrival of the Europeans was much different than that after contact. Thus, Magi must not perform “magic” before the unenlightened. But magic is merely what falls beyond the accepted outcome for the immediate community. In Medieval Europe, old Magi could prey on the superstitions and ignorance of these isolated communities. Peasants are farm more willing to believe in wicked individuals capable of twisting a lost farmer’s form into that of a toad than the modern, science driven communities of the present whose shared beliefs deem such a power impossible.Of course, the strength of these shared visions diminishes with the less numbers that are present to view it. A Magi performing before a single, average person will find the antagonistic belief of the unawakened much weaker than if she were surrounded by a group of her friends. So easy is it to prey on the insecurities and self-doubt of the few compared to the many.

Furthermore, even many Enlightened individuals’ realities are so strong that a Magus must bend to their will. While most Enlightened understand and accept magic as a truth, some truly alien entities can be so powerful in their own right as to crush the Magi’s exertion before its very presence. Ironically, the mere sight of these entities are often so strong as to completely shatter the beliefs of the unawakened that it can open many to the possibilities of Enlightenment and allow the Magus to exert before those witnesses.

A Magus has unlimited power, as long as he is able to overcome this force (probably going to be called the Collective Unconscious). Due to a very self oriented bend; the Magus probably relies heavily upon Jungian concepts and themes to supplement his Noble Truth. Magic isn’t impossible before the unawakened, it just relies on how creative and insidious the Magus can be in working his will within the expectations of those around him. Given their focus and typical organization of knowledge, the Magi are perhaps one of the most dedicated Truths to Transcendence.

Detail of the Gates of Hell by Auguste Rodin (1880-1890)

The Demon

Demons are almost a catch-all. They are the Enlightened that know there is something ‘else’ yet don’t ascribe to the conventional wisdom and organization. They believe that the other Paths are ‘lies’ and only a means of controlling others or exploiting them. They either achieved enlightenment through individual means (e.g. witnessing angels and demons fighting and being ‘open’ enough to accept what they were seeing, discovering long lost knowledge and accepting that ancient wisdom etc…), rejecting some other path (e.g. the proverbial ‘Fallen Angel’, disgruntled Magi apprentices, a martial artist that forsaken his master etc…), by making pacts with higher energy beings (e.g. Faustian approach) or any number of similar methods. Because of the numerous ways for them to achieve Enlightenment, the other Truths find it exceedingly difficult to control their numbers and accounts for why Demons have existed since the beginning of time and still thrive today (as the Atheist or Technocrat gains power). They are the undisciplined. They are the reason that every Noble Truth exists. Their Truth, though, is the most startling Truth for the other paths; that their path is unneeded. They are the embodiment of the unknown and the chaotic. They are the personification of entropy, existing without reason and taking their entire lives. For them, the Truth is themselves. The universe is an uncontrollable mess where only the strongest, most clever or traitorous can hope to survive. For that is the Demon’s only purpose: to survive. Thus, Demons are hated by everyone.

They are seen as trouble and most often are. They live in a dog eat dog world, with everyone after them and no honour among their fellows. They are the most numerous Enlightened, and often are the ones that will prey upon the Atheists. However, Demons are the least likely to Transcend, as they have no structure and no order to allow them the growth to achieve Transcendence. Some manage to, however, finding wisdom and knowledge in the untrodden Path that is unavailable through the other structured Truths.

Draper_Herbert_James_Mourning_for_Icarus

Lament for Icarus by Herbert James Draper (1898)

The Angel

And here is where my notes become date. I changed the name of this group and shifted them beneath the Daemonkin banner. I’m including them here as a slight reminder of the origins and because they have a neat interaction with the fundamental principles of the world.

This philosophy stresses a strong hierarchy with clearly defined roles. Whereas the typical Daemonkin feeds by taking the energy of those around them, an angel is granted their energy from a higher being. In turn, the angel directs his faith and belief to this higher power who is granted the power to give to the angel by someone further above them. Essentially, an energy pyramid scheme based solely around a trickle down effect. Initiates are thus extremely numerous and extremely powerless. These could be considered the average belief in the faith structure. They’re mostly the foundation which supports the whole organization. Each Initiate provides limited power but has almost no connection to those above them. Individually, they are forgettable but in great enough numbers their combined contribution is staggering. Right above them are the Disciples. Most of these people are about as remarkable as the average Initiate though they are far more devouted to their cause. This greater devotion provides just enough belief to register on the higher powers map. At any time, a greater power can infuse a Disciple – basically inserting themselves into these devotees and creating a Daemonkin. But since this higher power in turn is connected to an even greater being above her with an even deeper connection, there can be a far stronger flow of energy between the higher planes and the lower.

