Saturday, April 18, 2020

Ollivander's

“Ah yes,” came a voice from the back of the shop, sneaking to Harry's ears so softly it took him a moment to realize someone was talking to him. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon, Mr. Potter.” The voice was followed the soundless movement of long, thin fingers around the end of one of the stacks. The fingers were attached to a pair of arms, long and thin, with no hands in between.

“You have your mother’s eyes,” said the voice, although its own eyes were still nowhere to be seen. “It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Rose gold and an index finger. A wand for a rare talent.”

The fingers began to trace Harry’s body, fingertips trailing up his legs, counting his joints so gently he couldn’t be sure if he was actually being touched.

“Your father on the other hand, had a wand of steel and a ring finger. A wand for a warrior.”

The fingers moved up to his torso, sketching it in the air.

"...Fingers?" asked Harry, afraid to break the silence but more afraid to let it linger.

"The fingers of Merlin."

Harry looked at the boxes stuffed onto the shelves, stacked on the counter, piled on the floor, each one a wand. Each one a finger.

"He... must have had a lot of fingers."

"He did. He does. His body still grows them, on occasion. He was not alive in the same way that we are alive, and did not die in the same way that we will die.”

The fingers reached his head. They traced along his jawline, and found the scar, the jagged line of tooth-marks that cut across his face on their way round his skull, as if someone had tried to bite his head in half.

“And that’s where…”

The fingers began to trace the scar, tapping lightly on each toothmark.

“I wonder…”

The fingers suddenly withdrew, pulled by the arms back among the shelves. There was tapping and rustling and murmuring that might have come from multiple voices and then the fingers returned, clutching a slender box.

“Bronze and a little finger. Strong yet pliable. A wand for a survivor.”

The fingers presented the box. Harry took it carefully, avoiding touching them. Opening it he found a rod of black bronze, as thick as his thumb and as long as his forearm. The handle was engraved with a geometric pattern for grip which had been burnished brown. He took the handle in his hand, and it was like…

…like a pins and needles feeling in his soul. A limb he had forgotten was missing had been reattached. He was greater than whole. This would be every tool he would ever need.

Harry remembered that he was standing in the shop, holding the wand. He had lost track of time and the long fingers were once again investigating his scar.

“Curious… curious…” drifted the voice from the back of the shop.

“What’s curious?” said Harry.

“All wands eventually return to me, Mr. Potter. A successful alchemist will find that their own fingers become enough, and they no longer need to borrow one of Merlin’s. The wands come and go from this shop, generation by generation. And this wand… this wand was last used by the man who gave you that scar.”

Silence hung among the dust in the air.

“Seven galleons,” said the voice. Harry put the coins on the desk and left. Hagrid was sitting on a bench outside. He grew concerned when he saw Harry’s face.

"Don't let Olivander worry you. He's one of the oldest of us, most are still more human than that."

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Le Roi

The swamp swallows whole. 10 years gone, a wooden house will be overgrown. 20 years, it begins to sink into the mud. 30, and it is a framework of petrified wood. Even stone sinks.

Le Roi is a city of stone. It was designed after Paris, with wide avenues, magnificent monuments, and dense blocks of apartments.

The city is now 100 years old, and is 2 stories below sea level. Having sunk for a century, no building stands straight. The avenues have become canals, populated by gondoliers and alligators. Balconies have become entrances. Parks have become marketplaces, stalls built on rafts tied to the tops of drowned trees. In summer it is like a great simmering sauce pan, baking the stone. In storms the city seems already drowned and howling for breath.

The youth are fond of jumping into the water from the rooftops, or diving into the flooded ground floors, hoping to find left behind treasures. The city council has attempted to stop these activities do to injuries and parasites, but with little success. Among adults fishing is a common pastime, often done out of windows. Most are the businesses of smuggling guns and rum.

The manors built along the shore are hardest hit by the shores and were quickly abandoned by the rich and seized by the poor. Isolated families live in attics, surviving on what they can fish from the sea.

Saturday, February 29, 2020

The Kingdom of Fireflies

The king of the Kingdom of Fireflies is a sickly man. He has never seen the sun and it has harmed his health more than any of his subjects. It is all he can do to reach his throne room, and he must survey his kingdom from his castle windows.

The kingdom is small, built into the sides of the cavern containing the underground lake Bluelight. Everyone lives in carved out spaces in the walls, lit by glowing blue-green lichen. Some are alcoves with patches of dried lichen too sleep on. Some are as fine as a palace on the surface, or so their owners boast, despite no one having seen the surface in living memory.

Open spaces, side passages and islands in the lake, are reserved for agriculture. The people of the Kingdom of Fireflies grow grubs, planting them upright in the gravel with only their shiny black heads showing. The grubs are fed all manner of organic waste, slowly but surely growing fat. A farmer must judge, without digging up the grub, how close it is to pupating and maturing into an firefly. The closer to pupation, the fatter the grub, but the fireflies are inedible. A portion of each crop is allowed to mature, the fireflies swarming above the fields pulsing frantic mating signals, and under this light the people hold their harvest festivals, gorging themselves on grubs until the fireflies fall, then splitting them open and collecting their eggs for the next planting. The king looks for clusters of wandering lights, so that he can know his people will be fed.

Mermen live in lake Bluelight. They are not like the mermaids of the surface the King has read about. Cave mermen are pale, with semi-translucent skin that has a shiny, slimy look. They no longer have eyes, although they still have eye sockets. Instead of legs they have tails like eels, long and sinewy. They trade silverfish scales and steelcrab shells for tools, which they struggle tomake themselves. The king sees them sometimes, from his bedroom window, silhoutted by glowing algae.

