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 Posted: Mon Feb 14, 2005 11:15 am
((Note: This is a supplement to my post, and as such does not actually need to be read. I understand it is long, and why you would want to skip over it, so if that is your desire, by all means.))
Excerpts From To'Zilden Mertichard's Elementary Theories on Metamagical Physics
...Which brings us to where magic comes from. I theorize that it?s origins are from an entirely separate universe, one that is overlaid on top of our own. This universe bears properties remarkably similar to our own, such that they are invariably linked, rather like an echo of our universe. Any shift on our dimension results in that exact same shift occurring in the other dimension. Destroy a plant in this reality, and it will cease to exist in the alter-reality, and vice-versa. However, there is one primary difference in the second universe, which I have dubbed the Ether. It is malleable. Where our reality is strictly governed by unyielding laws, the Ether is governed by much more lenient guidelines, which can be bent using our force of will. Since any alteration in the Ether would result in the exact same change in our own reality, the effect is "magic" or something totally and completely against our laws of physics...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...Magic can effectively be simplified into two categories: Amplification and Alteration. The first is the enhancing of natural properties, and the second is the altering of those properties. For examples, let us regard healing magic, and the ever popular fireball. Healing magic falls under the Amplification and the fireball into Alteration.
The properties of Alteration are simple to understand. One exerts their mental will onto the Ether, effectively forcing something perform an action it had no inclination to perform. Using our fireball as an example, the air molecules obviously don't suddenly combust, because they have no physical inclination to do so. However, when mental will is exerted on their Ethereal counterparts, a slow and measured increase in temperature can be observed in the moments before the fireball is formed (See figure XX-XX)
Healing magic is regarded as Amplification, because contrary to the popularly held belief that it is the sudden restoration of tissue which are damaged, it is in fact merely an augmentation of the body's natural regenerative capabilities. Many subjects in my studies (See figure XX-XX) report that during the brief time frame where the actual magic was taking place, they could feel a boost in their overall physique, reporting shortlived improvements in stamina, mental capacity and physical durability. This suggests that for the duration of the magic, the body is actually augmented to a superhuman state, so that regeneration may be amplified and hastened to restore the subject to a healthy state. This may warrant further investigation...
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Conclusion
The reason I have explored these properties of magic, as is the purpose of all my research is to discover the circumstances behind the Apocalypse. In combination with my other research, these theories suggest that left unchanged for too long by force of our will, the Ether will eventually begin to change of it's own accord, whatever it changes into, we will feel the effects here in our reality and the results may be catastrophic. It is as such that I plead to those of the scientific community to take heed, before there is a Second coming...
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Posted: Tue Feb 15, 2005 3:15 pm
((Holy...cow...all that actually made sense! You know you're a nerd when...XD))
As they walked, Ash couldn't help but notice the scenery. It was so peaceful here, near Adei. It had been so long since she had attended a festival and only fear of persecution kept her from entering this one. However, as she caught a glimpse of the colourful lights and decorations, her heart seemed to ache. It was plain fact that she would most likely never visit a festival again, however much she wished for it.
Ash'rael's eyes widened, his home looking like a bomb had just exploded within. Honestly...how could he live in all this mess?! After giving him a slight nod and nearly impaling herself on a large stick, she picked her way across the floor to a small, relatively clean, couch and sat down. Admiring all the large volumes and papers strewn about. It seemed to be either the home of a genius...or a madman with uncontrolable powers. Her hope was that it would be closer to the former.
Shuffling around to make herself a bit more comfortable, she wondered how she might repay him for letting her stay here. The answer came instantaneously.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Zilden. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to do some cleaning. That is...I think it would be easier for you to find your things if they were all nice and organized. Besides, it will keep me occupied as well." Living with a rather small family, it was all of their jobs to keep the house clean and tidy. It shouldn't take too long to clean this place up...right?
