Post by Daystar on Apr 5, 2022 4:36:35 GMT
A door into the Empyrean opens, allowing aboard its first guest in three weeks, four days, and sixteen hours, not that Alex Russell has been counting. The man who steps through seems thoroughly unperturbed by the fact that he just crossed a distance of some thousands of miles with a single step. While the door silently seals itself, he examines his surroundings with a mild curiosity.
"So, you're the wizard?"
The man smiles slightly patronizingly, pretending for the sake of politeness like he hasn't heard some variation on that line at the start of every job he's ever done for the past decade and a half. It's a small price to pay for doing what you love, he tells himself.
"Not exactly. They used to call people like me cunning men. Called us up to fight the wizards and witches when the need arose."
His accent is faintly European- Irish, the Judgment suspects, though dulled by years spent traveling the world to do... whatever it is he does. Not completely gone, though. If he were to return to his homeland, he'd slip back into it like an old pair of shoes, weathered and worn but still capable of a slog through the mud.
"Sean McNiven, of Breaker Consulting." His face twists with momentary distaste. "A subsidiary of Solutions International. At your service. And you'd be Daystar?"
"Call me Alex," she replies, extending a hand to shake. "But just to be clear, you can do magic?"
"Of a sort. There's a demonstration I do for skeptics, if you'd like. Satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back."
The Unconquered Sun raises an eyebrow, and gestures around the Empyrean's vast, empty atrium. She's still not personalized the place much, save for her own bedroom. A part of her can't shake the feeling that she doesn't really belong here, where modern-day titans once walked. She's more powerful than them by any metric, but still their shadows loom large. At times it feels like they were capable of everything she isn't. That's part of the reason she gave Solutions International a call. Their reputation suggested that they were capable of putting her in contact with someone who could help her expand her skillset. Someone, hopefully, like Sean.
"By all means."
With a nod, the cunning man turns away, and reaches into the pocket of his tattered coat, for a small cloth bag filled with a powdered white substance. Most would mistake it for chalk, but Daystar's hyper-vision allows her to see its molecular structure, and tell what it truly is. Powdered bone, although of what creature, she can't discern. McNiven dips his finger in it, and uses the powdered substance to draw a large square on the Empyrean's central window, which overlooks the Earth. The bone dust sticks to the glass, not a single particle drifting away, as the cunning man puts the bag away and draws out a ritual blade, the flat covered in intricate traceries and runework.
McNiven pricks his thumb with the tip of the blade, and presses it to the center of the square, leaving behind a perfect circle of blood in miniature. Daystar is silent for a moment, observing the entire process with an unreadable expression. Then, her super-senses detect a surge of exotic energy, the kind she's come to identify with the impossible. The square turns solid white, then everything else around them does too. Beyond the square, Alex can see a vast forest, not of this world. Leaves blow through it, and immediately upon crossing the threshold, begin to wither away into dust.
Sean allows Alex to stare through the square for a few moments, then passes his hand across the border of powdered bone, and the entire tableau disappears as quickly as it came into being. The ash-that-was-once-leaves vanishes, as if it were never there, despite the fact that there's no wind aboard the Empyrean to blow it away.
"That was a window into the Autumn Court of the faerie. High Autumn, of course. Even a window into the Unseelie Courts can be dangerous. Now, I trust that's sufficient evidence that I can do what I claim?"
Daystar nods.
"Good. Now, why don't you tell me what you need from me?"
For several long moments, Daystar is silent and still, contemplating the question.
"I need to understand magic. Not just conceptually, but practically. It's capable of producing things that don't die when I hit them, and things that could conceivably kill me when they hit me. That's something of a problem. Not to mention it tends to generate problems that can't be solved with hitting at all, which are my least favorite kind."
"Mhm. Like that business in... Middlefield, was it?"
"Yeah. I need to know how to deal with situations like that. Plus I want to harden this place against magical intrusions. It's got defenses against just about everything... except that."
McNiven nods pensively.
