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Magic Affinities
For this week’s Campfire I thought we could explore the “Magic Affinities” of the six guilds together. The Affinities are the spells that members of that guild may have a knack for. For example, those in Balimora are meant to be proficient in:
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Weathermancy
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Uproot
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Faulton Fray’s Decay
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Charm and Deception
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Mend
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Bestiary Arts
Pick one of the spells listed on any of the guild’s pages and expand on it, explore it, tell us more about it, or show us, with written word or any other medium you feel drawn to.
I can’t wait to see what you come up with.
Listed below are the six guild pages from the Guide.
http://magiq.guide/weatherwatch
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200 Replies
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The Reluctant Balimora
Looking out from his apartment with a view of the Commons to die for, Johnathan Martin despised nature. That’s the simple description of their relationship anyway. Johnathan was actually pretty sure nature despised him as well. His father had worked in lumber, first in the field and then an office job. That was until the protestors and the politicians took away his family’s livelihood. They were forced to move from their wild, overgrown acre in New Hampshire into Boston to find factory work in Southie when he was just eight years old.
Not that Johnathan had fond memories of the time when they lived in the country. The property was a mess, trees grew with a mind of their own it seemed. He’d often find his favorite wagon or his bike overgrown. He was constantly stung and bit by insects. His father was always swearing and cursing about taking his saw to all the trees in the yard. The only reason the trees survived is that every time he picked a day for the deforestation it always seemed to be a downpour.
In high school, like many kids he had his cause. He actually protested several times against natural expansions in his city. When the Boston Common was due for major renovation he was one of six people out there with signs demanding they ‘pave it all down’. Surely tax money would be better spent on other things? Keep the greens where it belonged, that was his motto.
His early days protesting actually had a big impact on his life. It was there he met his wife… ex-wife… he has to remind himself. After college getting his degree in Business Administration from BU they got married. Even then he should have known it wouldn’t have worked. There were always little hints she wasn’t that into him.
Shear force of will to make the ideal marriage hadn’t worked. And of course, nature itself had to try to ruin it. Their second date they were trapped in a T when the station flooded. The day he proposed to her they had to do it in an alley way in one hundred degree temperature behind the Chinese restaurant because the place was so crowded with people trying to get into AC to escape the heat wave that they couldn’t hear themselves think. Johnathan’s nose winced reflexively at the thought of dumpsters on a hundred degree day. Some memories do not go away. And of course the day they picked for their wedding was the great 2011 October Nor’easter. They trudged through eighteen inches of snow make their vows but Johnathan wasn’t going to let the world tell him what he could and couldn’t do. No sir. But maybe, just a tiny bit, in quiet moments like this before he heads off to work he thinks, maybe he should have taken the hint.
Johnathan pulled his hoodie over his head and drew the drawstring tight. He figured he’d work on the roof for a bit before going into the office. After the divorce his work kept him busy. His buddies from his protest days were in politics now. They got him a cushy gig in government. It paid the bills and kept him in his well-appointed apartment in the city and he never had to leave town very often, sending his few underlings to do field work when it needed to be done. They made him Massachusetts Undersecretary of Agriculture if you could believe that. Fortunately he was good at the job, or at least lucky. Record crops in each of the last three years kept them so busy there was hardly time for anything else.
Johnathan opened the door to his apartment’s roof and looked out over it. Dozens of rows of plants lined the ground, tomatoes, herbs, flowers, even sweet corn grew up here. “His initiative” (Johnathan always had to make air quotes around those words when he said it. He’s pretty sure he made this suggestion to his boss during the Christmas office party when he was drunk off his gourd and barely remembers it) to start a rooftop garden project in the city meant he had to be the example. Fortunately it was all pretty easy. He didn’t have to do a lot of weeding. He never had to lug around heavy fertilizer. Everything just grew on it’s own and people have told him they rarely see fruits and vegetables as large as he grows, even in the country.
As he tended and coaxed his smaller corn stalks to grow a bit taller, he remarked out loud to no one in particular that it would rain later today and that would help. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but he knew it would anyway. Finishing up and wiping the dirt off his hands he looked out at a dozen other rooftops nearby each with their own flourishing gardens. “This is so much better than nature”, he said.
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Thank you Robert. This is great. I love it. So clever the way the magic is happening all around him – the thing he hates is the thing he’s creating. Brilliant stuff.
