Closed To look upon a falling...

[Crylon Stonecraft]

2 Fall 518 Casting about with his eyes, Crylon examined the wooded area about him. He was not that far from Ravok's lakeshore, if it was full night some of the lights would still be visible from business and buildings there if he turned himself about to look in the correct direction. As it was night was approaching, but it was still day time and the sun was not quite set. Crylon had risen early in the city, and headed to the lakeshore later in the day. After stopping by the dojo for a quick spar and bit of muscle work to keep from losing definition, he had headed out further away from the lakeshore and its structures. There, away from prying eyes and intrusions, he planned to practice his magic. He had learned a bit of various magics back in Sultros, but beyond the basics had not had much of a chance to expand upon them. This was something he planned to remedy in the best way he knew how. Practice, training, diligence, and doing, these were his standby's. Once he was done, he hoped before it got too dark out, he planned to head back to the lakeshore to rent a cheap room and stay the night. He had not bothered to bring too much with him, leaving most of his things in his room in the city. An axe, in case he needed to make something. His club, in case he was attacked by some beast before it got too close. And of course his own body, as deadly if not deadlier a weapon if used properly, one he was still working on honing into a true instrument of Izurdin's will. And a better weapon than the club when up close, if nothing else but due to the fact that he had it his entire life and was rather unskilled in using the weapon. Finding a small open area, large enough for him to lie down if he wished but not for much more, Crylon chose that as his spot to work. Sitting down with his legs crossed, Crylon reached forward with his left arm, shoving the fingers into the grass to slide into the dirt below. Clenching his hand he pulled up a clod of grass and dirt, revealing the soil beneath. Throwing the grass clod aside Crylon let his fingers sink into the soil, focusing on the feeling of the dirt below him. Grabbing a handful he let it trickle through his fingers slowly to fall back into the hole, some bits being blown away on a sudden stray wind. Calming his mind as best he could, Crylon next focused on the task at hand. The magic. Before he could do any Reimancy, he needed to make res. He had done it before, along with some other basic things, but at the time he had been under the direct instruction of his initiator. Now he had to remember it on his own, recreating the process as best he could without such advice or direction. Not as easy a task. The res was within him. It was him. He simply needed to bring it out. Focusing inwardly, Crylon imagined a fluid inside of him, flowing about just below the surface of his skin. He then imagined this fluid flowing outward, exuding from his pores like magical sweat. Opening his eyes, he half expected to see just this happening. With a bit of consternation however, he found that nothing had happened. Another approach perhaps?, Crylon thought to himself. Opening his left hand, holding the limb up at chest height and holding the palm facing upward, Crylon willed the magical substance to exude outward. Staring at the limb he focused on this intent, willing it to happen. A twist. A turn. A bead of sweat running into his left eye causing the sting of salt... And still nothing. A bit aggravated, Crylon cried out in Isur, the tongue he fell back to so often when not trying to communicate with the locals. “Izurdin's cold forge, what am I doing wrong!” Clearly, Crylon knew, he was approaching this wrong. But oddly enough he could not quite recall how he had done the magic before, as under direct instruction it had seemed simpler. But now, time having passed and him never having gotten to skilled, he could not recall. Focusing his mind Crylon dug into his memory, his curse making him think back to the forge he had learned to smith on as a child. He vaguely recalled that when he had first tried to exude res, he had been thinking of that place. Perhaps that was the answer? WC: 776

[Crylon Stonecraft]

