Excerpt of “About True Ones”
Written by Zsirack “Blue fingers”, Scribe of the Wandering Gods church.
True Ones
No one really knows how they came to be, but there are a few theories about them. Some are more probable than others.
The main ones are as follow :
It is said that in a distant past, when the Gods walked the world publicly, they sometimes mingled with mortals and had descendants.
The Divine Blood supposedly gave birth to the True Ones and the other Favored races like the High Elves and the Silverbeards.
“True Ones” are humans descending from this divine lineage and wields the powers of the Gods.
The Gods,when asked to corroborate this theory, usually answer with a mysterious smile and declaring a sybilline “Who knows?”, “It’s not important” or even a ranting “Again with this?”.
The wisdom of our Gods always impresses us, scholars.
The other theory is that “True Ones” aren’t humans at all, but a sort of “ancestor’s race” predating humanity itself, slowly losing their powers through generations.
This would explain the empires of old and why the number of True Ones slowly dwindles as time passes.
From time to time, this ancestry is strong enough to manifest, and when they reach 25 years of age, goes through a process called a “Sparkling”, their body shining suddenly with a multitude of colors and developing their “True Bodies”.
Whatever the truth, the ancestry eventually thinned to almost nothing, and “Sparkling” became rarer and rarer to the extent it can pass decades before a new “ True One” is born then revealed.
They are taller by a couple feet than the tallest human, stronger and live three times as long.
Their eyes shine bright in their old colors and a faint halo of light comes off their bodies.*
Most true ones belong to noble houses, as their habit of “marrying into the blood” makes their families a privileged place for new “Sparkling”.
When a True One is found, humans usually celebrate the discovery, as they are said to be a good Omen to their community. Thus the news spreads to the kingdom, and the “Knights of the Blood” are sent to verify the truth of the matter.
In the case of a True One being found, the Knights then Escort them to the Capital into their Fortress, to officially register them, and after some tests, propose them with a place into their ranks.
Most True Ones of noble blood usually spend a few decades into Knighthood until they inherit their fief as their future family heads, and for the second and third sons, it is custom of them staying a century or more.
True ones of more ordinary lineage tend to stay for a bit into the fortress, to learn about their new condition and then leave to either go back to their village/city, or become adventurers.
The village who made the discovery see their finances growing as the kingdom monitors them more closely just in case another one is revealed not long after, and the True One’s fame and support reach them, bringing more busyness to their doorsteps.
The biggest organization harboring True Ones is of course the Knights of the Blood, sporting an average of 30 of them, the highest number recorded two centuries ago being 126 Knights.
For more information about the Knights, please refer to “The knights of the Blood: a study” written by the same author.
*Very practical to read at night, but very much a problem for any True Ones that don't know how to “turn it off” or “Dimm”.
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Al[aster] closed the door of his home, still clutching the hot stones in his pockets to chase away the cold, taking a hold on his extremities.
He quickly took out the layers of cloaks and winter clothes he had to wear to walk outside, and quickly went to the fireplace. Inside glowed a red stone the size of his torso instead of wood and flames. The red stone glowed brighter as he got closer and took a hold of a firepike, poking it and closing his eyes to focus and feed it with some of his mana, making it glow brighter and the heat surrounding it to grow almost uncomfortably.
He let go, and the heat went back down to a comfortable degree, glowing brighter than initially.
Al let out a comfortable sigh, stretching his back and arms, his fingers flexing, letting his claws peek out and retract, before walking away, fetching the herbs and ingredients he went to buy for his Mother.
“Moooom ! I’m back ! I brought you what you asked for! Mom !” he shouted in the air, wondering if she was still here or inside her tower.
He looked through the window, careful not to touch the cold pane of glass, checking if he saw any light in the tower’s windows.
Seeing none, he went to fetch his magic lesson book, “A lesson on mana manipulation and spells.”
He took out the brown feather he used as a bookmark, and continued to read the chapter he was at, “Cantrips and easy exercises on spellcasting”
Clutching the feather in his hand, he followed the instructions, eyes closed, picturing in his mind what was required for the spell to work.
