Solo Seasonal Treasure Pt I

[Alric Lysane]

27th Winter 521 AV – Riverside The morning found Alric pacing up and down the side of the river, partially musing upon recent events and their impact upon him but largely chancing his luck to see if Ovek would grant him a boon as he had in previous seasons. As with all disasters in Sunberth flooding brought with it its won opportunities. In seasons passed storms had shaken for the precious stones from cliff faces, fires had exposed old cellars filled with treasures and flooding had exposed various trinkets that had later been shown to be worth more than first thought. And so, after the storms had passed and a few days had passed to ease away the raging waters, Alric had taken to spending some time each day trudging up and down the banks of the river. Mostly he had simply managed to get muddy boots so far, though a few silvers and coppers had been a welcome addition to his pouches. The only things he had to do other than work that was not trudging were brooding over his new gifts – divine and personally acquired – and he needed breaks from the constant reminder of his new magical abilities. “Though Arcadius doesn’t take breaks,” he noted to himself sourly as he bent down to flick off a few stones from a pouch that he opened, silvers within, and put into his own pouch, “bloody obsessed mages” he finished with a resigned tone. It was strange, as if he were so conflicted, about how he felt, what he thought, that it seemed to change by the day. Every time he was at the Outpost it seemed so logical, so necessary and it made sense. He had a gift, apparently, and he was hunted. Why not use it? But then he’d return to his home, or what had been chosen to be his home, and his thoughts would turn dark once more, condemning and criticising. Even the gift given to him by Eyris, which by all rights he should be thankful for given his own feelings about what she represented, seemed a sour boon. He paused in his trudging and, not for the first time, thought about it – it was an odd thing. He was not given to madness, as much as he was aware of, and so this conflict seemed strange. Still, perhaps it was down to Taz’s presence, he reasoned, she had a way of making him see thing differently. Shrugging it off he continued with his trudging, his eyes scanning this way and that, noticing refuse and detritus here, flotsam and stones there, until at one point, in a junction where the river split, he spied something interesting. There was what looked like an old stone pipe, of chamber, as if it had one been clogged but ran under the city for that section of it. Curious now rather than brooding he made his way towards it, picking his steps and hopping here or there so as not to fall into the deeper parts of the mud quagmire. For a time there were even stone slabs, or shattered ones, that he jumped from one to the other, until he was standing before the uncovered stone protrusion. Peering into the dingy tube, his eyes taking some time to adjust to the darkness, he saw the outline of something rectangular and reached in. Fingers slipping upon algae and grime at first after a while he scraped enough off with his fingertips to get a solid grip before hauling the thingy out into the light. He almost crowed when he saw that it was a chest, wood stained from the time underwater and a thick crust seemingly formed across the joints. He hoped it would mean the inside was well reserved. Looking at the lock he saw, instead a bell, which seemed to tinkle and was shining despite the covering to grime elsewhere. “What in the…” he said, suddenly overcome with the need to touch the bell. Flicking it, it shattered, vanished and his instincts took hold, shielding the tiny display and looking around to see if anyone had seen. Once it was established he wasn’t going to be set upon by a mob, he heaved the chest up into his arms, the weight not inconsiderable, and began the trudge back to his little shack of a home. Despite having the Outpost now to spend his time he wasn’t going to bring anything back to the shared space that might be a danger and he had no idea what this obviously magical display would bring.

[Alric Lysane]

