"Only that this mostly harmless creature is far from the malicious icon its kind are normally depicted as," Za Minyahil states matter-of-factly. "But then I was thinking of mystical or allegorical secrets, rather than those of plain anatomy."
He pauses.
"An example of what I hope to learn here, in fact. Among Nexians, magic and esoterica are instinctively reached for to answer any and all questions, and the mundane is dismissed as unimportant, unworthy of concern. And I feel it blinds us to answers that could be right in front of our faces."
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As the others discuss the philosophy of what a secret is, M'baba spends his time imagining that this snake is actually a polymorphed one-eyed pirate, but all the scenarios keep bumping into the snake's skin. There must be something with it, he thinks.
He asks to hold the snake again, and strokes its skin in different directions, half expecting a djinni would fly out.
No djinni or polymorphed pirate captain appears as Teacher Ot allows M'baba more access to the small snake. He nods his assent to the secrets you gained from the snake. "This is well done, many things are hidden even by one some modest. There is a lesson here also, initiates. The eye deceives, but true seeing takes knowledge...and power."
Eventually, he puts the snake back in its pouch and takes out something else. It looks like the long leg bone (femur) of a human. Long and smooth with nothing present but white polished bone. "Two more questions, I think. You are doing quite well. Here is the first: Can you soothe the soul of this bone?"
He hands to anyone who wishes to hold it and takes a step or two back to observe what the group does.
Iovia does not take the bone. She takes a step back, to not be in the way of anyone who does want to examine it.
After a moment, she speaks. "Miss Ravenheart, you mentioned when we were examining the snake, that you had heard of such a snake in local stories. Perhaps you know of a local story or song that could soothe any lingering aspect of the individual that one possessed this bone?"
Nyandra listens politely to Iovia's question, but frowns. "I'm afraid I must have misspoke then, my apologies! It's that I haven't heard of this snake in the local tales. That's what's so interesting about it."
Regardless, she studies the bone and tries to recall what she knows of Pharasma's faith, particularly funeral rites and any rituals or songs to help a soul find its place in the afterlife. It's a bit obvious, but it should still serve as a good starting point.
Za Minyahil looks at the bone, so rigid in a way even mighty trees were not...then they look at Nyandra and there's a shift in their petals that almost seems like a smirk.
"Nyandra, you are what the Avistani call a "bard," correct? When one learns the magic that takes them from a mere performer to a true spell-singer, is not one of the first spells they learn a spell to soothe the wounds of others?"
They let the question hang in the air, expecting Nyandra to appreciate the pun.
Nyandra's knowledge of Pharasman rituals is quite limited. She remembers one simple prayer to ward against undeath, but that doesn't seem to be relevant here.
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M'baba looks at the femur puzzled. How did it fit in that pouch?, he asks himself wondering. He says "If you know of a way to soothe a soul in a bone, then it looks like you purposely did not do it just for this exercise, which seems cruel."
He thinks to himself that this might be a bit trick question. The bone is polished and clearly has been groomed. Would a suffering soul be lingering in a bone for that long?, he asks himself. He thinks of the wording of the teacher. The soul of the bone, not in. He turns to the others and says "What does the soul of a bone mean?"
He tries remembering what he has heard of philosophy regarding bone soul.
Nyandra enjoys the joke, and grins at Za Minyahil. But the grin fades at M'baba's point. "Alas, no. It is a restorative spell, yes, but it's too late for this individual. I would not withhold succor like that!" A beat. "Indeed, what does 'the soul of a bone' mean? Perhaps some kind of animism?
Iovia is quiet for a few moments, listening to the others as she ponders the problem.
"During the revolution, when the brigade I was with had time to mourn our fallen, the rites were led by a Priest of Lubiako. They were centered around a song. I know that we - the living - were soothed by it, and perhaps the fallen were as well. If any aspect of the person who that bone belonged to does linger, a dirge to honor them could soothe them."
Iovia then takes a few minutes to teach the words to anyone who wants to join in her attempt. The song itself is surprisingly (or perhaps not so surprisingly to those who know anything about Lubiako's faith) upbeat.
Once anyone who wants to join in is ready, or solo if no one else wants to, Iovia starts to sing the song, her attention focused on the bone and on Teacher Ot.
Lubaiko, a dangerous and mischievous goddess of wildfires and bad luck, among other concerns. No, she doesn't join the chant, but instead frowns and crosses her arms. In her mind, that was no deity to seek while soothing one's soul.
Once she has the opportunity, she steps forward. "I'm no priest, clearly, but Uvuko, the Diamond Ring, is important to my people and I'm a faithful person. If allowed, I'd like to prey a simple rite of passage."
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Za Minyahil's cleverness is noted. They're clearly quite witty.
M'Baba seems, instead, to challenge the the core of the exercise's base assumption. A bit adversarial by Anadi cultural standards, but perhaps that's how he learns? And Ikto can see some merit to it.
Nyandra also muses that, and Ikto hears 'animism' with a brow lifted, wondering if she is being dismissive? No, he suspects she merely wishes to find a name for it. Ikto supposes his own believes do lay that way, but he was foolish to think the school followed likewise
A breath, and he decides to join in the conversation
"There are some who believe that things, objects and places possess a spirit or even soul, be that spirit mortal, or more likely, a gift from nature. A soul might be both 'in' the bone, and 'of' the bone. Within me, is the soul of Ikto, the soul is also OF Ikto. I am both house of it, and the essence of it and , oddly, it of me. Perhaps the bone is similar... perhaps. The elders of my village would sometimes talk for hours of such questions."
"During the revolution, when the brigade I was with had time to mourn our fallen, the rites were led by a Priest of Lubiako. They were centered around a song. I know that we - the living - were soothed by it, and perhaps the fallen were as well. If any aspect of the person who that bone belonged to does linger, a dirge to honor them could soothe them."
