OSOS 0x18

Fossura

M{ -.- }RA

It was nearing three in the morning, and Mara was still wide-awake and actively ransacking her kitchen for anything remotely not-expired. From the obvious places to look, she’d already made the mistake of checking her fridge, only to promptly rule out its contents on smell alone, and the freezer wasn’t much better. Despite its lack of stench, nearly all of its contents had suffered some level of freezer-burn in her absence.

Feeling her stomach press her for a decision, Mara settled with what choices she had on hand and grabbed an individually wrapped breakfast burrito tucked into the freezer door. She wasn’t exactly sure when she’d bought it, but the expiration date was still a few months out, a fact she tried not to dig into as she threw it in her toaster oven.

Sadly, there wasn’t much else in her kitchen at this point. The only other thing she’d managed to find was the stale bag of crisps in the back of her pantry, which she was now munching on regardless while she wandered back to her living room couch.

Clearly, her appetite was abnormal, but she hadn’t the faintest clue why. Nothing seemed to satisfy her now ever-ravenous gut. Even now, four rotisserie chickens later, she still felt absolutely famished.

This has to be mana related. Someway, somehow. Maybe withdrawals? It’s not like ‘Magic’ has ever been much more than the fantasy of our books and myths here, but maybe that’s because we don’t have ‘Mana’ here…

“But that raises the question… What really is mana?”

Flipping her phone back out, Mara booted up another variant of her network-worm, this time to do a bit of research. Filtering out more ‘basic’ definitions, such as anything stemming from roleplaying games. If the word had any real meaning, it was in its roots, from the people who coined it long before its incorporation into other mediums.

Aside from the circular references and those really just referring back to the usual fantasy tropes, one of the first real veins she struck was an article about the Māori people, a group of polynesians that settled into ( what would become ) New Zealand around the sixteen-hundreds. Diving further, Mara pulled up an online dictionary of their native language, seemingly maintained by a museum or foundation dedicated to preserving their culture.

Their use of the term ‘mana’ was, broadly speaking, a ‘spiritual force’, but it also seemed intrinsically tied to someone’s ‘dedication to their purpose’. It was projected, and could be sensed like a pressure in the air, but it wasn’t quite an ego or aura. It referred to one’s strength of character, yet it also seemed beyond simple honor or valor.

Heh, tribal vibes. But more of a nugget of truth than anything else so far, and also the earliest use of the word I’m finding.

Digging further, Mara popped open tabs for several other terms that were called out in the definition of ‘Mana’. Tapu, or restrictions that accompany mana, Atua, the source of mana endowed, and Kaitiakitanga, which was something like ‘assigned responsibility’ or, perhaps, ‘divine purpose’.

“So… Through Atua, one can be a vessel for Mana, for their Kaitiakitanga, under the constraints of their Tapu?”

Slumping deeper into the couch as she aired what she’d read to no one but herself, Mara flicked her finger over her phone screen as she skimmed back over the definitions. Atua seemed to be analogous to spirits, ancestors, or gods, and were usually channeled through chieftains or elders.

Tapu, however, was far more complicated than just simple restrictions. Being tapu wasn’t treated with ostracization, but served more to protect and foster, such as pregnancies, elderly, and infirm were all tapu. Not to be scorned like a taboo, but to be aware and respectful of, so that their tapu can be maintained. On the other hand, violating it was feared. Curses, misfortune, or ‘divine wrath’ were all rumored outcomes for those who would disregard Tapu.

Hm. They’re very broad terms, and I’m no expert, but they definitely describe Mana as a ‘spiritual force’, granted from Atua, which I’m going to take as a ‘spiritual entity’.

‘Kaitia-kitanga’ is certainly a mouthful, but it seems to describe a purpose, or goal, given by the Atua, necessitating the granting of Mana. A little backwards in wording, but I suppose the idea is that you’re given a purpose, and the tools come with it, rather than the other way around.

Tapu seems far more complex, or at least wide-reaching. It seems akin to something like ‘divine protection’, and Atua is said to grant both Mana and Tapu to someone with their Kaitiakitanga. So perhaps, in that case, ‘divine protection’ is quite literal.