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Amazing work Robert!
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Well thank you. I’m pretty incapable of independent creative thought, but once in a while someone says or does something that triggers an idea in my head and if I don’t write it down I obsess over it til I do. Your suggestion gave me an idea. I figured this was best to get out right away.
I like the idea that not everyone picks a life of magic. I also like the idea of him and nature looking out for each other, even if his logical mind thinks they can’t stand one another. Nature is bigger than individual ideas of what it should be, after all.
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It’s a great duality
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I’m thinking on what Grim’s Convergance does. Or Combat Magic. Both of these seem interesting in my guild’s list.
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@grimangel53, seems you were born to explore Grim’s Convergence.
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ha ha Endri.
I’ll probably do that, but Im not sure where it comes into play, given what the Ebenguard do.
I guess I’ll have to think about it within myself.
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Definitely – really excited to see what you create
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It took me a good minute to do, but… I made it! I chose Peering Arts
This is what I interpreted the ability as, but if any other Thornmouths saw it as something else, don’t hesitate!Peering Arts.pdf (288.8 KB)
I’m not really sure how to go about uploading pdf’s to here, so if that’s broken/doesn’t work, I’ll figure out some other means of showing it.
I also had a dream last night about how I wrote something called “Thornmouth” as a child, and I was reading it. It was really weird. Aaaaaaanyways, enjoy! My writing skills aren’t very good, in fact they are much worse than my drawing skills, so… Sorry?
Oh, and bonus points to anyone who knows what book series the little excerpt in my drawing is from!
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@TheBellsAreRinging this is just great. I loved it. Thanks for sharing. And I disagree – I think your writing skills are wonderful. I love the concept too – of seeing what is beneath. It reminds me of the Greek myth of Cassandra, doomed to see the future but cursed so no one would believe her. Keep it up
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I’m really lazy, so here’s a Weathermancy haiku.
Hot dry clear white sky
Dark pressure building within…
Clouds drift from the north
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Short and sweet is all good @Leigha – thanks for sharing, it’s great
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I think I’ve got something for mine
As an Ebenguard, I chose to explore Grim’s Convergence
Here is something that came from my mind whilst pondering that Magic,
Enjoy.
Balance in All Things.
Adam Coltane always knew when things would come together. Adam knew, in one moment, the chain of events that would lead to a great deal of things. He had always known. He knew when his father would die, and when his sister would be born. He knew when his step-father would begin his tyranny, and when they would be free. Adam had always known the outcome of different things. Even when he wasn’t aware of it, he still instinctively knew when an outcome could be avoided.
As he got older, he grew more aware of this knowledge. He’d hear it in whispers, and in flashes of vision during sleep. He would keep this knowledge to himself, while moving people out of danger with a quick word or gesture. He could hear the hum of order and balance in his soul, and sought to find that balance in the world. Adam did whatever he could to help others and bring them in line with that order. Always quick to move someone off a path to their early destruction, he wore a happy smile while bearing this burden of grim knowledge. Every time someone was saved from pain, he knew it to be right, his very soul hummed with satisfaction in knowing he had done the right thing.
This knowledge came at a cost. While he was able to move others to paths away from disaster, he was unable to do so for himself. He saw his father’s death in a vision, knew what would lead him to that conclusion, and try as he might to warn him, it was absolute. His father died, in the exact circumstance he had seen. This taught him the rule of this gift and curse. Everything will eventually lead to one point, try as you might to change it or stop it, it will all lead to the end.
So he continues on. He travels around, moving through cities, pulling and pushing people into their correct places in the order of the world. Ever sunny, and ever focused, he is a light against the constant darkness of chaos and disorder. Even when he knows his end will come, he knows that he will continue to fight for what he can in this world.
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I love this idea – it’s all great @grimangel53 Thanks for sharing and keep it up
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I figure Grim’s Convergance has something to do with seeing a path toward an end, or just seeing that path. People move down their own paths, and those paths make up a structure and order in the world. Sometimes they need a little push in the right direction, to keep them in line with the world’s true order.
