• Mature • Answer Before The Question

[Kasoria]

43rd trial, Ymiden, 720
Storm's Edge

Continued from here


He was no farmer, but even he doubted they'd ever get this land to produce anything but dust. Patches of it around the castle itself, mostly leading towards the north, were still viable. They could be made into pastures for animals, or maybe planted with the hardiest of crops. Again, he was no farmer, but he supposed with regular rotation, careful watering, close eyes at all times... yes, there could be some hope. But the further south one rode, deeper into the Stormwastes, and one realized why they had gained the name.

Have better luck planting bodies and hoping for ripe tomatoes.

But at least it made these patrols easier. A fox couldn't sneak up on them, out here in this featureless wasteland. In every direction there was nothing but black, grey, and brown earth. More like clotted dust than anything else; "earth" implied there was some succor to the stuff. There was none to be found here. The riders carried feed for their horses on their saddles; one whole animal had been designated to carry the water. Oasis' were few and far between, and much as the beasts loved to eat, they needed to drink more than anything. Kasoria shushed the one he was straddling, keeping his arm in rhythm with its gentle trot as best he could. He was definitely improving. Not some master horseman from the distant steppes, but at least he could mount the thing without getting his teeth kicked in, and ride it without getting thrown.

"And off to the south... more nothing." The Knight next to him sighed and took a quick sip from his water-skin. "Imagine my shock."

Kasoria snorted under his wide-brimmed hat. A little humor to break up the boredom wasn't to be discouraged. Even the Lieutenant leading them didn't bother to say anything. They'd all made this route before; even seen hoof prints heading the same way as them. At first Kasoria had thought it was some other party out here; some band of merchants or bandits or deserters or travelers... before realizing they hadn't stumbled upon them. They were aping them. Because they'd been this way before, and what they were "following" was the history of their passing. The memory printed into the ground by likely the same hoofs.

Probably not, he reminded himself, too seasoned now to scorn the Lightning Knights as fools when it came to war. They keep the patrols mixed, the patterns change. Only so many of them, but when and how often they're walked... they always shift. So the bastards don't get a solid read on us.

The word "halt!" was shouted and echoed around the dead land. Kasoria pulled gently on the reins and the horse obeyed, coming to a stop. Another thing he'd learned: you don't have to yank or beat or strangle, most of the time. They're simple, but not particularly stupid. No more than most people he'd met. Contrary to what most people thought (well, most people several thousand leagues away), Kasoria would prefer the easy way to the hard way. It was less taxing, and dangerous, and thus profitable. So a slight lean back while holding the reins was enough to bring the horse to a stop. Once the patrol had halted, the Lieutenant spoke again, turning in the saddle to face them.

"Dismount! Food and water to the horses, get something in your bellies, too. Start off again in half a break."

The dozen or so men and women complied without a murmur. Kasoria looked on with silent approval as they posted sentries, distributed food and water, and checked their weapons. All without needing to be told. Volunteers than a few seasons ago would have stood there wide-eyed and gawping until told to piss or hop, now were going about their duties with stoic efficiency. Kasoria tended to his own horse without worrying about anyone else. I took only a few bits to feed his snuffling horse and water him down well, what it didn't drink poured over its head to cool it down. Kasoria gave it a few affectionate pats... then started to walk from the group.

"Off to practice?"

It was the same Comedic Knight from before. Kasoria paused and said over his shoulder, "Aye. Summun' told me t'makes perfect."

"You go on seekin' yer answers, mage."

Kasoria grinned. Not at the wit, which was lukewarm at best. But because he was a man who loved words, despite his reputation as one who spoke little and oft-crudely when he did. The Knight had smacked the nail on the head without even knowing... and from the wrong direction.

Already got me answer. Now I just need to ask the question again...

[Kasoria]

He could do it before he knew what it was. There was a name for stuff like that, he was sure of it. A... something. But the concept was familiar to him, though he'd never expected it would apply to magic. To him, the spells and conjurings of mages always seemed rigidly understood. Ether was such a powerful weapon that wielding it without knowledge, without foresight, was like swinging around a sword made of melting steel. Deadly and monstrous, but just as likely to leave the holder as damaged as the enemy. No, clearly this was a thing that had to be known before it was applied, lest disaster from the unexpected befall you.

Yet here you stand. Lucky you.

"Fer once."

That was enough of that, he decided. He didn't have forever. Behind him, maybe a hundred feet away, a dozen eyes watched him languidly. Enjoying the earth under their arses instead of hard, bobbing leather. Chewing bread and salted pork. Even the horses seemed vaguely interested (once their bellies were filled and tongues wet, of course). Kasoria looked about the Stormwastes, seeing nothing but flat, dead land for leagues around. Hills and copses of dead trees now and then, but mostly an unbroken vista of... hopelessness. He breathed in hot, dry air. Let it fill his lungs. And when the fug got to the bottom-

Wake up.

His Spark stirred. It came quickly now, strengthened and trained across long breaks and patient trials. He felt it rush under his bones and into his hands. The eyes set into them opened, white glowing along with his palms. The Raggedy Man looked around and found a patch of dirt. Nothing special about it. Nothing unusual, aside from the two or three rocks laying there. But the actual spot wasn't the point, or the challenge.

The fact it was about a hundred feet away, was.

