[Gug Andjak] Proper Preparation is Paramount, Part I

by **Drake Kasparov** on October 26th, 2016, 2:38 am

12th of Fall, 516AV
Mid-day

Drake let out a wistful sigh, pacing around the common labs in noncommittal lines. Arriving at Sahova yesterday morning, he had been filled with a powerful blend of apprehension and wonder at what awaited him. However, as he had grown to expect over his admittedly sparse few years, the reality was far more banal than anything his imagination could have conjured. While the Citadel was certainly a marvel of old Alahean engineering, and the set-up of even the common labs and workshops far more impressive than anything similar he had seen prior, he couldn’t shake the fish out of water feeling that had settled upon him the moment he had passed through the gates.

It wasn’t only the fact that he was now, for the first time in his life, totally outnumbered by walking corpses; Nuit did not make him uncomfortable, he was a mage after all, not a small-minded farm boy living in Syliras. It wasn’t even the fact that, ostensibly, the bulk of the walking corpses he had actually spoken to thus far (which wasn’t many, they didn’t seem terribly predisposed to socializing) seemed to be offended by the fact that he wasn’t a corpse himself. But the spartan and somewhat oppressive manner in which the Gug Andjak had been designed had driven the realization home of exactly what time spent here was going to be like. There wasn’t really anything in terms of decoration or diversion, and while Drake had to give the Nuits credit for efficiency, he felt himself pining for the life he was leaving behind. Caravaning might have been dangerous and the pay might have been subpar, but each day had been a new and fascinating experience. My time here will be far more rewarding, I am sure. He scowled slightly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Just perhaps not as carnally satisfying as places like Kenash and Ravok.

That was, of course, if he was even permitted to stay here. The judgement was in just under ten days. Ten days to prepare the most dazzling display of wizardry he could perform. Nearby, in the common labs, he had made out others he had seen arriving with him to the harbor the day prior - crafting and practicing and studying. Drake figured he had to have something of an edge in this regard, as he had had some experience convincing people he was a better wizard than he actually was. Then again, perhaps it would be best not to try and use Hypnotism on Master Wizards. The thought elicited a chuckle from him.

In his hands sat a small leather bound journal. As he paced, he thumbed through it idly. Aquamancy exercises, with detailed explanations and illustrations, all hand-written by his father. As a child he had been required to drill them each and every day, ten sets of each. He was well beyond the need to carry it, each of the basic forms detailed within already well committed to his memory, but he found that reading through it always helped to stimulate his thinking. Perhaps it was just the chance to read things written in his mother tongue. He had not spoken nor heard Vani in sometime, but reading his father's handwriting, he could hear each word in his father's voice echoing across his mind.

by **Drake Kasparov** on October 26th, 2016, 2:39 am

This will be somewhat more difficult than convincing a bunch of caravan yokels to hire me. He slipped the journal into his backpack, which he had resting on a table along with his robe and staff. These Nuits have been at this for some time. I’m not likely the first amateur wizard that’s tried to impress them before. What could be done to stand out? His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned against the table, a few preliminary ideas bouncing around his brain.

There was a fairly decently sized open space in the lab, and he casually stepped into the middle of it, taking a seat on the ground and folding his legs up across one another. He only infrequently felt the need to set up a Shield around himself before practicing, but given as he was going to be trying some things he had not before, it seemed prudent. Of course, if Drake could, he would have set up a nice box around the area he was going to practice in as to ensure he wouldn’t slip up and impale someone else in the common labs with an ice spike, but he didn’t really think he could make a shield that size. At least, definitely not one that would actually stop anything. For now, though, he just wanted something simple. A barrier that could prevent water from passing through - and by extension, Ice. It would keep him dry and free from being impaled by any of his own spikes.

It was easier said than done. Many chimes passed, though Drake couldn’t perceive them, his eyes closed and his mind focused on nothing more than the sound of his own breath. Or at least, that was the intention. Drake’s mind was good at a great many things, but simply shutting up was not one of them. Each time it seemed as if the storm of thoughts whirling around his brain stopped, another would force its way through. I wonder what that Corvus fellow is preparing for his-

Irrelevant. Silence. His breathing slowed more and more, and with each exhale, Drake imagined all the random irrelevancies and curiosities in his mind flowing out of him like so much smoke. Several more chimes passed imperceptibly. All was still.