"That's a tall order. Frankly, I don't have enough time to be your permanent teacher, but I can show you the basics, and put you on the right path for learning the rest. That sound good?"
"Sure."
"Lovely. Now, the first thing you need to understand is that there are two types of magic. First is High Magic, which is what you're probably familiar with. It's flashy. Fireballs, transmutations, teleportation, raising armies of the dead. It's also... transient. And then there's what I do- low magic. Or, as we call it, the Practice."
As he speaks, the cunning man begins to pace back and forth before the window, thumbs in his pockets.
"You probably want to learn High Magic, but that's not what I'm going to teach you. For one, you don't need it. I've seen you on the news. You can shoot fireballs just fine already. And really, that's all High Magic is good for. It's a blunt instrument. Good for burning down a building, not raising one up. The Practice is slow, subtle, and if done correctly, permanent. It's also harder, and in many ways costlier. I'm not just talking about material components, although you will need those. I mean in terms of the cost to your soul."
McNiven stops moving, and gives the Solar Sentinel an intense stare.
"I don't mean making deals with devils. That's more the realm of High Magic. I mean the things you'll see and do as a part of the Practice. It'll change you permanently. And that's especially dangerous for an immortal. I can help you ward this place, but the best way to do that would be to bind it to your soul as a demesne. It'll become your place of power, mere things like laws of physics subordinate to your personal will within its confines, but if it's ever destroyed, it'll take a good chunk of your personal power along with it. Is that a decision you're prepared to make?"
Wisely, Daystar doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she considers the question. Will the Empyrean be with her in a thousand years? What about ten thousand? Unless humanity manages to wipe itself out, or regress to a pre-Enlightenment state, it'll probably have developed superior space stations. But on the other hand, wouldn't making it her place of power, her demesne, provide something of an advantage in preventing it from going obsolete? Especially if she had thousands of years to accrue power and skill in the Practice? And it's certainly less likely to be destroyed by an earthquake or a tidal wave than any building on the Earth's surface.
"Yes."
"Very well. Since you're already aware of the Practice, we needn't bother with an Awakening ritual. It might make things easier, but it'd bind you in ways I doubt you'd be comfortable with. For one thing, you'd be unable to lie for the rest of your life."
"Yeah, let's skip that."
McNiven smirks.
"Thought so. Now, the Practice doesn't work like High Magic does. You don't use it as a weapon in itself. Instead, you channel it through implements. Rituals, incantations, et cetera. You don't need to follow one specific tradition, but there has to be a set of underlying rules. I'm European, so I study those traditions. You could use your American religious texts, or follow an Eastern path, or make up your own rituals. That'll rob it of some potency, but you have personal power enough to make up for it."
Doing her best not to betray any confusion, Daystar nods along. McNiven seems to notice anyway.
"What I mean is this. You won't be able to wave your hands and call down lightning. Or at least, not any more than you were already capable of doing. But you can enchant a sword that would act as a lightning rod, causing it to be struck with impossible frequency during a storm. And you could create a ritual to summon a storm, with the right components and enough investiture of power. Typically, you'd need something from a creature that has magic in it already. I used the powdered bones of a faerie for that little trick earlier. They're not from our reality, so I can use components from their bodies to bend the rules and weaken the walls of our own, for a moment."
The shape of what McNiven is describing begins to become clearer in Daystar's mind.
"Ultimately, however, the Practice is governed by the spirits. Call them what you will- the will of the universe, the souls of the dead, the over-gods themselves -but they exist, and their power is what the Practice calls upon. The demesne ritual is addressed directly to them, staking a claim on one chunk of space. You'll have to declare it, and accept all challengers who have a competing claim to this place. But first, you need to get rid of your ghosts."
Alex frowns.
"You mean Doc? Because I can't really get rid of him, he's kinda integral to--"
"No. The ghosts of those who walked here once before you. Though many of them are not dead, their sheer power and presence left behind imprints in the fabric of reality. They haunt this place still. With a ritual, the two of us will draw them closer to our side of the veil, that you might dispel them. And you'll have to do it with your hands. The cosmic power you wield will be of no use against them. Are you prepared?"
