Gustneau's Pet

Alexandre Gustneau is an Artisan. An esteemed scholar of more than thirty years, he has advanced the field of Conjuration into the modern age—largely through his methodology of stripped molecules— essentially on his own. He is reserved yet friendly, prone to avoiding large gatherings (save for those held in his honor), and hopelessly dependent on a small fleet of assistants to keep him from either starving or scheduling himself to death. 

Since becoming directeur d'études, Gustneau has spent his time tirelessly pursuing the frontier of his specialization. The board has reduced his lectures to twice weekly: a decision which he believes to be unnecessary, but has begrudgingly accepted for health reasons.

Recently he asked you, one of his most diligent students, to assist with the qualitative portion of a novel research paper. He is offering co-authorship, along with a sizeable sum for the week's work. Seeing as you are a respectable Artisan-in-training (and also broke), the decision was not a difficult one.

Can You Keep A Secret?

You await the professor's arrival outside of your dormitory, armed (to his specifications) with nothing but your writing utensils. He appears suddenly in the dead of night, hands you an envelope full of molten coin and, with a flourish of cane and cloak, beckons you to follow. The two of you pass through the twisting halls of D'Aimboise Polytechnique, down one of the many corridors made defunct by the catastrophe, and crawl through a (charred) fountain-relief depicting the Imp Magician Keryllion. Beneath all of this lies a sealed ritual chamber, whose locks only open for Gustneau himself, and wherein belongs the source of your recruitment.

He calls it his "jardin de vérité" — a garden of truth. Several years and countless budgets have been lost in the construction of this interior, which is about the size of a tennis court. Trees and grass, rocks and flowers, stretch as far as the eye can see, all smuggled here for the purpose of complete and utter imitation. The details are fine enough to produce an aneurysm; You could bury a body here and never see brick, swim in the stream and never question where its water flowed from. There is even a lunar cycle! Its only flaw, as far as realism is concerned, is that the garden's sky is limpid—hardly a cloud in sight. You ask if this was all made from conjured material, but the professor only laughs at you. "All of it is real," he whispers, unable to restrain the look of pride on his face. "for them."

Hello There!
Photo by @louisehancoxtextiles

You don't notice at first, silhouette half-buried within the thicket some thirty feet away, until Gustneau's finger draws your gaze to it: a doe. A charming, lanky little thing. It seems unperturbed by your presence, more interested in chomping away at whatever leafy texture has incidentally brushed itself against the creature's snout. Suddenly, the question of legality buries itself into your mind. A private terrarium of this stature is scandalous, sure, but it hardly qualifies as a crime. Professor Gustneau is a professional, an admired academic! Even if the academy didn't know about this place, would they dare punish him for it? Is it even worth the trouble?

Then there is the other matter: how exactly he got the creature in here to begin with. Did he smuggle it in as a baby? Convince one of the nourricière to grow it for him? If this is a potential safety risk, why haven't the Lolea been notified?  Do they know? Should they know? 

...Can I pet it?

Before any one of these questions can be uttered amongst the swarm, Alexandre Gustneau approaches the brush. The deer does not run as the professor approaches it, and struggles little as his arm wraps around the creature's neck. He guides it to the nearest clearing with a gentle tug, fingers stroking its chin with the tenderness of a beloved farm animal. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" Gustneau coos, coming to a stop in front of you. "One of a kind, really."

His fingers lock in place along the deer's jaw. Your eyes widen as the professor lifts his cane with their free hand and places its anvil-shaped handle against its forehead. He mimics a striking motion two or three times, as if gauging a hammer against a nail.

"A true marvel of engineering..."

A trill escapes from his throat at the sheer exertion of the act, as he plunges his cane into the deer's forehead. In an instant, thick globules of wine-red blood begin rushing from the gash in its head. Its eyes roll backward the moment it is struck, revealing gray pearls; stones twinkling bright from crimson and sunlight. Soon after, its blood takes on a rose-like hue. Then pink. Then pink and brown. Within minutes, what oozes from the crack is a thin, off-white fluid with the color and viscosity of paint. The thing lets out a tepid sputtering noise, as if a fuel tank could be unsatisfied with it being drained, and then tilts its head to look at you. Your heart shifts in your chest.

"They said it couldn't be done, you know." Professor Gustneau looks up at you. "That it was hardly worth the hassle."

You can see now, from beneath the shadows of the treetops, that familiar glint of genius within his eyes. Though perhaps that was always madness.

"How wrong they are."

Trismegistus

While the school of Transmutation has worked diligently over the centuries to study the construction of all objects, including the meticulous reproduction of their material properties, some conjurers — whether dissatisfied with their cousin's sluggishness or in pursuit of their own goals — have begun to experiment with alternative resources. "Stripping" involves the practice of removing atoms from a stable compound and replacing them with an inert magical equivalent, or "dummy" particle. These chimeras, formed from both natural and Occult material, are then used as building blocks for the conjurer's desired form. Such material has proven invaluable in matters such as recycling or (to a limited degree) restoration, where the necessity of a thing sometimes outweighs the desire for authenticity.

