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fibonacci_reminderThis is my attempt to describe the low-level, tactile sense of my setting, Wormere, which I've described the magic system for previously here, for the purposes of aiding people acclimating to the setting, since it's where I plan to host a roleplay/glowfic/?something? titled "Messages of the New Master."
Working with the master has been both exhausting and exhilarating. She and her people appeared one day, more suddenly than you or anyone in your clan thought possible for a group of their size. There must have been a hundred families or more, all traveling together. The master was white-haired, like snow, but at the same she seemed youthful and strong. She propositioned your father to have your clan join her tribe, promising to bounty and safety in the riverine lands to the south. Your father was suspicious, but the lands of the south were bountiful, he had seen them with his own eyes to know that, so he figured there wasn't any harm in taking the herds that way.
It didn't take you long to notice how common metal tools were among the master's people. You'd only see a handful in your life at the time, and they'd all been green with decay. You asked around, and apparently the master had convinced a tribe of cave people from the north who were familiar with the earth and knew where to find metal and how to shape it finely to join with hers. You managed to trade some of your wine for a metal spear, and while it took you a while to get used to the weight, it was much less prone to getting stuck inside an animal or breaking on a bone.
The most miraculous thing you've witnessed in the master's wake was her healing. Your family had occasional contact with a clan of healers, and you will never begrudge them, but their work pales in comparison. The master's vis was so heavy in the air you could almost see it, like the rippling of the air over a bonfire. Normally, a healer only promises that their work will aid someone in healing. In the master's hands, a child's broken leg was set right again, before your very eyes. After that, you understood why some people in the tribe called the master a living goddess.
Eventually, the master found the lands she promised. Grass grew to the height of a man there, by the ranks of a great river, and on the horizon you could see massive standing stones. Your own family had raised a stone once, to commemorate the marriage of your grandfather and grandmother, but it was a small thing compared to these titans. Somehow, despite your own trepidation at the sight, you weren't surprised to see the master undaunted.
You've worked in the fields most of your life, after the master took over the city you had traveled to all those years ago. You are wizened now, with children and grandchildren, and yet the master is as if untouched by time. She visit your family still, as she does with all the many families she brought to these new lands. The work is hard, but the master ensures her people are stronger.
The plains, forests, and mountains all used to be well trod, in the time of your childhood. A clan might only need travel a few days to happen upon another's camp to make trade and talk. Not so anymore. The hills are quiet, and the woods are wild with animals that aren't afraid of men. Empty. That woman made her way through these lands and took almost everyone with her.
If she were simply leading her own tribe to cities of south, you would be disappointed, not hateful. The cities are a blight, but they are limited blight. They squat on the river, drinking their own piss and eating grass like cattle. They are only hurting themselves. But this woman, this unnatural creature, warped by her unnatural lifespan, draws her throngs to the cities, makes them overfull. The cityfolk are weak, no one of them is a match for a proper warrior, but even weaklings are dangerous in hordes, and the cities under that monster are like a bloated corpse, practically bursting. She hasn't stopped expanding her territory for a generation, and though few others see what she is doing, you have known her ways since you were a child.
You've walked many miles, sometimes alone, sometimes with strange clans. You've learned more languages than you've bothered to count. You are not freak, no healer and slayer like that woman, but you have the truth. The truth that she is a threat to everyone, to the world itself.
Working with the master has been both exhausting and exhilarating. She and her people appeared one day, more suddenly than you or anyone in your clan thought possible for a group of their size. There must have been a hundred families or more, all traveling together. The master was white-haired, like snow, but at the same she seemed youthful and strong. She propositioned your father to have your clan join her tribe, promising to bounty and safety in the riverine lands to the south. Your father was suspicious, but the lands of the south were bountiful, he had seen them with his own eyes to know that, so he figured there wasn't any harm in taking the herds that way.
It didn't take you long to notice how common metal tools were among the master's people. You'd only see a handful in your life at the time, and they'd all been green with decay. You asked around, and apparently the master had convinced a tribe of cave people from the north who were familiar with the earth and knew where to find metal and how to shape it finely to join with hers. You managed to trade some of your wine for a metal spear, and while it took you a while to get used to the weight, it was much less prone to getting stuck inside an animal or breaking on a bone.
The most miraculous thing you've witnessed in the master's wake was her healing. Your family had occasional contact with a clan of healers, and you will never begrudge them, but their work pales in comparison. The master's vis was so heavy in the air you could almost see it, like the rippling of the air over a bonfire. Normally, a healer only promises that their work will aid someone in healing. In the master's hands, a child's broken leg was set right again, before your very eyes. After that, you understood why some people in the tribe called the master a living goddess.
Eventually, the master found the lands she promised. Grass grew to the height of a man there, by the ranks of a great river, and on the horizon you could see massive standing stones. Your own family had raised a stone once, to commemorate the marriage of your grandfather and grandmother, but it was a small thing compared to these titans. Somehow, despite your own trepidation at the sight, you weren't surprised to see the master undaunted.
You've worked in the fields most of your life, after the master took over the city you had traveled to all those years ago. You are wizened now, with children and grandchildren, and yet the master is as if untouched by time. She visit your family still, as she does with all the many families she brought to these new lands. The work is hard, but the master ensures her people are stronger.
The plains, forests, and mountains all used to be well trod, in the time of your childhood. A clan might only need travel a few days to happen upon another's camp to make trade and talk. Not so anymore. The hills are quiet, and the woods are wild with animals that aren't afraid of men. Empty. That woman made her way through these lands and took almost everyone with her.
If she were simply leading her own tribe to cities of south, you would be disappointed, not hateful. The cities are a blight, but they are limited blight. They squat on the river, drinking their own piss and eating grass like cattle. They are only hurting themselves. But this woman, this unnatural creature, warped by her unnatural lifespan, draws her throngs to the cities, makes them overfull. The cityfolk are weak, no one of them is a match for a proper warrior, but even weaklings are dangerous in hordes, and the cities under that monster are like a bloated corpse, practically bursting. She hasn't stopped expanding her territory for a generation, and though few others see what she is doing, you have known her ways since you were a child.
You've walked many miles, sometimes alone, sometimes with strange clans. You've learned more languages than you've bothered to count. You are not freak, no healer and slayer like that woman, but you have the truth. The truth that she is a threat to everyone, to the world itself.