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RogueKazimeras Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2005 5:03 am
"Hmph..." Valenarr grunted to himself, crouching low on a tree branch as he gazed upon the strange-looking hut. He saw the two enter... something about this man Valenarr did not trust. Of course, he hardly trusted the woman as well. Perhaps they were in cahoots? He doubted it. They both seemed too... different. Not the kind of people that would get along together, or at least Valenarr thought.
Of course, he no longer had trees to block him from view, were he to move forward. But of course, stealth was not his strong suit. So, he dropped from the tree and dashed to the side of the house, turning and lightly pushing his back against the wall, lurking near the doorway. He heard voices within, and they did not seem to be plotting voices.
The Mirrian had no choice if he did not want to look hostile. He wished he still had his cloak... it would've, more or less, hidden him from prying eyes of guards and such, but luckily, they seemed to abstain from coming here.
Probably because of random explosions this madman is bound to produce... Valenarr thought, stepping away from the wall and turning to enter the door. He scratched his head, then looked up, looking for Zilden.
But Zilden was gone. He felt like a moron.
He turned to Ash'rael. "So you're here too, eh?" He made it sound like he was here first. He leaned against the doorway.
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Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2005 2:33 pm
Ash'rael jumped when she heard Valenarr's voice. Oh great...what was he doing here?! Then again, she supposed that he had as much right to Zilden's home as she did. The Mirran didn't seem like the very friendly type and Ash didn't really expect much from him.
"Well, yes," she replied, after recovering some composure, "If it's not obvious already." After taking another withering look around, she stepped over a pile of books and grabbed a handful of papers, putting them on the desk. It was then that she realized that there were papers there too. Oh well, she would deal with those later.
Grabbing a rather heavy book, she stuffed it into a semi-empty shelf. Well, after she got those things off the floor, she would be able to properly sort the large tomes.
"I wonder if he has anything to dust with..." she thought, stuffing another book into the shelf. Her plan was to work around the room, leaving everything in the middle for last. That way, she would be able to move around more easily. Turning, she was about to pick up more papers when she tripped over a pile of books, sending them tumbling to the ground as well as herself.
"This...may take longer than I had expected," she winced and rubbed her knee. A bruise for sure.
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Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2005 5:28 pm
Zilden stepped back into the room silently, showing much more guile than the Mirrian had in entering his home. One arm was laden with linen bandages, a foul odored herbal mixture of some sort, and a green colored ointment, the other arm was playing host to a shortsword. When he saw the Mirrian had joined them he smiled benignly and said "Oh. It's just you. You could've walked with us you know...as opposed to crossing seven of thirteen weighted tripwires on your way to my door....Why you wouldve had to jump down from a tree and approach the door from the side to do that...", he indicated a small series of weights hanging on the wall opposite him, each labelled with either a time or location figure, several of which were scaling their way down the wall. He ambled across the room, absentmindedly dumping the things he'd gathered onto the couch. When he saw that the Youland was already hard at work trying to clean what was effectively a house constructed of mess, he felt heartened to stop her "I must warn you that trying to clean and sort all these papers is an exercise in futility. Even if you do clean them, I myself have no idea what half these notes mean, making sorting them a near insurmountable task. Besides, you needn't worry, I keep everything important sorted with great precision in my library." It was then he offered a hand to help her up, still smiling warmly "And call me Zilly. Zilden is a name spoken with an implied persecution and hatred. What few friends I have had call me Zilly....Now if you'll excuse me, I', going to venture into town and fetch some food and drink. This house rarely has the food to support one life, much less three, do try not to kill each other while I'm out, many of the artifacts in here have a tendency to react with violent explosions when broken."
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Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2005 6:04 pm
Ash'rael looked around and she couldn't help but agree. Perhaps...some other time. Taking his hand, she hoisted herself up to stand again and smoothed out her skirt.
"Thanks, Zilly," she said, smiling. The warmth of his expression just seemed to make her feel at home and she couldn't help but grin as Zilly had correctly determined how the Mirran had tried to enter the house. Obviously, no one could surprise this curious human.
Her blood turned icy when he said that he was going into town. That meant that she would be here...alone...with Valenarr. It was going to take more than a little willpower for her to resist trying to slap him, though she wasn't the violent type. Besides, if she did, he would probably kill her in an instant...not a pleasant thought.