Drake began to slowly move his hands in crossing patterns just over his skin, his eyes still closed and his eyebrows furrowed with concentration. To one watching with the naked eye, it would seem as if Drake was in some strange state of ritualized meditation, moving and swaying erratically. However, there was purpose behind each motion; With each pass of his hand he left behind the thin layer of Djed, the swipes of his hands like broad strokes of a paintbrush. There wasn’t an exact pattern or premeditation to the process. Drake had discovered that tasking a shield against water required his thoughts to be somewhat liqueous themselves, running and flowing to and fro and they may as he weaved the Djed here and there. The process wasn’t very tiring, but it was time consuming. Though he wasn’t aware of it, almost an entire bell had passed before Drake was satisfied, standing up and glancing down at himself. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there.

by **Drake Kasparov** on October 26th, 2016, 2:39 am

It was time. Res began to slowly trickle down his palms like sweat, percolating into several fluid masses as the ethereal substance, which glowed with a faint blue light, dripped onto the floor. Drake slowly peeled his hands up as more of it trickled out from his fingertips, beginning to pool on the ground a few feet just in front of him. He held his hands just over it, moving them round like a puppeteer might as he brought the res up off the ground, higher and higher with each flick of his wrists. With his hands hovering just over it, the small gelatinous pool was completely subject to his whim, and wiggling his fingers, he began shaping it. At first, it was like a simple tower, but he focused on spreading the substance out more and more - he didn’t need it to be terribly thick - until it had sprouted arms, legs, and a head. After awhile, he had the basic shape of a humanoid, about five feet in height. It was hollow, of course, the res that formed the outer walls of the shape as thin as he thought he could make them without the structure collapsing on itself. With a wave of his hands, the res began to transmute from the outside in, until at last, Drake had a little ice-man standing before him. It wasn’t a detailed statue, with only the basic rounded shapes present to indicate arms and legs, thinner than the torso segment.

He contemplated his work a moment, and gently rested a hand on the smooth surface of the statues face. With his other hand he tapped a finger against the intricate snowflake gnosis mark that hung just on the nape of his neck, and when he pulled his hand away, the blank face of the little ice man had shifted, now sporting round eyes and an evil, toothless grin. Drake smirked softly. Now that’s a target.

The wizard-aspirant stepped backward a few paces to stare the target down. Though he doubted anyone was actually watching him very closely, he tried his best to keep the look of concern clear from his face all the same. What he was about to do was entirely theoretical, in so far as that he had no idea whether or not he could actually pull it off. He was fairly certain it could be done, just not sure if he could do it.

Or if the drain on my Djed will even be worth it. Bah. Nothing ventured…

by **Drake Kasparov** on October 26th, 2016, 2:40 am

The idea was simple enough. He once again began to will his Djed outward, feeling the res beginning to trickle down his hands. A thin-skinned ice sculpture, with next to no actual detail, didn’t require an excessive amount of Djed, which was good, because this next move was likely going to. In a thick, gel-like form, the res began to extend and wrap around his hand. Drake had found it helped to maintain contact with the res, to try and maintain the level of control he needed. It slowly wiggled forward like an extension of his arm, as if he had sprouted a ghostly tentacle. It was short at first ,but got gradually longer as Drake continued to concentrate on it. Once it was at a decent length, Drake shifted his feet apart, his heels pointed in and his toes pointed outwards, before thrusting his arm forward. The res expanded rapidly, finding his targets mouth and beginning to fill it. A tick after making contact, Drake yanked his hand back, the res moving back somewhat with him to keep physical contact with his hand, and as he did, he transmuted what was already inside his targets open mouth.

Panting softly, Drake lifted his hand, the res that had been outside the statue, still as yet not transmuted, still attached to his arm, the tentacle much thinner now. The targets mouth was iced over, a massive block of the substance filling the area from its mouth and extending halfway down into the structure of the target - where the esophagus would be on a real target. He had made the ice solid throughout, unlike the ice which had made the statue itself, and being so much heavier, he could already see the weight of it beginning to fracture and erode the sculpture.

Drake paced, beginning to pull the unused res back to his hand, absorbing it back through his palm as he examined his handiwork. This man would be dead, of course. I suppose I have succeeded in that regard. But I worry that this is not the grandiose display I need to impress these corpses. Drake sighed, and he waved his hands over the mass of ice, and with a flick of his wrist, willed it away. Promptly the target, and the extra mass of ice lodged into its ‘throat’ vanished, transmuted into air.

