Druid's Knoll
Brakin bit at the chance for another deep lesson from her mentor, it'd been almost a month since they mentioned anything she didn't know already. "Tell me more about how the Illowi people create their brewing catalysts." She almost forgot to add, "please."
"You will have to be more specific, many people use many different catalysts that impart multifarious aspects. If you mean the Jackalope horn, many do use that for integration and concentration. Not only is it porus to froth mixtures, but it may also be dusted for- Brakink, are you listening?"
Braken had been listening, at first. Swiftly her mind became abubble with all the possibilities Duidry would afford him. A jackalope's horn wasn't hard to come across, and she knew enough that they could use it to create a rain of light, given some unknown she'd learn later. Any town hoping to have some nighttime festivities must pay heavily for a rain of light. What would they pay for extended lives, what could she get away with?She would need different materials for that, some words from old Haseh, some small creature. "I heard they use Humi femurs"
"Excuse me?" her menor spat, dumbfounded and still. She knew such comments shouldn't be made, those kinds of items were no longer in use, at all. She'd heard of this from her grandmother, a well-loved druid in her own right. And it did extend lives, this wasn't some fantasy only the rich or dedicated could achieve.
She knew plenty, she should be a druid already. The only thing it took to be a druid was to go around and perform rituals. She'd done that already, she'd helped her town set up for summer festivities with fireworks. She'd also helped her mentor plenty of other odd jobs, making a plate to commemorate a fallen town elder, ensuring the weather was perfect for a holiday, and eliciting psychoactive effects in participants. She should definitely be a druid already, she just had to get approval from some far-off counsel of old people who probably didn't remember what they had for breakfast.
The exam has snuck up on her like a Fairy. It's been nearly fifty years since her apprenticeship began, from the day she decided to dedicate her life to the craft. She'd learned much and became experienced with much more. Still, she toiled over all the information rattling inside her head: alchemy, rune smithery, enchantment, history, and complete knowledge of any kind of ritual that may be asked for. She double, tripled, lost count of how many times she would recite the entire tome in her head, making sure she had every page rolled to and every concept burned into her very soul. Internal thoughts about the upcoming exam. Nearly a sentence for all required: alchemy, rune-smithery, enchantment, history, and ritual knowledge
The Trial of the Elders was upon her. Her mentor leads her deep into the woods somewhere in northern Hasehak. She would never be sure of where this was, only how to get there. The instructions were complex, but not as much as her mentor's smile and professed aura as when she arrived. She should have been happy for her, which she was, among a lot else that likely was spurred on by some substance. Brakin saw somewhere within her mentor's whirls something that made her back ache. Doubt.
"Fifty years, Brakin. It may be fifty years. Do you truly, with your heart and soul, know that your reason is right?"
Her mentor broke the cracking ice that was her fortitude. Of course, she knew why she was doing this, why she spent every morning and night in studies, meditation, and learning. She was sure she was no longer the starry-eyed youth she'd once been. She did not want the power druidry possessed, the ability o walk into a town and anything she asked for, from fuur to a firstborn would be given to her without question. She didn't want the arcane knowledge and abilities to bend the world to her whim. She didn't want the self-satisfaction of being able to do whatever she pleased. "My reason is to help those in need."
"For your sake, I believe you," her mentor said without looking.
They stepped through a fit of coughing, enough for any being to feel the need to close their eyes. She did, and when they opened, before her rose a knoll with curling red grass and flowers of a spiny-violet. Atop rose six, eight, four? Some amount of thrones that shifted in the corners of her perspective. Power thrummed through her, an enchantment she might have known if it were less supernatural. She stepped up the knoll, her mentor waiting at the base. The grass warmed her feet naturally, and the air smelled of something citrusy and spicy. At the top, she may never remember nor forget.
"I will perform this exorcism, under three conditions. First, I will require housing in the afflicted residence. Second, I will need food to eat. And third, I will need some materials. I will let you know what those may be after my initial survey," Brakin said to the weeping villager.
"Of course, is there anything else, anything at all we may get you? We have had a good trading season, and can give you fuur as payment."
Brakin had had a rough week getting here. The signal for her arrival had come as a request to her Stone. Only those in the most dire of situations would be able to get through so clearly. "No, no pay is required, I will have the spirit removed as soon as I can."
It had been a few years since here Stone had rung so clearly, she hoped this trial would not be too difficult. The first time her stone guided her to danger, almost as a test by the universe itself, was right after her transcendence. She somehow, by the scales of her tale, managed to impress the elders and pass. Though it was not the elders she needed to convince, but the spiritual energies to convene in the Stone of her own design. This was her first of many Druidic tools, the reason Druids are what they are.
The villager soon returned with everything she required, a Black Light, a ring that belonged to the straggler, some amethyst, and some renua plants. Alongside her jackalope catalyst, made by her and known by her for its very aspect, she should have all she needed to help the spirit pass on. She thanked the villager, a young muzoval he'd met on one of her prior visits to the little town of Salhin. It was on her route, and she was sure to see them again in another three years, should they not require emergency assistance again. She'd grown comfortable with the path her Stone gave her, this deviation was a minor inconvenience.
She hoped the little muzoval would be happy her mother no longer haunted her. Just another day as a Druid, she supposed as she spied the ghostly figure through the Black Light. She held the jackalope antler, wrapped in smoked renua and powdered with amethyst. The ring hung by a string on the highest branches. In many voices, she spoke, "Salhin as your ancestral name, they call you home!"