This time, Daystar doesn't even take a second to answer.
"Absolutely."
"So, you're the wizard?"
The man smiles slightly patronizingly, pretending for the sake of politeness like he hasn't heard some variation on that line at the start of every job he's ever done for the past decade and a half. It's a small price to pay for doing what you love, he tells himself.
"Not exactly. They used to call people like me cunning men. Called us up to fight the wizards and witches when the need arose."
His accent is faintly European- Irish, the Judgment suspects, though dulled by years spent traveling the world to do... whatever it is he does. Not completely gone, though. If he were to return to his homeland, he'd slip back into it like an old pair of shoes, weathered and worn but still capable of a slog through the mud.
"Sean McNiven, of Breaker Consulting." His face twists with momentary distaste. "A subsidiary of Solutions International. At your service. And you'd be Daystar?"
"Call me Alex," she replies, extending a hand to shake. "But just to be clear, you can do magic?"
"Of a sort. There's a demonstration I do for skeptics, if you'd like. Satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back."
The Unconquered Sun raises an eyebrow, and gestures around the Empyrean's vast, empty atrium. She's still not personalized the place much, save for her own bedroom. A part of her can't shake the feeling that she doesn't really belong here, where modern-day titans once walked. She's more powerful than them by any metric, but still their shadows loom large. At times it feels like they were capable of everything she isn't. That's part of the reason she gave Solutions International a call. Their reputation suggested that they were capable of putting her in contact with someone who could help her expand her skillset. Someone, hopefully, like Sean.
"By all means."
With a nod, the cunning man turns away, and reaches into the pocket of his tattered coat, for a small cloth bag filled with a powdered white substance. Most would mistake it for chalk, but Daystar's hyper-vision allows her to see its molecular structure, and tell what it truly is. Powdered bone, although of what creature, she can't discern. McNiven dips his finger in it, and uses the powdered substance to draw a large square on the Empyrean's central window, which overlooks the Earth. The bone dust sticks to the glass, not a single particle drifting away, as the cunning man puts the bag away and draws out a ritual blade, the flat covered in intricate traceries and runework.
McNiven pricks his thumb with the tip of the blade, and presses it to the center of the square, leaving behind a perfect circle of blood in miniature. Daystar is silent for a moment, observing the entire process with an unreadable expression. Then, her super-senses detect a surge of exotic energy, the kind she's come to identify with the impossible. The square turns solid white, then everything else around them does too. Beyond the square, Alex can see a vast forest, not of this world. Leaves blow through it, and immediately upon crossing the threshold, begin to wither away into dust.
Sean allows Alex to stare through the square for a few moments, then passes his hand across the border of powdered bone, and the entire tableau disappears as quickly as it came into being. The ash-that-was-once-leaves vanishes, as if it were never there, despite the fact that there's no wind aboard the Empyrean to blow it away.
"That was a window into the Autumn Court of the faerie. High Autumn, of course. Even a window into the Unseelie Courts can be dangerous. Now, I trust that's sufficient evidence that I can do what I claim?"
Daystar nods.
"Good. Now, why don't you tell me what you need from me?"
For several long moments, Daystar is silent and still, contemplating the question.
"I need to understand magic. Not just conceptually, but practically. It's capable of producing things that don't die when I hit them, and things that could conceivably kill me when they hit me. That's something of a problem. Not to mention it tends to generate problems that can't be solved with hitting at all, which are my least favorite kind."
"Mhm. Like that business in... Middlefield, was it?"
"Yeah. I need to know how to deal with situations like that. Plus I want to harden this place against magical intrusions. It's got defenses against just about everything... except that."
McNiven nods pensively.
"That's a tall order. Frankly, I don't have enough time to be your permanent teacher, but I can show you the basics, and put you on the right path for learning the rest. That sound good?"
"Sure."