As projects grow deeper in complexity, however, the program has shown more limited success, resulting in a copy which, at higher levels, visually resembles the original, but is obviously artificial. Besides the instability inherent within a largely magical construct, these imperfections commonly manifest as "doll-like" features: glossy textures, poorly articulated parts, an illusion-like appearance under different light-sources, and 'empty' eyes. Conjurers have historically avoided the construction of organic beings for this reason—among others—and have thus persevered in the realm of material sciences. Stripping has become something of a recent fad among Architects, as well as other artisans engaged in the art of golem-making, where cheap building materials are often in high demand.

The Eight Heresies Of Pashem

Lakshman Anil Paschim had a problem... he was too popular. Born into a family which had gained its wealth during the Green Conquest—wherein precursors to the new faith sought recourse for THEE's intrusion, and were promptly crushed—Paschim inherited a taste for affluence. Enrolled in the greatest schools, spoilt by the finest of delicacies, the young boy grew quickly into the shape of a well-spoken & influential aristocrat. 

He was also a brat. How could he not be, as an entitled profiteer? 

But there was one line that Paschim could never cross. For all his outbursts and shows of force, for all of the wealth he possessed and attention he craved, Paschim always refused to outright cheek the church. Heresy was a grave sin, after all, punishable in all ways socially and by rule of law. That which was shared, preached, and made were all protected under divine reasoning: that works of THEE's church were in celebration of the Authority's laws. For all his insolence, Lakshman would never dare commit apostasy against his nation's living God... until he did.

Now they are accursed things. Profane artifacts; mockeries born of a sinful mind.

Here are three. Learn their names, understand their histories, so that you may begin to understand why it is that Paschim was never buried within his own catacombs.

Aspis — The Ship

Names: Kolona, The (Stealing) Ship, She Who Glistens

Who Made You?: A crew of 600 laborers.

Wicked Sins: Blasphemy, Piracy, Unsanctioned Geometry

-----

The Kolona was a Mesquitan prize vessel, commissioned by the Church of the Authority amidst the changing of the royal retinue. Built for show, the Kolona was worked upon by some of the finest craftspeople in the archipelagos, resulting in a trireme of incredible size: fine gems and metals inlaid across its hull, its nose adorned with the face of their ruler Lord Aphotritchides. It was a point of pride for the workers, not to mention a boast of the church's influence.

 

Unpredictable at the time, however, was Anil Paschim's growing attraction towards it.

Shortly before the Kolona took sail, Paschim organized a workforce for the construction of a new vessel, having received "divine inspiration" from the Church's masterpiece. What followed took Paschim's crew months to the Church's year-and-a-half, maintaining a crew of over 600 engineers, manual laborers, and artisans. Their end result was noticeably smaller than the Kolona—about 1/3rd—but nonetheless impressive. Less impressive was the Church's reaction to the vessel, accusing Paschim of blasphemy through imitation. He denied any such intention, deflected the blame, and largely avoided any consequences.

The Aspis was ultimately left unfinished—fearful of pursuing inquisitors, what workers remained (not having fled) pushed the ship into the ocean and sailed themselves to safety. Those same sailors are now believed to have taken up a life of piracy: reports tell of a familiar ship haunting the Mesquitan coast, with eyes like stars within its bow. These attacks have grown so troublesome (and common) that the Kolona's reputation has been irreparably damaged. It is currently being decommissioned.

There Are Things Besides Will O' Wisps In The Dark.
"Night Fog" by Johnson Cameraface

Inhabitants of the Aspis:

1. 1d6 Workers (Maintenance; slacking off; licking their wounds.)
   
2. 1d4+1 Raiders (Preparing for a raid; hunting intruders; sleeping.)
   
3. 1d4-1 Mesquitan Janissaries (In pursuit of the ship, now trapped within it. Camping; carousing; hunting crew.)
   
4. 3d4 Giant Rats (They have little trouble maneuvering throughout the walls of the Aspis. Breeding; feeding; praying.)
   

Members of the original crew still endure within the Aspis, along with an assortment of welcome or unwanted guests.

Decks of the Aspis:

1. The Hold — near-darkness in torchlight; the sound of creaking wood and snapping oars; a persistent sense of seasickness, pierced by whispers in the dark.
   
2. The Hoard — chests upon chests of treasure, stolen goods from coastal lands; poor to maintain & hardly traversable; a logistical nightmare. How do we get out of here?
   
