“Race” is an imprecise word to use on the planet of Earth, and the means by which one is determined to belong to one race or another are rather inaccurate, existing instead in a fine gray area. The living beings do not fit into neat little pigeon-holes, “human” or “elf” or what have you, and each being’s make-up seems different. They have a mixture of traits and affinities and other little overlapping aspects that happen to tend in one direction or any myriad of others. But for the sake of labels, of tools to define their world, living creatures have always grouped themselves in some way. Below are many of the known “races” on this earth guided by the Spirit of Gaia.
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-Dreamers are the creators of the world, the pure, imaginative, vibrant souls from whom wishes and hopes take form. A Dreamer by nature animates the world around them; when they are young, living things spring forth from their most ardent dreams and hopes. However, their powers do not know how to distinguish from good or bad on their own, and a youthful Dreamer often conjures up a few horrible beasts from a nightmare, or changes inanimate things into living creatures without intending to, until they learn to control their vast powers. They can, by shaping in their mind, create things from pure force of energy—each new thing is granted a little piece of the Dreamer’s self, should they wish for it to last. The larger the creation, the more they must invest. Their energy can regrow, but it does take time and cultivation.
Youthful Dreamers must also face another worry; should they give of themselves sexually to another for the first time without love, many often find that they lose their gifts. Dreamers therefore must be very judicious in how they choose to share themselves, in both romance and creation. If they pledge themselves to another in that first time, with genuine love present, a very strong bond can be formed that prevents later corruption or loss of power. Older Dreamers are wise and powerful, the kind of beings that could change the very world itself if they truly believed in a cause. All of their kind possess great powers for healing illnesses and wounds, and the elder or more gifted can even raise the dead with a Kiss of Life. Dreamers can also change the natural landscape of the world around them, reviving a barren desert, or purifying a dead sea. Their imaginations are the limit. They are often known, for many of these reasons, as the First Children of Gaia. When classed as mages, they are almost always enchanters, and their powers always lie within the use of life magic.
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-Those Who Can Alter the Nature of Bodies, whom have never existed in large enough numbers to have been given a proper name in any time period. They can change the very building blocks that physically compose themselves and often others; they can steal, copy, or swap appearances, powers, and/or genetics. Whether delving into genotypes or just the phenotypes, they deal with one’s DNA.
Some are not born gifted enough to do so consciously. These people will instead focus instinctively on one aspect of themselves, their strength, their looks, their smarts, or otherwise, and their energy will go towards bolstering this attribute; they will continue to develop and develop, even after going well beyond predictable human limits for such traits. Dangerous and unknown side-effects can arise from such growth. Those who can consciously control their gifts often live to long ages; but their kind is known to deceive, and often run across trouble.
Their powers do not derive from a single kind of magic; instead, they drawn upon the energies of life, beauty, strength, and potentially others to do their workings. Their powers often come the closest to science of any of the other kinds known, and indeed, biologists and doctors have often desired to know more of their kind in the rare times when they have crossed paths. It is often said that you can never truly know when you might be staring into the face of one of their kind, unless you are to witness them use their powers firsthand. They often run in long lines of families, one of which is the family of the Felujas (now the bloodline has run to the Dionnes.)
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-Humans are the cloth from which many of the other kinds are cut, the basic pattern that all of the intelligent races have followed on the earth. In their way, they have many gifts some may take for granted; they are mortal, and do not have to endure the hardships of longer lives, nor the passing of many loved ones; they do not have powers with which to struggle to learn or control; they are free to believe and live as they wish, without ever so much as a concern of running afoul of the Spirits or other rules or issues of magic. They are the most widespread and populous race on the earth. Even two parents who possess powers may not pass on their abilities to a child, and can sometimes instead have human offspring. How rare this is differs amongst many groups. Humanity is the thread that binds these many races together as a species.
They are called various things by the other races, such as “vanillas”, “mortals”, “plains”, “normals”, and others. All humans, and by extension, all their living races of earth have at least a small amount of life magic within their souls. They are comprised of flesh, a soul, and at least this little bit of magic from Gaia. Normal humans are often seen as defenseless “sheep” to supernatural predators.
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-Mages are humans that have been gifted with greater magic within their souls, beyond that which is needed solely for their own life force. They possess enough energy that, with talent, they can manipulate and control the energy that springs from them to perform spells and other feats. Often their specialty lies in one kind of magic, such as water or fire, that they possess an abundance of energy in, but they can also possess other types in conjunction with this, often life or strength magic. Dreamers are often viewed as a kind of special mage, highly gifted in the magic of life. Mages can have children that are simply human, or children that inherit magical abilities, following varying lines of inheritance amongst many groups (gypsies, for example, tend to pass magic from mothers to daughters, etc.) Children do not necessarily inherit the same type of magic as their parents (a water-mage mother could have a fire-mage son, and so on, depending on the various kinds of magic that may run in their bloodline.) Even a Dreamer may not have a Dreamer child (but they do more often than a mage would, should they retain their powers after losing their virginity.)