Everyone had mana, everyone could learn magic, but most did not.
It wasn’t because it needed innate talent, or a special ability only a few possessed.
It was just that learning it was annoying as hell and produced very small results at a time.
Everyone, in a way or another, could use mana in their daily tasks given enough time and practice, and it came naturally.
Lumberjacks choosing their marks and felling trees in a single swing, Smiths inspecting ore and detecting faults in their crafts. It demanded years of repetitive work, but once this was learned and consistently used, they would be called masters. The village counted a few of them already.
“Spellcasting” was in fact an application of this, a way of projecting your mana in different shapes to produce different effects.
And it was a pain to learn.
He focused his senses and gathered his mana where the feather sat in his palm.
Fingertips tingling as the feather felt against his scales as it was charged with static.
Focusing some more, he recalled the instructions on the manual and started to mutter the formula of weightlessness, imprinting his mana with the instructed flow of movement.
Once he felt he did everything instructed, and maintaining the drain of mana, he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at the feather, slowly letting his hand drop down, leaving the feather alone, floating in the air.
“Yess !!”
The small reptile jumped up in joy, felt his mana stream grow out of control and the feather shot upward, its tip wedging an inch into the ceiling before the mana stream was cut, joining the handful of items already stuck there. Feathers, rocks, leaves and a fork, the victims of the day.
“Aww…!” he moaned, dejected, looking up at it.
“We really need to install a metal plate where you practice, Al” said his mom’s voice behind him, footsteps stopping behind him. “One day you’ll pierce the ceiling and …” the Ginger haired wizard pondered a second, “ you’ll shove a feather in your bed or worse. we don't want that.” She lifted her hand up then pushed down with it, infusing mana into the objects embedded in the hardwood. They wiggled then dislodged with a pop and slowly fell in a neat pile on the ground.
“Hi, mom” Al answered, still *pouting* from his lack of success. “The herbs you wanted are on the table.” He sighed. “I don’t know why I can't keep my magic steady …”
“Give it time, Al. Once you do, I can finally teach you how to warm yourself up, imagine it happening, you’d burn yourself.” His mother said, as she checked the bag of herbs.
“I can’t believe it’s so hard to maintain, you said it was a “piece of cake”...” The little lizard said, taking another look at the manual to make sure he did not forget anything in the spell.
Andrea just smiled to herself. she did say that. However, it wasn’t exactly a beginner’s book.
“You’ll get the hang of it ! Keep at it until the candles go out, then go see your Dad, he wants to meet with you in the forge. “Helping with decorations or not, you aren’t dispensed with running around and hitting targets this morning”, He said”.She was clearly amused at that, brewing tea for her and her son, sitting her back at the table, surveilling Al as he kept practicing. She’ll have to start her own work soon, but she hates doing it in the morning.
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The candle slowly consumed as he kept trying to master that levitation spell, closely monitored by his mother, who quickly caught most of the feathers turned projectile before they could do any damage. In the end, the most he could do was to keep it in place for a full minute without breaking focus.
“Well, at least, now you won’t forget that spell” she noted as she stood up and cleaned up the table a little before patting the head of the frustrated and scaly pupil of hers. “your chanting is as good as it gets. Now it's all about control. You can do it.” she reassured him,as she went to leave the house, and go into her tower. “Mommy has things to do now, the council wants illuminations for the reception.” she added, opening the door.
“don’t make your dad wait too long!”
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And just like that, Alaster was back into the cold air of winter.
This time, however, the sun was high in the sky, and if it was still cold enough to make him feel sluggish, thanks to the heat stones and the warmth of the sun’s rays on his face, he could function almost normally.
That, and the fact that he was running around the forge, thus heating up further, making him pant, tongue poking out of his slightly open muzzle.
His dad wasn’t pleased he arrived when he did, and decided to “punish” him with a few laps for “tardiness”.
Al could hear his father hammer away in the forge, his legs synchronizing with the tempo.
After what felt like an eternity, the song of the anvil stopped. However, Felix didn’t call him yet, letting his son run for a few more minutes before coming out of the storage shack near the forge, hands behind his back.
