[Solo Thread] A box of Djed

[Graffius]

Summer, 511 AV

Much was lost during the Valterrian. It was a time of change, cataclysmic and monolithic. It was rapture, one that Navad found himself victim to. Had he lost himself in its wake as well? The upheaval had swept him away and birthed him anew as a newborn drowned in white hair and composed of pallid features. His abilities as well, were lost. -- Rivulets of sweat trickled down Navad’s forehead as he breathed quickly, a concoction of anticipation of results mixed with stress jolting through his lithe body. Although subtly uncomfortable, the sensation was invigorating. He felt alive, truly alive; a feeling that somehow had a tendency to elude him. Oh what he’d trade to feel this way for an eternity. Gritting his teeth, Navad fortified his stance, digging the heels of his boots into the stone floor beneath his soles. Girding him, his dark locks of spindly hair raised upwards, giving the appearance of being submerged in water as the rooms air began to blow, strewing random pieces of parchments and scrolls throughout the stony prism of his home. It cooled his hot flesh and dried the sweat from his brow. Realistically raising the speed of which air travels was simple enough and required little Djed and there was nothing particularly useful about it. However, this was only a warmup that Navad found himself habitually performing, a means to relocate his mind psychologically to concentrate on spellcasting. It worked, and that was all that mattered. Perhaps before the Valterrian, no such mind tricks were needed – but Navad knew nothing of that. For now, he’d focus on the task at hand. The alabaster surface of his teeth clamped together and Navad’s viridian irises narrowed inwards, peering defiantly at nothing particular as he raised his hand forward and unfurled his fingers. Then, tapping into the nexus of his ability, Djed poured from his being, churning and pulsing in a snakelike fashion before encompassing the whole of his hand. Oozing, it propelled outwards and detracted from his palm, floating in a sustained fashion roughly a foot before him. Erupting into a green flame, the Djed’s light pushed out against the surrounding darkness, casting an eerie hugh which sprawled across the dilapidated stone walls of his abode. It hovered momentarily, flickering and illuminating Navad’s features as he watched it in a trance-like state. He was captivated. Soon after however, he would rear his arm back and throw his hand forward, sending the ball of fire towards the stone wall before him. With a sizzle it’s firey form splashed across the bricks before dissipating, leaving a visible mark of black of where it had been. It was fortunate he chose a place to practice his arts, the stone walls were far from combustible, nor were they prone to conducting electricity. It was the perfect set up to hone his magical abilities, isolated and sturdy. Many burn marks decorated its walls, signs of past practice. His home had been good to him. He breathed now in a hushed manner, exhaling through his gritted teeth and nostrils while his arms fell slack at his side. He’d take a break and regain his composure before continuing. It was needed, and he wasn’t oblivious to the effects of overgiving. In the past, he had witnessed it first-hand.

[Graffius]

Phase Two. Creating fire wasn’t exactly taxing, atleast on a small scale. The art was much like shaping water, it was the only way he could describe it to someone who had no experience. The Djed would pulse and churn, a minor amount of concentration would be applied to form and sustain the liquid into a sphere and then, luminously, it would combust with vivid green fire. In reality it was no different than learning to control your muscles, yet it was infinitely more difficult and tedious. Fire was a strange force, an uncontrollable and vicious substance that deserved respect, lest you be burnt and licked by its lapping flames. He could recall his first attempt to create fire. It had been a disastrous experience, one that’s memory would be forever burnt into the flesh of his right forearm. Yet, he considered himself lucky, it was a constant reminder to practice self control and restraint – he was fully aware of his current limits and took particular care to not overstep them. With an exasperated sigh Navad stood from his bedpost and fixed his gaze on the wall before him, his attention wandering to a distant place within his psyche as he recalled his studies from previous nights. For hours on end he had absorbed information within a particularly old book on Reimancy, a remnant of pre-Valterrian knowledge. Oddly enough he couldn’t remember how he had acquired the book. It was old with a dusty cover, atleast two hundred years but it wasn’t unique within his library. Many of the readings he had acquired were bought or recovered from various venders and libraries, yet every once in awhile, lodged between these much more recent texts, he’d find one similar to his ancient Reimancy literature. All of them felt familiar somehow. “Lightning.” He retook his train of thought as he muttered the word beneath his breath. The Reimancy book had spoke of lightning and its creation from Djed. It was a step upwards from creating a sphere of fire, more difficult and taxing. Truthfully he was hesitant when he first read of it and even now he could feel a hint of anxiousness creeping up his spine. However dangerous it was though, it was a necessary step in his personal advancement. Enough boding. Navad’s eyes closed shut and blackness overtook him as he concentrated on expelling Res from his body. For a minute or two, he could feel nothing and there were no immediate results. Soon after though, a tingling sensation began to emanate from his gut and he could physically feel his Res crawling through his skin. Like a spider web being formed, it began to sprawl outwards, tendrils of energy snaking and weaving through his body before emerging from the surface of his pores. It enveloped his gaunt form, wafting through the air as a translucent gas with an ethereal glow, radiating throughout the darkness. It would then begin to accumulate within the air before him as a cloud, free moving yet in a contained radius. The particles then began to spark, transferring energy amongst them, miniature bolts of lightning and electrical energy that flashed throughout the room in power blue. Already he could tell it was a dangerous force, finding himself straining to isolate its effects as he observed it with open eyes. Carefully he lifted his arm and raked his fingers across the air, gesticulating while tentacles of Res were forced downward from the cloud. It felt as if he were clawing through a thick gel. It was a channel of Res formed for the lightning to jolt through and for many moments he focused on extending the tendrils of energy towards the ground. Then with the twitch of his muscle and like shattering glass, it crackled violently, glimmering and scintillating purple, bolts of electricity racing downwards and burning the ground below; slamming into its stony surface. As he witnessed its successful creation, a great feeling of fatigue overcame him. He dropped his hand in response and immediately the cloud collapsed, vanishing. For now it seemed impractical for use, it required too much time, was exerting, and had little effect. Perhaps a single life would be slain, but the person would either have to be incapacitated for his target to meet its mark. With more practice, he planned on refining it, allowing his body to attune itself with creating Res in a gaseous form. But for now, he would sleep. His eyes were much too weighted.