Letting out a deep breath, Crylon eyed the arm held up before him. Slowly, he inhaled, his mind wandering through memories. A forge. The sound of a hammer striking metal on an anvil. Calming. Soothing. Soothing memories? Screwing up his face, Crylon tried to recall. Soothing memories? Calming? Perhaps something about that, being related to or helping. Breathing. Meditating. And as an Isur, a well supplied and worked forge was a rather calming memory. It could not hurt, Crylon reasoned. Closing his eyes once more, Crylon focused on his families forge. Stone floor, smooth and cut right out of the stone of the mountain. The walls were laid bricks, with mortar added in and then the final product leveled off so much that you could take a straight stick to it without finding a bump. The ceiling was made of arching blocks, well fitted and snug, with a large stone column in the middle adding support. And of course the forge, a low fire burning, easily fed into a proper height and with mechanism for forcing in air. The anvil right next to it a half turn away so that the smith did not have to step about. Crylon focused his mind on this memory, the warmth of the flame, the heat and light of the fire. Smoke drifting upward into the chimney which fed out to the open sky and air. Feeling just that bit more at peace, Crylon opened his eyes, keeping the memory of the forge in his mind. His hand extended out, Crylon focused on the center of his open palm, and willed the res to exit. To exude. As he did, a small puff of black ethereal gas came forth, matching the color of his arm but despite the shading quite clear rather than vision occluding. Excited by his success, Crylon's calm was broken. It was about then that the puff of clear shaded black gas cut off. Watching, the puff floated in the air, not moving but just rest in on the air. It was a part of himself, and in relation to his body he had a vague understanding of where it was. Perhaps akin, he thought, to how one knew where your foot was as you walked without looking at it. Focusing his mind once more, Crylon delved back into the memory, picturing the forge. This time he added his father, a tall Isur compared to his childhood height, staring up at him as his arm worked and the peal of the hammer rang out while working the metal. If the gas was a part of him, Crylon reasoned, it should move just the same as his fingers and limbs did. Surely? Perhaps not as easily, as he was still not used to controlling it like his body, but perhaps following the same concept. Staring at the gas, Crylon slowly moved his hand under the gas to the side, willing the gas to follow. There was a small pause, a lag, and then the gas slowly began to move to the side following the route his hand had taken. Moving his hand the other way, he willed the res to follow again. Slowly at his willing the res stopped and then changed direction to move in the new way. Moving downward, Crylon held his palm up just above the dirt he had loosed, and willed the res to move there. As it came to a stop, Crylon focused on the res again, moving his hand so that his palm faced downward and was just above the res like a roof. He willed the res to stay still, but to pull. Only a few inches above the ground, the dirt slowly trembled and then was pulled upward to cling to the gas. Not a lot. Some bits of dirt as fine as dust, a few tiny clods little more than a crumb of bread, and a single slightly larger clod not even as big as his littlest fingernail. But still, it was something. The earth beneath him, responding to his will. And then it was gone, the tiny bit of gas fading out of sight as it was used up by his efforts of directing and holding the dirt. And time, he realized, as the Isur looked up to find the night had come and the sun had set while he had stared at the gas and dirt before him. Rising back to his feet, Crylon made to head back toward the lakeshore, when he saw something in the sky. A streak. A light. Moving fast. Crylon looked on as the light streaked down, now clearly descending from his point of view as it fell. And then as it grew closer he saw it was not light, but a ball of fire streaking down to Mizahar. And then an explosion, as it struck the ground, light and kicked up dirt and things as it hit perhaps a half mile away. In the opposite direction of the lakeshore. His sense of direction good, Crylon knew which way to go, though not reliably how far. But his curiosity peaked, he could not just not see what it was. Letting out a sigh Crylon got his bearings, sorted out the direction he needed to go, and began to head off deeper into the land away from the lakeshore and Ravok and civilization. WC: 896

[Crylon Stonecraft]