"Pathway," he muttered, remembering the term he'd read in his book the previous night. Not the words exactly, but that was hardly essential. Again, he grasped the concept. The idea of... projecting his ether. He'd done it before, outside the walls of Storm's Edge. Pictured a patch of earth transforming into a nest of spikes, or a pit of sucking sand, and his ether made it so. By traveling there. Rushing under the ground, to where he wanted. He'd read his book, like he did every night... and by candlelight, he'd frowned.

Huh. He didn't know there was a name for that.

Kasoria got down to one knee and placed his hands on the dirt. Ether pulsed into it, turning his skin the same drab, dry color with a shimmering effect like his flesh was a brief, intense mirage. He ignored the mutation. It was a distraction, nothing more. Instead he looked at that patch of earth. Sent his ether racing underneath the grey desert, until he could feel it under where he directed and with a clench of his hands-

-the ground erupted, earth rising up and splitting open like the jaws of some great predator. They snapped shut again as they tossed the rocks into the air, trapping them before the whole leaping, lunging mass become solid again. Where once was just dead dirt, now stood a crude but effective set of jaws, as if carved by an amateur sculptor. Kasoria began looking around again, hands following his gaze like they'd done before. Another patch. Another target. He was curious now. Eager to see what he could do, and his Spark obliged-

-loosing from his hands like a hound after prey, charging under the ground, unseen by Kasoria yet felt as strong as if it were tethered to him and once it had gone far enough, nearly a hundred feet distant-

There was an audible CRACK that time, as a pillar of what looked like stone rocketed up from the ground. Anything (or anyone) standing there would have been sent flying as if launched by a trampoline. Kasoria grinned as the rude obelisk shook off dust and solidified, just like the jaws. By the time they'd gone and become dots in the horizon, it would collapse, ether holding it together dissipating for good. He licked his lips and turned the other way. Back towards the gaggle of whispering figures. He picked a spot, nearly where they sat, and gave a fresh command-

Something different. A little more... constructive.

Grunting at his own joke, he sent a slew of ether shuddering through the ground. This time, it started to transmute the dirt and earth and rock and shale about fifty feet from the party. A ramp started to rise from the ground. Getting taller with every foot, ether following Kasoria's instructions obediently. Wide enough for three men to walk up, the ramp rose up five, ten, fifteen feet. Until it was nearly at the impromptu campsite and a few of the riders were starting to scramble to their feet-

"Shite."

-before it sheared off into a crumbling, jagged ending, maybe twenty feet into the air. Kasoria could feel his power simply... run out. Give up. The strength of it spent like a runner that had sprinted as far as it could, and now had to stop. Kasoria sighed and remembered something else from the book.

Range. It has a range. Can't cast beyond that point... not yet, anyway.

"Bloody Hell, Karim," the Comedian said with a scowl as the mage strode back into the group. Riders were getting back into the saddle, leaving nothing behind but prints in the dirt and hastily buried leavings. "Cut that a little close, didn't you?"

Karim. Odd, how he would miss being called that name. That he could miss an alias, a lie to mask who he was... very strange. But where Kasoria would be expected to scowl and grumble, Karim could get away with shoving one foot in a stirrup, grab the horn of his saddle and jump and lift himself up into it with one easy movement, smiling all the while. Because Karim was a prickly sod with a dark past many spoke to but few knew, yet he was their ally. He had bled for them, fought for them, protected and even healed them, on occasion. Kasoria sat in his saddle, and did not slump.

There was almost a pride there. Even if he would not look at it himself.

"Ye a' little faith, Knight."

The Knight snorted as they set off again, leaving Kasoria's trio of strange sculptures to bake under the sun, then crumble under it in due time. Leaving nothing to tell creation of his words save for piles of queer dust that would be ground by entropy and nature into even less evidence. He didn't ponder too much on that. His training was complete, and his knowledge was expanded. Now he just laughed, low and throaty, for some things never changed. But with a ring of truth and sincerity that struck even him. For it was real, and honest, and would not last.

Concluded here

[Doran]

Kasoria:

Knowledge:
Skill Knowledge:
Mount (Horse): Bringing the Horse to a Gentle Stop
Mount (Horse): Swiftly Getting into the Saddle
Transmutation: Pathway
Transmutation - Pathway: Allows Transmutation to be Cast at a Distance from the Mage
Transmutation - Pathway: Requires a Clear Path to Target Area
Transmutation - Pathway: Has a Maximum Range (dependent on skill level)

Non-Skill Knowledge:
Location - The Stormwastes: Devoid of Life or Fertile Land

Loot: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown: -
Magic XP: Yes, for Transmutation.
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 10

- - -

Comments: I really like how you write about Transmutation. Your threads inspire me to try and be more detailed when it comes to my own writing about magic. Anyway, on to the thread itself:

I enjoyed how you set the scene in the first post, with Kasoria and his companions riding through that wasteland. Due to how you described it, I had no trouble visualizing things.

I also liked how you wrote that wielding ether without knowledge is like swinging around a sword made of melting steel. That’s true, and it’s good that Kasoria is aware of the dangers of magic.

I think I told you so before, but the mutation that gives him eyes on his hands is quite creative.

After reading this thread, I can’t help but wonder if some knowledge of Sculpting or a similar skill might help when it comes to improving the things that Transmuters reshape (or make them look less crude).

Kasoria’s creations sound effective either way.

Enjoy your rewards!