[Graffius]

Graffius awoke from a deep slumber, his flesh hot and his brow damp with cool beads of sweat. He felt uneasy and on edge, a subtle sensation of vertigo pulsing beneath his skin. Painted images of a dream experienced only moments prior was still fresh in his mind. There was pastel browns and translucent blues, rich oranges, the colors of the desert - a vision, fresh in his head yet with no obvious meaning whatsoever. He could feel there was more, but he knew not what it was. Perhaps with time he’d understand. A low grumble deep from his core emerged from his thin lips as he roused himself, sitting upwards from his bed. Dreams could wait and as of now, practice would resume immediately. Standing, he tardily walked to his desk and seated himself, burying his attention into the already opened Reimancy book sprawled across the table. As if placed upon a predestined track, he trailed his finger along the bottom of the written text as he read. His attempt at lightning creation before his slumber had been relatively halfhearted, partially because of fear. As an over-ambitious youth, he could recall training with his Hashmalum brothers. It was vague yet one image kept reoccurring like a play in his consciousness. He was in a tent with many children his age surrounding him and then there was fire. Bits and pieces of it were lost, just him, children and fire. And that was it. Somehow though, this surreal and somewhat vivid picture instilled fear within him. It troubled him even more so than the painting of his primeval desert. “Enough nonsense. Focus.” He turned his attention towards a stack of personal notes upon Res usage – recorded text of his own experiences while researching and training with its application. The sensations experienced by the body while channeling Res. A consistency similar to thick gel felt as he contained it; particularly in lightning creation Euphoria from over usage. “Muscle fatigue.” “Mental fatigue.” “Sudden increases of adrenaline.” “Here…” Finally, he came to a halt on a half blank page with freshly printed notes. His mouth was ajar and his mind lost in black inky letters as he read aloud to himself. “Lightning creation harnesses a great danger due to the sporadic nature of the lightning itself. I have attempted to control it however, and though success has been limited, it seems possible with mental conditioning. Channels of Res can be shaped to ensure less dangerous results as a pathway for the lightning to flow through. However more Res is required and is often tiring. An alternative and less draining method would be to find a balance between the Res produced and the clouds particular shape and density. I believe that if a correct density can be maintained, electricity will easily be more free flowing between gaseous Res particles, resulting in the powerful yet significantly less straining creation of lightning. Simply put, no channels would be needed this way.” Like rushing water the memory of his former research returned and a new idea to further progress was born. He’d need live subjects to perform on. Luckily, his current location provided him just that and the necessary steps had already been taken. “Rats.” Abundant here, rodents seemed to always find his isolated home. They were seemingly drawn to the Djed output instinctively as he practiced his abilities. Throughout time he had caged them in a makeshift jail formed of scrap metal and had even named a few. It was a shame that their lives were needed. He’d get over it. Turning on his heels, he walked steadfastly towards the cage, his eyes narrowing inward towards their furred grey bodies. Squeaking and writhing, they climbed atop eachother. Their resemblance to humans in his eyes forced a smile across his lips. “Phase three. Little ones, you have my thanks in aiding my research. You have purpose.” A glint in his eyes was shortly followed by a low gust of wind as Res began to worm its way from his pores. It oozed in a gelatinous gob over the rodents with the will of his hand; a shield to effectively hold them in place. It wasn’t sturdy yet was powerful enough to entrap the weak and fragile animals. Eyes then snapped shut and he isolated his attention towards his Res output. He had grown accustomed to the feeling, a quivering of worms that sprawled through his gaunt figure as the Res pushed outwards like thick tendrils. His progression this time and levels of output were much more rapid in comparison to his previous attempt. Confidence was key. Allowing the gaseous and ethereal particles of energy to accumulate in mid-air before him, they began to spark with the nudge of his mind, flickers of violet and blue, sharp spikes of lambent edged bolts. With enough time, it had accumulated into an isolated yet perpetually violent ball that begged to be released. So he did just that. He let his control dampen and as he did so, static bolts of raw energy spewed every which direction, attracted to the metallic nature of the cage, transferring across each rusted link as the animals within caught fire. Their bodies convulsed as their muscles tightened and released, gray fur grafting with heat to their skin. And then they lay, lifelessly, a heap of burnt flesh.