Alric’s Shack Placing the chest down in the middle of the table he returned to the door, shutting it firmly and placing the barrel, only half filled with water, in front of it to offer some small measure against potential breach. Old habits died hard and with a randomly magical chest upon his table he wasn’t about to take any chances. The shutters were closed leaving the only light within the shack whatever slivers made it through the cracks in the shutter and any general holes that he hadn’t managed to patch yet this season. Or last season, if he were honest with himself. “Not that winter is that cold these days” he muttered to himself, approaching the table slowly, fists clenching and unclenching nervously. He might have started to educate himself upon magic beyond Sunberthian suspicion but all that had done was make him see how much more dangerous magic could be in the wrong hands. Sitting after a while of watching, nothing suddenly bursting from the chest, he sat and pulled off his gloves. Tracing the glowing Lormar symbol upon the back of his left hand he sighed and closed his eyes. Trying to focus, finding it slightly easier in the safety of his home these days, he went through the motions he had been shown, this time not seeking anything in terms of Djed but just the stillness that the floating above it could bring. He was not sure why but over time, with repetition, it had not only become easier but small changes had been made to the visions in his mind’s eye. The pool was still there but the mountains seemed more prominent now, closer and more detailed. Frowning slightly he pulled himself away from thought and sought, after a while of effort, to simply just…hang there was the only way of putting it he thought. Stillness slowly crept upon him, his thoughts submerged by the quiet of the internal vision. He had found, through some small amount of experimentation, that in this state his new gift seemed to come more easily. He had already started to wonder whether that was something purposefully built in by Eyris, that she understood quiet reflection was the root of wisdom once knowledge was gained. Whether she tried to passively nurture that in her marked followers. Though he was also willing to admit he might have been making it all up. Either way he brushed his fingers over the chest and the flickering impressions came, weak at first but stronger as they repeated until he understood them. The wood felt like it had come from far away, somewhere colder and harder, north perhaps. It had been carved by an old man, or at least the hair had been white. Emotions flickered as if trying to inform intent, but he couldn’t sense a reason for the carving, just that it had been a labour of love…or possibly affection, as if the man had enjoyed the creation. Pulling his fingers back he took a few moments to blink away the impressions before he opened the lid of the chest, satisfied that all avenues against possible threat had been explored and found nothing but the opposite – it was safe to open he thought. Once opened his face went from a pensive frown to genuine surprise. Everything within was dry and had not been affected by the submergence of the chest for however long it had been there. Pulling the items out he found them to be different pieces of clothing, clearly from the same outfit as if someone had just dumped it into the chest and locked it before forgetting about it. They were of a good quality, almost as good as the ones he had received from Syka. He almost cackled gleefully when he pulled the boots out, he needed a new pair given that one of his current ones were about to be thrown upon the fire as worn through and useless. All in all he found a pair of black leather boots, a pair of red gloves, a red jacket, a black leather belt with an interesting buckle, some sort of red and white hooked stick that smelled of mint, a blue glass ball with a gold cap and hook as if it would hang off of something, and a corn cob pipe. The last he held up to study for some time, impressed by the quality and smiling at the new addition to his smoking pouch. Placing it down upon the table carefully he ran his fingers around the inside of the chest and found nothing – no indentations, carved script, hidden drawers or anything else. “Well, at least I have a new chest I suppose,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the minty stick with mounting curiosity and picking it up, studying it, ”what are you? Never seen the likes of you before, the rest I understand but you…hmmm” He continued to study it, finding nothing untoward, finally shaking it and listening to see if there was anything inside. A few shakes later he regretted his curiosity as the thing grew in size, smacking him in the forehead and causing him to let it go as it practically pushed him over in his chair.

[Alric Lysane]

It was only because practise had drilled it into him somewhat that when his back hit the floor he let the momentum carry his legs over his head so that came over in a roll that was clumsy but at least left his head more intact that if it had been hit twice over by stick and floor. Shaking his head and rubbing it with his left hand he cast his gaze around until saw the red and white stick – now as tall as he was and akin to a staff. He scowled at it as if it had meant to hurt him, grabbed it and tried to flex it. After a few chimes of straining muscles and tiring grip, sweat beading upon his brow, he gave up and found it to be quite solid. He held it once more, musing quietly, before shaking it again and watching it shrink back to its original shape. “Bloody menace” he muttered as he noted his legs had shifted things off of the table and moved the table itself. Sighing he put the stick upon its surface and set about shifting the table back to where it was supposed to be and gathering the items that had fallen. It took a few chimes and he decided to wisely stay at ground level as he explored the newly found items, he liked the idea of being low down if one decided to randomly explode upon the table. Shaking his head at his foolishness, the foolishness of even retrieving the damned items, and the foolishness of magic in general he placed everything upon the table except for the belt, there was surely nothing threatening about a belt. Besides which his current one was largely just rope holding leather bits together and so he pulled it off, threw it towards the hearth for later and slipped the new one on. As he put it on he got it into place, found the width to need tightening and so cinched it with a frown, focusing so intently upon learning how it fit him best that he did not at first notice his size had changed. When he realised, he didn’t scream, that would have probably caused someone to come and see him in his experiments. He did let out a small whimper though as he walked under his own table with only a slight stoop. Feeling the rough underside he could have cried but instead set about trying to get the damned belt off, uncinching it and promptly driving his shoulders up into the table, upending it as he returned to size, with a shout of surprise as he slammed into the wood. “I hate my life” he moaned from underneath the scattered pile of items and furniture, deciding it was best to stay where he was for a while and not tempt fate, the glass orb thing rolling to stop against his nose. “Let me guess, you’re the one that blows up…in…my….shyke!” he grabbed the thing and flipped it to land upon his bed, watching it carefully in case he had to run out through the door. After a long while of nothing happening he breathed a sigh of relief and crawled towards it, picking it up by its hook and tilting his head in consideration before hanging it up above his hearth, hooking it onto an old, rusted nail that had long ago lost whatever use it originally had had. That caused him to smile, his frayed nerves seeming to calm as something, at least, went right. He carefully did not adjust his belt further now that he had found the right size, counted the number of holes and then removed it, righted the table, and put it back into the chest now returned to the table. He sat back into his chair, eyeing the rest of the items with even more caution than before.