Hearing her toaster oven beep, Mara tossed her phone on the table and went to find tongs as she mulled over what might constitute ‘Atua’. She wasn’t necessarily sold on the idea of ‘gods’ imparting ‘magic’ because, for one, that didn’t really leave her much to work with, and two, she’d yet to see proof gods existed in any world, let alone her own.

Eyeing the clock near her front door, now reading half-past three in the AM, Mara munched on her fairly mediocre, but thankfully edible, breakfast burrito as she meandered back to her luke-warm indent in the couch.

Without diving too deep into a culture she was ill-suited to be blundering into, the surface level origins were enough for her for now. Switching tracks, Mara pulled up an online thesaurus and tried to pull up its synonyms, however the ‘official’ thesaurus failed to bring up anything at all. In fact, it wouldn’t even recognize it as a word in its database.

Intrigued, but more annoyed than anything, Mara ran a search for alternative sites and found a crossword-centric site which held a variety of community submitted usages and synonyms.

“Huh– At least… four distinct entries. More than I was expecting, especially considering the lack of official synonyms… But let’s see…”

‘Sovereignty, Power, or Control.’ ( Dominion, Supremacy, Authority )

‘The state of being respected or admired.’ ( Standing, Prestige, Eminence )

‘Energy or vitality that is exhibited in something.’ ( Potency, Vigor, Drive )

‘A supernatural power capable of manipulating the forces of nature.’ ( Magic, Sorcery, Thaumaturgy )

There were four different takes on what Mana could be described as in modern English, and each was distinct in its own right and lined up with what she knew of ‘fantasy mana’ and what she’d been learning of the Māori’s mana. However a few of the synonyms stuck out to her as a little nebulous in her mind.

“Let’s see… ‘Domain’, ‘Prestige’, ‘Eminence’, aaand… ‘Thaumaturgy’.”

Typing each into a separate search query, Mara skimmed over the definitions of each.

“Domain; an area of interest or an area over which a person has control.”

“Prestige; admiration or respect for outstanding achievements or quality.”

“Eminence; fame or recognized superiority within a particular sphere or profession.”

“Thaumaturgy; the capability to work magic or other paranormal events, i.e. miracles.”

Stewing on the definitions as she finished her underwhelming breakfast burrito, Mara got up to fetch herself a glass of water.

So… ‘Mana’ can be seen as influence and status, but wielded as authority and control. Yet it’s also intrinsically spiritual in almost all ‘real’ definitions– However that could just be an artifact of pigeon-holing ‘magic’ as a whole…

Tapping her phone against her chin as she filled her glass of water at the sink, Mara brewed on her next angle. She had potential ‘sources’, and a myriad of ways of describing it, but what she really needed was concrete examples personifying those ‘concepts of mana’.

“Okay– Obviously, if someone could empirically demonstrate ‘magic’ as it’s storied to be, then it wouldn’t be fiction. So let’s break this down what could be an example of ‘mana’.”

Prestige reads as ‘great feats’, or garnering the admiration of others– i.e. Heroes. Not a ton of those running around, at least not by the usual tropes.

The second take seems to be the leverage of a ‘Spiritual Charisma’… Well, my mind instantly jumps to cult leaders, So, maybe that’s a form, or demonstration, of mana? It’s at least notable enough en-mass not to rule out entirely, the people that get involved in cults certainly seem a lot more invested than your average pyramid-scheme enthusiast.

But a ‘Spiritual Force’? That’s not exactly ‘spirituality’, but a raw resource of sorts from spirituality? Or maybe… ‘faith’ is a better term for the source of such a thing? Though that term doesn’t really box the concept very well, there’s been enough religious fanatics throughout history that if religion could really be leveraged as some sort of power or authority source, it would have been capitalized and built upon by now… Or maybe that’s actually the point of organized religions? Some sort of faith-based pyramid scheme?

“Heh. Dystopian and heretical.”

