[The Bronze Wood] Black Mist (Training)

[Sturlin]

Timestamp: 32nd of Spring

Yet again Sturlin found himself in the clearing he had prepared for his experiments. This day he had left early in the morning, trekking through the dark hours before dawn so that he could arrive at daybreak. It was not his intention to be caught traveling back to base camp in the dark again, not if he could help it. When he arrived he found that his makeshift wall needed some minor repairs and that the clearing would once again need to be swept clean of debris before beginning.

On his hands and knees he swept the detritus of the forest from the clearing with his palm. When he had finished he wiped his hands on his leather pants and examined the wall in detail. Something heavy had attempted to climb the wall and had toppled the center. It would take an hour to repair it. As there as nothing to do but start lifting he got straight to work. The small boulders were not as difficult to move the second time around. After putting this entire wall together he was now more knowledgeable about how one goes about lifting and stacking stones.

As he worked he hummed a lullaby to himself. The words were no longer something he remembered, but the melody was pleasant and soothing. Using the melody to focus his breathing and his motions, he moved through his task with a meditative rhythm. He was beginning to learn that centering the mind and the body could be done at any time, as part of any task, with the proper focus. His fingers would grip each stone as he crouched next to it, he would lift with his legs, and then he would transport it carefully over to the wall and place it among its fellows.

As he stood back away from the wall later in the morning he paused for breakfast. Some fruit, jerky, biscuits, and water. Every man's breakfast of champions. His jaw worked as hard as his arms had just done, he counted himself lucky that he didn't have to eat his own cooking at least. The meal was over quickly, and as he brushed the crumbs from his fingers he decided that the wall was satisfactory for his purposes today.

Now that the area was prepared he could examine his plans in detail before executing them. There may have been no writing utensils in his camp, but his memory was keen. For several days he had memorized his next experiments so that he could eliminate any perceived flaws in them as he recited the words back to himself. Today he would be conducting three separate experiments, preceded and followed by exercises, all of a small scale similar to his previous endeavor. The first would be earth, the second would be air, and the third would combine both elements.

Taking one last sip of water he sat himself down in the center of the clearing and crossed his legs. It began with deep breaths. Breathing with his stomach, rather than his chest, he pulled in heavy and measured amounts of air. Just as he required mastery over his Res during a dangerous situation, the monster had shown him that he needed a greater mastery over his mind. Before one can learn to master themselves under pressure, they must start at the beginning.

The magician's eyes followed the movement of the leaves in the trees, as the wind kissed them. The wind was his breath, and it moved with him. Each inhalation and exhalation moved in time with the gentle, rolling breeze of Sylira in the spring. Losing himself in the movement of the air around him was the beginning. Feeling the movement of it, hearing the sway of the air manipulating objects around him, smelling the scents it carried on its back, observing the motion of it as the world around him moved and he remained still.

It was a glorious sensation to lose oneself in the wind. Almost it felt as if his scars had left his body and his bones were as buoyant as the clouds in the sky. No worries of failure or injury plagued him as he prepared for his experiments. Only the serenity of the scene around him suffused his emotions. The man allowed his eyes to slip closed as a rare smile stole onto his face. A smile of contentment.

All good things must come to an end, and he could not maintain this state indefinitely. Cracking and popping erupted behind him as one of the boulders slipped from its place and tumbled down the side of the wall. With his concentration broken Sturlin still felt the residual contentment of his meditations. The smile remained upon his lips as he turned to re stack the wall.

[Sturlin]

Earth and stone were things with which he was familiar. The magician had been manipulating earth since long before he was old enough to do so with Res. Mucking through the pig pens in his youth was the only time he was free of his father and the insanity of being born to a Reimancer. Mud was soothing to his hands and dirt felt at home beneath his fingernails.

The magician circled a boulder as he examined it in detail. Composed of granite, it possessed similar dimensions to sphere, but was lopsided on the surface which was buried in the dirt around the whole. It felt dry and grainy beneath his fingers. He caressed the surface of it, became familiar with it. Sturlin felt it had been too long since he had manipulated the stones around him. He had become preoccupied with creating earth from himself and had forgotten of the earth that Semele had gifted him with.

His voice rose and fell in the cadence of a man thanking the gods, a tone filled with a distant respect. "The Mother Mizahar, Semele, thank you for this gift of granite and earth. Thank you for allowing me to bend it to my will. I pray that my use of these stones does not offend you." The magician said these things with the conviction of a man who only half believed he should be saying them, someone who had been taught but did not quite believe it mattered.