[Alric Lysane]

Wriggling his fingers with a certain amount of apprehension he touched each item in turn, seeking to read them after taking some time to centre his mind, entering into a deeper state of breathing as he hovered once more in the stillness above his ‘well’ and waited for a give five chimes before each attempt, trying to sift out his thoughts and, though difficult, managing to do it well enough that the impressions came. They were chaotic and seemingly random, not what he was trying to gain insight into – which were the properties of the clearly magical items before him – at least not as far as he could discern. Each item gave off the vision of the old man, each one adding in another portion of information – a deep jolly laugh and a long beard with spectacles, red cheeks and a physique that spoke of many meals and not much movement. There were hints of some kind of…sled…and animals he had no familiarity with. And dark, star filled skies with cold, whistling wind. He leaned back, defeated for the moment, and leaned back into his chair. Looking upon them he reasoned that he could be quite safe with the pipe, it had shown him a scene of relaxed contemplation before a fire, food in hand and smoke curling around the previous owner. He picked it up, blew through it to make sure it was clear and then gingerly started thumbing tobacco into it before lighting it. Puffing away he groaned slightly when he realised it didn’t smell like normal smoke – no it smelled of apples and cinnamon. “Well….at least it hasn’t blown up, seems it can be used for normal smoking…despite the smell” he mused to himself as he looked over the other items. The memories of the last few days tickled at the back of his mind, of his exploration of Auristics and the attempts to read magical items. Humming to himself for a while, enjoying the pipe smoke, he mused and eventually came to a begrudging decision – he’d rather know than not know. Focusing himself, remembering not to try for discernment at first, he tentatively closed his eyes, still puffing away, and relaxing into his chair. He touched his Djed, letting it fill him up in a slow and constant trickle, not worrying about how long it took and more concerned with maintaining control. He felt it fill him, bit by bit, his skin beginning to buzz with the ability to feel the chair and table he was resting upon if he so chose. He felt the subtle humming of the world around him, strange colours even glowing behind his eyes as he made sure his back was to the door before opening them to take in his surroundings. It was still quite wonderous, he was not sure if it would ever stop being so. Like reading beyond existence it held a quality that he couldn’t quite define, magical but also something else, something that felt strangely mechanical…or functional. He smiled and brought his attention to the table and the object before him, focusing just upon one at a time, taking a break between each focusing. They all held the colour he associated with magic, blues of all colours and swirls, throbbing in and out in their changes and oscillations. He did, however, notice that as with Tazrae’s things they seemed to have larger auras than their physical space would suggest. The few items alone, when combined, covered the whole table with their auras yet took up barely a quarter of it in actual space. He wondered whether that was because of their nature and, relaxing into what he was beginning to think of as a ‘passive’ state he rolled up his sleeve to expose the bodysuit he always wore and then focused upon it – its aura went a few inches out from his actual arm and he nodded to himself, pulling the pipe away and seeing the same when he refocused slowly. “So…bigger auras for…magic things? But each has a different thickness…why? Is it because each has different abilities? Or is it strength? Strength would make more sense but…well none of this usually makes sense” he mused to himself, relaxing back into the passive state and puffing away, the unusual scent helping him to relax for some reason.