So, ‘cult leader’ and ‘superhero’. Of the two, only the former has inarguable real-life examples, leveraging mana as a charismatic influence fueled by a collective faith. Which isn’t that far off of the Māori’s practices, or at least my high-level interpretation of them… Which begs the question, why is that the only potential example of mana here on Earth? It’s certainly capable of much more wherever I just was, but…

The rumbling of the void she had recently acquired for a stomach underscored what she was getting at. No matter how much she ate, her appetite remained ravenous and throughout history, there wasn’t a single example of people doing much more than potentially influencing others.

Does Earth just not have mana?

“No… There’d be some, just– Very little… But, why?”

Why would a lack of mana read as hunger? Or… Perhaps more specifically, hungry for meat… What was it? ‘Vitality within something’? Maybe there’s merit to protein being a carrier of sorts, but… The implications… If four whole chickens barely notched ‘the hunger’ for, at most, three hours, that would make the ratios complete trash. Maybe animal meat isn’t enough? Or maybe ‘farmed animals’ contain little mana, but wild animals might have more?

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Giving her ransacked kitchen one last once-over, Mara wasn’t really sure what to make of her situation. On one hand, she was pretty sure her ongoing hunger was entirely mana-based, but without Debug around to confirm it, she was really just guessing. But on the other, if it was, what really were the consequences of not eating?

It seemed the alternatives were hunting, either wild animals, or god forbid, people, but neither of which sounded like tropes she wanted anything to do with, so Mara opted for a third.

Let’s gamble. I need mana, not food. My immediate and tangible problem is the feeling of hunger, but I don’t have any way of diagnosing that– Yet.

I’ve got a whole latin dictionary, a loose grasp on runes, and Mark still works with whatever mana I do have– So let’s see… ‘Rune Magic’ has to be Turing-complete, right?

{ √Δ }

Six days behind her mentor, the withered remains of Madison stood upon the same embankment he had, eyes of purple fire marveling at the giant incision scarring the ground for dozens of kilometers in either direction. No matter where she looked, the scent of Merlin’s magic was perfuse. His applications were always more than excessive, but it was still surprising to find the lingering so clear, nearly a week on.

It didn’t take a Magister of Mads calibur to feel the panic written upon every cast– His efforts had warped nearly all life, no matter how big or small, far into the deep woods, and now only the sounds of the trees and the winds were left to keep her company.

The last few days had been a gauntlet of necessity. From managing the deployment of nearly every sage and court-mage at her disposal, to co-developing three new barrier spells, she really hadn’t had the chance to breathe since their meeting in Polymese’s office.

Of the four who’d sat in that room, planning the response of the crown and kingdom, she was the only real candidate to send in for reconnaissance. Three of them had a decent idea of what they might be getting into, but thankfully they didn’t have to come up with excuses to persuade the king on their point. Not only was Madison their foremost expert on magic outside Merlin, she was also the only one left that had a known tenacity for avoiding death, so the argument was made for her. However, her ‘endurance’ did little to alleviate a majority of her concerns of the moment.

Glancing along the lengths of the upturned embankment to ensure she actually was alone, Madison grabbed the hem of her frilly dress and hopped the edge, sliding down towards the center of the cleaving with little concern for the dust she was kicking up all over her dress. Half-way down the embankment, the dusty dirt gave way to denser and denser hard-pack, and eventually stone, as she skidded down its roughly-hewn walls on the heels of her combat-boots.

Skipping to a stop near the glinting that had caught her attention, Madison zeroed in on her quarry glinting amidst the cleaved-smooth surface of unforgiving rock. Smeared against, and perhaps into, the nearly glassed floor of exposed bedrock was a smattering of highly-reflective chunks that were wholly distinct from their surroundings, and continued down the entire length of the scar.

Just from their abnormal appearance, they warranted further investigation, let alone the potential possibilities that could be brought about from the research of a new, foreign material merited at least a ‘few’ samples be taken.

Summoning a half-dozen jars from the non-space of her home-brewed ‘inventory magic’, Madison carved several chunks of the strange rock from the ground with purple spheres and levitated them up to eye-level. Most of the metallic material appeared to be on the surface, but a decent amount did extend into the rock itself, though more like tendrils than shunts or shears.