Some doubt the abilities of mages, but they are the second most widespread race on the earth, after humans, and have a governing body, the International Council of Mages, that regulates against the misuse of magic in the modern day. Mages who travel to other worlds are attractive to magical energies, and may grow greatly in raw power from such absorption. Many are able to heal physical injuries and some degrees of illness. They often make very powerful offensive and defensive foes. Their magic bends to the power of their will and experience. The strongest of their kind can shape and affect the very elemental forces of nature on earth.
Because of their greater numbers, humans have been more aware of their kind than any of the others amongst them. At different times throughout history, humankind has revered and feared the mages; two of the worst times were the Witch Trials and the Gypsy Purge of the 1600s and 1700s. They have been venerated as shamans by the Yavin, as seers by Remulans (Romans), and as respected advisors and protectors in the modern age. The monks of Zhenghe and the gypsies of Rubato are two large groups of mages that show the vastly different traditions and attitudes various societies of mages live and practice under. There is always much to learn for a mage.
Amongst themselves, mages are occasionally classified by their level of skill, potential, and power in using magic. Highest amongst these are enchanters; lowest are mere magicians, and between are sorcerers and wizards (between which, differences are more so based on their application of magic, rather than much difference in skill; sorcerers use it in a more raw form, while wizards are more scholarly, less practical, both of them wielding the energies at a mid-level. Enchanters masterfully apply magic in both ways, and more.) “Witch” has become a derogatory term against mages, taking on an especially negative association during the Witch Trial years. Countries in the modern day have taken to appointing Royal and/or National Mages to serve on the International Council of Mages (ICoM) and advise and work with their nation's rulers concerning all magical matters within their land and otherwise. Often times, these respected and powerful Mages are called upon in times of war and other crises, as well as to deal with abusers of magic. The individual traditions and practices of this post varies from nation to nation and ruler to ruler, but they most commonly are a position for life, and one of the highest callings for a mortal user of magic.
Most of the Spirits were once mages in life. Depending on their magic level, mages are often sensitive to supernatural and magical presences, powers, and influences that humans are not, and can detect and guard against these things better than a normal mortal could. Since their magic relies upon their willpower to be used, mages of strong wills can possess formidable defenses against the abilities of supernatural predators. Mages can specialize in nearly any kind of magic, from the major kinds represented by the Spirits (life, death, time, justice, love, sleep, beauty, fire, water, lightning, shadow, darkness, light, ice, wind, earth, or strength), or lesser-known kinds such as emotion and music/sound. Some kinds of magic are more prevalent in some areas of the world than others.
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-Healers are a special kind of mage, with great gifts not only in the area of healing physical injuries and illnesses, but even more. It is said that they can repair damage done to souls gradually, making them invaluable allies against fae and wraiths. The older and more powerful the healer, the more quickly and more fully this damage is repaired. Many mages do not, in fact, know they are healers, instead believing themselves just to be light magic-wielding mages. They often cannot manipulate their powers in these cases, and will instead simply give off an aura of healing that affects all those around them, but never is consciously focused on the repair of any one specific person. It is not until they become aware of their gifts that they can use them to more precise effect.
Their kind are often a dreamy, detached sort, with greater sensitivity to malicious spirits. Some have an affinity for the spiritual world and can communicate with departed souls, or see brief visions of the future. Meditation helps them even more than mages and Dreamers, and can center them and help them grow in awareness of their powers. Happiness and calm are aids in their healing. The stronger healers are a powerful deterrent against malicious spiritual predators.
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-Fae are soulless beings made of flesh and magic that feed upon life energy to sustain their forms and powers. They reside solely in Gaia’s personal realm, the Realm of Life, separate from the material realm of the living where humans exist. None but Gaia herself have seen these fae, but they are known through stories and legends in many cultures.
The fae are said to have sprung forth from the sheer abundance of life-giving magic in Gaia’s realm, well before the birth of humankind. They may wield many kinds of magic without specialization, and seem to possess boundless potential to learn to use more. Some serve as guardians to an Astral River that flows through their pristine, idyllic home realm. They regard Gaia as their mother and the reason for their existence, but have few apparent emotions or morals otherwise. This is not to say that they are evil--but rather, they do not understand right or wrong in the way humans do. Both concepts are foreign constructs to them. They live without conflict in their realm, flying on beautiful wings and absorbing more energy to sustain themselves, even as they release other positive energies into the realm in return. They are believed to be immortal.
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Spirits: While not a race of their own, Spirits are the souls of particularly magically-gifted humans who have passed on, and have the duty of governing the balance of the various kinds of magic in the world. Each type (such as light, water, fire, etc.) has its own singular Spirit. The first two original Spirits, Gaia, the Spirit of Life, and Morticus, the Spirit of Death, were the first two living beings left to care for the planet by the gods who created the world. Other Spirits have come and gone in the following millennia.