It did not take Crylon long to realize it would not be as simple as following a straight line. He might know where to go, and where he was coming from, but the land and environment did not allow him to walk straight across it. Trees, falls, brambles, away from the more pacified land close to the lakeshore such obstacles and vegetation began to become more frequent. Instead Crylon was forced to make a meandering path along the way, while doing his best to keep in the same overall direction. At least, Crylon thought to himself, he was not out in the full wilds further from the city. Here it was somewhat traveled, and so many people coming in and out of town, hunting or traveling, had made some ways clear or established some clearer ways to travel. It was not long before Crylon noticed something not too far off, a light at ground level. As he drew closer it became clearer, until he headed into a small clearer area. A clearer area formed by a crater, bits of vegetation outside its rough circle of the landing sight smoldering. Looking about Crylon could see that the top of a large tree had been broken off and thrown to smolder among more vegetation. The deep crater though in the ground drew his main attention. Wider across than he was tall, and over half as deep as his full height. At its bottom rested a silvery stone, with a light coming forth from within it like a hole with a torch in it but not quite the same. The source of the light was not clear, as if the stone was at once clear so as to let the light out, but solid so as to not let his sight in. Or perhaps, Crylon thought, the stone itself glowed with the light. Within fully thinking Crylon stepped inside, approaching the stone. Being cautious, Crylon reached out with his invincible left arm, gently poking it before stepping back. When nothing happened he moved again, rolling the stone a bit with another prod. Still nothing happened. He had expected a hear, but even standing so close there was none considering the flaming falling object he had so recently seen fall and strike. About the size of a melon, Crylon set aside his weapon, and then slowly reached forward to pick it up with both hands. Cool to the touch, and oddly light, Crylon rose to gaze down at it. He had expected something from its dramatic arrival, but now... Nothing... Squeezing the stone, Crylon felt its roughness. And its ungiving nature. A harder squeeze from his left hand provided the same result. Nothing. Then another, using his full Isurian might and ability, which would normally mold and shape stone like wet clay. Nothing. Crylon could only assume that some magic was at work, something he had increasingly been running into recently in Ravok. But he could think of no other reason why his arm would fail to so much as dent the stone. Placing the large stone in his pack, Crylon took one last look about, retrieved his large weapon, and then began to head back the way he had come. Having traveled it once, it did not take him as long to get back to the spot where he had meditated and practiced his Reimancy. From there it was a short trip back to the lakeshore, where he rented a cheap room for the night. As soon as he reached the bedroom Crylon dropped his pack and things, and crawled into the bed. He was exhausted after the days events and excitement, and his mind still puzzled over the odd stone from the sky that defied Izurdin's blessed grip. Something he would consider further when he rose on the morrow. WC: 637

[Crylon Stonecraft]

His bladder awoke him. At first he fought the need, wanting to sleep, but soon enough the need grew too dire and he stumbled out of bed to the bathroom. Half asleep, it took him a few moments to realize something was not right. Lowering his pants, he moved to re leave himself, only to find his manhood lacking. Or more to the point, missing. At first Crylon thought it was a dream, but then he realized he was not, that critical moment of lucidity differentiating a dream from waking moments. Quite quickly fully awake, Crylon began feeling about with his hands, not understanding what was going on. It was then he realized something else not right. His left arm. For as long as he could recall, his left arm had been black, a metallic stone substance marking his bond to Izurdin and his place as an Isur. Now though, his left arm was... Normal. The normal bluish hued skin of an Isur, with silver veins crisscrossing. A few moments later, feeling at the flesh of his left arm, he noticed that his right arm was black. The same metallic stone black his left arm had been. As an Isur he knew what this meant, though the concept at the moment did not make sense. Male Isur had their left arm blessed by Izurdin, female their right. Somehow though, something he had not heard of before, his had switched sides. Impossible. But then, so was waking without ones manhood. “Izurdin's flooded forge...” Tensing at the sound of his own voice, Crylon looked about for another person. The voice had not been his own. It had been a woman's, speaking his intended words in Isur. He did not understand how. He did not understand why, where, or when. But it was becoming clear. Somehow, in his sleep, Crylon had turned into a woman. Rushing to find a mirror, he grabbed up a small hand mirror in the bathroom and looked to find a foreign face. And yet, somehow familiar. It was not quite his own face, but it reminded him of his mothers in some manner while still being unique. Not his own face, but he could easily pass for his own female cousin or sister to someone who knew him. It was as if he had been born a woman, and his being a man had only been a dream. But that was not possible, was it, Crylon pondered? There, Crylon! A male Isurian name! But no, he supposed, that in and of itself was not proof. Was he mad? Had he truly dreamed his past as a man, forgetting the truth in his waking? Had he always been a woman? Struggling to find some proof of his past, he noticed how ill fitting his clothes were. Measuring against the room around him, Crylon was fairly certain he was still the same normal height of 5 feet for an Isur, but he had lost a bit of weight and size from his male form. His clothes did not quite fit, drooping on him and sagging as if he had lost weight overnight, while also being molded like a sculpture into another form. He was bulkier as a male, though in a different fashion to a females form and build. On the slight of frame side as an Isur, Crylon was likewise as a female. One less thing to worry about, Crylon thought to himself, as if he had also suddenly become well endowed as a woman it would cause another range of problems. Not that he was ugly, he supposed, looking at himself in the mirror. He was slim, but well formed and attractive in the general sense, if not amply formed. If he had met an Isur on the street as he now appeared, he would find that Isur quite attractive. The thought was both confusing and odd, making his face blush at the thought. Confusing. Weird. Not something he had ever thought he would need to consider. It was then that Crylon's bladder prodded him, reminding him... Her... Why he had come to the restroom. Looking at the toilet, a small bit of panic struck, as Crylon realized he had no idea how a female used the bathroom for that particular usage. Letting out a sigh, he lowered himself onto the seat, hoping to figure it out as he went. What could go wrong? WC: 736