The king's castle is carved out of a rocky promentory jutting out above the lake. It was created to closly imitate the childhood home of his grandfather, who grew up in a castle on the surface. It contains many artifacts of the surface, although few of them have escaped rust or rot. Visitors marvel at the workings of metal their ancestors had wrought. They themselves only know how to craft leather, chitin, stone, and bone.

Someday they will reclaim the surface from the evil that banished them, but the king knows he will not live to see that day.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Dread Hive

Bee queens may be sentient. This is demonstrated by the use of necromancy by some honeybee queens. Some maintain that the necromancy exhibited by some bee queens is merely a natural magical ability, and does not necessarily prove sentience. But most naturalists believe that the queens are sentient, and like all sentient life, can investigate things men (and bees) were not meant to know.

In a dread hive, all but the queen are undead. The queen no longer lays eggs, but dances rituals to raise the exoskeletons of dead insects. Her tireless workers haul in spell reagents and exoskeletons, and arrange themselves in complex patterns to amplify, always fueling the continuous expansion of the hive rituals.

Dread hives differ from living ones in one obvious way: they are too large. The workers collect natural spell reagents, which they purify into dread honey, a powerful spell reagent. The interior of the hive is laid out with geometric precision, in accordance with geomantic and numerological principles.

Where it comes from: Like all sentient beings, honeybee queens occasionally delve into forbbiden knowledge.

What it wants and needs: Dead insects. Their exoskeletons will be raised and join to the colony. The queen wears parts of insects as her armor, and can control them. Her colony incorporates the risen corpses of other insects; while most are still worker bees, everything from wasps to centipedes can be expected.

What it will fight for: They will fight other insects to kill them and incorporate their bodies. Otherwise, they fight only defensively.

What happens if you eat it: Dread honey is made from purified natural reagents. Eating it can awaken magical potential, cause prophetic dreams, or make for a bizarre death.

What can be crafted out it: Dread honey can be substituted for many other spell reagents, making it a very valuable substance. Candles made from dread wax reveal the presence of ghosts.

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

Armor with a life of its own

A necromancer hired a bodyguard, a giant of a man who boasted of his skill in combat. The bodyguard died at the first sign of trouble, an arrow to the throat. Chiding himself for trusting the foolish living, the necromancer turned to the steadfast undead. With one spell, the bodyguard's body was skeletonized. With another, the bones rearranged themselves, becoming a suit of armor with an extra pair of bony arms extending from the shoulders. The bodyguard's arms are far more effective in death than they were in life, holding shields in the necromancer's defense, leaving his hands free for spell casting.

An elf wanted to protect his woodland home. He begged a dryad for strength, so she cut open his chest and planted an acorn beside his heart. The acorn took root and began to grow into a might oak, reinforcing him like a tree strengthens a stone wall. He patrols the borders of the woods, walking more slowly each season. One day he will join the trees he has protected.

The ogre was going to eat the gnome, but the gnome kept explaining how he should be cooked until the ogre found himself with the gnome on his shoulder, being directed to find herbs in the forest. He grew used to the situation quickly, and before long the gnome was dictating all aspects of his life from a seat on his shoulder.

Even dragons grow old. When its scales began crack and fall of, one dragon began to replace them with the shields of those that had tried to slay it. The colors of heraldry are a riot across his body. When he next went ravaging across the countryside the survivors told only of an army that ate towns.

Wednesday, September 4, 2019

Hummingbees

To the unfamiliar, hummingbees are not easily distinguished from hummingbirds, their close relatives. The big giveaways are their bright plumage in bright violet and deep black, and their longer, thinner beaks, which get longer and sharper as they grow older.

Hummingbees live in colonies of a few dozen, building large nests out of thin sticks and mud in the crooks of trees. All their eggs and young are raised collectively. The birds are thus willing to sacrifice themselves in the defense of their nest, knowing that their young will still be cared for. They attack intruders one at a time, oldest bird to youngest. They attack by darting quickly and powerfully at the enemy, piercing soft tissue with their needle-like beaks, aiming most often for the eyes. The wounds inflicted are small but deep and can often kill through blood loss or infection. Most animals have learned to avoid hummingbee nests.

Where it comes from: They are born from small blue eggs and raised by all the adults of the colony.

What it wants and needs: Hummingbees eat both for themselves and for the young in their nests. They eat massive amounts of nectar, supplemented by small insects.

What it will fight for: Hummingbees will always fight in defense of their nests.

What happens if you eat it: Delicious!

What can be crafted out it: Their beaks can be used as needles, awls, or shanks.

Monday, August 5, 2019

Nootropics

The stuff isn't addictive, per se, but I promise you'll never go back. Because my stuff works. Genius in a pill, take one a day.

Suddenly the world is simple. Everything is obvious. You'll have so many ideas.

Don't go off it. You'll remember being smart, remember enough, that, when you quit, you'll feel pitiful, slow, damaged. The thoughts will come slow and arrive half-formed. You'll know you can be better. You'll know it, but its just not coming together. Not without my help.

Or maybe you've been taking it for years. You've built a career. An identity. You won't be able to keep up without it. You'll be drowning in your own life.Your coworkers will wonder what happened, why you can't get anything right anymore. Your dreams of inventions, discoveries, or artistic masterpieces? Impossible now. Unless you take another dose.

First time's free.