An interesting way to kill, but I can do better. I know it. Drake considered for a moment. Perhaps a show of force that would be capable of dispatching multiple targets? Drake could do it, theoretically, but generally had shied away from attempting so in the past. Not that he was afraid, but neither was he a fool. Extra targets generally meant more projectiles, and trying to aim and control multiple individual masses of res was a challenge to say the least.

by **Drake Kasparov** on October 26th, 2016, 2:44 am

He began to repeat the original process of creating a target - but he didn’t want to waste any more Djed than necessary, and made it much quicker and sloppier this time. A smaller amount of Res, to create an even smaller target - only three feet tall. Two feet less, but in terms of material he had to transmute, it was exponentially easier. Satisfied, he stepped back again, spreading his feet back out into a ready stance.

This time, as the res began to well up in his palms, instead of focusing it into a single mass, he began to focus on about a half dozen individual platelets, willing them to hover in a small arc over his head. He elongated each, beginning to transmute just the outer layer into ice to create a small hovering field of thin spikes.

Drake swung his arm forward. On command, the spikes all zeroed in, and flew toward the target. Immediately, Drake closed his open hand, willing the Djed still inside the spikes to transmute into ice as they neared impact, thickening each.

There was a resounding series of low, dry sounding thumps as each drilled into the target, and several moments later, the entire thing toppled over from the impact, shattering and spreading ice all across the floor. Drake folded his arms over his chest, taking a few steps forward, kneeling down to examine the damage.

Wouldn’t likely do a whole lot versus an armored target. But theoretically I could use a similar attack to kill at least three targets at once. More, maybe, if I worked on my aim. It was hard to tell now that the structure of his target had shattered from the fall, but he had observed the spread of the projectiles as they had made contact - mostly all to the center of gravity, right to the chest. That was all well and good, but the spikes were too thin to be likely to do critical damage to that area, unless he managed to spear a particularly important organ.

Drake stood back up, but slowly. His body felt like lead now, and his breathing was coming in ragged, uneven bursts. His lips parted and he let out a massive yawn, his arms reaching up high toward the sky as he elongated his back, releasing some of the tension in his body. Staring down at the fragments of ice scattered across the floor, just now beginning to melt, an alarming feeling of inadequacy crept through Drake’s chest. Slowly he brought his hand up and with a sweeping motion, dismissed all the ice he could still see, and an instant later it was gone, rejoining the air around him.

by **Drake Kasparov** on October 26th, 2016, 2:47 am

Drake smacked his lips, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth. It almost tasted as if his mouth was bleeding. But he knew that wasn’t the case. Already overdoing it. I need to be more careful. He had skirted the line before, and so he recognized the taste. He stepped over to the desk where his personal effects had been placed, sitting down next to them on it. His hands were now shaking, and even though he hadn’t really been doing anything physically, he could feel his heart pounding inside his chest, as if it were trying to break free. Carefully, he opened his backpack, retrieving his waterskin and taking a hearty swig from it, letting out a satisfied gasp as the cool liquid met the back of his throat. He needed a lot more practice, of course.

But for now… I should see what the food situation around here is like. Heavy casting always made him hungry. More than hungry, really - it was as if the cravings for food reached down into his very soul. He had been surviving off the leftover trail rations he had from his caravan, but that could only last him a few more days. Since he wasn’t the only living creature on Sahova, he was fairly certain they had to have food available. Somewhere.

Or, Drake would have to wander out into the wild parts of the island and try and find some. It wasn’t a thought he relished. In any event, he could see only now how much time he had already spent at this as he caught a glimpse of Syna’s waning light, striking his eyes like daggers through one of the narrow windows along the walls of the common labs. Still shaking, he slowly pulled his robe back on, stuffing his waterskin back into his pack before pulling it onto his back, and with the bottom of his staff clicking against the stone floors of the Gug Andjak as he walked, he made his way for the Quarters.

by **Languish** on November 2nd, 2016, 3:26 pm

Drake Kasparov

Skills:

Shielding: + 1
Meditation: + 1
Reimancy: + 3

Lores:

Sahova: Lacking Carnal Desires
Sahova: The Living are Outnumbered
Shielding Technique: Painting on Layers
Shielding One's Self
Meditation: Shutting Up is the Hardest Part
Reimancy: Combining Ice Reaving with Magic
Reimancy: Filling a Body with Ice
Reimancy: Controlling Multiple Spikes (Basic)
Not Afraid- Smart
Overgiving Makes You Hungry
Overgiving: The Oratory Illusion of Blood

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Solo [Gug Andjak] Proper Preparation is Paramount, Part I