"You will have to be more specific, many people use many different catalysts that impart multifarious aspects. If you mean the Jackalope horn, many do use that for integration and concentration. Not only is it porus to froth mixtures, but it may also be dusted for- Brakink, are you listening?"
Braken had been listening, at first. Swiftly her mind became abubble with all the possibilities Duidry would afford him. A jackalope's horn wasn't hard to come across, and she knew enough that they could use it to create a rain of light, given some unknown she'd learn later. Any town hoping to have some nighttime festivities must pay heavily for a rain of light. What would they pay for extended lives, what could she get away with?She would need different materials for that, some words from old Haseh, some small creature. "I heard they use Humi femurs"
"Excuse me?" her menor spat, dumbfounded and still. She knew such comments shouldn't be made, those kinds of items were no longer in use, at all. She'd heard of this from her grandmother, a well-loved druid in her own right. And it did extend lives, this wasn't some fantasy only the rich or dedicated could achieve.
She knew plenty, she should be a druid already. The only thing it took to be a druid was to go around and perform rituals. She'd done that already, she'd helped her town set up for summer festivities with fireworks. She'd also helped her mentor plenty of other odd jobs, making a plate to commemorate a fallen town elder, ensuring the weather was perfect for a holiday, and eliciting psychoactive effects in participants. She should definitely be a druid already, she just had to get approval from some far-off counsel of old people who probably didn't remember what they had for breakfast.
The exam has snuck up on her like a Fairy. It's been nearly fifty years since her apprenticeship began, from the day she decided to dedicate her life to the craft. She'd learned much and became experienced with much more. Still, she toiled over all the information rattling inside her head: alchemy, rune smithery, enchantment, history, and complete knowledge of any kind of ritual that may be asked for. She double, tripled, lost count of how many times she would recite the entire tome in her head, making sure she had every page rolled to and every concept burned into her very soul. Internal thoughts about the upcoming exam. Nearly a sentence for all required: alchemy, rune-smithery, enchantment, history, and ritual knowledge
The Trial of the Elders was upon her. Her mentor leads her deep into the woods somewhere in northern Hasehak. She would never be sure of where this was, only how to get there. The instructions were complex, but not as much as her mentor's smile and professed aura as when she arrived. She should have been happy for her, which she was, among a lot else that likely was spurred on by some substance. Brakin saw somewhere within her mentor's whirls something that made her back ache. Doubt.
"Fifty years, Brakin. It may be fifty years. Do you truly, with your heart and soul, know that your reason is right?"
Her mentor broke the cracking ice that was her fortitude. Of course, she knew why she was doing this, why she spent every morning and night in studies, meditation, and learning. She was sure she was no longer the starry-eyed youth she'd once been. She did not want the power druidry possessed, the ability o walk into a town and anything she asked for, from fuur to a firstborn would be given to her without question. She didn't want the arcane knowledge and abilities to bend the world to her whim. She didn't want the self-satisfaction of being able to do whatever she pleased. "My reason is to help those in need."
"For your sake, I believe you," her mentor said without looking.
They stepped through a fit of coughing, enough for any being to feel the need to close their eyes. She did, and when they opened, before her rose a knoll with curling red grass and flowers of a spiny-violet. Atop rose six, eight, four? Some amount of thrones that shifted in the corners of her perspective. Power thrummed through her, an enchantment she might have known if it were less supernatural. She stepped up the knoll, her mentor waiting at the base. The grass warmed her feet naturally, and the air smelled of something citrusy and spicy. At the top, she may never remember nor forget.
"I will perform this exorcism, under three conditions. First, I will require housing in the afflicted residence. Second, I will need food to eat. And third, I will need some materials. I will let you know what those may be after my initial survey," Brakin said to the weeping villager.
"Of course, is there anything else, anything at all we may get you? We have had a good trading season, and can give you fuur as payment."
Brakin had had a rough week getting here. The signal for her arrival had come as a request to her Stone. Only those in the most dire of situations would be able to get through so clearly. "No, no pay is required, I will have the spirit removed as soon as I can."
It had been a few years since here Stone had rung so clearly, she hoped this trial would not be too difficult. The first time her stone guided her to danger, almost as a test by the universe itself, was right after her transcendence. She somehow, by the scales of her tale, managed to impress the elders and pass. Though it was not the elders she needed to convince, but the spiritual energies to convene in the Stone of her own design. This was her first of many Druidic tools, the reason Druids are what they are.
The villager soon returned with everything she required, a Black Light, a ring that belonged to the straggler, some amethyst, and some renua plants. Alongside her jackalope catalyst, made by her and known by her for its very aspect, she should have all she needed to help the spirit pass on. She thanked the villager, a young muzoval he'd met on one of her prior visits to the little town of Salhin. It was on her route, and she was sure to see them again in another three years, should they not require emergency assistance again. She'd grown comfortable with the path her Stone gave her, this deviation was a minor inconvenience.
She hoped the little muzoval would be happy her mother no longer haunted her. Just another day as a Druid, she supposed as she spied the ghostly figure through the Black Light. She held the jackalope antler, wrapped in smoked renua and powdered with amethyst. The ring hung by a string on the highest branches. In many voices, she spoke, "Salhin as your ancestral name, they call you home!"
[I] Some far off council I can feel the impatience over here. xD Oddly enough it was endearing. The stages of growth the character goes through are really impactful too. Can definetly see they've matured and how that's manifest.
That was the goal of the story! I'm glad it came across so clear. I wanted to express a character and have them grow in three stages, and it seems that was accomplished.