(More details to come, I'm just lazy/busy and there is a LOT of info to compile from over the years on this particular group)
Showing posts with label earth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label earth. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
ZU-present -- Lessons from Forklore: draft
The gypsies say the world began with a woman who lived among the trees, and followed the messages of the stars. Her name was the name of the Earth, and she was the first life, sister of the planet. Her hair was the color of the golden leaves in the canopy that mingled with the sky. Her eyes were the green of the grass that cradled her steps upon the earth. Where she went, buds blossomed up from her path, and these buds grew to become flowers, then saplings, and then more trees for her home. This was the Forest of Birth. It was the beginning of nature.
Next there was a man, not long after the woman first appeared on the Earth. His name was something never before heard of, but oft repeated afterward. His hair was the dark of a deep crater that had never seen the light. His eyes seemed to engulf light itself, showing nothing but blackness. Where he went, things grew older and shriveled and fell to the earth. They were ground until they became nothing but dirt themselves, and their nutrients fed the living plants. He loved the woman, and together they lived for a long time, knowing nothing else but their young world. But the man grew old when the woman did not. And then, like the plants, he withered away. But he did not become part of a new life. He was a Spirit. This was the beginning of death.
Before the man had died, he and the woman had given birth to a child. This child aged as his father did, but never died. He could return to his earlier forms if he wished, or change into his more withered ones. There was a progression. He was the creation of time.
Time went on, but these three would always look to the stars for messages from those that created the earth. The gypsies still look to the stars. But much else is different. Completely different. The Forest of Birth is nothing but a folk myth now. And death and time are anything but new. I didn’t know all of these stories when a certain bud was planted in the rubble of a limestone cavern in the second hottest desert of my home country of Rubato, the Ceguera que Quema (“The Blindness that Burns”—do we know how to name things for tourists, or what?) in the 21st century, CE. But I did know that plant was going to be possibly the most important factor in Rubato’s future, and maybe even that of my world. Gaia is the woman of the myth. And when she plants golden buds for you to take care of, you’d damn well better take notice.
Now, you’d think a bud that is a potential fountain of life energy would be self-watering, but this one apparently still needs a little help to get a drink. And until they invent the extension cord long enough for me to set up a sprinkler system out there, somehow this task has fallen to me. There was no ceremony, or fancy title, or bestowing of an ulra-special, super-important watering chalice or something. Just the knowledge that if I cared at all about my homeland’s future… I was gonna see to it that this thing was taken care of. Every single day. I got the sense that it wasn’t just the water this bud needed; human care was a big part of it. And human selflessness. Devotion. Because contained within that single bud was nectar capable of restoring a life, of healing any disease, any injury, of bringing back anyone from the brink of death. It was unspeakably precious, beyond measurable value. And it was right at your fingertips—all you had to do to possess that nectar was simply pluck the bud from the ground, and that was that. But once it was used once, it was gone, and gone for good. You had to use all of the nectar to achieve the effect, and after it was gone, the bud would die. There would be no sapling. No tree. No forest. If you wanted to regenerate the land, you had to wait, and deny temptation, and care for the plant until it grew into the golden forest just like the myth. Then it would become the Forest of Renewal.
I’m a selfish woman by nature. I’m pretty damn sure Gaia leaving this task for me to take or leave on my own choice was a test. Just as raising this bud or plucking it is a test. Just as coming out to the bloody desert every single day, or at least finding someone else trustworthy enough to do so, is a test. A continuous test, almost like a habit, or a ritual, that runs you down and tests your dedication every single time. A wear on your patience. Denial of gratification. Every single day, you go out there, thinking, “isn’t this enough? When is this thing going to grow? Would it really be so bad if I plucked it now? Is it enough time?” and every single time, you find yourself wondering how many more days you can bear making the trek out there, just to water one stupid plant. How don’t birds eat it? Isn’t she testing animals too? Seems wrong that it’s just us humans that are being called out.
Next there was a man, not long after the woman first appeared on the Earth. His name was something never before heard of, but oft repeated afterward. His hair was the dark of a deep crater that had never seen the light. His eyes seemed to engulf light itself, showing nothing but blackness. Where he went, things grew older and shriveled and fell to the earth. They were ground until they became nothing but dirt themselves, and their nutrients fed the living plants. He loved the woman, and together they lived for a long time, knowing nothing else but their young world. But the man grew old when the woman did not. And then, like the plants, he withered away. But he did not become part of a new life. He was a Spirit. This was the beginning of death.
Before the man had died, he and the woman had given birth to a child. This child aged as his father did, but never died. He could return to his earlier forms if he wished, or change into his more withered ones. There was a progression. He was the creation of time.
Time went on, but these three would always look to the stars for messages from those that created the earth. The gypsies still look to the stars. But much else is different. Completely different. The Forest of Birth is nothing but a folk myth now. And death and time are anything but new. I didn’t know all of these stories when a certain bud was planted in the rubble of a limestone cavern in the second hottest desert of my home country of Rubato, the Ceguera que Quema (“The Blindness that Burns”—do we know how to name things for tourists, or what?) in the 21st century, CE. But I did know that plant was going to be possibly the most important factor in Rubato’s future, and maybe even that of my world. Gaia is the woman of the myth. And when she plants golden buds for you to take care of, you’d damn well better take notice.