"I wish I could help you more," she told Zilly, staring at the floor. Even when she did have friends, she was more than a burden than a help. Perhaps...she was fated not to have any at all.
((Bleh, go angst...))
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RogueKazimeras Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2005 5:03 am
"Hmph..." Valenarr tried to act unimpressed about his detection. Of course, his ego was more than a bit hurt, and he turned his gaze away, eyes narrowed. He took a few breaths, and then returned his gaze to Zilden.
Zilly? What a foolish sounding name. It matched the man. But there was no way that Valenarr would ever have such a idiotic word come from between his lips. He was smarter than that, and somewhere inside he felt Zilden was trying to trick him into sounding like a moron. Valenarr wouldn't have it.
Violent explosions? So he had guessed it earlier. This place was dangerous. A deathtrap for them both? Valenarr did not know, but he'd keep his guard up and his eyes open.
Wait... did he say he was leaving? Valenarr was amazed that Zilden trusted him alone with this Youland... But perhaps this was all intended, to thin down their numbers... He would have to try very, very hard to keep his violent urges and impulses down to a minimum. He would have to be on constant guard, and perhaps even nice to this Youland to keep her from doing something to him that she would normally not live to regret.
Valenarr nearly forgot that he was still standing in the doorway. He walked in a few more steps, whatever light there may have been being shielded from his eyes with a hand. He hated light...
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Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2005 8:06 am
The air around him felt so familiar, like a friend he'd forgotten, but met again. Flying had been Trask's dream ever since birth. Granted, his race possessed the innate ability to fly, but he lacked wings due to an accident and a misunderstanding on his part. His mind drifted off to a different time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For such an experimental machine, the seat sure is comfortable.
"Hey, Alex! Deploy in thirty! Are you even paying attention?" shouted some annoying girl. His boss was one of those people who assumed higher rank to equate to superiority.
"YES! Jeez. I know what's going on."
That's right, they used to call me Alex
Solmi icons were plastered all over everything in the user mainframe inside the diabolic machination; even one of the buttons was designed in the semblance of said icon. There was a loud CHUNK followed by a churning noise as the retraints that held back his vehicle detached and backed away. He'd be the first to drive it today. Hell, he'd be the first to drive it, ever.
The experimental engine made a harmonious whirring noise as the bay doors opened, revealing a majestic and beautiful world, and....
CHRRAAUNK
The machine didn't work. Instead of zooming out the cargo bay doors, it instead dropped its own engine through the bottom shielding, compromising itself rather exceptionally well.
One of the young male humans in the room sighed dejectedly. "Well, there's always the next day. Drinks are on me, guys!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, back in places other than the recesses of Trask's mind, a bird flew directly into him, knocking him off his course and out of his dream. So shocked was the lizard, that he fell quite a few feet before regaining orientation and flying once again. Looking about for any signs of the festival grounds, he spied the same village from before, only behind him. He'd been so lost in his own dream that not only had he completely passed the festival site, he'd also lost track of everyone else, which was rare, since everyone was so big compared to him--though they appeared small from his altitude. Trask turned about and made his way for the festival once more.
((The description in the memory is bad because it's dream-like so details are difficult for Trask to remember, and because of a reason that you'll all find out later. The description for the rest of the post is lacking because I'm lazy and it's difficult to describe the setting when all that's around is empty air.))
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Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2005 2:27 pm
Atnae watched sulkily as most of her friends decided to avoid the festival and wait at Zilly's house. She stood up stiffly, slowly, and sighed as she realized that the back of her pants were covered in mud. She brushed off what she could, creating an interesting patern of brown and green spotches, like a forest floor. Her eyes danced as she formulated an idea to make herself presentable in the city, at least until she could obtain a change of clothes.
Taking off her jacket and carefully placing it on a low tree branch, she methodically began to smear and wipe off mud on her shirt and pants. Perfect. She though, smugly. Now all I gotta do is wait for it to dry, and everyone will just think it's a neat pattern...