3. The Bar — a cozy lounge, stocked with food and wine; a moment of respite; music plays softly from a slit in the walls; the bar is manned by a greying beard who takes no requests, offering drink and a kindly smile.
   
4. The Barracks — chisels and hammers, quivers and bows; a collection of arms made, inherited, and pillaged; an unlikely menagerie.
   
5. The Museum — a gallery exhibit; artwork lines the walls, glass cases atop pillars on display; there is a black stain where a portrait should be, its plaque reads "A Girl Found".
   
6. The Muse — a false deck; forever dusk upon the world, a sky bereft of stars.
   

Triremes are not built with cargo in mind, yet this ship contains worlds beneath its hull. Roll a d6 when first entering the Aspis, then record whatever deck you arrive at. Roll again whenever the party exits a floor, either through another hatch or traveling backwards. In order to escape the loop, reach a variant of the first floor you entered, then exit out the way you came.

Paschim's Cup — The Chalice

Names: Chalice of the Covetous, Sorrow, The Great Dissapointment

Who Made You?: a goldsmith's apprentice, imprisoned in a workshop

Wicked Sins: Kidnapping, Obliteration

-----

Lakshman Anil Paschim was not an artist, but he was incredibly envious. More than flaunting his family's wealth, Anil Paschim surrounded himself with artists and their work because they possessed something he lacked—whether mechanical skill or a sense of imagination. Unwilling to pursue an artist's education, Paschim still craved an object for himself...

...And so he studied. Again and again, until the works in his collection had been observed a thousand times. He glared at their construction—sculpture and vessel alike—and tried to ascertain how they came to be. He looked to their sources, sought out their parts, working day and night to reverse-engineer what made them such fine art. When the time came for Paschim to create his first work, the final product was predictably shoddy. Frustration welled inside of him. Following another attempt, then two more, Paschim abandoned his efforts for a far simpler plan.

The Chalice is a receptacle of infinite volume. It cannot be filled nor stuffed with solids, rebelling against its master at every opportunity. Whatever is forced into the chalice bleeds through the bottom, in some cases literally, as compressed material will be transmuted into blood. Submerging the Chalice results in the slow drainage of that fluid, should something prevent it from resurfacing. 

Lakshman Anil Paschim would abandon the Chalice in his lifetime.

Location of the Cup:

1. At the bottom of an evidence locker in the same town that it was found. Who would want this hunk of junk?
   
2. Currently in the possession of gentle-brigand Sabir Al-Fahd, a hallwani extortionist.
   
3. Being worshiped by a cult of blaspheming Druids. They are using its transformative properties to aid in ritual sacrifice.
   
4. Trapped beneath the decks of the Aspis—buried in treasure or on display.
   
5. Stuck in a chest at the bottom of a lake, inside of a now-waterlogged ship. The chest has begun to leak.
   
6. Jammed inside the throat of a Were-Tiger, fighting to survive in its animal form. The Chalice's trickle keeps them alive—so long as they remain shapeshifted, it won't expand their throat and kill them.
    

   

   Cups Don't Hold Much Religious Symbolism In Séraphine. Typical, Silly Paschim.
   "Chalice of the Void" by Seb McKinnon
   

   
   

Hel's Spear — The Spire

Names: The Dominant, Death's Head, Cock of Hades

Who Made You?: Nobody; you sprung from the earth.

Wicked Sins: Blasphemy, Intrusion

-----

 Among certain sects, there is a belief that when the end-times come, every facet of the empire will be utilized in Authority's battle against the forces of evil, including the very cities themselves. Consequently, spires have become a prominent architectural feature, with fleches of silver or gold becoming a common sight across the empire. Spires can be found atop institutions and places of worship, or adorning the walls of fortresses in evenly-spaced clusters. They are, in essence, weapons: tools built to-scale with THEE's might, carved out and occupied for our own convenience.

 Lakshman Anil Paschim saw spires everywhere, for his birth had granted him the luxury of witnessing their many forms. He knew well what their presence represented, and as such, his halls were appropriately decorated—donations strategically applied. Yet Paschim cared little for this particular dogma. These payments were expected of him, a formality rather than a commitment, for what other purpose could they serve? 

    "Say war did come to the Seraphi: would sulṭah truly trash its own kingdom in order to defend us? If so, then would we fill the spires with our institutions? Are we ignorant, or merely stupid?"

This opinion was not unique to Paschim, nor did it matter. When 200 meters of silt and blackstone burst from the bottom of a once-innocuous lake, threatening to pierce the heavens, all eyes fell on the only man who could be deemed responsible. While other heresies merely threatened his reputation, The Spire revealed to old Paschim threats to his life—threats which were very, very real. 

Who cares if he had anything to do with it?