Now, you’d think a bud that is a potential fountain of life energy would be self-watering, but this one apparently still needs a little help to get a drink. And until they invent the extension cord long enough for me to set up a sprinkler system out there, somehow this task has fallen to me. There was no ceremony, or fancy title, or bestowing of an ulra-special, super-important watering chalice or something. Just the knowledge that if I cared at all about my homeland’s future… I was gonna see to it that this thing was taken care of. Every single day. I got the sense that it wasn’t just the water this bud needed; human care was a big part of it. And human selflessness. Devotion. Because contained within that single bud was nectar capable of restoring a life, of healing any disease, any injury, of bringing back anyone from the brink of death. It was unspeakably precious, beyond measurable value. And it was right at your fingertips—all you had to do to possess that nectar was simply pluck the bud from the ground, and that was that. But once it was used once, it was gone, and gone for good. You had to use all of the nectar to achieve the effect, and after it was gone, the bud would die. There would be no sapling. No tree. No forest. If you wanted to regenerate the land, you had to wait, and deny temptation, and care for the plant until it grew into the golden forest just like the myth. Then it would become the Forest of Renewal.
I’m a selfish woman by nature. I’m pretty damn sure Gaia leaving this task for me to take or leave on my own choice was a test. Just as raising this bud or plucking it is a test. Just as coming out to the bloody desert every single day, or at least finding someone else trustworthy enough to do so, is a test. A continuous test, almost like a habit, or a ritual, that runs you down and tests your dedication every single time. A wear on your patience. Denial of gratification. Every single day, you go out there, thinking, “isn’t this enough? When is this thing going to grow? Would it really be so bad if I plucked it now? Is it enough time?” and every single time, you find yourself wondering how many more days you can bear making the trek out there, just to water one stupid plant. How don’t birds eat it? Isn’t she testing animals too? Seems wrong that it’s just us humans that are being called out.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Spirits History
[QUOTE=Sturs](what are these Spirits of which you speak?)[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE=Me]There's a lot to this answer so I may forget something/leave something out, I hope I can be [I]sorta[/I] concise but get the main idea across. x3 Remember, you asked for this. You poor soul. :P
The story goes that the world Earth (or "Gaia", just for our purposes of remembering it's an alternate one) was created by that universe's gods. Then they left their new creation with a system intact to ensure the balance of magic that filled the world--the Spirits. Namely, the first two beings who would become "Spirits", which are the deceased (more or less) human souls who had possessed enough power or enough of an affinity for a certain type of magic (say for example, fire) in life to be eligible to help control the balance of that type of magic after their passing. (Only three Spirits did not have to "die", those I will mention later.)
The first being created by the gods on this new earth was [B]Gaia[/B], who later on is often known as "the Mother", "the Mother of All", and so on. She, being the first being ever to live on this planet, became the Spirit of Life, and controlled life magic on the earth. All living things have at least a little bit of life magic in them. She made flora and fauna flourish and was to live eternally. She usually appears as an ethereally beautiful, almost elfish woman of indeterminate age, very tall, gentle and motherly, with white-blond hair with slight hints of greens and blues, green robes, and fair skin, and always wears a firefly pendant, her own personal symbol. She loves the creature for the radiance it brings to the world in its short life. She may also appear as an old, wise woman, also with the pendant, or a firefly when wanting to be at her most discreet. She has brilliant, lively green eyes that seem to peer deep into a viewer, but also soothe, creating sometimes a strange sensation--no Spirit (like in Discworld with their gods) can hide the true nature of their eyes.
The real world is one of her realms, as is a paradise-like place where fairies live, her own personal sanctuary when not on the mortal world. The Spirits seldom appear in person to handle mortal affairs, preferring more indirect and impersonal means for the most part. "Good" souls do not go to her paradise, but rather the Realm of Dreams, a joint haven looked out after by the Spirits of Life, Sleep, and Death together.
The second being ever to live, the last one the gods themselves created before they left, was [B]Morticus[/B]. He was Gaia's mate, and together they were parents to Chrono, a son. Morticus was the first being to die, and became the Spirit of Death, the Reaper. While a dark-skinned, somewhat elfish human to begin with, over time he would become more and more like the image of death itself, a skeletal specter. The longer one's soul is a Spirit, the more they become like the personification of their element (which often has some really sad results if others remember what they once were like as humans.) His eyes are coal black, almost lifeless.