Iovia then takes a few minutes to teach the words to anyone who wants to join in her attempt. The song itself is surprisingly (or perhaps not so surprisingly to those who know anything about Lubiako's faith) upbeat.
Once anyone who wants to join in is ready, or solo if no one else wants to, Iovia starts to sing the song, her attention focused on the bone and on Teacher Ot.
Ikto , like the others, came here to learn, and grows curious, "Please, Miss Iovia," He would use her surname but he does not recall it if she gave it, "share this song with me and I will sing it too."
And he does, surprised by the upbeat nature of it
However poorly or grandly they do, success or no, he is glad to have learned a new song.
Lubaiko, a dangerous and mischievous goddess of wildfires and bad luck, among other concerns. No, she doesn't join the chant, but instead frowns and crosses her arms. In her mind, that was no deity to seek while soothing one's soul.
Once she has the opportunity, she steps forward. "I'm no priest, clearly, but Uvuko, the Diamond Ring, is important to my people and I'm a faithful person. If allowed, I'd like to prey a simple rite of passage."
When Ntuni steps forward for her turn to sooth the bone, Ikto bobs head respectfully, and quiets during the rite of passage.
From Sound loud and proud, to softer sounds and then silence. Like a storm moving on. Perhaps if one does not succeed, both will yet soothe the soul of the bone?
Lubaiko, a dangerous and mischievous goddess of wildfires and bad luck, among other concerns.
The prayer of passage uttered by Ntuni is surprisingly powerful and well spoken, and Teacher Ot nods approvingly. Then Iovia, M'baba, Ikto (and maybe Nyandra) sing a song to soothe tired warriors who need spirts lifted and the dead mourned. Though it is a bit strange in this southern land, the song resonates across the school.
"Yes, well done. Each of these things shows reverence, both for the dead where this bone used to reside, and the living who still deal with what is left behind. I am soothed, and so too, I believe is the soul that used to belong with this bone. Initiate M'baba is right to ask a question that puzzles many even now, 'what is the soul'. A fair question, perhaps you will learn an answer while at Magaambya, and perhaps...you will not."
The last part of the aptitude tests concludes with Takulu Ot drawing from yet another pouch a series of stones, handing one to each initiate. The stone are about the size of a baseball -- enough to fit in the palm of one's hand, though they are not perfectly round, and a clearly not made of horsehide. Some are flat on the bottom, and some are bumpy and uneven, but they all nearly equivalent in size. "Now, initiates, can you make the stone dance by itself?"
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M'baba takes his stone and looks at it puzzled. A few moments pass and he lightens up. He says "You didn't really say for how long, so..." He gets down close to the floor and looks for a smooth surface. He takes the stone and turns it in his hand, looking for a point where it is as balanced as he can find. Then, he sets the stone so that the ground touches the spot he found and spins it. Due to its uneven nature, it doesn't spin for long. However, during the spin, the young man says "Behold, the Qadiran dervish dance."
"I had a similar idea, Mr. M'baba." Iovia says. "I've never been to Qadira, but let's see if I can also get a rock to do a dervish dance."
Iovia then tries to get her rock to spin in the same way that M'baba did.
Ikto eyes the stone he is given, and notes the others spin theirs. He ponders aloud "maybe mine is already dancing, just verrry slowly."
He walks at least fifteen feet from the others so they will not be near his attempt and caught in it, and places the stone on an unimpeded patch of ground trying to position so it will not 'dance' at his fellow initiates if this works.
And I have no idea if this will work
He makes a blowing motion and... wind bursts from his out stretched hands across the rock.
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Za Minyahil idly waves their hand and the rock begins floating into the air. They move their hand like a conductor, making the stone bounce around a few moments to give the impression of jumping and twirling before lifting it higher than before and setting it whirling like a top as it falls back to the earth.
Nyandra does join in the dancing and adds some of her own skills to it. While Ntuni may not approve, there's always time to seek more understanding and context later.
She watches the others interact with their stones, taking delight in the creativity she's seeing. Several different approaches, either magical or mundane. Most spectacular is Ikto's burst of winds! Nyandra knows she can't produce anything like that--yet, anyway--but still she contributes as she can. She makes an attempt at the magical and the mundane: tossing the stone gently upward with some spin, she then uses prestidigitation to hold it aloft.
Spinning the stone meets with mixed results. Iovia cannot spin it fast enough to counter the odd shape and hers just rolls on the ground. M'baba however has a deft touch, and with that, he can get the rock spinning on it side for an extended period. It does truly look like a dervish for a few moments.
Everyone watches as Ikto generates a blast of wind that skips the rock along the ground a fair amount. Then Za Minyahil uses telekinetic magic to make the rock move at his own will. Nyandra tosses the rock and attempts to slow its fall with magic, and while it may pause for a split second, gravity eventually wins, and it doesn't really seem like dancing, just falling.
All in all, Takulu Ot seems pleased. "These tests are as much to measure your magical aptitude as to perceive your creativity in problem-solving. You all did well on each of them. He gives the cupped fist and bow of respect to you again.
Next Teacher Ot waves a hand through the air, and 6 glowing, slightly-translucent symbols appear in the air around him. They symbols are:
- a flickering candle
- balanced scales
- a multipronged key
- pursed lips
- an open hand with an eye in the palm
- a running hourglass
"You see six symbols before you, which do you choose? These may kindle your innate talents into a tiny spark of magic to use. Of course, not choosing is also allowed and has its own reward." He watches as each of you weigh the choice.
Ikto gives a soft smile, and picks up the stone he launched, pats it, and mutters softly "You danced well for a stone."