It Is Surprisingly Hard To Find Artwork Of Black Spires Sprouting From Water.
"Archaic Sanctum" by Ageus

Features of the Spire:

1. Creatures of all sorts have ventured into the region surrounding the Spire, making it their home—this includes Devils, heretics, and a multitude of monsters.
   
2. There are entrances into the Spire, although reaching them has proven somewhat difficult, due to being so far above the surface. Hope you brought your climbing gear.
   
3. The landscape becomes prickly as one travels closer to the base of the Spire, a mixture of upturned crust and blackstone spikes. Likewise, its surface softens during the ascent, smoothing to a point at its apex.
   
4. Being a relatively new landmark, the empire has poured considerable resources into its investigation of the Spire and its birthplace. Pathfinders work alongside clerics in their search for an origin.
   
5. There is a second building rising from the lake, a lopsided tower of halls and columns which has already partially engulfed the Spire.
   
6. Somewhere within the Spire is a second entrance, connecting to a smaller, inner core. 

Imagine This, But Stretched Out & Surrounding The Spire.
Quinta da Regaleira from Wikimedia Commons

Frightening, Glistening Things

Have you ever wondered why we give such importance to gemstones? 

They touch our minds. Gemstones are symbols of wealth, markers of high fashion, and icons of envy and greed. Great value is assigned to these stones regardless of their actual rarity. Their beauty encapsulates us. Watches and gowns, cars and technology: symbols of great prosperity alone to those who wield them, yet they are bedazzled all the same. Only this can elevate you. Bring your face to the limelight.

They touch our hearts. We associate gemstones with feelings of success and desire. We construct tools out of a rare few of them. We look to fiction and see examples of things that should be coveted: precious treasures to be plundered. Massive diamonds and glowing crystals are forlorn by those who own them as if the meaning of their very existence is to be wanted. Only this can make your dreams come true. Heal a broken heart.

They touch our souls. Historically, cultures have associated their shape, size, and colour with spiritual awakening. Vast theologies have been constructed to find a use for marvellous crystals, and maps have been charted of the body's gates and openings, signifying stones of all varieties as the bridge through which one can heal their entirety. Civilizations have always desired nourishment for the soul. Only this can fulfill the ultimate desire. Transcend mortality.

Gemstones are synonymous with high society, the rich and the monarchy, which is partially why they're so incredibly rare in Bromeilles. 

A Measure in Abundance

This Time, Beauty Meets Esotericism
"Heart of Lorkhan" by Helena Nikulina

If you were to acquire an enormous hammer and crack open the tallest mountains in Bromeilles, one would find a profound lack of gemstones. There would be a few, for sure—tucked away in amalgamate heaps, incoherent in placement and composition—but rarely enough to justify the dangers of excavation. This is because there are no gemstones in Bromeilles. 

That's hyperbole. 

But there really are fee naturally-occurring gems on the continent! Not before The Storm Eternal and not in the four-hundred-odd years after the fact. Gisele De Roy argued that anything resembling a gemstone was swallowed before it could be pushed upward through the crust, a consequence of the continent's fractured state; The Magician Keryllion claims that it is simply the will of chaos. Luck functioning to its ultimate conclusion.

Of course, there are sources of fine stones in Bromeilles. The beauty of the high cities would suffer in status without them, nor would The Artisinal Schools have access to ripe new conduits. 

They're called Tear Stones, and they fall from the sky. 

Falling Stars

Records detailing the presence of tear stones have existed since before The Storm Eternal, with spottings noted in everything from Eldermen stories to cave drawings. The name 'Tear Stone' is a sanctioned nickname for the objects, tales claiming that the stone's design and the oddities of their condition are the results of The Moon's crying. Themselves indistinguishable from meteorites (also common sights in Bromeilles), tear stones are one of the few orbital objects visible through cloud cover. 

One astronomist, Charles Billard, makes a note of a falling jewel in one of his premier journals:

    "...Perspiring atop the observation post, it was not long—shortly after nightfall—until we first saw the object. Carving its way through the clouds like a blade through the skin, its silver streak was clearly visible, the head a glistening bolt of light. Its entire structure was clearly visible until a count of sixty-seven seconds, whereupon its tail was swallowed by the storm. Our guetteur measured flickering for an additional fourteen seconds, at which point it disappeared across the horizon..."

Silverbolt, Savior's Told, Oh Beauty Can't You See?
"The Silence Of A Falling Star" by Randy Urban

The 'tears' are, up-close, reminiscent of arthouse projects. Warped chunks of rock buffed and bleached by the upper atmosphere, momentarily turned to slag by the impact, with craters all throughout its surface. Gemstones are generally immediately visible at this stage. Similar to one you would blast out of the ground, they are fused to the rock and one another. Unrefined, they possess an otherworldly beauty. 

Rarely longer than a metre, tear stones are at most 40% jewel and 60% rock. 