Shrugging and floating the anomalous rock samples into their glass jars, Mads dispersed the purple shells of magic and subsequently vanished the samples back to her ‘inventory’. Priority one was Survey, two was Collect. Conclusions could wait until she was back at camp with the rest of her staff.

Not wasting a second longer, Mads kicked off into the air, purple blades of magic solidifying beneath her feet as she began ‘ice-skating’ down the length of the crevice, supported by nothing but air– A feat she’d developed herself, using some absurd applications of physics that were only possible because she had mana to facilitate pressure without a physical presence– A concept many of her students still had trouble building upon on their own.

Of all her friends that had found themselves in Somniantes, she had been the first to arrive, and thus had had the longest opportunity to understand her new world. Initially born to an old country’s crown, her life had started well. She’d access to a plethora of written knowledge, and with a penchant for reading combined with knowledge of her old life, she’d quickly made a name for herself as a rising prodigy.

However, as it goes, on her fifteenth birthday she found herself kidnapped by rebels and held for ransom, only to be sold to a cult after her family refused to pay. Cult did cult things, as they would, and before she’d seen the latter half of the year, she was sacrificed in some unnamed catacombs; vengeance against her own family’s deeds. Ironic.

Well, suffice to say, the cult’s ritual did not go to plan, and in the aftermath, she’d found herself standing atop the remains of an entire country, and seemingly left with free rein of her own, undying, ever-withering corpse. A lich by any other name, the powers that were suddenly at her beck and call were nothing to sneeze at, but any hopes at normal life were now, inarguably, dashed.

However, Redonia had offered a change in the winds. It wasn’t the first country she’d wandered into, but rumors of a fledgling state helmed by two mad-men had peaked her interest. Turns out, they were even madder than the rumors, constantly trying to outdo each-other in their absurdity. However, through their combined efforts, they’d fostered a place that offered her things she’d swore were unreachable. Community, stability, friendship. All without judgment or reprisal for who she was or where she’d come from. So, if anything were to threaten that, well, she wouldn’t let them.

Sighting the end of her trek rapidly approaching under her frictionless air-skating, Madison pivoted, skidded to shave speed, hopped, and landed lightly upon the ground, mid-stride, slowing her momentum to a walk as she approached the edge of an absolutely massive crater.

“Damn, Merlin… Not that I’d expect less to do you in.”

Easily rivaling the heights of the marble walls of Uallach, a deep hemisphere spanning at least two kilometers had been carved out of the ground like an ice-cream scoop, taking a large chunk of the backing mountainside with it. The contents of said scoop were now nowhere to be seen, likely obliterated in their entirety, but despite the utter devastation, a solitary thing endured.

In the far-wall of the crater, directly opposite the scar leading to the gigantic void, was a smidge of gray embedded about half-way down the heavily scorched rocks. She knew at once what it was, but she certainly wasn’t happy to see it. Somehow, after everything it had been through, some part of the ship had survived.

So much of her wanted to obliterate every bit of whatever was left of that thing, it was unfair that it survived but her friend hadn’t. However she knew better. Rationally, she knew she should turn around, convey what she’d found, and return with the others. But, irrationally, she wanted nothing more than to evaporate it under whatever heavens she had to bend to remove it from her plane of existence.

Her foot wavered on the steep ledge to the crater below, leaning back and forth as she weighed her options. There was every chance she could finish off whatever did this, and perhaps it was better to do so sooner rather than later, but there was also every chance that they were facing something far outside even the ‘unacceptable norms’. Cursing under her breath, Madison pivoted and hopped into the air, quickly air-skating away from the crater before she reneged her notion towards caution.

M( -.- )RA

Stepping back from the strange ring, Mara looked at her palm, questioning if what she’d just seen was her imagination or not.

“Apotheca…”

Struggling to process the torrent of visions she’d just been exposed to, Mara slumped down with her back to the ring. She’d come here looking for Debug, but what she was finding in this ‘alien ship’ was far from what she’d been expecting.

A flood of memories had surged into her mind, visions that seemed both out of place, but also completely natural, as if she was only just now remembering them.