Morticus and Gaia often disagreed and quarreled over souls, Gaia hating for her "children", as she thought of them as, to die, and Morticus insisting that it was a natural part of life and that all must go. They work together more peacefully as time goes on, but they always have that fundamental disagreement. His realm is a bleak place, his own personal sanctum. "Bad" souls do not go to his realm, but rather the Netherworld, a hellish, dark place, deathly cold, filled with torturous terrain and seas of bubbling acid and spikes. The gates are guarded by two Spirits at all times, currently Water and Fire (for punishment for their in-fighting and arguing. x3)
Their son, [B]Chrono[/B], as the offspring of Life and Death, becomes the Spirit of Time, and therefore exists outside of it, able to pass between ages as he pleases. He is the Keeper of Hourglasses, the measure of how much time on earth a soul has left, and keeps these hourglasses in his realm outside the passage of time (whee, more Discworld influences!) He most often appears as an ancient, wizened man with a long white beard, hair, and robes, and eyebrows that cover his oft-closed eyes. His eyes are a patient grayish hazel.
After these three, more Spirits were chosen as the need arose. As man as we know him began to hunt, one of these humans, Leo Troy, would become the Spirit of [B]Strength[/B]. The vitality he possessed as a result of his strength magic allowed him to live with nigh-immortality. His whereabouts at present are unknown to even the Spirits, as after a falling out with them, he took off to live among mortals for good, never to return to their realms. (More of this will be revealed on ZU later.) His eyes are a strong, warm brown.
The next prominent Spirit (probably the last I'll mention in detail) was chosen as a young boy, when man was first becoming civilized, long back in early civilizations before this world's closest equivalent to Rome (Remula.) His name was Ernesto Vertimiglia, and he was framed at the age of twelve for his father's murder, and convicted unjustly. The boy was the only one who could see the truth in the crisis. After he was executed, he was found to become the Spirit of [B]Justice[/B], and later grew into a strong, just, wise man who would judge the souls of the departed. In his realm, he reviews the lives of each deceased human, and ultimately makes the choice of whether they go to the Realm of Dreams or the Netherworld. His symbol are the scales of justice. His eyes are a earnest, intelligent hazel-brown.
Other Spirits to follow would also become very important in the world's functioning and history, many becoming the namesake for countries or continents altogether, (like the Spirit of Earth, Tierra Cordelius, who gives her name to the continents of South and North Cordelia, and who is one of the key ancestors of the many of the gypsy tribes), or ending disasters (such as Ivana Petrova, the Spirit of Ice, whose ascension prevented a possible Ice Age when the former Ice was weakened.) It is possible for Spirits to be replaced if they are weakened and wish for rest, but it happens [I]very[/I] rarely.
The gypsies of the world (largely settled now in Rubato but clinging to other traditions of their identity), as well as other magical groups (like the monks of Zhenghe), have created rules for their own communities in following with principles handed down by former Spirits to govern their use of magic. One of these is to not amass more spells than one can reasonably control (often two or three), especially if these spells are offensive skills. Those with more practical, everyday uses (like say a simple, small healing spell) are more leniently looked upon. If a mage from this earth goes outside their world, like via the Dome, they are like a magnet to magic of their kind, very attractive to the energies. A water magic-user, therefore, would attract otherworldly water magic energy to themselves, and possibly become more powerful if they can wield it. Not all magic users are created equal. "Enchanters" are considered to be the more capable and powerful human spellcasters. They are often frowned upon by many, seen as being greedy for power. The strongest mage in any one magic-practicing country (it is more mainstream/common in some countries more than others), is often the Royal Mage/Imperial Mage/National Mage (or whatever title they may give.)
Collecting too much magical power draws away that energy from other places in the world (like how water has been drawn away from Rubato, but there is also another reason to add to that one) and may cause shortages or natural crises, and also can weaken a Spirit's ability to prevent these problems, if one's influence becomes greater and greater (possibly even greater than the Spirit's.) Hence why Cadenza gets in such deep doo-doo when she goes to the Dome and starts attracting shadow power unawares, and gains too many spells during her quest for personal and familial revenge and emancipation during her early plots. The Spirit of Shadow seeks to... neutralize her. x33 Things go bad from there on.
(As mentioned before, Solomon "Sol" Rubaton, namesake for Rubato, and Spirit of Fire had a falling out with his constant bickering partner, Marina Aque, Spirit of Water. Because Marina saw Rubato as Sol's favored lands, she treats the place largely with disfavor. They are not above being petty like that. x3 Which makes the Spirits fun. They can be awfully human and flawed for governing magical beings.)
Piccy: [url=http://superaiko.deviantart.com/art/ZUBA-Spirits-of-Earth-174138592]ZUBA: Spirits of Earth by ~SuperAiko on deviantART[/url][/QUOTE]
Wheeee, infodump!
[QUOTE=Me]There's a lot to this answer so I may forget something/leave something out, I hope I can be [I]sorta[/I] concise but get the main idea across. x3 Remember, you asked for this. You poor soul. :P
The story goes that the world Earth (or "Gaia", just for our purposes of remembering it's an alternate one) was created by that universe's gods. Then they left their new creation with a system intact to ensure the balance of magic that filled the world--the Spirits. Namely, the first two beings who would become "Spirits", which are the deceased (more or less) human souls who had possessed enough power or enough of an affinity for a certain type of magic (say for example, fire) in life to be eligible to help control the balance of that type of magic after their passing. (Only three Spirits did not have to "die", those I will mention later.)