He returns Teacher Ot's bow in the same manner it is given.
Next Teacher Ot waves a hand through the air, and 6 glowing, slightly-translucent symbols appear in the air around him. They symbols are:
- a flickering candle
- balanced scales
- a multipronged key
- pursed lips
- an open hand with an eye in the palm
- a running hourglass
"You see six symbols before you, which do you choose? These may kindle your innate talents into a tiny spark of magic to use. Of course, not choosing is also allowed and has its own reward." He watches as each of you weigh the choice.
When the glowing symbols appear, Ikto's eyes widen for a second. Then they focus on each one. These may help open what is inside of us? I must choose wisely then. What has meaning for me? I ... ah... I know. Quite rapidly, he taps the pursed lips symbol, "This one feels right for me." My people must keep their secrets until the right time. And sometimes, I worry that when I DO talk I am exposed.
Iovia sees the symbols and needs no time at all to make a choice. The Chelaxian priest touches the key! "There are many more people to free from oppression and bondage, just as there are talents that can be unlocked in all people, including our little band of initiates."
She then steps back so that she is not in the way of others.
Not seeing as much success as she'd like with spinning the stone, Nyandra pouts for a moment but shrugs. This isn't her areas of expertise, anyway. Teacher Ot hasn't asked for anything traditionally artistic, after all--and she consoles herself with this thought.
Seeing the symbols, she doesn't even stop to think--immediately she reaches for the open hand with the eye in its palm. The single word "Nethys" escapes her lips as a whisper, as she sees her muse represented most clearly among the images.
She quietly notes the symbols others choose, and particularly Iovia's choice. Seems I misjudged you, friend.
Za Minyahil considers the symbols, watching as the others make their choices. Their petals rustle a bit as they turn the potential meanings and connections of them over and over in their mind. But their eyes keep drifting to one symbol, resonating with the ghoran's...anxieties? Fears? Hopes? Dare they be so open and trusting with these people, who thought and existed so very differently from them?
After pondering the decision perhaps too long compared to the others, they reach out and touch the mark of the hourglass.
"Time," they think to themselves. "Time that I have so much of. That we have so much of. And yet not enough. And it's running out all too fast."
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M'baba is completely uncertain as to what to choose. He thinks What would it mean not to choose? The balanced scales and the candle were left not picked. He considered the key for himself, as he thinks magic is the key to many solutions. The candle would also be useful for him, as he is at a disadvantage without proper light.
The hourglass is useless to him, he thinks, as he is patient. He also knows the scales are not for him, as he believes that sometimes the way forward is to add some imbalance.
Finally, he smiles, and goes for the candle.
"None of these symbols have a deeper meaning for me, so if not choosing is an option, then this is what I'm going to do."
Immediately upon choosing, all the initiates, including Ntuni who chose to not choose, feel a slight vibration as if standing on top of a bass drum. It last for about 2 seconds, and is gone. In that moment each of you is imbued with a slightly enhanced magical ability.
Ikto - pursed lips - gains message as an arcane cantrip
Iovia - key - gains mage hand as an arcane cantrip
Nyandra - open palm and eye - gains shield as an arcane cantrip
Za Minyahil - hourglass - gain stabilize as a primal cantrip
M'baba - candle - gain dancing lights as a primal cantrip
Ntuni - did not chose - gain a +1 on saving throws against spells (this also fades at 2nd level).
Once the gifts are given, Teacher Ot says, "At the Magaambya, we seek to understand the differences, where others might dismiss a trait as irrelevant or troublesome, we understand that the things that make us unique in life are key to who we are as people. And it is who we are as people that defines our magic. Sometimes, it is things that are different about us, things that societies have taught us to hate, that show what our talents will be. To the north, people say that children with white or red hair have a strong potential for magic. Here in Nantambu, we recognize that left-handed people are skilled at undoing spells. One student of mine is terrified of butterflies, even though he considers it ridiculous. Yet in exchange for this fear of fluttering whimsy, he has one of the most orderly minds for games and strategy that I have ever seen."
Sometimes, we do not understand our magic, and that lack of understanding causes pain. People who are uncomfortable in there own skins are incredible shape-changers, but often feel unsettled until they recognize they shape they were meant to be. Those who feel an urge to jump from high places often become frightened of themselves, but they are simply channeling the untrained will to fly."
"Sometimes, our talents are not revealed by happy means," Teacher Ot's face becomes somber, and he continues. "One student here had a family who planned her life out from birth to death, punishing her when she deviated the slightest bit. She only found freedom in thoughts of the grave, and a result, the dead began to speak to her. Here, she has freedom to choose her own path, but her necromancy remains strong."
"You don't have to share, but I want you to ask yourselves: what about you defines you, even if others rarely notice it? Is there something inside you that pulls at you, perhaps defying rational explanation? Thus, I return to my first question: who are you, and how can that person be guided to grow?"
He looks at each of you in turn, challenging you to think more deeply than you, perhaps, expected. "You may answer now, but do not have to. Instead, promise to think on it, it may mean more than you think."
He waits for any answer, then proceeds to hand each student a yellow and blue bead, similar to the robe he wears. The bead is made of durable glass and has a hole through its center. He also hands you a simple string of twine. " You are expected to wear this string of beads at all times, it identifies you as Initiates of the Magaambya. This bead should be the first you incorporate onto your string. It's color indicates I am the one who admitted you to the School. You may earn other beads for your string during your Perquisite. Now, if the interview is over. Allow me to show you to your quarters during your time at the Magaambya -- the Spire Dormitory."
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After feeling the vibration, M'baba immediately tests his new magic. Being the first time he actually makes magic, his face lightens up brighter than the lights he conjures. He lets out an audible gasp and plays a bit with the lights.
