Ember’s face turned sour. “This is why most Elves are so thin and graceful in appearance. They have chosen to only build the parts of themselves that still have use for when they become Mages. They are very aware that any form they build will become the form they take. This gives great versatility per how they wish their appearance, and those haughty High Elves take full advantage of this knowledge to show off with their ‘ears’. Idiots.”
Artorian chuckled, not trying to stop the laugh. He rather liked it when Ember let her true feelings on something free. Those were the kind of complaints she didn’t make often enough for his liking. It gave her character. This ‘hookah’ thing was great, and had been worth that platinum mine of information alone. “Mmm. Good one. I wonder why Oak is so set on this particular blend?”
It was Ember’s turn to be amused. “You didn’t notice? Oak was in sync, but his consciousnesses were very individual. I think that this blend affects not just Essence’s normal behavior, but interrupts the forced connection Wood Elves have in their Gestalt consciousness, allowing them to remain as individuals while intrinsically connected. Take another pull, there’s no going back from this point anyway.”
The old man lifted the tube, took a big puff, and tried to focus as his world began to spin. He saw rings of sound move through the air as reality around him altered not just in how he acted in it, but how he experienced it. He saw a flying mouse part its mouth, release a screech that bounced all around, and then snatch something from mid-air before hanging upside down to snack on it.
“That was a bat. It’s called a bat, and you knew that. Snap out of it, old man! Or back into it, in this case, since you’re out of it!” He knew bats hunted via ‘echolocation’, but he’d never seen it. Was he cycling an Essence combination to his eyes? Oh. He was. When did he do that?
Hold up. What else had he been doing while in a state of questionable awareness? Artorian dove into his Center and just about screamed. Rays of light bounced about in his Center as the rainbow haze from Ember’s cloud infiltrated and wreaked havoc. Not bad havoc. Playful havoc.
Artorian was in an amazing light show, and he was the only one not having a good time. Well. Why wasn’t he having a good time? Wasn’t this his party? If he had a robe to throw off, he’d have done so as he slid on imaginary sunglasses and strode to the dancefloor; which pulsed and moved with the ever-moving rhythm of his sun core.
Both of them were completely out of it; Ember hardened into a divine sculpture while Artorian descended into a ruckus of cheers and giggles, lost to the world.
“Should we… y’know. Stop them? From what they’re doing to themselves?” Cherry Blossom looked over her shoulders to Eucalyptus, who shrugged in response.
“Honestly? That’s what they get for trusting Oak and taking such massive inhalations. You’re supposed to sip on that stuff. Barely taste it, then let it go.” Eucalyptus nudged one of his noses over at the two completely bonked people. “What they’re doing isn’t harmful in the long term, but they are going to regret it when they come around. I see no reason to stop them. We were all young once, let them make their mistakes.”
Cherry Blossom sighed and watched as a hustle of Rosewood Elves ran over, frantically taking measurements from two bodies that just weren’t aware of their real surroundings. “I’ll make sure there’s enough food prepared. Some of the border tribes have come to trade, and I’m done with letting Oak take all the credit for the little comforts spreading through the forest. Even if they’re… ugh. Dwarves.”
Eucalyptus sighed and watched Blossom walk away. He pulled some wayward leaves from his head and strolled over to stuff them in both the hookah burners. At least it would fix the smell. He hated Oak’s mixture. All heady, no freshness. Terrible waste. He may have said he’d let the kids have their lessons, but like a doting parent, he sat nearby with his full congregation. The shielding specialist watched to make sure their guests didn’t actually do something stupid. If anything out of the ordinary did happen, Eucalyptus could be trusted to handle it by erecting stone walls, or deploying skillful Auric defensive measures.
Other Elves needn’t worry too much with them on the scene. The seasoned shielders took up a five-point defensive pattern, laying the Essence foundations for two-way protections while trying to figure out what the two troublemakers were up to. The human was copying bat echolocation with air and water Essence. The Fire Soul was doing… something internal?