“Al, come here ! I think you ran more than enough.” he said. “go take a seat on the anvil, and stay close to the fire.” He added, joining Al once he settled down, still breathing fast, tongue out.
“Alaster, your mother and I, we decided that you needed something to defend yourself after what happened In the forest and with that Pseudo Wolf.” he started, looking his son in the eyes, yet he looked a bit awkward and unsure. “And, well, this time you may have been able to uh … claw your way out of trouble, it might not be enough next time.”
He breathed in sharply, his hands moving from behind his back to present what he was holding to Alaster.
“So, We decided that I would make you a weapon just in case.” he continued as he let Alaster take a good look at his new weapon. "And teach you how to use it, for self defense."
“This is a special dagger,” he said, presenting its handle first, a nasty looking brass knuckle like contraption with spikes in between each “fingers”.The blade itself was broad, with a sort of hook in the end just like the arrows does to stay in or rip whats inside when you pull it out. “I got the designs from a traveler a few weeks back. He said it was a design made by the lizardmen in the east to get a better grip and still be able to use their claws. The blade can slice and stab, Though it’ll need some force to pull it out.”
As Al moved his left hand to palm the weapon, his father pulled it up out of his grasp.
“I don’t think you need to hear it, but i prefer to tell you right away.” He said, very seriously. “This is not a toy, and this is not a utility knife, I'll get you one. This is a weapon, one to kill or maim. I want you to keep it hidden under your coat and NEVER pull it out unless you are going to use it. It is for when you can’t get yourself out of a situation without violence and you can’t use your spells. Understood?”
The Pre-teen reptile nodded, and Felix could read some worry and hesitation on him.
“Good, this is a promise. Now come with me to the target and let me teach you how to use it.”
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When Al finally finished training, he went immediately to the main place to help with the preparations.
The place was a blur of activities and people around the different banners and decorations already, seamstresses and painters were racing to place their finishing touches to their work.
The wooden and Daubed houses are already starting to be vibrant with colors.
Carpenters were erecting poles and moving newly made tables in the center, aligning them toward an estrade still in construction. Other people were waiting with tablecloths, wooden cutlery, and the baker was supervising the cutting of the bread that’ll be used as a plate today.
A very special table sat closest to any other, upscaled in size for the True Ones guests already set with the finest cloth, cutlery and plates. Al noticed the discreet, yet very important reinforcement the table and chair had been through, metal angles and plates making sure they wouldn't collapse under the giant group weight.
And here was the reason for all this celebration, hauling on his shoulder poles and carpentry as if they were weighing half of what they should.
Todd, Merik’s son, the carpenter.
You could see power around him, as if you enhanced your eyes with mana. His own were glowing blue like candles, masking his brown pupils completely. Black hair and beard encompassed his face, which was not even strained with effort like the other carpenters were.
He was taller than anyone else by at least a head and his shoulders. his already muscular frame was even larger now.
It wasn’t the case only a few weeks ago.
Oh he was always tall and muscular, but not by THAT much. and he wasn't that STRONG either.
Al did not interact much with him. He was at least a decade and half older than himself, and he was already a journeyman and building roofs and homes when Al was old enough to leave the house and remember things.
He did hear that he was a good man, although a bit of a brute and a braggart. But he never heard ill of him besides these “flaws” and in such a small village, you got yourself a reputation very fast.
Just like Alaster. The Other, the Lizard, the coldblood, the witch’s child.
Of course there were other nicknames like Pearly scales, the apprentice, Al. he preferred theses.
Al scanned the main place, taking mental notes to avoid where Jek and his friends were all in awe before Todd. He didn’t really need another round of taunts and insults today.
Then he spotted his friend Tanya, who was helping the cooks, preparing the food, moving the plates. He decided it was the best place to help, as it was near the fires, and so he wouldn’t be slow and sluggish while helping.
After psyching himself up a little and taking a good breath, he went to see the chief cook of the village, Burt. He was currently busy supervising the other cooks with their roasts. Boar, Deer, Venison, and even some luxury monster meat he couldn’t just place now that it was prepared, but the mana rich smell was very characteristic. Al was really looking forward to the feast tonight.