Pinkie was there… Pinkie brought me there. And then… Then it tried to hurt me, and I ran. I ran so… so far. And the Nexus– But even after all that, it was all for naught– I didn’t… I don’t think I made it up the ramp…

Leaning back against the wall, head knocking back as she looked up to the ring, Mara tried to calm the sudden adrenaline left lingering in her veins as she did her best to sort out what she could given the sudden deluge.

So what happened? How did I survive? And why didn’t I remember this before now? Were these even my memories?

And why is it here? Apotheca should have been destroyed. If it was a different ring, I doubt I would have gotten visions from just touching it, but… This certainly isn’t the same ship, so how’d it get here?

Pushing herself off the ground, Mara strode over to the terminal she’d been trying to use in the visions– The same gray concrete still rough under her fingertips as her hand slid across its surface. However, as her hand reached the recession that once housed a screen, she found it remained dim and opaque, all signs of the alien interface now gone. It seemed the terminals were now glorified bricks, as the only source of energy left in the room seemed to be trapped, cycling endlessly within the ring itself.

Maybe it’s in some sort of stasis?...

Mara weighed her options, this ring definitely held some sort of significance to her, but it also wasn’t what she’d come here for. Every rock she uncovered just begged more questions, and her mind was starting to find itself rather starved for answers.

“…Debug first. Debug. First. Then, we can figure it out–”

Because until then, I’m definitely just grasping at straws.

Turning her attention back to where she’d come from, Mara was about to find another room to search, but froze in her tracks as she saw the only door in the room suddenly slide open by itself as an identical copy of herself walked into the room.

Immediately at a loss for words, Mara stared, dumbfounded, as she held the door open for two more look-alikes, the latter pair limping in as the third grunted through some level of visible discomfort.

“Ah, Mara, you’re here– Good.”

Bombarding her bewilderment with even more confusion, the first to enter the room addressed her presence almost dismissively, while completely failing to explain anything about what was going on.

“Wha…”

Mouth agape and searching for answers like a fisherman in a salt-bed, Mara looked between the three clones of herself for any semblance of an explanation, however none seemed forthcoming.

The third, heavily limping one, barely made it to a terminal before it looked like their ankle was kicked in, sideways, mid-step, and the second clone had to catch their fall.

“RRRG– That smarts.”

Grunting as they ground their teeth through the pain, the third looked towards Mara, then looked back to the second before nodding back towards her with some inaudible whispers.

The second clone nodded to the third and stood up, seemingly tasked with explaining the situation. However, they lingered in place at first, staring Mara down as she struggled to find the words. It was like fishing a car out of a lake, how was she supposed to even begin to explain this mess.

The wayward leading the lost huh…

Looking over Mara, the second of her copycats opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind almost immediately, and began walking towards Mara instead.

Unsure what to make of anything that was happening, let alone being briskly approached by a mirror image of herself, Mara found herself backing away on instinct. Of all the things she thought she was prepared for, from squiddie aliens to sentient machines, but she hadn’t been expecting clones.

However, backpedaling did little to abate the sudden intrusion into her personal space, and despite the anxieties her mind was quickly trying to concoct, she actually found herself wrapped in an unexpected hug.

Flabbergasted at the sudden shift in apparent tone, Mara gaped, wide-eyed to the other two clones, unsure of what to do, and hoping for any sort of clue in the absence of normality. She had a billion questions, and now that she finally had people she could ask, the questions were practically fighting each other to make themselves heard.

“W-what is going on? Who are you all? Where’s Debug?”

Stepping back from their hug, while still holding onto Mara by the shoulders, the second clone smiled, happy to see she was pretty high on the priority list..

“It’s okay Mara, I’m here.”

Seeing the gears turn behind the growing recognition of Mara’s eyes, Debug gestured towards the third clone to enter the room, then to the first as she attempted to broach some sort of introduction to the quagmire at hand.

“That’s uh… Editor, or ‘Ed’, and the impolite one is Interrupt. As far as I know, they’re both ‘skills piloting bodies'– But apparently, I’m-uhh… Mora complicated.”