[Crylon Stonecraft]

What could go wrong. Quite a few things could. That was what Crylon had come to learn. He was not sure how woman usually did that ablution but he had certainly learned one way not to do so. While also managing to make a mess, which he then had to dry up with some cloths he found. “How does one go from working with a handle to not?” Tensing at his own voice again as he spoke in Isur, Crylon tried to ponder how he had woken in a female body. Or if he had, as he considered earlier, always had one. Immediately after this thought his mind went back to the stone he had found, the glowing rock that had fallen from the sky, clearly infused with some form of magic he had not understood. What else but that could it be? The only other option seemed some odd intervention by Izurdin. He had quite a few times prayed to Izurdin, wishing for him to hone his body into a tool for his will. Had that desired or needed tool been a female body? If so, who was he to argue with Izurdin's will? Shaking his head, Crylon realized he had no idea which was the truth, or if some other thing was at work. But first things first, he needed to find a way to learn if his past as a male had all been a dream, or if he had truly changed in his sleep. How though? Crylon realized he needed to ask someone else, this was surely the most logical approach. If he could not trust his own memories, could not trust what he thought he knew, then surely he needed to ask another? If they did not know him as he was, then it seemed likely he had changed in the night. If they did know him, what then? It might mean that his past was truly a lie, and he had never been a he. He would then need to go about recovering his true memories, along with figuring out what had happened. Still, Crylon could not help thinking of himself as a man, could not defy all of his thoughts and memories saying as such. Heading downstairs, Crylon made his first attempt by finding the person at the front of the business in his best common. “You there, you recall me? See me come in?” The human frowned, eyeing Crylon, unsure of him. “I see a lot of people going through. Not many Isur though. Do not recall you, but maybe you were with someone else getting a room? I cannot say. Why do you ask. Do you need something?” “No never mind, I just checking. Thank you, goodnight.” Letting out a sigh, Crylon headed back upstairs, realizing his mistake. He had chosen the first person he could find, but not someone who would know him. He needed someone, he realized, that he had interacted with enough, and who would recall him. That was what he needed. Realizing how tired he was, Crylon headed back upstairs to his room. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would need to find someone who knew him. At the dojo, or perhaps the old forge he had worked at. Or someone in the city who would recall him. Although he was unsure if he wanted to reveal his situation to this, unsure of how they would react. He would ponder his options, and in the morning set out to find someone to aid him and test his memories for the truth. WC: 591

[Zavya]

Grades!

 

Crylon

Skills Earned:

Land Navigation +1
Logic +1
Meditation +1
Observation +4
Reimancy +2

Lores:

Gender Change: Caused by glowing rock from sky
How to relieve oneself as a female
Isur: Females have right arm blessed by Izurdin and males their left
Meditation: Focusing will with memory of the family's forge
Reimancy: Summoning res
Self: Good sense of direction
That time he became "she"...

Comments: xD Poor Crylon. That part about not knowing how to pee... Good stuff lol

If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me!