[Graffius]

Noxious smoke wafted throughout the air, bringing forth the smell of death. For a moment, he remained silent, observing the charred rats with a hollow bleary eyed stare. Is this how the Gods felt? Rats were such weak creatures, and infestation of sorts that carried plague and devoured anything before them. They were fragile things that fell to his muscle and skill. In the split second before their demise, he had been their God and with his will, they had perished. Yet still, he was nothing in this world. Without hesitation he went back to his journal, reached for his quill and began to record yet another chapter of personal thoughts. “I have read of overgiving and its various warnings yet have never experienced them myself. I believe that a great understanding of overgiving must be developed in order to further my progression. Soon, I shall perform an experiment and continue until I feel a sense of nauseous, euphoria or the other telltale signs of overexertion. I am fully aware of its dangerous and will halt immediately upon their arrival. I am simply testing my limits and with care, no harm shall come to me.” Sighing, he placed his quill down upon his desk, weary of what he was soon to experience. Regardless, he deemed it a necessary step. To understand ones own limits was invaluable to increasing them. He needed to know exactly where he stood. Silence overtook him soon after and he entered a meditative state. The cool darkness of the room, the pulse of his heart and the rhythm of his breathing stole his awareness and ushered it towards a distant plane within his psyche. Slowly, he connected with the nexus of his Djed and his eyes glowed with ectoplasm. Res would gelatinously cascade down his forearm, oozing with a translucent blue. Gesticulating with his hands, he painted it across his body. Shielding was a difficult task in comparison to elemental creation. Often he found that he lacked control over the substance and it seemed to churn slowly like viscous liquid. Holes would form across its surface, and then disappear; other areas of the Res would be thick and sturdy before thinning again to nothing. More experience was needed with its properties. He’d record his findings later. Though thinly, he was now covered with Res, his frame pulsing with its lazuline light. Soon afterwards he’d begin to form a gaseous cloud, using techniques learned previously to amplify its effects to an efficient level. The cloud roared and breathed with static, casting an eerie purple light which flickered across the dark room, bathing it. Oddly enough he kept the cloud within a close proximity to himself, watching as tentacles of energy grazed his shield. It began to splinter and crack as expected. “More…” Raising the levels of Res output, he continued adding to the cloud and allowed it to gradually hover above, a looming presence of perpetual danger. Already he could feel himself experiences high levels of euphoria, his body tingling with the sensation of a drug. There was also a taste of metal sharp upon his tongue. This was his limit. “How disappointing.” Releasing the cloud, violet shards of lightning exploded across the room, shattering his shield wholly and causing him to viciously collapse upon the floor. Realistically he was fine. He’d taken precautions to ensure his wellbeing but for now, he’d lay and let the coolness the stone beneath him lull him to sleep. Darkness overtook him shortly after.

[Leviathan]

Thread Award! Graffius   Skills Skill Gain Info. Reimancy 4 -- Shielding 1 -- Reading 1 -- Writing 1 --   Lore Overgiving (Minor)   Extra Graffius has endangered himself with Overgiving. Continued vigorous training of personal magic within a few days of this thread are more likely to bring about Overgiving and lasting results via Overgiving. Risk becomes higher after each Overgiving within short increments of time, but lengthy resting periods can refresh the body and save the mind. 38 Days until he is risk-free (from increased Overgiving, not Overgiving as a whole).

Additional CommentsVery interesting thread. I especially like how the PC records and reads his findings to himself. My only criticism is that it seems Graffius should deal with Overgiving a bit more.

Also, your timestamp is near correct, but you still need a specific day. Such as Day 1 of Summer, AV 511. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to PM me anything.