The first being created by the gods on this new earth was [B]Gaia[/B], who later on is often known as "the Mother", "the Mother of All", and so on. She, being the first being ever to live on this planet, became the Spirit of Life, and controlled life magic on the earth. All living things have at least a little bit of life magic in them. She made flora and fauna flourish and was to live eternally. She usually appears as an ethereally beautiful, almost elfish woman of indeterminate age, very tall, gentle and motherly, with white-blond hair with slight hints of greens and blues, green robes, and fair skin, and always wears a firefly pendant, her own personal symbol. She loves the creature for the radiance it brings to the world in its short life. She may also appear as an old, wise woman, also with the pendant, or a firefly when wanting to be at her most discreet. She has brilliant, lively green eyes that seem to peer deep into a viewer, but also soothe, creating sometimes a strange sensation--no Spirit (like in Discworld with their gods) can hide the true nature of their eyes.
The real world is one of her realms, as is a paradise-like place where fairies live, her own personal sanctuary when not on the mortal world. The Spirits seldom appear in person to handle mortal affairs, preferring more indirect and impersonal means for the most part. "Good" souls do not go to her paradise, but rather the Realm of Dreams, a joint haven looked out after by the Spirits of Life, Sleep, and Death together.
The second being ever to live, the last one the gods themselves created before they left, was [B]Morticus[/B]. He was Gaia's mate, and together they were parents to Chrono, a son. Morticus was the first being to die, and became the Spirit of Death, the Reaper. While a dark-skinned, somewhat elfish human to begin with, over time he would become more and more like the image of death itself, a skeletal specter. The longer one's soul is a Spirit, the more they become like the personification of their element (which often has some really sad results if others remember what they once were like as humans.) His eyes are coal black, almost lifeless.
Morticus and Gaia often disagreed and quarreled over souls, Gaia hating for her "children", as she thought of them as, to die, and Morticus insisting that it was a natural part of life and that all must go. They work together more peacefully as time goes on, but they always have that fundamental disagreement. His realm is a bleak place, his own personal sanctum. "Bad" souls do not go to his realm, but rather the Netherworld, a hellish, dark place, deathly cold, filled with torturous terrain and seas of bubbling acid and spikes. The gates are guarded by two Spirits at all times, currently Water and Fire (for punishment for their in-fighting and arguing. x3)
Their son, [B]Chrono[/B], as the offspring of Life and Death, becomes the Spirit of Time, and therefore exists outside of it, able to pass between ages as he pleases. He is the Keeper of Hourglasses, the measure of how much time on earth a soul has left, and keeps these hourglasses in his realm outside the passage of time (whee, more Discworld influences!) He most often appears as an ancient, wizened man with a long white beard, hair, and robes, and eyebrows that cover his oft-closed eyes. His eyes are a patient grayish hazel.
After these three, more Spirits were chosen as the need arose. As man as we know him began to hunt, one of these humans, Leo Troy, would become the Spirit of [B]Strength[/B]. The vitality he possessed as a result of his strength magic allowed him to live with nigh-immortality. His whereabouts at present are unknown to even the Spirits, as after a falling out with them, he took off to live among mortals for good, never to return to their realms. (More of this will be revealed on ZU later.) His eyes are a strong, warm brown.
The next prominent Spirit (probably the last I'll mention in detail) was chosen as a young boy, when man was first becoming civilized, long back in early civilizations before this world's closest equivalent to Rome (Remula.) His name was Ernesto Vertimiglia, and he was framed at the age of twelve for his father's murder, and convicted unjustly. The boy was the only one who could see the truth in the crisis. After he was executed, he was found to become the Spirit of [B]Justice[/B], and later grew into a strong, just, wise man who would judge the souls of the departed. In his realm, he reviews the lives of each deceased human, and ultimately makes the choice of whether they go to the Realm of Dreams or the Netherworld. His symbol are the scales of justice. His eyes are a earnest, intelligent hazel-brown.
Other Spirits to follow would also become very important in the world's functioning and history, many becoming the namesake for countries or continents altogether, (like the Spirit of Earth, Tierra Cordelius, who gives her name to the continents of South and North Cordelia, and who is one of the key ancestors of the many of the gypsy tribes), or ending disasters (such as Ivana Petrova, the Spirit of Ice, whose ascension prevented a possible Ice Age when the former Ice was weakened.) It is possible for Spirits to be replaced if they are weakened and wish for rest, but it happens [I]very[/I] rarely.