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So, this inspired me quite a bit, so I decided to try writing something for my own guild, the Ebenguard. Rather than focus on a single affinity, I was more interested in the way the different affinities would interact together, not only in using them separately to reach a whole, but I also thought that there would be special “side effects” that would allow combining different affinities to do things that they wouldn’t be able to do on their own. Anyway, see if you can spot them, and I hope you like it!
The Weak Warrior
Frederick had always wanted to be a fighter. There was something that drew him whenever he saw or read scenes of combat between masters of the martial arts, swordsmen clashing steels at midnight, or cowboys dueling at high noon. He wanted to do this, ever since he was a little kid. However, unlike other boys, this desire did not subside as he grew older, but strengthened. There was a single problem, though.
Frederick was, quite frankly, terrible at fighting.
Oh, of course, he’d never really had a chance to try it in the real world. However, he’d tried all sorts of combat sports, but dropped each after the year, noticing absolutely no improvement. His reflexes were too slow for fencing. He was unable to keep form for Karate or Tae Kwon-Do, incapable of throwing even a simple punch or kick. When he tried boxing, he ended up with a broken nose, as he was late to block every single blow, and when he tried Aikido, he hurt himself with every fall. Archery and marksmanship were out of the question; his pulse was so awful that he couldn’t hit even the closest targets. And yet, even after all the disappointments, he still kept going.
The teacher lifted the bokken, and shouted out “Migi-Men!” before lowering the weapon onto the top of Frederick’s head. Frederick lifted his own to stop the attack, but he was too slow, and it slammed on the right side of his helmet. They returned to the neutral stance, and the teacher shouted, “Hidari-Men!” He brought the weapon onto the left side of his helmet, and Frederick was too slow to stop it. Then, they returned to neutral position again, and, again, the teacher shouted “Migi-Men!” before, again, lowering the weapon onto the top of Frederick’s head. Again, Frederick lifted his own to stop the attack, but, again, he was too slow, and it slammed on the right side of his helmet again. The cycle continued for what seemed like forever, but the student didn’t seem to improve in the slightest. They continued until the class was over, while all around them, students were practising with their peers, and even those who had been there for just two months were already leaps and bounds ahead of him. When the class was over, and everyone was packing up, the teacher approached him and, laying a hand on his shoulder, said,
“Don’t worry. Everyone learns at different paces. If you keep practising, I’m sure you’ll eventually get ahead.”
Frederick smiled and nodded, but he knew what the man had said was false. He wouldn’t improve. It would be the same as it had been with all the other sports. He would never improve, and, at the end of the year, he’d leave the dojo, look for some other sport that he’d inevitably fail at. Still, he’d keep trying, all his life if he had to. He pondered on these thoughts as he put away the borrowed equipment and began the way home.
His musings were interrupted by a high-pitched scream.
Immediately, he ran towards the source of the scream. He turned a corner into an alleyway. A little child was in there, crying, held by a man in a suit who was bleeding from his side. A huge man stood threateningly in front of them, a knife in his hand. Without thinking, Frederick leaped onto the man’s back, grabbed him by the neck. The assaulter, however, was too strong, and easily shook him off. Frederick flew through the air and slammed against a wall, knocking the air out of him. As he regained his breath and tried to stand up, the man advanced, towering over him, and wound back his arm, preparing to stab him.
Then something weird happened. Frederick saw a strange blur, like an afterimage of the thug, except it somehow moved ahead of him. It attacked Frederick, and he raised his hand to try and grab its arm. He was, of course, too late.
However, he was perfectly timed to intercept the actual blow.
The man seemed shocked for a moment, and then tried to punch him with his free arm. The image moved ahead of him, however, and Frederick easily blocked the attack. Then his body moved on its own, twisting the man’s arm until he dropped the knife, then pushing him away. Frederick instinctively fell into a strange position, different from anything he’d practiced, but which seemed right somehow. The man turned around and, roaring charged towards him, punching wildly. The image preceded his blows, and so Frederick was able to dodge them, and planted his fist on the centre of the man’s chest.
The man seemed to collapse, and as he crawled to his knees, he looked up to see the fighter who had managed to defeat him. The warrior, for that is what he was, spoke,
“Turn yourself in. Think about your life, about the moment it went so wrong that you had to resort to violence, about what your cousin would think if he saw you like this.” Frederick’s voice had an intensity he’d never felt before. The words weren’t his, either, not fully. They burst out of his mouth with some sort of… Irresistible force, and they seemed to know the right thing to say, as the man appeared visibly shaken. He nodded, and scurried out of the alleyway.