Sturlin had never been a religious man. His power came from within, from what he had been taught and had learned since he owed the gods nothing tangible in return for his ability to manipulate Res. Yet his uncle had been a faithful worshipper of the goddesses Caiyha and Semele. During his time with Sturlin he had impressed upon the boy the need to give thanks to the goddesses when thanks was deserved. For reasons unknown to the young magician, he had been very insistent that he ask leave to manipulate the earth directly.

With this old and habitual prayer completed, he turned his mind to the business at hand. Similar to his meditation he reached out to feel the rock, reached out to be the rock. Res began to seep from his hands in the form of black gas, entering the shallow depressions and cracks in the boulder until none was visible. No more than could fit in the palm of his hands cupped together was released into the rock.

This was an exercise in reminding himself of the power of the earth around him. Soon he would be moving to the caves. Not because he preferred the cold embrace of the darkness to his tent beneath the trees. Sturlin went to the caves because among the rock and stone he was more deadly than any lone Kriital. His mistake would not be repeated. The magician was going where the floor, where the very walls of his home were his weapons.

Closing his eyes he shifted his Res throughout the granite. It felt good to be performing such a seemingly simple task. With swiftness and purpose he formed his Res into a concentrated mass and began to move it. Res rushed out of the center of the boulder and burst through the surface. As it came it urged the granite to join it on its journey.

Granite seemed to ripple on the surface of the boulder for the instant it takes a man to blink. A spike sized disproportionately to the amount of Res injected into the stone shot out of the boulder. Still attached, it did not fly through the air as his previous spells had done. In spite of this limitation, had a man been standing next to the rock he would have been impaled upon the spike and connected through it to the boulder.

The advantage to manipulating the elements which were present rather than creating your own, was that a Reimancer could manipulate far more than he could conjure. A downside, Sturlin thought as the boulder split in two and fell apart to either side, was that manipulating the elements could create unstable results. Leaning forward to examine the boulder he saw that too much of its mass had been concentrated into the spike. Without a solid core the granite had cracked under the strain of its own weight.

"Manipulating the walls of my cave is out then." he said, repeating the results for his memory's sake, "It is important to remember that structures should not be affected while I am inside of them. It should also be noted that the collapse of a cave could be quite useful when I am not inside of it. Perhaps I will confine my magic to the stone beneath the feet of my enemies."

As at the beginning of the experiment, Sturlin circled the remains of the boulder and examined them in detail. Reaching out with his hands he stroked the jagged edges of the sundered granite. While it was true that the experiment had not performed as expected, he had remembered some very important details and learned a few more.

"I wonder what would have happened if I had made more than one spike."

[Sturlin]

Today's second experiment required an assistant. One unfortunate creature which had been securely bound inside the pack of the magician, and left trembling in fear until it was time to begin. Pulling his mind away from the question of the boulder Sturlin collected his pack from the edge of the clearing. From within the pack he pulled a captured rabbit.

The trembling creature had been found injured in one of his traps that very morning. While he usually killed such small game immediately and prepared their bodies for sale, he had been waiting for just such a specimen to come to him. One of the rabbit's back legs was broken, and the rest of its body was bound rather tightly. Sturlin had been surprised at how difficult this had been. Even a wounded rabbit was rather difficult to subdue and grip properly.

Air was less familiar to the magician, though it was not something that had been recently learned. It had been two years since he had discovered the mystery of manipulating that invisible substance which suffuses and surrounds the denizens of Mizahar. While he had known air for a year, he had known earth for over a decade, the transition between his old element and this new element had not been a perfect one. The scars on his body were a testament to that.

This test would put into practice another use of concentrate air. Having witnessed the awesome power that air possessed when gathered in a single area, and having also witnessed Miharu inhaling his Res, he had wondered what would happen were a creature to inhale his Res and find their lungs over-bursting with air. "Sacrifices must be made in the name of progress, my furry friend."

Setting the rabbit near the shattered boulder, where it had difficulty struggling, Sturlin took several steps back. Manipulating the elements rather than creating them had very recently reminded him of how tricky it could become. He had no desire to kill himself with a poorly placed spell. Once again he summoned the translucent and ethereal black gas from the palm of his hand.

Less Res was required for the experiment. Only half the amount he had used before needed to be collected. Once the palm of his left hand was filled with the smokey substance he forced it to coalesce into a loosely spherical cloud and guided it toward his prey. The rabbits trembling ceased as it was enveloped by his Res. Unsure of what was going on, it froze in confusion.

With all of the air around its head suffused by Res, the rabbit had no choice but to breathe it in. Sturlin counted the creatures shallow and rapid breaths until the number of five, and then he gathered all the air around the rabbit into the cloud which it was inhaling. While the results appeared unimpressive next to the shattering of a boulder, they were no less potent.