"Lovely. Now, the first thing you need to understand is that there are two types of magic. First is High Magic, which is what you're probably familiar with. It's flashy. Fireballs, transmutations, teleportation, raising armies of the dead. It's also... transient. And then there's what I do- low magic. Or, as we call it, the Practice."
As he speaks, the cunning man begins to pace back and forth before the window, thumbs in his pockets.
"You probably want to learn High Magic, but that's not what I'm going to teach you. For one, you don't need it. I've seen you on the news. You can shoot fireballs just fine already. And really, that's all High Magic is good for. It's a blunt instrument. Good for burning down a building, not raising one up. The Practice is slow, subtle, and if done correctly, permanent. It's also harder, and in many ways costlier. I'm not just talking about material components, although you will need those. I mean in terms of the cost to your soul."
McNiven stops moving, and gives the Solar Sentinel an intense stare.
"I don't mean making deals with devils. That's more the realm of High Magic. I mean the things you'll see and do as a part of the Practice. It'll change you permanently. And that's especially dangerous for an immortal. I can help you ward this place, but the best way to do that would be to bind it to your soul as a demesne. It'll become your place of power, mere things like laws of physics subordinate to your personal will within its confines, but if it's ever destroyed, it'll take a good chunk of your personal power along with it. Is that a decision you're prepared to make?"
Wisely, Daystar doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she considers the question. Will the Empyrean be with her in a thousand years? What about ten thousand? Unless humanity manages to wipe itself out, or regress to a pre-Enlightenment state, it'll probably have developed superior space stations. But on the other hand, wouldn't making it her place of power, her demesne, provide something of an advantage in preventing it from going obsolete? Especially if she had thousands of years to accrue power and skill in the Practice? And it's certainly less likely to be destroyed by an earthquake or a tidal wave than any building on the Earth's surface.
"Yes."
"Very well. Since you're already aware of the Practice, we needn't bother with an Awakening ritual. It might make things easier, but it'd bind you in ways I doubt you'd be comfortable with. For one thing, you'd be unable to lie for the rest of your life."
"Yeah, let's skip that."
McNiven smirks.
"Thought so. Now, the Practice doesn't work like High Magic does. You don't use it as a weapon in itself. Instead, you channel it through implements. Rituals, incantations, et cetera. You don't need to follow one specific tradition, but there has to be a set of underlying rules. I'm European, so I study those traditions. You could use your American religious texts, or follow an Eastern path, or make up your own rituals. That'll rob it of some potency, but you have personal power enough to make up for it."
Doing her best not to betray any confusion, Daystar nods along. McNiven seems to notice anyway.
"What I mean is this. You won't be able to wave your hands and call down lightning. Or at least, not any more than you were already capable of doing. But you can enchant a sword that would act as a lightning rod, causing it to be struck with impossible frequency during a storm. And you could create a ritual to summon a storm, with the right components and enough investiture of power. Typically, you'd need something from a creature that has magic in it already. I used the powdered bones of a faerie for that little trick earlier. They're not from our reality, so I can use components from their bodies to bend the rules and weaken the walls of our own, for a moment."
The shape of what McNiven is describing begins to become clearer in Daystar's mind.
"Ultimately, however, the Practice is governed by the spirits. Call them what you will- the will of the universe, the souls of the dead, the over-gods themselves -but they exist, and their power is what the Practice calls upon. The demesne ritual is addressed directly to them, staking a claim on one chunk of space. You'll have to declare it, and accept all challengers who have a competing claim to this place. But first, you need to get rid of your ghosts."
Alex frowns.
"You mean Doc? Because I can't really get rid of him, he's kinda integral to--"
"No. The ghosts of those who walked here once before you. Though many of them are not dead, their sheer power and presence left behind imprints in the fabric of reality. They haunt this place still. With a ritual, the two of us will draw them closer to our side of the veil, that you might dispel them. And you'll have to do it with your hands. The cosmic power you wield will be of no use against them. Are you prepared?"
This time, Daystar doesn't even take a second to answer.
"Absolutely."