“Hello, Mr Larsson.” Alaster greeted the solid, but kind of short man, looking up to meet him in the eye. “I’ve heard you need more hands to help. What can I do ?”
The man, wearing his apron over his everyday clothes, eyed the kid with his green eyes, noticing that he barely made any smoke with his breath. He scratched his brown beard/hair (you really never knew when one started and the other ended, this man is all hair under his outfit) as he looked around for a gap in his “brigade” as he often called his help.
“I see Elena is having trouble keeping the RedStone your mother lent us alight. why don’t you go help her. she said you knew how it worked.” He said, one of his huge hands resting delicately, but nonetheless a heavy and hairy and gently pushed him toward the biggest group of people. “Don’t forget to scrub your hands with soap and brush!” He added a little louder for everyone as he went back to his work, his eyes zeroing on an aide that tried to balance plates instead of taking her time.
Elena was sitting next to the RedStone, sweating bullets. she was wielding the special pike, occasionally pouring more mana into the stone and clearly struggling to give the just amount.
The sweat wasn’t from the effort, but rather by the scalding heat the stone gave off.
She worked in the field usually, using her own magic to throw seeds, dig trenches, and cut the crops with her scythe. Mana control was not really an issue there, where any amount was enough to do the deed.
Here she had to pour a set amount to reach the designed temperature, and wait for the stone to start getting cold to give it another helping.
She kept giving it either too much or too little.
No one was complaining yet. Roasting takes some time anyway, and the cooks were constantly checking up on the meat and dishes, so there was not really any real issue.
Still, she was starting to tire out. It was much more exhausting than what she was used to in the fields and she has been at it since she came here, a few hours ago.
Alaster approached her, feeling already the caresses of the heat on his scales chasing what was left of the chill of the day.
“Miss Elena? Mr Larsson told me to help you with the RedStone.” he said, taking a pike and poked the stone. Immediately, he felt just how much mana had been poured inside and looked around to observe the meat.
“Oh, thank you, alaster, that’s very nice of you” The woman said, eyeing Al with that look everyone gave him when they weren’t familiar with him. That wary countenance of a cat person meeting a new dog, not really sure how to treat him. “They said it should be an even heat, high enough to make the meat sizzle.” She tried to explain.
“Thank you miss, i think it's a bit too strong then, let me adjust it” he said, his eyes focused on the Stone, and started to move the mana inside of the stone a certain way, just like his mother taught him.
This stone could be used in two ways: One would be to just pour mana in it and it would heat up, then start to grow colder, like Elena was doing.
The other was to arrange the mana a certain way so it wasn’t completely spent in one go, instead maintaining the heating of the Stone.
Alaster did his best to reach the correct temperature, then, just as his mom explained, poured mana in a certain way that’ll feed the Stone continuously as long as it did not run out of it.
This was done after a minute of poking and prodding, then he just poured as much mana as the stone needed to last a couple of hours by his estimations.
“Here we go. i think we are fine for a little while” He said, eyes on the Stone, his pinkish eyes turning blue with his mana. “unless they want us to get it any hotter or colder. then we gotta work on it”. Alaster looked at the cooks and aides as he stepped away until he was just warm enough.
Elena was staring all the while without really knowing what was happening. After all, she didn’t see mana, like most people in the village. This was an application of mana most people did not really need.
“Oh … So uh… we uh, can go and do other things ?” She asked, taken aback.
“I think so, as long as we keep an eye on it ? There is always a chance it goes out or goes … boom.” Alaster gestured in emphasis, hands high and spread wide. “It shouldn't. but you never know with magic Stones, I’m not my mom.”
Elena felt a shiver go through her spine, no, that's not a good look.
“Oh.. well, we better stay close and poke and prod it to check every so often, right ?”
Is she using it as an excuse to slack …?
She totally was....
Al and Elena agreed to take turns watching the fire. Al went to help around in the kitchen while Elena was doing her shift, joining Tanya to help with setting up the tables.
Then, Al Head turned east as he felt a rush of mana this way, then blaring of trumpets.
The Officials and the Knights arrived !