Afterwards, teacher Ot talks about people's strengths and weaknesses. M'baba feels a bit defensive, given he doesn't like to expose himself much. The teacher asks what about him defines him, that even other people don't see. M'baba thinks "And I'm supposed to just share this with strangers?" Still, he gives it much thought. After a while, he finally says "I am a person who moves forward by dealing with each situation at hand, practical and direct. But if I stop to think about it, I do wish my actions had more meaning." He is not sure he understands what he said, but these were the words he chose to speak.
As he receives his bead, he carefully slides it into his twine. He wonders for a moment where he can wear it so it won't be in his way when he's doing something. He doesn't want to wear on his cloak, as he will not always be wearing his cloak. But inside the cloak risks it not being seen when he is wearing it. Finally, he decides to wear it around his wrist, thinking this is a temporary solution.
When he's done, he looks up and studies the school grounds a bit more while he waits to be taken to the dorm.
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As M'baba speaks, Iovia removes the bracelet she wears around her left wrist. She slides the bead onto the twine, wraps the twine and bead combination around the bracelet, and returns the bracelet to her wrist.
After M'baba speaks, she chooses to speak.
"Shame drives me, hope drives me. I am Vidrian, but I am also Chelaxian. My family is a noble family. I was born, and grew up, wanting nothing, in what was then Sargava. At first, I was blind, but I was a child, and I could not see clearly yet.
"As I grew older, I began to notice things. The servants inside the house were Chelaxian and treated differently than what I thought at the time were field servants. When I asked why, I was not given answers that made sense to me. Over time, I came to understand that our vast fields were tended not by paid servants, but by slaves."
"I did not understand why we, or why anyone anywhere would own other people. People are not property, people are not products, and yet, we did own people. Hundreds of them. I could not do much to help them, either. I did what I could when I could. But, it was a drop of water in the ocean."
"It did earn me trust, from the slaves, over time, and that is how I learned of the revolution. I left home, I joined, first as a helper and healer, and later, once I heard the call of Tlehar, with what healing and other magics I have. Sometimes in battle, but never with other Chelaxians. The idea of having to fight against a parent, sibling, or cousin fills me with dread."
"When we took my family estate, I freed each slave there myself. I apologized to each one as I removed the collar, and the shackles, they wore. I reforged some of the iron into this..." She lifts the bracelet. "..and this." She touches the holy symbol she wears around her neck.
"However, out of something horrible can come something good. Vidrian is a young nation, one finding her way like a child does. One that, if the gods bless us, can be a shining light for others. I am proud to have been a part of her birth and proud to be Vidrian."
"Shame drives me, shame for what my family and other Chelaxians did to too many people for years and years. It was wrong the first time a person was enslaved, and it will always be wrong. But, hope drives me as well, the hope and aspiration to make each day better than the one before it. To help people find who they are, and what they are meant to be, and support them through the struggles that they face."
"We will all make mistakes. We will fail, and we will succeed. How we grow from each experience, how we treat those around us, and how we make life better for others will define who we become. I know that I will learn much here, not just from the teachers, but from each of you as well."
She smiles at the group as a whole, teacher, and students, and the curtsies and passes the figurative baton to anyone else who wishes to speak.
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Ikto feels the vibration of his choice, akin to that of a great bass drum, or perhaps the roll of thunder. It is an odd sensation despite his familiarity with the latter for it comes with an insight into a type of magic he has never grasped before. A magic not of the natural, but the supernatural. Somehow he knows he can send words as if on wind without opening his mouth to another, and have one return it to him.
Well, now I MUST make friends, or who else would I use this with? he smiles at the slightly immature thought. He is still young now and then eh?
He sobers as Teacher Ot speaks again, relating the nature of gifts and magics to be found among other students, other peoples.
….Sometimes, we do not understand our magic, and that lack of understanding causes pain. People who are uncomfortable in there own skins are incredible shape-changers, but often feel unsettled until they recognize they shape they were meant to be. Those who feel an urge to jump from high places often become frightened of themselves, but they are simply channeling the untrained will to fly."
Both of these come closer to the mark with him than he is completely comfortable with. He is a shapechanger, not that he dare reveal it casually. Though he does it more to preserve his well being and the safety of his people rather than because he is uncomfortable in his own skin. Or so I think? Perhaps I am here to learn how to be comfortable appearing as a human? Perhaps I am also seeking a way to have my true form more trusted. As for high places, I am not the best climber but I do enjoy dancing in the winds. Do I want to fly? I think I do. I wonder if others feel the same?
The talk of other students such as the one who was overly controlled invokes some sympathy, but it is clear Teacher Ot’s lessons also show the gifts that can be found even in trials. Gifts were are not always grateful for, with good reason.
"You don't have to share, but I want you to ask yourselves: what about you defines you, even if others rarely notice it? Is there something inside you that pulls at you, perhaps defying rational explanation? Thus, I return to my first question: who are you, and how can that person be guided to grow?"
He is very thoughtful at this. He had spoken for himself before as honestly to others as he could But have I been as honest with myself as I could be?
The others begin to speak. M’Baba speaks of being practical and direct, though Ikto is not sure if he is proud of that, or merely accepts it? Then the deft handed human wishes for more meaning to his actions. That shows more than a bit of depth, Ikto thinks. He himself was taken off guard by M’Baba earlier, borderline defensive about it, but perhaps they’re not so different in some ways even if their styles are.
Perhaps I’m not so different from any of them, if I only find the common ground
During this he is handed a bead and twine, there is much he can do with this, and he smiles already trying to think of how to artfully incorporate it on his person.