Retracing her steps, she was quickly able to locate the missing Sjango seed, wet and smeared with a mixture of mud and grass. She sighed heavily, she hated cleaning her weapon, though she didn't want to draw a dirty blade. At least it won't sprout here... She thought. No, it needed the conditions of the Poisoned Desert, and the constant acid rains that gave it it's name.
Atnae glanced back briefly at Siy, but decided that, after all the fuss she put up about it, it wouldn't seem right to stop now. Leaving the tattered remains of her pack, and picking up her jacket, she began to take a less traveled path, but turned back to the route the others took after remembering the mess taking the scenic route had gotten her into already.
((Not my best post ever, but I need to stop being so lazy in posting...))
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2005 1:03 pm
Zilly departed his domicile with much trepidation, seriously wondering whether he'd find that some of the more deadly trinkets inside had claimed two more lives, but he knew he couldn't bring either of them into town, for that was a certain execution, so he opted for playing the "safe" odds. Unhindered by companions or equipment, the trip into Adei was swift, and he navigated the streets into the market quarter even more quickly, as most of the populace was partaking in the festivities. Zilden actually much preferred the city in this state, he drew a lot of uncomfortable stares as a human.
It didnt come as a surprise that the market quarter itself still teemed with life however, as many merchants refused to abandon their post for fear of loss of profit, and many shoppers were capitalizing on the reduced crowds to complete their chores. Normally, he Zilden would've wandered absentmindedly for a bit, but the fear that his lab would be a pillar of flame upon his return hastened his retrieving of the foodstuffs. Laden with his purchases, he made his way out of the city, only to be stopped at the gates by three guards, an imposingly large and brightly colored Errai leading the formation
"In quite a hurry, aren't we Zilden?" the Errai said, with a grating false pleasantness
"Yes Augue. I am." Zilden replied with an apathetic and thoroughly bored tone.
"Whats this? More components for your forbidden magic experiments?" Augue said, jabbing his finger at the food.
"No. Just food. Now if you'll excuse me..."
"What? No time to talk to me?"
"There's plenty of time to talk to you. I just grow tired of dawdling with your idiotic triumvirate."
And Zilly knew he'd made a mistake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nursing several cuts and bruises, Zilly trudged back towards his lab, quite glad to see that it was still standing. He only hoped it's occupants hadn't killed each other.
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2005 2:57 pm
Ash'rael sank back into the couch, her eyes downcast. Zild-zilly, she corrected herself, was being so hospitable...but why? Why was he the only one who willingly welcomed her into his home? Why would others turn her away and even try to destroy her? Even this...Mirran, who seemed thoroughly displeased with her presence, tolerated her. Why? Did the Youland deserve this kindness? Did she?
Sighing softly, she turned to look at the Mirran, noting that he was turned away from the light. Not surprising since he and his people had spent so much time underground. Though his first thought when he stumbled upon their little group was probably annoyance, he wasn't that bad...
Jumping up from her seat, she bounded over the many piles of papers and books before standing just in front of the Mirran with a soft smile on her face.
"I'm sorry," she said, sticking out a hand, "We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I hope that we can make amends and start over." She smiled softly with angelicly innocent features, "Ash'rael, pleased to meet you."
She had no idea what possessed her to make this decision but it was for the best. Ash had no intention of staying with someone who she was going to loathe, so the Youland made the best of the situation. Hopefully, it was better and not worse.
Holding her breath, she tilted her head slightly and waited for a response.
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2005 5:12 pm
Valenarr regarded the hand with a mix of scorn and surprise, as complicated as that regard was. He stared at it for a long moment, and then, reluctantly, took it in his, shaking it once. "Valenarr DeMirro. Pleasure." He said shortly, then let go, returning to whatever he had been doing.
Which was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"I never live with regret. It makes no difference to me whether we are friends or not..." He realized that his words might have a negative impact. "But... perhaps it is better... if we are... 'friends'..." He said.
