Artman rolled the strange object in his hands, a roughly geometric object covered in mechanical shutters that flapped open like petals of a bizarre flower or the wings of a insect. As he toyed with it, opening and closing the apertures, it thrummed with an unearthly resonance, like a kettle brought to boil. Though instead of escaping vapors of steam, the object in the young magician's hand sang with the breath of Pneuma.

He'd taken a break from his carvings to finally experiment with this wonderous device of power, The Mage Shape, gifted to him upon his acceptance into the position of magician under the Order, a graduation gift from Father Brion. The object was a rough dodecahedron frame carved of fine wood, sealed at the top and covered in gleaming gray pewter metal, so whatever flowed through it would be forced out the sides where the hinged panels were. The opening for the Pneumatic energy pouring off of Artman rising into the device from a opening at the very bottom, pressed firmly against his palm.

Artman thumbed one of the small shutters, shutting one opening and unlocking another, resulting in a massive draft that turned into a wash of cold colors and small crackling bolts that ripped through the air around him, opening another set of latches sent disks of sawdust spinning, and a third made them burst into fiery galaxies around the workshop. Artman marveled at the sight as they orbited a glowing sphere of light that looked like fire, but gave off no heat, shinning like a rainbow in every possible color.

It was difficult to control at first, but by running through his basic formations and remembering the fundamentals, it wasn't long before he was practicing in earnest. Watching in fascination as he played with the remains of the little burning stars of dust around him, vastly underestimating the power of the wonderous device in his hands.

His hand scurried from one hinge to another, opening and closing them to see what they changed. Some stars burned brighter, other dimmed, some became hot, others bitter cold. Moving his fingers with adroit swiftness from panel to panel, he deftly shifted his right index finger flicking the last panel closed, sending a warm sensation up his whole arm as the wobbling forms before him and scattered like chaff in a cold biting wind.

A sudden thunderclap inside the Mage Shape forced the small object from Artman's hand as the smoke of scalded flesh drift up in lazy plumes of smoke. The magician cursed and clutched his hand as he looked down at the blistering red spot etched into his palm like a brand, he reached for the flask in his breast pocket and dowsed the scar in spirits. Grimacing as he did.

"Damn it." he cussed softly before collapsing into a stool, his reserves spent as the stink of brandy reach his nose and stained his pantleg. He glanced to where the device had fallen and weakly thought about picking it up. It was rather expensive. It had rolled under his tool bench, cluttered with fine point carving tools that would be useful when assembling the latter half of his current project. It's bottom aperture staring back at him like the iris of a disembodied eye, gazing longingly back at him like a wounded animal.

Artman sighed and stood, staggering over to scoop up the delicate thing in his good hand, setting it down of the bench and started absently dusting the mechanism and checking it for damages. Once he was satisfied that he hadn't broken it he leaned back and gave a small sigh of relief to himself. Looking down at his burned hand he winced again.

"Not the worst that could've happened, but I should've been paying attention to the cross flow. Gah, stupid mistake, got too caught up in myself. Again." he sat there a moment and caught his breath, he'd used more power than he thought, but he wasn't used to working Pneuma like this yet. Time and practice would yield better results.

As he considered picking the device back up, a knock at his door drew his attention.

"Alright, I'm coming." he shouted, rising to answer the summons. The knocking intensified as he got closer. "I said I'm coming " He blustered frustratedly throwing open the workshop door, only to catch himself as he saw who it was.

"Now who is - Father Brion!" he exclaimed, surprised by the priestly figure standing there. "I didn't realize you were coming, please come in."

"Thank you Artman, I was passing by and thought I drop in on you for a moment." the Father started, as door closed on it's own accord as he entered, Artman's hand slipped into his jacket to cover his wound. Brion sniffed the air a moment and waved it off.

"You missed the Brothers meeting Artman, I was hoping you'd be there. We were all excited to see you, has something happened?"

Artman felt a hammer blow of realization and palmed his own face "oh, was that today? I can't believe I allowed myself to slip up like that, between the commission and Maven-"

"Maven? what's happened to Maven?" Brion quizzed, "Isn't she supposed to be your assistant, where is she?"

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"Wha- oh nothing, she's uh, she stepped out for a moment to visit a friend about a having some seam work done. Haven't her in two days."

"Hmm, I see. well, what of you? I know you're busy preparing your new Wooden Man, but many of the other magicians were expecting you to attend, you still have certain duties Brother Wolfram. Don't think you can ignore them." He paused and then spoke again "It was a small gathering so don't worry about it, though I recommend you attend the next meeting, I've arranged to meet up with a few other researcher magicians like yourself. Top work, though not entirely practical."

Artman cocked an eye at that "You don't approve?"