Ikto listens to Iovia’s tale with amazement. He wears two forms, and he knows humans can fear what they do not understand, but while he had heard of the Sagravan situation vaguely, here the tale of Sagrava’s well earned end and Vidrian’s rising from the ashes is made manifest. Here, he learns that the stories of humans preying on other humans because of such MINOR differences between them was true and has witness. She was elevated, but when she looked down, she found it was on the backs of her fellow humans… and she not only stepped off, she helped others who had been wronged. No lack of strength in this one.
"We will all make mistakes. We will fail, and we will succeed. How we grow from each experience, how we treat those around us, and how we make life better for others will define who we become. I know that I will learn much here, not just from the teachers, but from each of you as well."
Ikto cannot help but smile at that, ”Good and wise words.”
Then he realizes that she expects someone else to take a turn after she and M’Baba have done so.
Ikto clears his throat, and speaks to the group, ”I am still Ikto Banashee, weavers’ son, storm dancer. But finding exactly who I am beyond that maybe one reason I am here. There is a restlessness in me warring with the joy also inside. I carry a weight that is not so grim that I should lament but I do hope I carry it with care. If...when I graduate here, I will still be Ikto Banashee, but hopefully more aware of who Ikto Banashee is, who I am, and closer to who I was meant to be.” A weak smile, as he feels a touch embarrassed, ”Finding who were all are should be anything but boring.”
Then waits for any others who wish to talk to do so.
And, when all are done, he readies to see the spire dormitory.
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M'baba's words resonate well with Ntuni, but to her that was simply common sense and good practices about how to conduct their lives. Most Talaru lived this way, but she knew that was not the case for most folks.
She takes the beads and think for a couple moments before pulling from behind of her ear a strand of hair, which she braids, incorporating the beads in the work. Usually, she prefers her hair shorter, but now she was happy it was longer than usual. Perhaps she'll keep that strand and let it grow, unless it made her look like a fool.
As Ntuni listens to Iovia's story, she doesn't understand why she'd feel shame if all she did was commendable. She did seem to turn against her family, though, so perhaps the shame was in that.
She also did not understand why she was talking so bad about the Chelaxians. Yes, they were slavers, and that was clearly bad, but like herself, probably many were against it. The Talaru did not have slaves, but they were nomads and she had roamed pretty far into the Mwangi, and a good amount of places and people had slaves and that happened not only between different races or ethnicities, for many would slave their own people. One thing the Talaru knew was that most people could not see the whole picture, thus why her kin was famous for their diplomacy skills. Not that Ntuni had inherited those skills.
Then it is her time to speak. "Many people want excitement and adventure, driven by the mythic tales and the lure of the unknown. They look at the infinite sky, wishing to take flight. Me, I want a simple life. I want to find a good husband and have children. I want to worry about the rain, the food and the hunt. I want to grow old and have grandkids running around me. I look at the ground and want it between my feet." She shares, adding to her previous words. "Wanted, at least. Now I'm here, and so we shall see."
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Nyandra freezes, eyes wide as the vibration grips her. She learns in just a moment what has, until now, taken her months, or even years, to master, absorbed in less time it takes to cast one of those same spells. It feels intrinsically part of her, as though it always has been. She finds herself more than a bit dazed by the experience--stupefied, even. As the shock fades, she reflects on the nature of magic, her magic, and her muse, Nethys. Your enigmas, your mysteries, they grow more as my knowledge of magic grows. Will I graduate knowing less than I knew when I started?
Teacher Ot's gentle voice finds a way into her head, despite her daydreaming--a useful, and no doubt practiced, skill for a teacher to have, rousing the daydreamer back to attention. The bit about shapechangers not fitting in their own skin almost makes her jump. Could he know? No... That will not be the secret I share today. It doesn't define me, anyway, just part of who I am.
She listens to the others' responses, hands folded in front of her. She tends to do this when listening, as finding something to do with her hands otherwise is always such a struggle. M'baba is direct, like he says, few words but the ones he does share are powerful in their way. Iovia's a tale of coming of age, of lost innocence. She feels for the young woman. Some stories a stage cannot properly respect... like hers. She smiles warmly at Ikto's honesty, the vulnerability and strength he shows with it. She finds the earnest humanity charming, despite herself. Ntuni's words remind the elf of the importance of staying grounded--both in the very literal sense and in all endeavours, artistic or otherwise. Often she has let her ideas run away with themselves and she finds she cannot form a coherent work as a result. While not the soaring rhetoric of an experienced performer, there's still a beauty to the dwarf's response that she finds worthy of keeping in mind.
Then it's her turn. Not usually intimidated by the idea of speaking in public--particularly for such a small audience--the wisdom and intelligence of those who came before give her pause. She considers the question seriously here for the first time, having paid considerable attention to everyone's response before her. What doesdefine me, anyway? I could say my curiosity or my love of the arts or ... And then the answer shocks her with its sudden appearance in her mind, rather like the spell she just learned. Of course! She does visibly start as the realization hits her, but takes a breath and assures everyone she's okay.
As she speaks, she makes what appears to be eye contact with each member of the group individually, rotating between the group. "I am Nyandra Ravenheart, and the thing that defines me is my desire for connection. My studies, my art, my coming here, all of these things serve my desire to know and connect with and understand those around me. I think that's why I immediately fell in love with this city, why I gave up a steady job with the theatre troupe to be here. Nantambu is a city of connection, and the Magaambaya provides a foundation for it to build on. People here don't starve, people here don't suffer the elements. I have seen many places in my travels and none have I seen such connection among the people as I do here. My cousin Halanestra is from Absalom and people there are so... closed-off. It's a beautiful city and so diverse, but... no one connects there."