As a non-Mage, he hadn’t the foggiest what she was up to. It just looked fantastical as the borealis went wild. He felt sick when he tried to look at her with Essence. Mages were weird, and he was silently happy he’d never have to deal with that headache. Wood Elves were creatures tied to the earth. They needed none of this ethereal nonsense, focused entirely on letting the greenery of the land flourish.
Because, as Oak had so clearly forgotten, you needed air to breathe. Shisha did not count.
Chapter Seventeen
Artorian begrudgingly awoke, suffering from a splitting headache. An inescapable brightness stabbed him right in his squinted eyes. “Ack! Why?”
Groaning, he rolled over on a bearskin as his hands shot up to cover his pained vision and foolish mistake. Burying his face in the thick fur, the old man whined for the bright flares and blips to go away. His foot knocked over a water cup as he struggled. It was too early to be up. “Five more minutes…”
Sadly, it wasn’t to be; he was awake. Face scrunched, he padded over on all fours to where the clinking noise had originated. Aha! Water! He’d had such a feast yesterday, how was he parched?
“No. Wait. I’ve done this song and dance… this isn’t the first time this has happened.” His first guess was that the feast wasn’t yesterday, and he’d been out a while. The sun was so bright today that it actually bothered him. Though he could barely see anything while keeping a hand over his eyes, he could tell he was still in the wide-open clearing.
What was with all the destruction? Holes littered the ground, animals lay twitching and unconscious, and a group of exhausted looking Wood Elves surrounded them at the forest’s edge in a five-point star formation.
Artorian felt around in his pocket, trying to pull out an item that didn’t exist. Where were his darkened goggles meant to prevent that stabby ball up there from blinding him? Abyss. Those weren’t real. What he wouldn’t give to have a real version of those. Eucalyptus saw the old man move with what seemed like actual cohesion and deliberate action. He hoped it wasn’t a fluke… again. “Human! Human, are you present?”
Their voices sounded like they had taken a beating, and that was one of the less banged-up bodies doing most of the speaking. The other figures groaned and attempted to remain in sync as they each huddled against a scarred tree for support… just in case it was a repeat of yesterday.
Artorian didn’t recall anything that happened ‘yesterday’ and answered Eucalyptus with as much jovial mirth as he could muster through the awful headache. “Hello, m’boy! Is there more water about? I think I’ve just had the last of it.”
The response he got was, unfortunately, not related to drink. “Unfurl your bloom! Unfurl it!”
Artorian frowned, hands still kept around his squinty eyes. “Unfurl my what? Young man, I am already in a state of questionable undress. I don’t believe more is how I want to start the day.”
“Your bl… your Aura! Turn down your Aura! You’ve been blinding everyone for two moons!”
The old man was still confused, he didn’t yet have his bearings just yet. “Turn down for what?”
A recollection of the party in his Center came to mind, and he tried to pull free-floating Essence.
Nothing.
The Essence in his body didn’t move. Not even a little. Frowning curiously at the odd change, he tried again with no difference in results. On closer, more time-intensive inspection, he found he was wrong. The Essence did move, but it was at a pace that just wasn’t useful. He faintly recalled being told that this was a likely outco
me.
How was he supposed to pull the Essence out of his Aura if he couldn’t use his body as an intermediary? He grumbled and fumbled about, trying to guide the stubborn energy some other way through his form.
Pulling? No. Pushing? No. Enticing? Pretty please? No. Celestial feces! Artorian was getting nowhere fast. “Why in the abyss is this kicking my posterior?”
Harsh laughter erupted from the edge of the forest at his outburst. A thick, Dwarven laugh that continued as its originator fell into the underbrush. Roots cracked on impact as the Dwarf crashed into shrubbery, clearly unable to keep a hold of himself.
“Bhahaha! This was worth every ruttin’ gold coin it took! Oy, fellas! Show’s back on! The old one’s awake!” A kerfuffle started deeper in the underbrush, past the forest line that he could see through his forced squint. A myriad of short, wide figures all pushed through and sat on a cleaved tree.