Frederick turned towards the bleeding man and the child, and kneeled down. He moved the man’s hand toward his wound and told him to apply pressure. The man was, thankfully, conscious enough to hear him. He took out his phone and called 911, explaining the situation. Then he sat down, placing his hands over the man’s to help him, while fruitlessly trying to comfort the child, and waited for the ambulance.
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@Megadraco, this is fantastic!
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@Endri Thanks! I honestly love to write, so I think I’ll fit pretty well in this part of the forum.
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Okay, so here’s a little thing for my fellow Flinterforges. It’s a first draft so read with kind eyes.
The new King’s ire was to be feared. He had already sent both his brothers into exile and several of his predecessor’s courtiers to the headsman before word of a new King had even found its way to the outer realms. His Majesty saw treachery in every shadow, deceit upon every face. He wore his paranoia like a shroud and lashed out at anyone who displeased him, so convinced of their duplicity that all feared to be in his presence.
So when the royal jeweler presented the Glass Crown to the new King, his nerves betrayed him and the ornament of station fell from his shaking hands and shattered at the feet of the King. Seeing this as an affront to his rise to power, the King had the jeweler cut into pieces, one for every piece of shattered glass. He then commanded the jeweler’s apprentice to repair the ancient artifact.
“Your Highness, the Glass Crown is beyond repair. I will make you a new crown—“
“No! The Glass Crown has adorned the brow of every rightful King for the last thousand years. Now that I am the rightful King, it will adorn mine as well. Fail me and I will have your head. A fortnight hence, you will present me with a crown. Either mine…or yours.”
Such a task was impossible. But to deny the King would mean a cruel and bloody end. So the apprentice set about the task with a diligence and purpose that would have made his mentor proud, yet he still did not possess the skill to repair the Glass Crown. There were to many pieces, too many facets, and he had few too many hands to make whole what had been sundered. Not even his dearly departed mentor could have done such a thing.
Two weeks passed. The jeweler’s apprentice was not going to be able to present the Glass Crown to the King on the following day. And when the King was presented with the apprentice’s failure, he would have his head.
Knowing it was his last night on earth, the jeweler’s apprentice sought solace in the arms of a whore. But instead of indulging in one final night of lust, he only rested his head in the whore’s lap and wept. When the whore inquired as to his sorrow, the apprentice explained the impossibility of his task and how, on the morrow, the King would have his head for his failure.
“I haven’t enough hands for the task,” he cried.
The whore caressed his brow with a gentle finger and whispered in his ear, “There is magic that can help you. Here, let me show you.”
That night, the apprentice experienced ecstasies he never knew were possible.
He stumbled weak-kneed in the twilight of early dawn, the whore’s enchantments fresh in his ear. His body begged for sleep, but paid it no mind. He went straight away to his workshop, reciting the whore’s incantations with the same lustful exuberance that set his world afire. The myriad shards of The Glass Crown floated in the delicate caress of Many Hands and the jeweler’s apprentice made whole what had once been sundered.
He presented the King with The Glass Crown, now flawless once again. For a moment, the King seemed disappointed that he had no cause to execute the apprentice, but the beauty of the crown pushed all thoughts of murder from his mind. But murder was still cause for the day for when the King placed the crown upon his head, the invisible hands that mended the ornament of station took to the King and undid him with such vicious and violent means that, save for the jeweler’s apprentice and a sympathetic whore, all in the kingdom believed that The Glass Crown had found the usurper unworthy.
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Thanks for that great story!
Just for the record: did you or the book make “Many Hands” bold?! oO
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I made it bold just to make sure we knew which affinity the story was related to.
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I love that this implies the whore was a Flinterforge, you create a great many a thing in your guild! Most of my friends are “of the forges” and I can’t wait to show this to them!
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I’ve been feeling like expanding a bit on what I wrote. Not really on the story itself, but more about what I was doing with the magical affinities. So, to begin with, the “Calling” part of Truth and Calling is present in the background of the story, with Frederick’s unexplicable draw towards learning how to fight, and his instant reaction to the scream. The stance he fell into, the way he made the man drop the knife, those are Combat Magic at work. Now, when he spoke to the thug, told him to him to turn himself in, to reconsider, that’s a bit of a mixture. Frederick knowing exactly what to say, bringing up the man’s cousin, even though he’d never met the man before, that’d be the Truth in Truth and Calling. Meanwhile, the force with which he spoke, the way they made the man listen (though the same effect didn’t, in fact, force him to obey), that’d be Makepeace.