She pauses to contain the swelling emotion, takes a few steadying breaths. "Who am I, and how will I be guided to grow? That's why people go to school, I'd say, to learn who they are. I thought I knew when I finished bard college. I thought I wanted to be in a theater troupe. But all that changed a year ago. I guess I'll learn the answers to those questions as I go." This last she says without eye contact, staring off into the rain. She gratefully takes the bead and threads it into her hair near the flowers to create a colorful contrast.
Waiting for anyone else to give their response, she picks up her bag, again presenting the image that it's way too big for her.
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Za Minyahil accepts the power flowing from the sigil with practiced ease, but notices how different it feels from the power they were used to using. This power felt...old...all magic was old, yes, but this felt old even by those standards. It was a power that pulsed and snaked and thrummed in a wild rhythm. Arcane power had rhythm to it too, but it was steady, clinical, ordered. You had to force it into this shape, carve the channels like irrigation ditches, and the flow was the same every time. This was like a river, meandering and twisting with the land, but still going to the same place. Was that why mages in Nex seemed to ignore it? That it was something they felt they couldn't control, something they had to put more work into understanding and using? Why didn't they realize what they were missing? This felt...right...incredibly right. Like its power resonated with them deep in the heartwood. This was the seed of power that they hoped would grow into a beautiful, flowering tree of possibility.
They listen to the others speak at they tie the twine into a necklace around their neck. They rustle a bit at Teacher Ot's mention of necromancy. Back home in Nex, such a person would have been viewed with suspicion. Necromancy meant Geb. Necromancy meant the enemy. But the story felt...oddly familiar in a way. Among the ghorans, there was an unspoken assumption that the path you took after you sprouted would be almost the same as the one you'd lived before you were planted. They'd tried that...but it hadn't felt right. Not like this did. And while they hadn't suffered like this student had, other ghorans did not punish one for growing in a different direction. But it was an odd moment of connection. This, perhaps, was what they could expect more of at the Magaambya. They are a bit surprised at the candor of some of the other initiates. They seemed to be baring their souls here. Perhaps they needed to push on this small moment of resonance? Give the same honesty the others were giving. They wait for Ntuni to say her piece and speaks up.
"There is no shame in wishing for the simple pleasures. And there is wisdom in gratitude for what you have, for you never know if another can enjoy it or not. We ghorans...we do not have families the way your peoples can."
They pause.
"What I am about to tell all of you is something we only share with non-ghorans whom we trust. It is...risky. Saying it to the wrong person can stoke curiosity in others. Curiosity that can lead to great, irreparable harm. Know that I say it to you so you can understand, in some small way, why I have come here, why I seek the power I wish to use, and who I am."
They turn to Iovia.
"My people have never been slaves. No...we were something far worse: we were a food crop. Nex is a broken, magic-scarred land, its life ruthlessly leeched out by Geb in the wars between him and the great Nex. To continue pursuing victory, he needed to feed his people, needed to find a way to grow crops from soils that could be bombarded by fire from the sky or chilled by void energy at a moment's notice. He found the one man skilled enough to fill that need: the druid Ghorus, our creator. He achieved nothing short of a miracle, creating ambulatory vines and bushes that could uproot themselves and creep from place to place, able to seek new nourishment when their current field became too unforgiving and flee from predatory wildlife until they bore fruit sweeter and more delicious than any natural berry or tree, every part of the plant edible and nutritious."
"But as time went on, after Nex disappeared and Geb returned to his palace to brood, we changed. Our desire to survive, once no more complex than a livestock animal's began to grow into actual thought and feelings. Our flowers became faces, that they might stay the hands of soft-hearted harvesters. And the ears we grew to hear danger began to listen to the speech of our hunters, until we could copy it ourselves. First we used these voices to beg for our lives. Then we used them to assert our personhood. And finally, we used them to demand our rights as citizens of Nex, equal and deserving of life as any man. It was long. Difficult. But we did it. Now we have enclaves in Quantium, Ecanus and Oenopion, garden villages in the Shattered Range, we live lives of peace and prosperity, some choosing to work and advance in Nex's bustling, magical society, others choosing solitude away from "the animals," all of us living lifetime after lifetime, planting our seed when our time comes and growing anew."
"However, there is a price to this. Inside every ghoran is a Ghorus seed. When a ghoran senses their body is reaching the end of its time, we remove the seed and plant it in fertile soil, with other ghorans or trusted friends tending to it and keeping it safe. The seed sprouts, the new ghoran almost a perfect copy of its planter. And when the sapling reaches maturity, the planter's conciousness moves to it, leaving its old body behind as little more than a corpse of ripe fruit. They may form new mental connections as the sapling grows, but the memories of their past lives linger, like fish swimming beneath the surface of a still, clear lake, occasionally coming to the surface. And for most of us...that is enough. The harvesting of our people has been banned...but the consumption of our flesh has not. Some ghorans are even desperate enough to deliberately plant themselves and sell their husk for money. But that isn't enough to meet the demand for ghoran flesh. So come the poachers, who hunt down and murder lone ghorans. But how do you murder someone who will grow and remember your crime? You burn their Ghorus seed, subjecting them to a true and final death, destroying not just one memory, but lifetimes upon lifetimes of memories. And it gets worse."
"Each ghoran grows their Ghorus seed upon maturing, but it is the only Ghorus seed they will grow. To plant it and begin a new life inherently means the end of the old one. In this way, we cannot reproduce, not truly. The ghorans living today are the same ghorans who existed thousands of years ago, some can even access memories stretching back to the time of the wizard wars. But there are never any new ghorans. Every Ghorus seed destroyed by accident or malice is one that cannot be replaced. This is why the destruction of one is the most terrible, unforgivable crime against my people. Even if we could prevent every possible murder, persuade all curious for just a taste of our bodies to swear it off forever...all we would face is a slower, gentler extinction. That...is what I wish to stop. Generations of mages, ghoran and man alike, have tried to develop a way we can truly reproduce, a way new ghorans can be born, but no answer has ever been discovered. Sometimes part of me wonders if this was Ghorus' intent; that we could not become an invasive species in other lands, or Nex's to prevent us from taking our freedom by force. But it matters not. What I seek are ways of seeing, of doing magic that cannot be learned in Nex's ossified academies, so focused on war and power. I want to do what Ghorus could not. And should I not achieve it in this lifetime, then I will try again, and again, and again. However many lifetimes it takes, to give my people a future."