The gypsies of the world (largely settled now in Rubato but clinging to other traditions of their identity), as well as other magical groups (like the monks of Zhenghe), have created rules for their own communities in following with principles handed down by former Spirits to govern their use of magic. One of these is to not amass more spells than one can reasonably control (often two or three), especially if these spells are offensive skills. Those with more practical, everyday uses (like say a simple, small healing spell) are more leniently looked upon. If a mage from this earth goes outside their world, like via the Dome, they are like a magnet to magic of their kind, very attractive to the energies. A water magic-user, therefore, would attract otherworldly water magic energy to themselves, and possibly become more powerful if they can wield it. Not all magic users are created equal. "Enchanters" are considered to be the more capable and powerful human spellcasters. They are often frowned upon by many, seen as being greedy for power. The strongest mage in any one magic-practicing country (it is more mainstream/common in some countries more than others), is often the Royal Mage/Imperial Mage/National Mage (or whatever title they may give.)
Collecting too much magical power draws away that energy from other places in the world (like how water has been drawn away from Rubato, but there is also another reason to add to that one) and may cause shortages or natural crises, and also can weaken a Spirit's ability to prevent these problems, if one's influence becomes greater and greater (possibly even greater than the Spirit's.) Hence why Cadenza gets in such deep doo-doo when she goes to the Dome and starts attracting shadow power unawares, and gains too many spells during her quest for personal and familial revenge and emancipation during her early plots. The Spirit of Shadow seeks to... neutralize her. x33 Things go bad from there on.
(As mentioned before, Solomon "Sol" Rubaton, namesake for Rubato, and Spirit of Fire had a falling out with his constant bickering partner, Marina Aque, Spirit of Water. Because Marina saw Rubato as Sol's favored lands, she treats the place largely with disfavor. They are not above being petty like that. x3 Which makes the Spirits fun. They can be awfully human and flawed for governing magical beings.)
Piccy: [url=http://superaiko.deviantart.com/art/ZUBA-Spirits-of-Earth-174138592]ZUBA: Spirits of Earth by ~SuperAiko on deviantART[/url][/QUOTE]
Wheeee, infodump!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Short Story Teaser: The Gypsy Purge of Airopa
Cadenza opened the dusty, old mauve book, the diary from Carla's great grandmother, Lupe, and there was a clipping on the very first page...
"Sociological Research of Subject 'Gypsies' - Kingsborough University of Behavioral Sciences"
"...They are a superstitious, subhuman culture, with many strange and unreasonable ways. They do not raise livestock, nor grow crops. They have no doctors; instead, they believe "magic" can cure them. They do not have weapons; they believe, also, that "magic" can protect them. They claim not to reject science, but seem to think they can defy the laws of it. They do not trade their gold, but rather hoard it away from generation to generation and display it garishly on their brides. They are akin to witches, and have many scrolls of "spells" and odd talismans they believe to possess power. They travel from place to place, infecting it with their "traditions" and selling their beads and other worthless trinkets of illogical belief. They speak of "Spirits", and renounce any ideas of Heaven or Hell. They idle away their days and nights in dance and song and strange rituals, only further spreading the plague of their superstitions by having more and more children. They are a pox on this land. We must rid ourselves of them, as other great civilizations have done of their burdensome groups in the past...."
"--Friedrick Samuel Taylor, of Kingsborough, Rochester, 12 May 1750"
"Sociological Research of Subject 'Gypsies' - Kingsborough University of Behavioral Sciences"
"...They are a superstitious, subhuman culture, with many strange and unreasonable ways. They do not raise livestock, nor grow crops. They have no doctors; instead, they believe "magic" can cure them. They do not have weapons; they believe, also, that "magic" can protect them. They claim not to reject science, but seem to think they can defy the laws of it. They do not trade their gold, but rather hoard it away from generation to generation and display it garishly on their brides. They are akin to witches, and have many scrolls of "spells" and odd talismans they believe to possess power. They travel from place to place, infecting it with their "traditions" and selling their beads and other worthless trinkets of illogical belief. They speak of "Spirits", and renounce any ideas of Heaven or Hell. They idle away their days and nights in dance and song and strange rituals, only further spreading the plague of their superstitions by having more and more children. They are a pox on this land. We must rid ourselves of them, as other great civilizations have done of their burdensome groups in the past...."
"--Friedrick Samuel Taylor, of Kingsborough, Rochester, 12 May 1750"
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Short Story: Drag Race in Gardenia
The engines purred like feral cats on the Vincenzo Andretti strip, the single longest straight road in all of the great racing city of Perugia. A large crowd had gathered for the race gossiped about that day, between a Gardenian woman and two foreigners, a Rubatoian gypsy and a Castillian man who refused to tell anything but his nationality. The Gardenian already had many hometown fans, but a sullen, serious-looking group with great interest in the race was also present at the starting line. There was some rumors that some of these men were Peruginos, members of the local mafia, who had interests deeper than just spectating at this race today. Murmurs of a crime boss did not fall on deaf ears, and there was some suspicion as to how the Castillian man had gotten his vintage, but heavily customized Aston Martin for this informal event.