Consequently, the appearance of an Angel is typically a momentousness event. A single Angel can take on scores of Daemonkin without alone as they are beings used to dealing with the likes of Archons and Demons. But this direct flow of energy is extremely taxing to pump so much power to a lower plane and their physical presence is temporary at best before their benefactors must ‘turn off the tap’ so to speak. What rare communication with these beings has provided little insight into their structure beyond the basics, however. What lies at the top is a mystery and many suspect the Angels don’t even know themselves. Disciples and Initiates claim that their power is evidence of a true God and that they are blessed by this entity. But the Enlightened disagree and many whisper that the true head is nothing but a monstrous Demon with unheard of power and influence. Perhaps even the creature known as the Demiurge himself.

The Return of Marcus Sextus by Pierre-Narcisse Guerin (1799)

The Atheist

And here you can see where my naming scheme started getting lazy.

An atheist is a person who doesn’t believe in a Noble Truth. Their strength lies in their power of Discord. Every unenlightened has a level of Discord. The stronger the discord, the less effective any Enlightened abilities have on that individual. This discord manifests as skepticism. An atheist puts their belief not in any path, maintaining that the only real Truth is a lack of Truth altogether. For Enlightened, the typical atheist is nothing more but wasted energy. Due to their inexact, uncertain and contradictory beliefs, none of the Atheist’s philosophies can be considered a Truth but the stronger they adhere to their own views the greater their Discord grows. Examples of powerful Discordians are: scientists, philosophers, leaders, Eris Discordians (who are well aware of the contradictions and chaos inherent in their philosophy and yet still worship it. They are probably some of the strongest Atheists, often can exert power rivaling that of an Enlightened.).

Picasso_Portrait_of_Daniel-Henry_Kahnweiler_1910

Portrait of Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler by Pablo Picasso (1910)

The Technocrat

This path is almost an extension of Atheism. It is the dogmatic belief of the scientific community in no ‘greater’ or ‘higher’ authority. No Gods or Kings, so to speak. The only thing that exists is what one sees with their own eyes, and yet the Technocrats are so close-minded that their ‘selective vision’ will only see what concurs within their own theories. However, they have grown very powerful over the years, easily surpassing the other great Truths in number and influence. This truth lies in the power of observation, in fact and knowledge. It is the certainty which experience of the senses brings. Their truths are easy to comprehend and easier to demonstrate. Thus, their principles have become the standard for the modern era. But they diverge from atheism in one important aspect.

The ideal scientist should be an Atheist, open to new ideas and concepts no matter how incredulous it seems. An Atheist could accept that the corners of the map could truly be where monsters lie. But the Technocrat is more the conservative, dogmatic and emboldened by his own belief and faith in his methods. For the Technocrat, there are no other possibilities than his own. No alternatives are to be considered. In an ironic twist, Technocrats devotion can strengthen their own creations, making things that should not work to and thus proving their hypothesis and reinforcing their faith. So strong is their belief in their right that some are able to lock down or disrupt other creations, making other machinations dissipate or crumble, disproving rival hypotheses and leaving theirs dominant. It is like a greater Tesla/Edison rivalry but over spirituality and belief. The winner doesn’t so much as disprove his rivals theory as alter reality so it can never be true.

Unio Myst by Johfra Bosschart.

The Gnosis

The most elusive Truth. Gnostic Truth maintains that some harmony or unity is to be found amongst the disparate and contradictory paths. To them, each represents a piece of a greater puzzle with Transcendence just another component and not the goal. Much of the Gnosis belief lies beyond a language of theology or philosophy and places great importance in experience. The current world known to many is flawed simply because it was created by flawed hands. These imperfections, they say, are what gave rise to the other Truths which became focused on their own element at the exclusion of the others. Other Truths have come and gone, falling before the strengths of others or forgotten for new beliefs.

But the worship of a piece is shortsighted without ever considering the whole picture. The Gnostic seek to find that final unifying element that will bring all together. For it is their belief that we are all parts of a greater, fractured whole and only through true unity can this broken existence be properly mended.

World Building: the Start of Something

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Where do ideas come from? How are worlds created? What is this elusive element that sparks a story? What is at the heart of world building?

What little I have learned suggests these are personal questions; the answers differing from one individual to the next. Though I have not a vast resume of credentials I have taken my first tentative steps along the path of world creation.

My first complete story of any length is set in the city of Darattin located half-way along the Undat River in the Valley. The story started with three desires that grew and shifted over time. It is almost comical to reflect back on earlier passages, many of which have been cut or heavily edited. At times I am left wondering if anything of the original idea remains.