Falls are uncommon affairs. A given night may have zero and a dozen unrelated events, with few tear stones throughout the night or several in quick succession. Unlike the meteoroids which share space with them, tear stones often make landfall far from civilization and are otherwise small enough to be redirected.

Artisinal Shapers will often report being offered bribes. Few will admit to actually taking them, but there is great wealth to be made in cultivating tear stones; no more organizations uninvolved with The Republic.

Strange Gems, Stranger Things

In addition to their inherent scarcity, the variety of jewels found in tear stones is abundant, with several dozen recognized stones in possession by The Republic. 

Besides their aesthetic desires, several groups ranging from The Artisinal Schools to druidic sects expropriate certain gemstones because of their inferred supernatural abilities. Some may be important or necessary for a particular ritual or simply a valuable conduit for use during spell casting. In contrast, others whisper of innate magical talents within the stones. Such claims aren't entirely unfounded, and several expeditions have been funded by The Artisinal Schools and Covens alike to retrieve whole tear stones.

It is possible for Artisans to construct an artificial gemstone through the work of The Occult. Still, such a process is tedious and dangerous and usually lacks the innate tinge of magic in natural jewels. These jewels are still perfectly useable as conduits.

Beautiful, Aren't They?
Image from The Arkenstone

Truthfully, the word 'gemstone' is inaccurate compared to our world. Other materials such as bismuth and amethyst—a metal and crystal, respectively—are also available in tear stones and are referred to colloquially as gemstones. This doesn't mean that the materials themselves aren't also classified into their respective categories or that these materials don't possess some unnatural qualities of note, but that Bromeillan understanding of the term 'gemstone' is founded mainly on the phenomenon of tear stones.

This also doesn't mean there aren't gemstones already in the ground. There are, and plenty are the result of long-forgotten tear stones finally unearthed. The occasional "natural" gem is also findable within the continent's crust, though they are few and far between, and hardly possess any of the extraordinary qualities of their cousins.

Witches, Part 3 - The Ideology of Witches

 

You Believe Too Much, Think Too Little
'Frpth' by Marina Krivenko

It is often difficult to believe that witches, already viewed in a light of mystery, can achieve such feats as Calling. The forces which fuel The Occult are already fraught with danger, foreshortening many Artisans-in-training and inattentive practitioners. To presume that The Primeval Forces are somehow kinder is a gross understatement. Druids do not take kindly to those they deem unworthy of wielding "their" gift, and the natural world takes ambivalent pleasure in ruining those who only exist to take. 

For a witch to swing then between both ideologies of magic, a master of two paths, drives some folk to the point of madness. For more context on witches in Bromeilles, click here and here.

So what is it about witches that makes them so exceptional? Are they special at all, or is it merely their training regimen? By exploring the more personal aspects of the witch's life, we can find some indication of what differentiates one from her contemporaries. 

Note: —I touch on a lot of ideas in this piece. Although I have tried translating these ideas into something both comprehensible and worldly, some may come off as distasteful, harmful, or rude. That's okay, and under no circumstances does a concept in this blog post translate 1:1 to a fundamental value or belief of mine. As a consequence of writing ideology, especially in a fictional setting, you are bound to hit points where your decisions will make certain groups of people uncomfortable. That uncomfortability is valid. However, not only is it created for exploratory fiction, I refuse to censor any content on this blog under the pretense that it may or may not offend an individual. 

Many of the ideas I form in my writing are capable of making me feel uneasy. I do not condone bigotry or discrimination of any kind, nor do I believe personally in any prejudice I write. The ideology of Witches in Bromeilles is arguably fucked up in many ways, nothing short the violence and discrimination against Cis and Trans men who uphold masculinity. That's fine because I want to write it. If you wish for a more accepting rendition of covens, wait for me to write about Séraphine a bit more, they're way nicer! Please accept the content for what it is; a head-first dive into something you may know little about, a piece of prose, and a pleasurably intense analysis of concepts.

Mother, Mother

There is no patriarchy among witches. The very word "patriarch" is absent from speech, only uttered in its many synonyms with giggled whispers across the dinner table. Existing in the masculine can become a dangerous game when confronted with witches, who often respond to its presence with playful cruelty. 

There has never been a male witch. If there has, the coven they joined has not been deemed official nor recognized on the continent, or merely viewed as "not a real witch." 

Magic is not segregated through any means but social; there are no rules written in the stars which claim that, by sheer measure of existence, an individual cannot learn spells. The Artisinal Schools of The Republic are open to all folk, both rich and poor, fledgling and savant, and although regulated through wealth, class, and risk, programs exist that swathe the continent for any would-be talent. Witches are not the same. Only two covens in Bromeilles—Institut de Thibaud and Florence Benine—are run on an institutional basis by The Republic. Neither of which accepts men. 