As high concentrations of air rushed inward through the furry critter's body a muffled detonation sounded within. Several ribs cracked and on one side of its torso the flesh bulged strangely. Something had ruptured inside of it as the gas had forced itself into the lungs on an inhale. Its eyes had wiggled strangely, unsure of whether to exit the head or enter deeper into the head at this change of pressure. When the Res dissipated it was over as soon as it had begun.

This would be difficult to reproduce in larger prey, he could tell immediately. It would be necessary for him to summon enough Res to surround the entirely of the creatures head, for starters. In addition to this he would have to run the risk that human breathing was different than rabbit breathing. With no medical background he could not honestly be sure that he could reproduce these effects in other creatures until he had tested it directly.

"It might be wiser to form a hollow sphere around the head of the victim. Then, all the air from within the sphere could be attracted away from the nose and mouth." he commented to himself as he examined the consistency of the animal's bulging eyes. "Most things need to breathe, I think. Depriving them might be easier than forcing more into them. I will be sure to reverse the experiment on my next subject.

[Sturlin]

Now it was time for him to move as far away from the wall as possible. Sturlin examined the clearing to be sure that he had cleared the debris from the ground. He did not wish for outside materials to contaminate his first effort. Backing away from the wall he positioned himself safely behind a tree. Edging his face around it he considered his actions.

In keeping with the basic principles which were being tested in the previous two experiments he planned to attract rather than create. Attracting two elements at once was something which he had not technically attempted. The little voice in the back of his head told him that this was a bad idea, but an even louder voice was screaming 'Lets level this clearing.'

Finding a happy medium was what he was all about when it came to the desires of his mind. Leveling the entire clearing was premature, but he wanted to produce more drastic effects than had been tested before. Making certain mental adjustments to his plans, he altered the amount of Res he was to summon. Holding his hands apart from each other, with palms facing, he began the spell. "The key to power is focus. The key to focus is calm. The key to calm is peace. The key to peace is power."

A gaseous cloud of Res half-again the size of a human head formed between his hands. The magician took his time in summoning it, savoring every ounce or Res he gifted to his creation. As it grew it began to swirl and writhe. It reflected the anticipation of the caster. Moving as he directed it the mass shifted and jumped until finally he had gathered what he needed.

A bead of sweat ran down the side of Sturlin's face. Pausing, he took a deep breath. That was likely more than he should have strictly mustered. In all likelihood he would be fine, but he was already feeling the fatigue generated by this final trial. Moving forward with caution was advised. A chill ran down his spine as he considered what would happen next. At least he had a tree between him and the blast point.

Extending both hands forward he moved the swirling ball of black gas to a point near the wall. When his control began to slip he gritted his teeth and pulled the Res back toward him by a foot. Exhaling slowly and taking another deep breath he slipped all of his body save what was necessary to see the result behind the tree. Once reasonably well protected, he split the sphere.

Two spheres hovered directly next to each other, overlapping very slightly. Their connection was necessary for him to maintain a higher level of control, for he had not yet tried to manipulate two separate spells at once. This was not two spells, but as one it would be difficult enough. With an effort of mind and skill the Reimancer commanded the sphere on the right to attract nearby stones while the sphere on the left attracted all air.

What came next was more than Sturlin expected, and even less controlled. Six of the nearest stones forming the wall were swept through the air toward the Res. The smallest of which was no larger than a fist and the largest was roughly the size of a cat. As these lifted toward the right of the spell dirt and soil siphoned up from the earth in a fountain to join them.

A storm was born in the center of the clearing. Air snapped into area where the earth and stone had gathered. Swirling from each direction and violently slamming home, the air and earth spiraled out of control. Stones flew in every direction. The smaller the stone the faster and further it flew. Each was followed by a sheet of loose gravel and topsoil that abrasively stripped the surface of what it struck.

Sturlin pulled his head back just in time to avoid being brained by the smallest stone. While his face was scratched and sorely pained by the gravel and dirt, he would live. A chunk of bark was ripped from his hiding place as the stone passed him. Sharp cracks of stone striking stone were followed by the dull wet thud of stone striking plant.

When Sturlin looked around his tree he realized that if this clearing was to be of any use to him again, he would have to rebuild it. The wall was collapsed in many places, toppled by renegade stones. A tree limb obscured part of the clearing, barely connected to its trunk by a few splinters of sagging wood. Small hills of earth and a single valley beneath where he had summoned the 'storm' now dotted the area.

He was bleeding again, he felt like he was starving, and his left hand was shaking. Reaching up to feel his face he hoped that the injury was minor. Aside from raw skin and two small cuts he was unharmed, but he would not know that for sure until he had revisited camp. It was very tempting to do that again. The spell had toppled stones and shattered the base of a tree limb. Stronger stuff than mere earth or air alone.