Brion waved him off "Some of their ideas are just a bit farfetched is all, flying machines, self-operating mechanisms, these new Optic's crowd drives me crazy with their debates over whether light is made of rays or particles. I fail to see the point of it; Light is Light, it all flows from the Almighty praise be." Making the appropriate signs across his chest.

Artman followed suit as best he could with his good hand. " I'll be sure to attend the next meeting Father Brion, I don't intent to be cast out again because of a missed appointment, besides, I might enjoy those debates about light rays and particles. Sounds like they may have a new Art to practice once they settle the scores. Though I doubt Maven would want to attend, at least not for reasons I could fathom."

Brion shook his head "As interesting as that would be, I must remind you that these meetings are for members of the Order only. Though it might do some members a bit of good to remember what a woman looks like before they forget entirely."

Artman gave him a bit of a look, "Doesn't God teach us to flee temptation and chastise those who fall from the path? I wouldn't want to do wrong by insinuating a lack of honor amongst them."

"Aye, but sometimes the only true test of character is to endure temptation, that, and some of them aren't doing rightly by their wives anyhow. It would be shame if such minds didn't pass on their genius to a new seed." Father Brion said wryly, then waved his hand in the air. "It is what it is, our sacrifice for such knowledge and wisdom is to be detached from this world and all its earthly illusions."

"Thank you for coming here Father Brion, I'll be sure to attend the next meeting in earnest and for your words of faith." Artman said reverently, Brion parsed a smile. "Meditate on it, that's my suggestion. But while I'm here, How is your project coming along? If you do mind my curiosity."

Artman smiled and walked towards the bench where the torso was laying, the ink had dried days ago so he didn't worry about damaging it. Now that the arrangements were sealed beneath laquor and resin it would be impossible to change or alter the core patterns that drove the simulacra.

The priest ran his hand across the surface of the mannequin, taking note of the empty slots for the future lapis pins to be inserted later, the lines that crisscrossed the surface of the varnished wood.

"I see you've recreated the anatomy of the fibers rather closely, but what is this red ink besides it? Muscle tissue or it's stand in?" he asked pointing, Artman smiled "Yes, I used cinnabar dye to create an alternative conduit for those channels. The slight resistance separates the lines of silver transferring the initial command impulses from the channels designed for inducing movement, clearing up a bit of the jitter I had in earlier models, thought at the price of a slight delay in reactions. But I'm sure I can introduce a catalyst to increase the output given time. Just a matter of finding the right one."

"Jasper would do nicely, or perhaps a touch of magnesium if you're being stingy." Brion commented "Phosphorus would also work, but I would hesitate to fiddle with that, combustion comes so readily. Perhaps a bit of antimony or arsenic would suffice."

"Only if I was building an amplifier, and I feel nervous about the interactions about adding new materials to my current arrangements. Something for later experiments." Artman countered. "Yes of course, I'll leave you to make the best judgement on this but we do have others that can be of use in this field more than my own knowledge."

"Yes I know, of course." Artman agreed, then stopped "when is the next meeting by the way?" Brion answered him without looking up, "Early morning, about Seventh bell." he frowned as he spotted something "this part here, looks familiar. What arrangement is that?"

Father Brion was pointing to a segment of the illusionary pattern, the one he'd ripped almost whole cloth from the Stalkers Cloak design, Artman swallowed a moment and calmly replied "that's a new addition, something I implemented to keep it from overexerting itself. Early models Would destroy themselves; it was simply necessary." he lied. Father Brion's face wrinkled as he frowned at it, then nodded along.

"Forgive me, my eyes must be straining, I could've sworn I'd seen that design somewhere else before." He stood back to rub his face. He turned to Artman and spoke in a tired voice "The admiration never sleeps I fear, I been writing some many letters and signing letters, I think I'll need to hire an assistant of my own soon." Artman offered a stool but the old man stopped him.

"Thank you my son, but please, If I sit down now, I fear I won't wake till the Lords Day." they both chuckled a moment as he reached into his robes and drew out a simple pocket watch. "Ah, I must be going, please excuse me Brother Artman. Don't forget to wear your new robe to the meeting."

Artman glanced at the gray sheet hanging from the wall next the coats "Yes of course, I won't forget."

"Good, good. I'll be off now. My blessing to you and Maven, when she returns of course. Good day." Father Brion spoke in a weary tone and shuffled towards the door.

"Oh, and Artman."

"Yes?"

The old man's tired face turned towards Artman "Be careful when you practice with the Mage Shape, a lot of young apprentices have burned themselves pretty badly when they use it the first time around. So make sure to wear gloves, it won't affect the Pneuma flow, but it will save you some pain later on."

Artman whinced and nodded "Thank you sir." he said, winging at the feel of his own blistered hand. Father Brion nodded and let himself out without another word, closing the door quietly behind him. Artman waited till his mentor had left before pulling his reddened hand from his pocket and cursed again as he started looking frantically for a bandage.