Yes, I'm Going With Gothic Inspiration. No, I Won't Be Taking Criticism.
Image from u/beersjob on Reddit(?)

The foundations of a coven vary wildly between individual groups, but some pieces are universal. One such piece is the isolation of women from their male peers and the segregation of the masculine from the feminine. The study of magic, as one witch academic writes, argues a branching complement to:

    "... the study of isolation. Magic, as it is understood through the eyes of the [occult] Artisan, invokes sacrifice in its user. Thus, it is under the system's obligation that one must separate themself from material woes—socially, chemically, or otherwise—so that one may fulfill what is desired of them. What is different about a colleague's conversation from the sound of birds conversing? The tapping of branches on a windowsill from that of gusting winds? Decades have been spent arguing the semantical value of stimuli, but rarely has the aura of the classroom itself been challenged. We as an institutional body have observed the effects of sex in every aspect of Republique, so why suddenly stop at the schools?"

To witch ideology, especially that critical of the institutional system, the existence of a sub-sectioned population is paramount. For one reason or another, an independent group of scholars, casters, and researchers must prioritize subjects different from the bulkhead. A witch's definition of "Masculinity" need not be scornful or despised (although this does not stop specific communities from doing so). Still, recognition is made to facilitate a distinct environment. This environment is bred primarily through the efforts of Matrons—experienced or "retired" Witches and Artisans—who act in a role similar to overseers.

A Set of Circumstances

Covens are typically designed to function like boarding schools. A hierarchical structure is set in place, where the coven Matron—like a college dean—supervises and educates the witches, all while developing an aura of collective bonding. Older witches learn to play the teacher and arbitrator, while fledglings adapt to their new environment's hazing. Witch covens, like other organizations within The Republic, rely on self-sustainability. Witches must first be taught to tolerate one another before the coven can be retained and improved. 

Witch covens all pertain to a particular code of rules & regulations, but unlike the systematic manner of the Artisinal Schools, coven codes mainly depend on the coven itself. Covens often form around groups of individuals with intersectional environments, either the result of close bonded relationships or shared trauma, which reflects back upon the code and attracts others from similar circumstances. While not always the majority population in a coven, more esoteric circles rely on these similarities for growing their flock. 

It Musn't Be All Bad, Right? Suffering Is Not Without Respite; Darkness Cannot Exist Without Light. 
Art by Gigi Cavenago

Fragments of Codes Remembered And Lost

1. Tide Coven: "...and although all manner of beasts shall try to tame us, with their steel and their weights and their lies, we shall respond like the ocean to the sailor who hopes to bring us harm: I shall never be controlled again."
2. Red Coven: "I am my thoughts. I am my mind. I am she who wills creation into existence. Where my mind goes, there shall be fire, and where my thoughts go, there will be war..."
3. Lunar Coven: "Stretch yourself beyond the veil, within thine pool of alabaster light. You will be cut out, untethered from this world and its vile forces, and born again from Sleeping War. Rejoice! Thy pool is crimson; the pact is sealed."
4. Purple Coven: "...I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me..."

What Is Femininity? Explanation & Complication

"Femininity" to a witch is a collection of foci, often separate from the student herself. Coven doctrine promotes these core beliefs as above an individual's moral compass, and all members must adhere to them, such as Expression, Community, Cooperation, and Sensitivity. These are not inherently feminine mores, but to a practicing witch, these are seen as fundamental aspects of their identity. This does not mean that witches are not violent. It also does not mean that witches never go against these tenets. They are guidelines first and fundamentally second.

Teaching a witch about "sensitivity" is more than just explaining how they can better understand their emotions. Every aspect of a witch's education interprets their teachings into three fundamental languages; Understanding their peers, understanding their magic, and understanding themselves. To even a fledgling witch, these ideas all overlap, and the final language—understanding the self—is crucial in finalizing what femininity means to them.

Tell Me Your Secrets
Art by F3LC4T

By this definition, witches embody the feminine. Covens are social havens; tightly-knit webs of trade and information capable of stretching over miles. No coven witch is alone in their duties, for even beyond the safety of their demesne, work is done in packs. A ranger or traveller who comes upon a group of witches is unlikely to see a group of soft-spoken, expressive women but rather a whispering cacophony of cackles and giggling edging from identical shadows. Much like their druidic counterparts, little safety is guaranteed in the natural world. All beasts and mortals disappear upon wandering into a witch's den. 