However, what’s most interesting, at least to me, is the blur. Because that doesn’t quite fit with anything, does it? What I was doing there is somewhat… Odd. It is a combination, like his speech, but whereas the latter used the effects of two different affinities together, so as to strengthen each other, the former instead combined two different affinities in order to create a different effect, mixing the aspects of both. I took @grimangel53’s idea of Grim’s Convergence, that of knowing on a large scale, what will happen, how events will lead into others, and mixed it with Combat Magic, using the latter’s influence to make the former act on a far shorter term, in a blunter way, and drawing from it in order to show the man’s actions at exactly the right time for Frederick to react.
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Now this makes me want to write up a couple more, specifically for things like combat magic and makepeace
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I’ve been holding on to this one for a while but here it is.
I present to you,
Trusted Confidant (I’m a novice writer so please keep that in mind )
There once was a quiet town, on the misty cliffs overlooking a frozen lake. The only
sound during the town’s dreary days where that of the church bells, swaying in the wind.
However, when the darkness sank around the village and children crawled into their
beds, that’s when the fires could be seen through the mist. Dancing flames followed by
strange words, no one knew what these flames where, some said witches, others the
Fey Folk, but those pious few believed it was the devil punishing the town for harboring
the strange old man and his boy.
They lived outside of town, in an old wilting cottage on a mossy fairy hill. The strange
pair looked nothing like those of the village, with stark white hair and wide crystal eyes,
everyone avoided the two, unless they needed help. For whenever sickness or poverty
struck the land people from all across village would make the pilgrimage to the old
man’s hut, where him and his boy would sing strange songs, not unlike those that
followed the fires, and those ill few would be cured, just to scurry back inside their
churches to repent. One day the boy grew frustrated and yelled at his uncle, “Why do
they fear us so, when all we want to do is to ease their pain?” his crystal eyes hardened
with frustration.
“They fear that which they do not know.” his uncle said wearily, for he too had felt the
years of solitude heavy on his heart, he missed the fires and festivals of the other
Gossmere, but he stayed for his mission here was far more important.
Weeks passed, and then months, until finally Spring turned into Summer, and the boy
was sent into the forest to collect new herbs. He wondered long and far until he heard
her voice, speaking to someone though no others where in sight, she was young and
had the same wild red hair as the women in the village, she held a cross close to her
heart as she bent down over the dying sapling. He watched in wonder as her words
coaxed it from death, and into a mature pine. He made himself known, and she turned,
fear hanging on her like a cloth. “You won’t tell a soul?” she asked approaching him,
and he held his hand out, golden light encircling his wrist “I am like you, I swear it.” They
spoke briefly before nightfall and both rushed home before the flames came out, though
neither truly feared them. He rushed to the cabin on the old mossy hill and burst in, hiseyes alight with excitement. “We aren’t alone Uncle, there are others, here in this
village!” He projected his emotions into his Uncle’s mind, so he may see the girl as clear
as he, but no sooner had these thoughts left his mind that he did fall unto the ground,
screams of terror clawing from his mouth, and his once honey sweet voice was so raw
and afraid, until it was silence all the same.
And his crystal eyes seemed to fade.