Of course, the question then becomes, what was the original idea? Searching through the haze of memory I can recall three primary goals I held when I began this project: to create an exotic landscape, to include the rebirth of magic and incorporate my interest in rocks.

For a setting that was unfamiliar, I chose Egypt as my environment model. What could be so different from my own home of deciduous trees, rolling farm fields and four distinct seasons? A deep blue river snakes through my lush green valley. The green is largely planted fields, fed by irrigation canals. Rain is a rare concept, something that happens in the mountains to the south. Beyond the Valley walls are the scrublands and great sand deserts – harsh environs that few can survive. The people of the Valley are led by a single ruler, a god-king. Only recently have they been united beneath one figure and there remains tension between to the two great provinces of Kuras and Gazurn.

Magic is the more interesting of creatures when developing fantasy worlds. For me, several questions had to be answered: What is the nature of magic? What would cause magic to vanish from the lands? How can magic return and why now?

I wanted to ground my magic in rocks – geomancy. This was not to be the only style of magic in my world; geomancy was to be the form that dominated my story. What were the limitations? What were the explanations for magic? One of my favourite scenes was written between the main character and the spirit of a dead geomancer relating magic to dreaming. There were three levels: recognition, acceptance and manipulation. You must first recognize you are dreaming. Second, you must accept you are dreaming. Then you can manipulate your dream. Magic worked along similar lines: of recognizing magic in the world around you, acceptance/understanding of the magic and finally manipulation. This in turn led to the manifestation of magic: divination, small works (speeding up natural processes) and large works (creation). Most magic revolves around divination.

Since magic for me was to be inherent in the environment I did not have it disappearing from the world. Rather it was the peoples understanding and skill that was lost over time. This related to the conflict between northern Kuras and southern Gazurn. So rediscovery of magic was the discovery of ancient texts, those few pieces that had survived destruction when the northerners had conquered the south.

While the foundations of environment and magic had been present in the first written scenes, there is little doubt that much has changed over the subsequent revisions. Not only has the world become clearer and more defined, my own understanding of these two concepts has continued to develop. The greatest changes have occurred to characters and plot. It took a long time to tease out the story I was going to tell in this world. What started out as a fetch quest has evolved into something completely different. Yet, in its most simple and basic form the original ideas are present: an exotic location, the rediscovery of magic and most importantly, rocks.

Trumpeting the Eighth Seal

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For those not in the know, I have suffered a rather embarrassing potential concussion. I mention that this is embarrassing because of both its production and my handling of it. Suffice to say, strenuous activity while under the effects of a potential concussion are generally ill-advised least this potential injury get potentially exacerbated. So I haven’t done much of anything save finish writing a novel in a month. A full fledged novel with distinct beginning, middle and end and of appropriate length for trade fiction.

Not a bad accomplishment for being a little funny in the head. That is, regardless of the Schroedinger’s head trauma. But no one logs onto this blog to hear me natter about my health so let’s discuss… something!

My illustrious and highly industrious friend has let slip a rather terrible secret. There is this shared world we’ve created. A world of mystery and horror, and its perfect for discussing horror and players. It is a world not unlike our own but those striking similarities serve to only make its differences all the more terrible. It is a world about great eldritch monsters, the frailty of the human spirit, the boundless power of man’s imagination and the unimaginable depths of greed and self sacrifice. It is a world that has been percolating in the back of my mind since my first years of university as I wrestled with concepts underpinning the foundations of belief and faith that support our understanding of the universe.

This is shamelessly stolen from Google. I apologize to the original artist.

You can already see the old horror elements beginning to weave through. I love some H.P. Lovecraft, a confession that may startle those who see me as only the ‘man who hates everything.’ I really enjoy that sense of dread for the unknown. It’s a hard emotion to invoke in our modern world with our understanding and grasp so widespread. Each day some new discovery or invention seems to bring ever more pieces of reality into greater focus. But how often have we heard this tale before? It seems that just before a great paradigm shift, our concepts and views were at their strongest. All it took was one little piece to plunge us over the edge and shatter the structures we’d created and had felt so secure within.

So, I needed that tipping point. I needed that soft crack against the glass that could widen and swallow my poor travelers in. It always has to start off small and seemingly inconsequential. The true horror is the slow peeling of all the comfortable layers of our old lives and beliefs, revealing the strange and bizarre one section at a time until the realization dawns upon us and we see that the universe we thought we knew is more alien and strange than it is familiar and safe. In this manner, I’ve always admired the White Wolf series of games. Almost all of them take place in modern times with the character’s journey starting rather mundane at first. Perhaps it is something as simple as a chance encounter late one night at that fancy new bar that’s opened down the street. You meet some enchanting woman who seems to captivate all that view her. You don’t remember seeing her before and the word on everyone’s lips is a name as inviting as it is exotic. You drink it in like a new wine. It’s a thick ambrosia that leaves you longing – no, aching – for more and you know you must have it. She beckons with a languid finger and you follow even if something at the back of your mind is scratching and screaming to escape.