“Fantastic! Two silver says it sonic screams again!”
Another Dwarf punched that one in the jaw. “Phah! I ain't takin’ yer bet on that, yer bleeding me dry, ya halfwit! Barely got the silver to keep me mug full.”
The grumpy Dwarf was punched right back in the kisser as the initial brawling Dwarf bounced back up like he was made of rubber.
*Paf*! A pint-sized fight broke out, along with the boisterous outcries of rowdy people having a good time. They had copious drink, food, entertainment, and merriment. A great combination for any Dwarf.
“Ember?” Artorian loudly asked his question as he waddled a few paces in either direction. He tried to evade the light source in the middle of the wide opening that was emanating all sorts of kaleidoscopic rainbows. When there was no response, he got worried. Not having a grip on who else to ask for help here. “Ember!”
Eucalyptus hollered back, “Behind you!”
Artorian looked, but all he saw was the blinding light source. Ember was nowhere to be seen; there was only some diamond sculpture. “No, you tall-eared child! Ember! Not a statue!”
The Dwarves went wild, falling over one another. This old human was just tickling their funny bone. One of them nearly strangled a companion that wouldn’t stop beating him with an empty ale mug. “Ah told ya! Ya owe me a gold, ya beard-trimmer!”
He got a mug right back in the face. “Don’t insult me beard!”
Eucalyptus sighed, far too tired for this. “The sculpture is the Fire Soul. Pull your Aura in already, or release the Essence causing the brightness! You… not again!”
He dodged out of the way of a violet line of light. The prismatic beam split the ground, racing across the open space and threatened to cut along the tree line. It stopped shortly before reaching the Elf’s location.
Artorian had stopped in his tracks, and the line of light held its position. When his movements ceased, so too did the multitudes of light lines moving in his surroundings. “Well that’s interesting.”
He extended and retracted a finger—causing the lines of light to bend—then pull back to their prior positions as his fingers returned to where they were. What was all this about? He couldn’t make colored light lines… could he? Was he doing this? …No.
Artorian glanced back at the sculpture of Ember and all the light filtering through her crystalline frame. The luminosity beamed out in a refracted rainbow of colors. Gorgeous, yes, but was he causing the brightness?
Closing his eyes fully, the old man descended into his Center. Oh celestial. What happened here? If it hadn't been for Ember’s help in finalizing the gyroscope, this… this could have been worse. The slowed Essence had begun to clump up and stick together. It was so slothful that rather than refine further, it drifted to the containment rings and joined the corruption.
That was no good!
In a rush, he threw the free-floating Essence in his Center right into his Aura. All of it. No more clumping allowed! Even with his eyes closed, he could tell it was getting brighter outside. Checking his packed Aura, he found that it did function like stacked Essence, which meant that of course it was getting brighter. Artorian was forcing his surroundings to hold the effect!
Wait… he’d just moved Essence. How had he done that? He didn’t move it through his body, he’d moved it with his… Aura?
Eureka!
He considered shooting a ray of light off into the sky to release the Essence, bu~u~ut he’d lose it permanently if he did. There had to be a better way.
The laughter of the Dwarves gave him an idea. The amount of Essence wasn’t the problem, it was just trying to do what it was supposed to do when it wasn’t provided direction. Rather than dump out and waste the Essence, he simply altered his intent. Starlight Essence didn’t have to be bright, starlight did many things, even if only well. Why stuff all the focus into shining? With a playful smirk, he did what Ember had specifically told him not to do yet.
*Hnn*. Groaning in effort, Artorian physically shifted to a wide horse stance. His fists pulled close to his hips as he kept his spine straight. The light around him noticeably faded as he altered his Aura directly. The headache was really making it hard to find the requisite focus, but minute after minute the brightness dimmed. He likened the experience to turning a set of gears which each held open several gates.