Fortunately for the young magician, the little voice won out this time. It had been foolish in the extreme to not conduct this experiment in miniature as he had planned. There was no control here. There was no skill. As he shook his head sadly at this wasted opportunity he said, "Do not do that again. Still, neat."

[Sturlin]

Coming down from the high of magic and adrenaline was a skill he definitely needed to continue developing. Sturlin had planned to meditate within the clearing. That was no longer possible. Whatever animals or people were in the area would have heard the insane racket generated by his experiment. Such was not a place to be sitting down and admiring the leaves and flowers.

With gear in tow the hunter moved through the trees and undergrowth as quietly as he could. His left hand was still trembling, but drinking water and choking down a biscuit had helped. All would be well when he reached camp and rested. At least that was what he hoped, and what he told himself as he walked. He needed to calm himself. Sturlin needed to clear his emotions.

Trekking through the forest at that pace soon brought him to his campsite. Mr. Pickles uncoiled from his place by the cold fire pit and began to stretch. Francis pawed at the earth and made a noise of acknowledgment. The magician spared little time for either of them, but he was sure that he gave each a pet and a pat on the shoulder.

Opening up the flap of his tent Sturlin slipped inside and seated himself among his bedding. This was safer. Here he could allow his mind the solitude it needed to regain control. Deep breaths were the first step. Deep breaths and slow exhalations through the nostrils. His hands rested on his thighs as he sat and breathed within the confines of his tent.

Thoughts of stones and earth and air and rabbits filled his inner eye. Though his eyes were closed tightly against these images they rose unbidden before him. Patience. One thing at a time. Slowly he gripped each and expelled it from his mind. Within the vision behind his eyelids he cleared the blackness of distractions one item at a time.

Rather than reach out to what surrounded him the magician sought the stillness within. He sought to become comfortable with his surroundings only within the context that he sought to become comfortable with his body. The trembling was a trick of the mind, the illusion of exhaustion. How could one be tired within the still black of thought? How could one be afraid, or prideful?

Imperfectly he sought to cleanse his thoughts of emotions. Seeing such a powerful display was less intimidating than knowing that he had created it. Similarly the knowledge that he could create it was dwarfed by the fearful truth that he had not meant to create it. Just as he had done with the images of the event, he attempted to grasp and expel each emotion from thought.

Time passed differently for him as he wrestled with his inner self. Gradually the sweat upon his skin cooled him and was done. His left hand began to steady upon his thigh and then ceased its shaking entirely. Deep breathing. Deep breathing and slow exhalations. To center the body one must first center the mind. All was gone from the peaceful dark. No stones, earth, air, or rabbits plagued his silence.

When at last he opened his eyes the light outside the tent had changed. Sturlin's legs and shoulders were stiff from maintaining his position for too long. Though he felt refreshed, it was an incomplete remedy. As the meditation ceased and time passed the unpleasant emotions and realities once again intruded upon his thoughts. First he would sate his hunger, then he would concern himself with the truth of today's failure.

Only time and practice would improve this problem. That was a philosophy that many applied to training and experimentation. The question, however, hung heavy on the air he had so casually manipulated: was practice truly the answer if each experiment risked ever greater temptation? It could not be denied that no permanent damage had been done, at least to his knowledge. His body was intact, no one had died, and the trees and clearing which had been torn apart were of no concern to him.

"To be honest with myself," he said as he looked to Mr. Pickles, "What i'm really worried about is that I will be unable to resist making each experiment bigger and better than the last. I have only ventured twice into that clearing and already my spells have doubled in size. Involuntarily, I might add. What could I have done to myself if it were doubled yet again?"

The pink skinned and hairless cat regarded his master with the utmost seriousness in his wrinkled face. After all, such a question was a serious one worth much contemplation. Fortunately for Sturlin's feline companion there remained an age old solution to many of Mizahar's problems. It had never failed the cat before, and it would be many a year before it would. With the grace and poise of a man imparting great wisdom to a student Mr. Pickles lifted his back leg, bent double down the length of his stomach, and proceeded to lick himself.

Thread Finished

[Gossamer]

. Character: Sturlin Experience: 4 XP Reimancy, 3 XP Meditation Additional Note: Nice training thread. However, I'd like to see you have issues with fine control of res. As competent, you can do a great deal of things, but failing once in a while is nice, so is exploring boundaries as to the line between where you can actually easily manipulate and where you are overgiving... you PC hasn't seemed to find that line yet. I would suggest looking for it for future endeavors. .