Although the power witches wield is great, controversy is often shone in public discussions whenever mention is made of their discrimination against men for participating. To some, the answer is obvious—these covens were never designed for men in the first place—while others argue the legitimacy of the practice. To this, more esteemed witches may claim as follows:

Men and the spirits they possess are not excluded from covens just by being men. This would be cluelessly discriminatory and no different than excluding women from a "masculine-pure" setting. A witch's obsession with what they call the "feminine" does not lie only in the context of their body, either: fledglings and matrons alike can be found scarred and re-named, androgynous, or with flesh unlike their sisters. Importance lies firstmost in the faith they hold for the feminine—to view it with a sense of sanctity—followed by the validity of that claim. There exist witches who are born and did not recognize themselves as—but at one point in their life choose to uphold—an icon of femininity. Even witches who identify in the flesh as neither men nor women defend their creed regardless.

This is normal behaviour in a witch's environment. Although complications and exceptions always arise, and not all covens agree, a general understanding permeates the culture. This does, however, bring issues to resolve. A witch who transitions and finds themselves engrossed in the masculine is loved still for their being but usually asked to leave. These are merely the necessities of circumstance.

On Topic: The Distinction of Terms

There is a distinction between concepts such as 'the masculine' and actually identifying as male. In the former, 'masculinity' serves the role of a series of concepts, norms, and beliefs that portray the individual as 'masculine'—someone stereotypically associated with the male gender and, by extension, sex. Many in North America, for example, may associate body-building and gym culture with purely 'masculine' behaviour, inspiring and discouraging people from engaging in those activities.

This does not mean that anything you think of as masculine is masculine behaviour (the argument of whether anything is genuinely masculine or feminine is ripe for debate), but that an individual society can designate certain ideals or beliefs. Any group of people, when large enough, will start assigning groups to things. It can be something other than a binary group, a static choice, or even exclude any of the concepts you'd expect! These things differ on a case-by-case basis. By this logic, it is crucial to recognize that when we talk about specific behaviours as being associated with the masculine or feminine, it is not necessarily focused on some universal concept of "genderhood" but rather the context of the society in question.

Just as societies differ in real life, fictional cultures are likely to have distinct values that differ from ours. Artists often resort to transposing many of our own expectations of how society works into a fictional setting for the sake of accessibility (such as the function of government, stereotypes surrounding gender, the education system, and curse words like "God Damn It!"). 

This translation is not a bad thing; in fact, it's helpful! As writers or creatives, we can sometimes lose sight of the grand scope of things, so having a simple way to connect the viewer with our content helps make it more digestible, not to mention easier to read. I bring this up because fiction won't always align with our lived expectations, which is a good thing. The peoples of Bromeilles are similar to ours in many ways due to that same accessibility and the folly of my own humanity. Still, it is those differences in perception that really make fantasy shine. Non-humans, particularly, benefit from this kind of perspectival analysis.

How might an alien think? What differentiates the standpoint of an insect person from that of a human? Why don't these [society]-inspired citizens act or think like their historical contemporaries? Why should they?

One of my goals when developing both Bromeilles and Séraphine is to try and explore things I felt I haven't seen in fiction. So far, this has been the result of creative ignorance on my part—I have not consumed nearly as much content as I would like, and my attitude so far has been hopeful yet lazy—but also dotted with success. Sitting down at the drawing board, I've found myself increasingly focused on exploring things I'd otherwise never consider. Developing concepts I'd never written about prior. The fun I've had working on this project has only emboldened that feeling.

How I describe "masculinity" or "the feminine" does not need to be the same as how you describe it or even how I view it in real life. I try to be somewhat educated on the topic—I'd rather know something than nothing—but it also doesn't mean I'll get everything right. However, thanks to fiction, it doesn't have to be "right": fiction allows me to explore worlds as they are, ideas about how they are, and why people believe what they do. To be completely honest with you, I'm not 100% sure how humanity in Bromeilles views masculinity or femininity, or how witches handle it, nevermind if any other species cares about it in the first place.

Words are power. Ideas, being the progenitor of words, are thereby even more powerful. It is a great pleasure to develop a system of how people function and interact with one another and thereby see the world. Much of it has been unorthodox, quite uncomfortable or cruel, and a fair bit outright bad. I'm glad to be exploring it, regardless.

Witches, Part 2 - Structures & Sirloins

It Is Not Who You Are
Art by Tithi Luadthong

Middling

As practitioners of The Primeval Forces, witches share much in common with druids. It is a fundamental part of a witch's practice, stewing together slow, all-encompassing magic with the more explosive forces of The Occult. Through this combination, witches are considered masters of feats which other casters would find impossible, such as the sewing of hexes. 

Covens exist on a leyline between two different worlds. By locking themselves between the urbanite and the old world, a witch lives in both but belongs to neither, helping themselves to the little tricks by which magic subsides in the now. Witches have succeeded in reverse-engineering many of the gifts possessed by druids, such as the transformation of the body through wild-shape, much to the dismay of the druids themselves. Witches found in their homes, ripped limb from limb by lines or teeth, discourage exiles from joining a coven.