They sigh a bit as they finish.
"So now you know. What I am, who I am, why I am here and what I hope to learn. I hope that you understand the gravity of this calling, and the vulnerability I show by trusting you with it. Maybe one of you, or all of you, will be the ones to help me find this...cure. And even if you cannot or do not wish to, I trust that I have not sparked your curiosity or your appetites."
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Ntuni's love of the simple life almost make Ikto envious, not that he wants such a life, but that she can appreciate such a dream as he SHOULD be able to but cannot... yet.
Perhaps when I am older it will have more appeal?
Nyandra's talk of her love of Nantambu makes him eager to explore the city even more than he already has. He likes it too, but it seems Nyandra has fallen quite in love with it, and he is happy for her.
Then Za Minyahil tells a tale of a history so chilling as to almost make his heartbeat stop. They were used as a crop? That is outrageous! he can't hide his offended look though it does recover quickly as he resolves to listen to all.
"Maybe one of you, or all of you, will be the ones to help me find this...cure. And even if you cannot or do not wish to, I trust that I have not sparked your curiosity or your appetites."
We Anadi are very different, but I know what it is to fear for your people. Perhaps I should share as much as they have shared? Not yet, but I can do one thing...
"I am but an initiate like you, but as you say, there is much for us to learn here. If I should ever stumble onto any lore or insights that would help your people, Intiate Za Minyahil, I will share it with you. I doubt such discovery would come to me where there are others so much wiser but I stand by what I say."| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Iovia listens to what the others choose to share.
Much like Ikto, she is moved by Za's tale.
"Your goal is a luadible one. As Mr. Banashee said, if I come across any lore that could help you and your people, I will happily share it with you."
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M'baba feels the wisdom in each of the tales, although Ntuni's simple dream does not resonate with him. He chooses not to linger on it much as Nyandra opens her heart. However, it is only when Za tells his tale that the young man loses his posture, as he cannot bear the weight of this story.
He sees the other initiates are speaking encouraging words. M'baba, however, thinks a bit before saying "It's pretentious of me to try to give advice to a being that is generations old, but maybe a new view might just help you. It feels to me that true freedom can only be achieved by distancing yourself from Ghorus. By the way you tell it, his design has been started and finished. You've evolved as far as you will, I'd say. Of course more knowledge will be helpful, but I feel the only way to achieve reproduction will involve... well... stopping being ghorans, and become something else entirely."
Trying to finish with a note, he says "Sometimes the way forward is sideways."
Za Minyahil folds their hands over their chest and makes a small bow.
"You bring words with meaning, M'baba. The Magaambya teaches not only magics that Nex and its people treat as unimportant, it teaches different values as well, different ways of seeing and being. It is exactly this change in perspective that I believe will be the key to my research...but that is for another time. I am no great mage or scholar, not yet. For now, I am a student as you all are."
Nyandra is silent as Za Minyahil speaks, unmoving, even, totally captivated by their words. It's clear to her from the start that this is something they don't just want to say, they need to say it. She finds the tale moves her more than she expected--the plight of the ghorans foreign to her own experience but she hears similarities to what others have said as well. Yes, we're different... but not so different. Anyone who would say so is a fool. They want the same things my family want, or that I want.
She smiles at Ikto and Iovia's kind words in response, tilting her head a bit to the side and squinting in thought at M'baba's interesting, unorthodox perspective. "Sideways... sideways... I wonder what side way one can find." She shrugs, noticing she's thinking aloud with a brief blush. "I don't know what help I will be right now, Za Minyahil, but like the others, you have my word that I will help where I can. As you've said, as I said earlier, we come here to learn about the world, about ourselves--hopefully with that learning you'll find what you seek."
Teacher Ot breaks the intense discussion with a soft clap of his hands. "It seems my inquiry about introspection has touched some of you deeply. That is as intended, but also, such introspection and self-inventory should not be taken lightly, or done in a single setting. Instead, open your thoughts to what I have asked you over many days or weeks, see if time -- as it often does -- sharpens your understanding of who you are. But..." he pauses now turning on his heel and pointing to low building off the edges of the plaza, for now, I am to lead you to your lodgings during your time at Magaambya. The Spire Dormitory, yes? Let's move in that direction."
The teacher then begins walking with definite purpose toward the building he indicated. He does not flinch or show any outward sign when he walks out from under the protective disk over the plaza and into the pouring rain. Even though the distance is not far, the rain is heavy, and anyone unprotected is soon soaked through. Rather quickly, you all stand in front of the Spire Dormitory. It is a single-story building with four tall stone spires surrounding the building, two to the north and two to the south -- they are about 50' tall so they tower over the one-story building. You stand at the north side. The dormitory has an open construction so there are not exterior doors per se. An 20' wide opening serves as the entrance. Several windows open on this side of the building, providing light and fresh air to those within.
A young woman trots out of the front entrance and gives a bow to Takulu Ot, who returns the gesture of respect. The woman shields her head with a silk umbrella reinforced with dry reeds. You are the new students, o? You'll be rooming with us in the Spire Dorm. Come in, I'll show you the place." The woman motions with her umbrella toward the door, taking a few steps back towards the building's welcoming dry overhang. Teacher Ot withdraws and then turns to stroll unconcernedly through the downpour.