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very good. very very good
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This is my interpretation of the Balimora magic abilities at their full peak. Enjoy:
Clarence lifted his head towards the sky as he walked through the city with a grimace on his face, it was much to sunny out in his opinion, he closed his eyes and felt the twisting gnarled magic awaken within him as clouds gathered overhead, and with a smirk he continued on his way to the diner, he sat down gruffly and let out a breath. An older woman came up to him with a frown on her face, “What’ll it be” she grunted. He smiled at her charmingly and again reached for that well of magic within, this time it felt kinder, more nurturing, like a mother’s warm embrace. “I’ll have some soup, with a bit of mushrooms and onions if you would, I know it’s not on the menu, but I’ve just been craving it. he said, his voice soft as a breeze sent a subtle chill through the room and a shimmer came over the woman’s eyes. She smiled at him, like she was looking upon the face of an old friend. “Sure thing sugar, I’ll go make it myself.” she said sweetly. Clarence relaxed and looked out the window, the bustling streets are not what he wished for, he missed the wind whipping through the trees, following the wolves and hearing the birds whisper and sing, he longed for the still hidden places that his fellow man had not touched, where he could live as nature saw fit, to kill or be killed. He hated this fallacy that humans had built, safety at the price of harmony and a disconnect from the world. He was snapped out of his train of thought by the crashing of a plate and the small gasp that came from the young waitress that had cut herself trying to pick it up. Clarence got up and went to her, kneeling he said to her “Here let me see,” Clarence took her hand and reached for his magic. A soft whisper passed through his ears and dots danced across his eyes as her cut sealed shut. He blinked the lights away and smiled at her astonishment, as she looked at him in wonder. He put his finger to his lips and stood up, just in time for his meal to be set at is table.
(I know I didn’t add the bestiary arts, faulton fray’s decay, or uproot I just couldn’t find how to fit them in there, but this is my interpretation of the Balimora’s abilities, I hope you liked it.)
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Amazing story! I love the contrast of Gossmere and Balimora, one loves society and other humans, one could do without. Lovely story and great interpretation of your guilds magic!
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Thanks! I didn’t put this in there but I also think that Balimora and the magic they use also has the potential to use the user, so to speak. As if it felt that a Balimora was obligated to protect a part of nature it would just guide you there, (on a side note the Balimoran magic reminds me of the Wild Hunt from mythology.)
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Question that had me up last night: How do Gossmere fight in battle? I mean we may be healers but the book says we are warriors too… any ideas?
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I always imagined Gossmere would shapeshift up for battle.
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What shape would you take in battle?
Assuming we have a choice.
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If I was you, squares seem pretty tough. Maybe a rectangle tho…
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LMAO THANKS
I was thinking a Lion, or bird of prey…
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Psh, a star but like… with lots of points instead of just five… no one would want to go around you, you’d be like a dang porcupine!!
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I’d be a tetrahedron, because you can’t beat me if you’re utterly confused by me.
(jk Book of Briars I love you pls don’t
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I like your style.
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Ebenguard have access to a variety of offensive and defensive magics (combat magic). This includes buffs and heals a bit.
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Thinking about this playlist and I’m reminded of guild communion magiq…
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So ‘Call to the Hearth’ I’ve spoken of it little but I’m extremely fascinated by it. Now the Gossmere May be selfless, helpful, empathetic, but they do not forget the individual. It’s not like the dystopia movies you watch where if you are part of the system you must first give up your personality. In Gossmere we embrace our diffrences, bring them together and smile and laugh and glimpse at each other’s souls.
That is call to the hearth, to me atleast.
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Thornmouths primary abilities stem from knowledge itself, the incarnation of all knowledge being the Mindflame.
Time Shifting – From context it appears to mean the ability to manipulate time. This is reflected in our rare, innate incantation that is The Night of Endless Learning. When this incatation is utilized nighttime hours are extended to permit more reading to be achieved.
Philosomancy – These two are concepts not concrete.
Philo, denoting a liking for a specified thing, and mancy, divination by a specified means. From this context it can be inferred that this is divination by by use of favorite objects.
Edit: Philo, referring to something concerning exisitence, as in Philosphy and mancy as in magic. So the magic of existence.
OR classification for literary and mental magiqs.
Second Mind – Maybe use of the mindflame as an extension of the mind. That’s my best guess for this one.
Astral Thinking – Astral Projection, Out of body experiances, Bells cited traveling to the lighthouse in her dreams last night.
Tome Kindling – Capablity of “reading” books in third person. Travelling into the book and observing/interacting with the story.
Peering Arts – All other divination methods.
Those are my best guesses.
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Philosomancy seems (to me) to stem from “philosophy” as a whole, the word meaning “love of knowledge/wisdom.”
My assumption is that philosomancy is the core of Thought magiq, and one of the more general terms of magiq.
That said, the guide mentions a philosomancy mishap in which one turns themself into a book during a botched verbafuge spell. I’m not sure if that supports either argument more, but it’s the best hint we’ve got.
That’s just my take on it, though. I could be wrong
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me)