He felt no real amity towards this girl. Nor did he want to. Nor did he think he even could. He was alone, now and forever, and he wanted it that way. Apathy was his religion, now, and he would have it no other way. He would never rely on others. Others had failed him before, and trust was no longer one of his capabilities. He would never trust. Never. He swore it.
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RogueKazimeras Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2005 11:19 pm
Battered by the winds, and infiltrated by the cold mists which she so loved to greet her in the morning, Celia's cave was as it had been the night before. Virtually unseen from the outside, due to the raging waterfall plummeting from almost twenty meters above the cave, it served as her home. Inside, although it was damp, was home. It was as home as she'd ever known, in all her two and twenty years.
As if riddled with termites, her memory was that of an Alzheimer's patient. Ultimately, she remembered select "scenes" from her early childhood, but not much. Then, at nearly nine, she began to remember nearly everything.
This was also when she first moved to the cave. From where, she can never remember.
But she'd adapted, if a bit slowly. She learned to hunt, and to fish in her deep pool, and which plants to grind into a paste with the sap of a certain mushroom, and which animals had bones she could use as tools. By now, she was secure in life.
Ten year ago, she'd been in turmoil over her lodging. It had occurred to her that she knew no one, back then. And little more now, if any. On occasion, she managed to make it into the nearby town, but the natives there were rude to her, and she resented them for it. It wasn't like her to hold a grudge, but when she was denied time and time again vital trade to keep her alive, she couldn't help but feel threatened.
A bed of plush leaves growing from a grap in the stone was her bed, and she needed no blanket. Her body was well acclimated to both the cold of the cave, and it's dampened air.
The mist in the cave never left, or if it did, rarely was gone more than a few hours. It was directly spawned from the waterfall at the mouth of the cave, almost forty meters upwards. The light coming through the spray was minimal, and all but choked out by the time it reached ten meters in.
Back here, it was drier, but not by far. She was able to keep a fire going, normally, for cooking and for the warmth that her body sometimes needed, as if to recharge her stores.
Under Celia's head is a small fur pelt, self-crafted from a young cougar. She'd skinned it with a bone knife she'd made from a wolf a few years before. It was beginning to thin from extended use and sharpening.
A small pool of icey water resounded with a faint dripping from the roof of the cave. This was her make-shift icebox. It would keep her fish cool, and if she could wrap any sort of meat, it too would be kept fresh, though normally for no longer than a pair of days. Currently, small pond fish were collected in a tightly sealed leave, pinned at the ends with adhesive sap. They would become the lean breakfast of the day.
The leaves brushed her naked body as she lifted from her bed, standing. A daily routine of stretching kept her busy, and the knot in her stomach at bay. It also kept her body quite opposable. The flexibility gained through this pattern was extremely beneficial in regards to her spear fishing in the deep waters of the pond.
Slipping into some of the only clothes she owned, the lean figured Clohyrun trotted along the cave when she had finished her warm-ups.
One might percievably notice that she wasn't human. In the misty crevasse she lived, where the water constantly reflected light rays through prismatic water droplets, her skin would probably seem that same platinum hue as normal. It was mostly obvious when the sun connected with her flesh, though she herself had been able to notice it anytime she looked. It seemed natural to her, but when dealing with others, she realized it was an unusual trait, and still not always remarked upon.
Then, with her height, she might seem an elf. Celia was just at five feet, not very tall for what was roaming about the rest of the forest outside her front door. More than once, she'd bumped into a stray human who was hunting, and quickly fed, leaving them only a glimpse of the shimmering being who had captivated them so fully.
And if these didn't immediately snare one into curiousity, surely her pale hair would. Although not white, it was significantly lightly coloured. It seemed to be only a shade above her mysterious skintone, lying in that indefinable chasm between silver, grey, and white. She kept it short, as the natural thickness in her hair allowed it to stay styled to her liking. On the left side, her hair hung down farther, just to her cheek bone, and on the right, roughly to her temple. In the back, the hair resisted gravity's call and pointed backwards and up - not quite vertical. It faded slowly on the sides, continuing the innate rise until it gave way into quite a reasonably attractive layered section, ceding even further to her face.