Down the line, there was the Rubatoian's cool blue Maserati, and a fiery red Ferrari driven by the equally fiery Gardenian woman with the auburn locks and athletic build. Everyone's eyes were trained on the tall, skinny man with the checkered flag, who the Rubatoian had mentally nicknamed "flagpole", as he came out to wave them off--that was, all except the Gardenian's. She was distracted by the Peruginos, distracted by the funny ways they stood, the lumpy shapes in their leather jackets, the whispering amongst the men. Her eyes blazed at them, didn't leave them even when the flag was dropped.
The Rubatoian might have called out to her to go, but she'd never been a big believer in "fair play". Keep your eyes on the prize, she thought, and she slammed down on the pedal. The azure Maserati shot forward like a bullet, and into the lead.
Behind, the black Aston Martin like a charging bull was keeping a decent pace, but the man at the controls didn't have the deft handling of a true drag-racer, and that was becoming clear. He could drive, you could give him that. Anyone could on a straight track. But the high speeds made his cheeks flap out like wings, quivering and pulling back from his teeth, his hands sweated and slipped a little at times, and he could barely keep his eyes open in the glaring sun. He began to fall behind, fast, much to the displeasure of the onlooking Peruginos. Coming up behind him and gaining fast was the Gardenian in the Ferrari, pistons pumping and the pavement steaming faintly under her wheels. Far in the lead, the Maserati cruised, comfortable but still putting on speed. The driver seemed to just want a thrill.
The finish line was approaching fast. Already, the crowd seemed to know the result, grew quieter in their cheers for the Gardenian. Even as she passed the Aston Martin, there was no hope of catching that Maserati. It would be like trying to outrun someone by going in circles. And sure enough, only fractions of a second later, the flag was waved, and the Maserati had crossed the finish line. The Peruginos gathered into a huddle and then quickly broke apart, walking close on all sides. This was her chance--Vicky Vasquez burst out of her Ferrari and pointed her Beretta at the nearest of the men. He pretended to hold up his hands in fear, but another of his comrades drew a gun himself and aimed it at Vasquez's head. They were in a stand-off.
At that same time, the rest of the Peruginos drew their guns, and shot at the Maserati's tires until the vehicle was sitting on four smoking heaps of rubber. They drew up closer, preparing to shoot next through the windows, but when the first bullet breached glass, the Rubatoian had already disappeared.
Two blocks over, Cadenza Madrigal was complimenting herself on getting the rental insurance on the Maserati as she counted up her prize money. She hoped the dealership she was now returning to believed her story and didn't ask too many questions.
Down the line, there was the Rubatoian's cool blue Maserati, and a fiery red Ferrari driven by the equally fiery Gardenian woman with the auburn locks and athletic build. Everyone's eyes were trained on the tall, skinny man with the checkered flag, who the Rubatoian had mentally nicknamed "flagpole", as he came out to wave them off--that was, all except the Gardenian's. She was distracted by the Peruginos, distracted by the funny ways they stood, the lumpy shapes in their leather jackets, the whispering amongst the men. Her eyes blazed at them, didn't leave them even when the flag was dropped.
The Rubatoian might have called out to her to go, but she'd never been a big believer in "fair play". Keep your eyes on the prize, she thought, and she slammed down on the pedal. The azure Maserati shot forward like a bullet, and into the lead.
Behind, the black Aston Martin like a charging bull was keeping a decent pace, but the man at the controls didn't have the deft handling of a true drag-racer, and that was becoming clear. He could drive, you could give him that. Anyone could on a straight track. But the high speeds made his cheeks flap out like wings, quivering and pulling back from his teeth, his hands sweated and slipped a little at times, and he could barely keep his eyes open in the glaring sun. He began to fall behind, fast, much to the displeasure of the onlooking Peruginos. Coming up behind him and gaining fast was the Gardenian in the Ferrari, pistons pumping and the pavement steaming faintly under her wheels. Far in the lead, the Maserati cruised, comfortable but still putting on speed. The driver seemed to just want a thrill.
The finish line was approaching fast. Already, the crowd seemed to know the result, grew quieter in their cheers for the Gardenian. Even as she passed the Aston Martin, there was no hope of catching that Maserati. It would be like trying to outrun someone by going in circles. And sure enough, only fractions of a second later, the flag was waved, and the Maserati had crossed the finish line. The Peruginos gathered into a huddle and then quickly broke apart, walking close on all sides. This was her chance--Vicky Vasquez burst out of her Ferrari and pointed her Beretta at the nearest of the men. He pretended to hold up his hands in fear, but another of his comrades drew a gun himself and aimed it at Vasquez's head. They were in a stand-off.
At that same time, the rest of the Peruginos drew their guns, and shot at the Maserati's tires until the vehicle was sitting on four smoking heaps of rubber. They drew up closer, preparing to shoot next through the windows, but when the first bullet breached glass, the Rubatoian had already disappeared.
Two blocks over, Cadenza Madrigal was complimenting herself on getting the rental insurance on the Maserati as she counted up her prize money. She hoped the dealership she was now returning to believed her story and didn't ask too many questions.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
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