The woman is a tall, athletically built Mwangi in her late teens or early 20's. She has very dark skin and dark wavy hair and the accent of a native of Nantambu. Her smile is warm and pleasant, and her eyes are intelligent and interested, taking your measure while making you feel at home. [b]"My name isEsi Djana and I am to help get you settled." She motions for you to enter the common room of the dorm which is right inside the front doorway.
The common room is decorated with colorful and intricate mosaics on the floor and walls and a large number of plush couches stand here. A catfolk sprawls on one of the couches, a sliced and sticky mango laying on a cloth on his chest. He looks up from licking juice off his fingers, his mouth spreading into a toothy smile. "Care for some mango?" he says cheerfully while gesturing idly to the fruit. "Or if you'd prefer something to cheer you up from the rain, I have some wine brewing back in my room?"
"Don't offer them your moonshine!" Esi scolds, before addressing you again. "This is Chizire. Don't become a slacker like him."
"I don't need to study. Amurruns have the best magic, everyone says so," Chizire says. "Esi here is trying to run the entire school. Even playing teacher for the new students it looks like."
Esi blows out a sharp breath. Koride told me to get them settled. Said that handling new students was our job."
Fffttt. Do we look like attendants to her? Not yet, we aren't." Chizire replies, turning his attention back to peeling the skin from another slice of mango. Esi waits for a moment before scuffing her foot at the catfolk's tail, and then stepping around him to show you around more.
After others give their offers of future aid to Za Minyahil, Teacher Ot begins to guide them through the pouring rain. It is heavy, and soon Ikto is soaked, and yet he moves with ease and deftness, untroubled by this. He is, after all, a storm druid, and warm heavy rain is no burden to him. Indeed, Ikto seems soothed by it, smiling, and ...talking to no one?
”Thank you for not being too cold, not from the mountains are you then? Mmm yes, a lovely city, I can’t blame you for coming down to see it.” It may become apparent to some he is chatting up the rain as he follows Teacher Ot. He doesn’t have time for an extended conversation as they come up to the spire dormitory.
It is the four spires towering over the single story building that catch his attention first. Already he wonders if there is a way on top of them so he might admire the next storm from there. Then, the human woman with the umbrella approaches.
”You are the new students, o? You'll be rooming with us in the Spire Dorm. Come in, I'll show you the place." [/B]
Ikto gives a bow of respect to the departing teacher Ot, and follows the young woman.
"My name isEsi Djana and I am to help get you settled."
”Thank you. I am Ikto Banashee,” Ikto replies simply. The common room is quite nice and while he does not mind the rain, he is also glad to be out of it. He makes sure he does not block the path of his fellow initiates as they do like wise.
The common room is decorated with colorful and intricate mosaics on the floor and walls and a large number of plush couches stand here. A catfolk sprawls on one of the couches, a sliced and sticky mango laying on a cloth on his chest. He looks up from licking juice off his fingers, his mouth spreading into a toothy smile. "Care for some mango?" he says cheerfully while gesturing idly to the fruit. "Or if you'd prefer something to cheer you up from the rain, I have some wine brewing back in my room?"
Still dripping a bit, he doesn’t sit on the tempting couch yet, but when he sees the Catfolk he grins, thinking of Paktu, one of his friends in the city beyond, also an Amurrun.
And he responds to the offer in the purring language of that people,
"Don't offer them your moonshine!" Esi scolds, before addressing you again. "This is Chizire. Don't become a slacker like him."
"I don't need to study. Amurruns have the best magic, everyone says so," Chizire says. "Esi here is trying to run the entire school. Even playing teacher for the new students it looks like."
Esi blows out a sharp breath. Koride told me to get them settled. Said that handling new students was our job."
Fffttt. Do we look like attendants to her? Not yet, we aren't." Chizire replies, turning his attention back to peeling the skin from another slice of mango. Esi waits for a moment before scuffing her foot at the catfolk's tail, and then stepping around him to show you around more.
Ikto chuckles at the exchange, not meaning to mock either, but it is clear to him that Chizire and Esi have very little in common. In Mwangi, he says ”It was nice meeting you, Chizire. I am Ikto. Pardon but I really should follow Esi as she is being kind enough to show us about.” A head bob, and he does just that.
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M'baba is satisfied with Za's reply, as he was a little worried he might have taken his comment as arrogance. He is completely unsure how to start the research the ghoran intends to do, and is glad it's not up to him to do it.
As teacher Ot leads them into the rain, M'baba pulls the double hood of his cloak back up. The rain is strong and it won't be long until the water makes its way through the reinforced cloth, so he tries to make his way faster. He notices the building still under construction and wonders how long it's been in this state. However, he is more worried about the rain and not being sick for the start of his magical studies.
He bows his head shortly as teacher Ot leaves and simply says "M'baba" when Esi introduces herself. Being under a roof makes him feel more comfortable. The exchange with Chizire leaves M'baba a little confused, considering how hard it is to enter the school. "Why wouldn't someone take this opportunity seriously?", he asks himself. However, he doesn't react to the conversation thinking he is here to learn. Maybe there is some wisdom in Chizire's behavior that he doesn't see yet. He waits a bit until he feels he can turn the conversation towards the construction.
Iovia is also quickly soaked through. Her dress is even less suited than Ikto's clothes to hold up to the rain, but it does not seem to bother her much.
When Esi steps out and introduces herself, Iovia curtsies, and replies. "I am Iovia. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Djana."
Inside, she repeats the curtsey and introduction with Chizire, and adds "Once we are settled in, I'd be happy to try your wine."
She then follows on the tour, and pays attention, as she guesses that at some future point, it will be their turn to give the tour to new students. She is also very curious about what will be her new home.