[Alric Lysane]

He enjoyed the simple buzzing and humming of the world around him for a while, giving himself time to centre himself once more and marshal enough Djed through the slow filling up to enable further explorations. He only had one more thing he wanted to try to do before breaking it off so despite the tiredness he could feel beginning to seep into his bones he pressed onwards. He opened up all of his senses this time, focusing up the boots first and letting them speak to him instead of trying to force the information. He was finding that it was elss about pulling things from things and more about letting them tell him, about time focused instead of speedy retrieval. It was not unlike his gift given by Eyris, it took a calm mind and then the visions sort of…flooded into his mind of their own volition. He still thought that was a kind of passive reinforcement from her, it made sense. The boots smelled of something earthy and rich, giving him a sense of solidity and grounded nature. The music was muted but he thought it went back and forth along the same tune, lingering in the middle and speeding up towards the ends. A sense of…balance perhaps? Something to do with keeping one’s feet on the ground. It was about all he could get with a quick reading and he tucked it away for another day’s deeper exploration. Switching slowly, pulling away from the boots first and then turning to the gloves, he narrowed his focus and let them speak to him. They smelled of something light and airy, like a flowery fragrance he couldn’t quite place. But it made him think of floating, as if he were above his ‘well’ when he imagined seeking it. Their fabric was soft and as his fingers brushed them, not seeking Lykata images this time but just how they felt, he got the sense of a snug warmness despite their flimsy appearance. He also felt a tugging and pulling, tilting his head in thought he was given a flash of fabric moulding to his skin. Strange but he felt it meant that the gloves would fit him, even if they were fife times the size, which was even stranger. The belt came next, even though he had witnessed first-hand what it did. Still it paid to be thorough and make sure there were not easily found hidden abilities contained with it. It smelled earthy like the boots, but somehow more pliable. He thought for a while, taking it in, and eventually thought it was similar to the clay pots he owned, but fresher perhaps, as if it were mimicking newly made clay. Brushing it with his fingers he got the same sense as from the gloves, that of shrinking, which made sense given what it had done to him, but it was stronger, more extreme in its impact upon his sense. That was perhaps the magnitude of the magic? He wasn’t sure but he knew for certain that the association with pliable clay was a good one, it squashed him and then pulled him back to normal size, much like clay might be moulded. He tried to move to the other items but his concetration flickered, tiredness seeping into him more deeply, numbing his mind bit by bit. He tried to narrow his focus and it flickered a bit into life, scents briefly coming before dying and he lost grip upon the Djed and everything came crashing back into a normal world. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose against the beginnings of a slight headache. He would ahve to get used to this sort of thing, it seemed, hopeing it really did vanish once he had mastered at least some of the artform. He tapped out his pipe above the hearth, the ashes falling down slowly in a ballet agaisnt the warm rising air, before putting it atop the table and stumbling towards his bed. He all but collapsed into it, and barely remembered to grab his gloves and pull them onto his hands before tiredness grasped him, pulling him down into a deep blackness.

[Alric Lysane]

Your Grades Skills Acrobatics – 2 Auristics - 2 Body Building – 2 Investigation – 1 Meditation - 2 Observation – 2 Organization - 1 Lores Auristics: Magical Items - Variable Aura Sizes Auristics: Tiredness Follows Use Auristics: Reading Magical Items Corn Cob Pipe: Apple & Cinnamon Scent Florentin Arcadius: Doesn’t Take Breaks Knowledge: The Root of Wisdom Lykata: Requires A Still Mind Lykata: Sifting For Impressions Lykata Impressions: Jolly Fat Red Man Magical Fancy Belt: Cinch To Shrink Magical Minty Stick: Shake Into Staff Wisdom: The Reflection Upon Knowledge Items Gained Winter 2021 Challenge Items (added to Ledger): Black Boots Red Gloves Black Belt Red Jacket Ornament of Peaceful Relations Minty Stick Corn Cob Pipe 1x Simple Wooden Chest - No Lock Items Lost Rope Belt - Fire Food Old Simple Boots - Fire Food