Closing the brightness door opened the effects door. Ordinarily, all doors were half open when using an Essence effect, at least without trying to skew the normal effect it produced. He considered that state to be ‘the natural state’; what Essence did when not acted upon by an external force. It didn’t have to stay that way. Once he had the hang of it, the results showed quickly. Aura had the same feeling that his Center did. There, but not there: only present mentally.
Moving Essence through his body was akin to flexing a muscle to roll a marble down his arm. Moving Essence through the Aura? That felt like a second way of breathing, entirely natural after the first inhale. This didn’t feel akin to when he’d forced his Aura to form the glaive; that was a crude and brutish operation in comparison.
This direct connection to his Essence and the world around him was liberating. So much better than channeling the process through his Center as he had been doing. Could it be that he hadn’t been able to take the initial inhale because he’d been reliant on that process? Looking back… it was likely.
The oppressive brightness that had surrounded him dropped down to the level of lunar illumination, making the Dwarves ‘boo’ at him. They didn’t want their entertainment to end, and jumping out of the way of randomized deadly beams of light while drunk was definitely their kind of fun. When the last of his light flickered away, Artorian realized that it was the middle of the night.
Dwarves… how does one talk to Dwarves? If spending time around Hadurin had taught Artorian anything, it went roughly like this. “Oy! You lot! My head feels like it got split by a bearded axe! Got anything to make this go away, or is water all ya brought?”
Artorian’s yelling was taken as a personal challenge. A few Dwarves spewed the drink from their lips in a misty cloud of total disbelief. That old quack was questioning the quality of their drink? “Oh that be how you’re wanting to introduce yerself, is it? Ya laying a challenge down to a Dwarvish hall, and ya think we just be handing over the good stuff?”
The group of Dwarves snorted, and Eucalyptus let out the most relieved sigh he’d ever enjoyed. Finally the miniature sun and death beams of rainbow light were gone. He rolled over and went right to sleep. It was someone else’s problem now; he’d been babysitting this human and sorely needed a break from the chaos.
Artorian smiled at the Dwarven retort. “So, baby water is all you got! It must be fizzy water since you’re all laughing so much. I bet it tickles your nose, hmm? No wonder you’re putzing around like wee children. A true Dwarf would have leapt at the chance to prove that they had the strongest and most flavorful drinks!”
He sighed dramatically, placed a hand to his chest as the Dwarves flushed red, and not from their drinks this time. “I, Artorian the academic, writer of stor
ies and giver of lectures shall remember that the lore on Dwarves is to be altered. To the bards I shall take this news, so the songs of yesteryear may be cast to the wind.”
The burly group of Dwarves sobered up fast as the red turned to blue. Fun and games were all well and good, but their clan would have their heads if that kind of talk did so much as go around the campfire. One Stonelord gets a whiff of news that they damaged the family name, and they would be back on mining duty for a long decade. They wanted to be upset and fight over the insult… but the merchant in charge of this group was a crafty Dwarf.
“Now, now! No need to go killing a man’s buzz with terrible talk like that! Here, have a gulp of this and tell meh if it doesn’t feel like the axe got tugged from yer noggin.”
One could tell at a glance that these Dwarves really loved their cushy, troublemaking trade job. Pointy-eared tree huggers were great to make fun of, with their tenuous grasp on social interactions and valuable goods. This part of the forest had even been nicknamed ‘Value Town’ from all the deals they got on Oak logs.
The well-dressed trader sported a long fox-fur gambeson. He approached Artorian by shambling over in his fine wolf-leather boots. Platinum buttons held his jacket closed, and a hand adorned in gemstone rings extended a horn that must have come from a Beast.
“The name’s Don Modsognir, but everyone calls me Big Mo. Have ye a swig.” Artorian nodded in appreciation, and drank thirstily from the horn. It burned all the way down, like Dw… it was Dwarven brandy! Now he could use that phrase properly! He coughed out a *pchoo* as the strength of the alcohol struck his empty stomach. The brandy took the headache away like a charm. The Essence in the fermented drink fanned out and spread fireplace warmth into the depths of winter that had been his insides.
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