Celia Merphios had no way to weigh herself in modern terms of weight, though she was familiar with both the English measurements, and the metric system. She had no recollection of ever learning the two standards.
Nonetheless, she knew she was healthy. When you were on the run as much as her - and she enjoyed moving so much! - how could you not be healthy? She even owned a toothbrush, purchased from town, and used a homemade mixture of sap and ground mushrooms, soaked in warm water with a certain stone.
Again, no recollection of learning this from anyone, simply knowing.
With her life as it was, she considered herself happy, because she was alive. It was that simple; the gift of life was enough to make her smile, and if she ever though there was more to it, she didn't dwell on it, and simply grinned at the fact she had sustained herself for over a decade in this cave and the surrounding regions.
({ Celia Merphios, ladies and gentlemen. })
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Posted: Fri Mar 04, 2005 8:29 pm
((My respsonse time on this is unforgivable, for which I apologize, Ive just been wholly uninspired to write, and today has NOT been a good day))
Zilden had one of those benign knowing grins on as he stepped through the door, balancing the food precariously in his free arm. As he sidled awkwardly through the doorway, he said
"If you two can make peace, there's hope for the rest of the world yet. Help yourselves." he added, setting his satchel on the ground, letting the breads, cheeses, and a few mildly bruised fruits and vegetables fall out. Unhitching several skins of water and wine from his belt. Letting them join the chaotic pile of food. "Since both of you seem to have mastered the urge to not kill each other, youre welcome to stay as long as you'd like on the condition you do not touch anything you do not know the function of. As for me, I have research I must attend to, if you need me, I will be in the library or my study, both of which are that way." He indicated the correct hallway, then gathered some of the things he'd dropped when they'd first arrived at his lab.
Moving swiftly and silently from the room, Zilden made his way to his library, which rather unlike the lab, was very neat and organized, especially given it's immense size. Books of every age, subject and author were all neatly and categorically organized (alphabetically by author, subsectioned by topic). Some tomes, brimming with magic and folklore, even gave off an eerie glow, giving the chamber a supernatural glow. It took Zilly little more than twenty seconds to draw several books (two of which he'd authored himself, another bearing the Mertichard name, presumably by one of his parents), from their shelves and then make his way out a passage in the back of the enormous library into an adjacent study. No sooner had he set the books down on the table and he'd taken his seat than he began drafting a report headed "To All Solminic scholars..." scratching away furiously, stopping only briefly to thumb references through the books he'd gathered or a few other looseleaf pages of his research
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Posted: Fri Mar 04, 2005 10:46 pm
Familiar faces, familiar places...
Trask thought he'd smelled tension in the air, and was more surprised than he'd be willing to admit that the source of this tension was his friends from earlier. His eyes crossed upon a building that he recognized from times long ago: Zilden's lab. It was a bit dirtier now, but time does that to things, and it appeared to have more character for it. As he worked his way through a crack in a window, he set his foot on a book titled "Homonid Transmutation Basics and You! How to turn a man into thirteen different different kinds of tree frogs!" which was actually a book about a cute little girl who always wears a red sash over her head who grows up and becomes a wretched axe murderer, killing a village of dzali with her powerful magic and trusty sidekick, Clushy The Bear, who preferred to be addressed by his middle name, "The." The book was open to page 143, which was an anecdote about The's mother, who gave candy to children on the 47th day of the year, the moral of which was that alcoholism is bad. The fluttering of its pages ceased as the young lizard set both feet on this particular page.
Trask heard the sound of furious scribbling coming from a dimly lit passage to his right, leading to Zilden's study. Judging by the fact that none other than Zilden would have any business in his library, Trask correctly surmised that Zilden must be in in there. He'd made sufficient noise that the man would be checking on his library for intruders soon enough.
Zilden might be one to be engrossed in his curiousities, thought Trask, but his library is precious to him. I give him 10 seconds before he comes rushing in.
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