Aerodynamics was not Liam’s specialty, but he’d once chatted with a biomechanics professor, not a professor who studied how the body moved, but a professor who studied applications for mechanical technology within the body. Strange guy, always making jokes about ‘purity seals’ and ‘sacred oils’ and ‘THE OMNISSIAH’, whatever those were. Still, he’d been intelligent and Liam trusted him when he said the most aerodynamic form was a teardrop.
It made enough sense, certain motorcycle helmets had long tapered points behind them, same with a few of the vehicles in ‘The Guinness World Records”. Vehicles all aimed at breaking some landspeed record. So Liam started with that as a base, sculpting a teardrop out of quartz that was large enough to stuff his head into. He slipped the teardrop over his head, and let go, seeing how it felt. The damn thing was heavy, like forty pounds of stone all cranking his spine backwards. He was physically strong enough to support the weight, but oh man, it was less comfortable than a foot-deep wedgie!
“Stupid thing! Ah!” Liam said, spiking the helmet into the ground.
It landed with a resounding splat, sticking into the mud exactly where it landed.
“A disturbed mind cannot wield the spirits.” Said Selewyne, floating a half dozen feet above the forest’s floor. The old man seemed to have an aversion to walking, something about the ground stealing his desire to walk amongst the trees. Elven woo-woo nonsense.
“I’m not mad at the helmet, it’s just heavy. And a failure. What was that thing? It’s so huge and fast I can’t get a good look at it before it flies back into the clouds. It’s like a feathered dragon but I can’t get a look at Big Bird’s face.”
Selewyne frowned. “It’s a griffon. An old one. Before the portals began to appear it dwelt in the mountains and culled the beasts of the forest.”
“Why haven’t you elves killed it?”
“Why harm that which doesn’t harm you? It does not hunt us, so we do not hunt it. Recently it has begun hunting the portals, smashing them as it did yours.”
Liam was only half paying attention. He could work with wood via life magic, and earth or metal via earth magic, but he wasn’t an engineer. Metalwork wasn’t familiar to him, so stone would be best. Clear stone, so whatever protected him needed to be made of quartz. But the material was so damn heavy! Even a helmet felt like wearing a cadillac on his head…
The thought swirled in Liam’s mind, activating his [split mind] talent and working through a hundred problems.
“Why not wear a car?” He muttered, finding a seat in the forest’s earth.
Putting his butt to the dirt and began channeling. Then he laid down, rolling onto his stomach. Quartz gathered around him, flowing from the dirt to form a capsule. It was teardrop shaped, with the trailing tip snipped off so it wasn’t fully sealed. He didn’t want the crystal to be a coffin.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Objective complete, he called upon the spirit magic, lifting the capsule and zipping through the forest. A horrible whistling came through the tail end, so loud he thought his ears might bleed, leading to a short test drive.
“Hmm, I need to limit the velocity of air entering from the rear.” Said Liam, performing a dozen tests before settling on a final design. Which of course was ribbed for his auditory relief. The entire inside of the crystal teardrop now had rings lining it, small concentric circles, ridges, that created turbulence as he flew, slowing the windspeed to levels that created a manageable amount of noise. Liam also left eight V-shaped grooves in the teardrop, creating structural weakpoints that he could use to split the craft. If things went too far south –or maybe north considering they would be in the air– then he could shatter the craft and use it as eight spears of crystal.
[wind] increased to level 6
“I’ll need to up that level as well, then bank up some mana for the fight.” He turned to Selewyne, “Talk to me about staves, the ones for storing mana, and not the noodle in your briefs.” Said Liam.
“Do you speak to Taloc with that much lip boy?”
“Almost as much, sometimes more, but only when he’s earned it. Taloc has a morality all his own. Damn asshole, ah, we disagree on what is disgusting, and what is acceptable.” Said Liam, trying not to laugh at Selewyne’s shocked face.
“Disagree with God’s morality? Bloody heaven. The heresy you speak… Were it from anyone other than a Lightning Lord…” Selewyne shook his head, body falling to the dirt as his concentration collapsed.
A shit eating grin spread across Liam’s face.
“Cmon old man, staves!” He said, laughing.
They spent the next week discussing the intricacies of staves, with Liam growing a hundred separate rods to experiment with. Life magic aided in their sculpting beyond Selewyne’s understanding, and eventually they moved sixteen rods onto the second stage, something about there being unfortunate blemishes in the wood or errors in the grain that prevented it from storing power. A lot of stave theory was mumbo jumbo to Liam, but he trusted the process, and a few days later he had six staves, covered in runes, inlaid with silver, or gold, or steel. Liam’s earth affinity possessed the brute force to smelt the metals, but it was a delicate affair. With Selewyne constantly correcting his runic engravings. Though his life affinity made physically cutting the engraving a forgetably easy task, earning him more than a few jealous glances from Selewyne and the elven craftsmen involved.
Throughout it all, Liam took time to visit the palace, freeing any collared slaves he could and charging some of Selewyne’s many acquired staves, using them as a sort of third hand to hold extra mana. Curiously enough, staves seemed to hold more power if you used them more frequently. Similarly to how a battery loses it’s maximum capacity over time, except in reverse. Meaning Liam’s new staves, while beautiful, were the lowest tier of magical weaponry. Liam shrugged, there was nothing he could do other than use his rod well. When it was all said and done, Liam had three fully charged staves and three crystal pods ready for battle. Each was a different design, he’d varied the wall thickness, tried adding wings, found the weight dragged him down more than the lift it provided, and then returned to his first pod. A simple teardrop. His new staves held a fraction the power of an older staff, something about the grain being too new, but they held more power than he could get a hold of.
His wind magic quickly hit the cap of level 10, a life’s work completed in weeks. That confirmed Taloc’s meddling, he’d done something to this body, maybe given it transplanted organs that collected mana and allowed him to use far more than his body should have allowed. Somehow transcending this world’s artificially applied limits. With all the transferring of mana, it was clear that Liam possessed many times what he should have, though no one could guess why or how.
“Taloc, you’ve got some explaining to do when we meet again.” Promised Liam, fading off into sleep.