Then, before you know it, BAM! You’re a vampire needing to subside on the blood and life of the people you once held dear.

I know not everyone shares this same romanticized vision but it was this starting point that I hoped to capture. Vampire the Masquerade, for me, had always been a story of resisting damnation and the eroding of one’s humanity. Most tales, however, were usually about bad ass nightstalkers able to pitch cars through the air or rip the throats of their enemies. I know the world had deadly horrors awaiting for the new converts, but in my experience those often fell to the wayside as conflicts basically remained entrenched and consumed with vampire politics and living out personal power fantasies.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that but one element I loved about Lovecraft and his brand of horror was no matter how much you knew, no matter how prepared you were, the horrors you faced always remained horrors. They were abominations that even with the correct spells and incantations learned still threatened to rip you from limb and shred your very sanity. They were creatures you constantly had to keep asking yourself why you weren’t running away and questioning whether your life and soul were worth wagering against them.

And in most cases, they were not. But what sort of story is it if the most sensible course of action was to flee? The simple solution was to make it impossible. And to accomplish that, I made the player the monster.

In a sense. Much like a vampire passing its curse, I imagined infecting the player with a disease. They could be inhabited by something not quite their own, something that was not quite themselves. What it was, they couldn’t know. All they knew was that it changed them and in ways they couldn’t understand. Suddenly, they had a greater appetite. Simple food could not satiate them. They hungered for something more and if they couldn’t feed whatever it was inside of them then the player himself was up for the menu. It was, in a sense, the Curse of Cain with a twist. The player was still struggling for their immortal soul and humanity but not in a figurative sense that they resisted some biblical beast symbolizing infidelity to the Lord but from the very literal sense that they were being eaten from the inside out. The food to fill this need became a currency far more valuable than any dollar or yuan. And in discovering this heightened need, players discovered they weren’t alone in this startling new power structure. Suddenly, an entire orchestra seemed to emerge from behind the screens dabbling in a business and trade wholly unnoticed before.

There was an energy that permeated everything and that fueled the universe from the smallest organism to the most complex machines. No one truly understood it; no one ever really does. Many people have differing beliefs but the most suspicious were the ones who claimed to have undeniable proof. Everyone had a stake in this new market, and those quickest to help the new attendees with their affliction often had the most questionable motives. The players were forcibly introduced to the world behind the mirror and shown the real mechanisms even if they didn’t understand them. The height of fidelity and faith and the worst depravity and debauchery all produced the same results and results were all that mattered. It was a world where the question of humanity could really be asked as great beings manipulated beliefs and reality to further their own goals.

But just because I wanted to involve the players in this struggle between the ‘Daemonkin’ I had my own desire to fill out the edges. I want to test and strain the concept as much as I could and see exactly where I could take it. Though the initial idea was to create this sort of ‘demon infection’ the end results were rather surprising. Suddenly, I had secret organizations of techno-magi controlling vast communicative networks and airwaves, tapping into an unknown and potentially exhaustive energy to ‘download’ their spells. I had beings born in the combined collective dreams of humanity, populating a rich and vast new plane of existence fueled by the wandering unconsciousness of the world’s asleep peoples. Even more intriguing was the vast new expanse of reality crafted from the emergence of the modern technological era – a whole new, untamed wilderness of cyber-realities taking form beneath the nose of ancient beings and rapidly cultivated by the young.

Perhaps some of that old Lovecraftian vision had been lost but an entire world with its own unique rules had come into being. Each new expansion and idea was exciting and startling as the last and truly the impossible seemed possible.

Hard to imagine the name of this thing started because Derek is dyslexic.

And that’s where my confession comes in. So encompassing and engrossing was this setting that I had no idea what to do with it. I had too many elements. I had too many stories. What could, for one person, be a tale of nightmare and terror could be the run of the mill daily grind for another. I was lost within my own world without a clue of how I was going to use any of it. And so it’s sat, unused and unseen in the back of my mind and across a dozen or so different word documents. I hope to one day create something from it. Perhaps, once Derek finishes ironing out the mechanics… if he ever gets around to sending me them.

Perhaps then, Plemora will see the light of day. Until then, I’ll see about posting some of my coherent ruminations and ideas in creating this world.