Witches are not druids, but they are also not wizards. Their spells are informed by quieter, older powers, and the rituals they undertake are tinctured with chaos. Much of the structure surrounding a witch's power involves convolution and process. Witch problems require witch solutions, only solved through witch processes. 

The Faux-Rabbit

Fear The Hound Who Speaks In Threes
'Shape on the Stairs' by Dappermouth

It is not easy to transmogrify oneself into the shape of another. Legend tells of the great lengths the ancient Deûlémain had to undertake to sculpt their physical forms, picking apart the flesh of their mountainous prey. With the introduction of Occult doctrine, witch ideology chose to ignore this process in place of its own.

A witch's glamours do not hold up to the same scrutiny as a druid's wild shape. Witches who drink their potions and apply their oils merely add layers to the canvas, a potent mimicry of wildlife. They contort themselves into shape, prancing along on hands and knees, dancing along the earth like a puppet on sticks. Her disguise is near-indistinguishable from the beast she shadows, but more than once has a hunter struck a deer or wolf from afar, only to peel off its coat to reveal the woman inside.

A witch's disguise is limited but versatile. She does not adopt the flesh or biology of her borrowed form, but retains its physical adaptations. The difficult task of maintaining their facade and the question of size means that most witches who engage in mimicry limit themselves to less extreme beasts—often animals that move in packs. A witch can maintain a larger or smaller form, but many report the experience to be uncomfortable, even requiring dexterity (especially in the case of flight). Mimicking the appearance of a creature rather than transforming wholly into it means that the witch maintains much of her own mind, a fact lesser claimed by the druid, and most witches even claim to be capable of complete speech while inside. 

In some covens, revealing as much of the original body as possible without destroying the facade is considered a kind of sport.

An Alchemist's Pet

By the very nature of the practice, witches do not trust familiars. Many genuinely love their pets; familiars are trained by the boatload for this reason—clever tools in collection and espionage—but even the young witch is aware of the danger an Artisan's pet can wield. Whatever the case, they are hosts to intelligent minds capable of tact and humor alike. 

Sisters and Siblings, Brothers In Arms
Art by Koukouvayia

Calling is a popular form of sourcing familiars, especially among possessive witches, who prize their allies more as tools than companions. Invoking the powers respondent to them, a witch can embed their magic into a hand-crafted vessel, carving runes designed to bind whatever spirits arrive to investigate it. Called familiars often still take the appearance of regular animals, but inklings of their magical creation seep through the cracks. This sometimes serves to the witch's benefit.

What's Wrong With Your Dog?

1. Eyes sprout from the familiar's face and body, their pupils alien and unnerving.
2. Feathers take the place of fur, and manes adorn a plumaged brow.
3. It caws when it should bark and mews when it should shriek. Was that a laugh?
4. Synthetic material relieves the flesh; feathers of silver and classic stones.
5. Stitches can be seen along the neck or the back. Something peers from within it. 
6. It responds to stimuli others cannot see. Forgotten tongues and forces of nature, as if happy to reply.

Life-Weavers

Out of all the tools in a witch's arsenal, the hex is the tour de force. Hexcraft exists in all manners of being, whether through alchemy, rune-crafting, or the mutations in a witch's Occult practice. No deal is made beneath a witch's tongue, and no action is made in her cauldron, without first acknowledging the power of its icons. 

Hexes are commonly associated with symbols or runes, but not all maintain a physical form. The process of sewing a charm is interpersonal to the witch. Although there is a multitude of universally-accepted curses, most witches design at least one for themselves. Witches are taught early on to sew this magic into their belongings. Mundane objects become magic items, clothes and accessories become animated or living tools, and each flick of the occult festers more profound power. 

Some Of The More Infamous Curses Are Commonly Associated With Birds. Perhaps Another Time?
Art by Rea Kolarova

Making Cultures, Not Races

What Becomes Of Forgotten Knowledge?
'All Seeing' by Hector Mansilla

Culture is weird. 

I find it very hard to quantify cultural beliefs. That may be because it is flat-out impossible to boil down a complex system such as this to its foundational elements, which I don't necessarily believe, but it definitely proves challenging to imitate. The general sectioning of ideas that we call "culture" is so incredibly complex, so full of hypervariation, that even an amateur artist can handle what is effectively a bottomless chest of creativity. That difficulty seems to lie not in the department of numbers but in words. How does one form a culture? How does it come about in a way that is believable and not born from the seams of mockery?

If you do not intend to humiliate a group, 8 times out of 10, it will not be portrayed as such. I think that (far more often than some may believe) it is possible to tell whether a person is genuinely portraying a group as "bad" or "lesser" or if they are merely representing it. I also believe that you can describe a culture unfavourably even if it was not your intention, so definitely something to be aware of.

However, especially in fiction, sometimes the issue coalesces not in the portrayal of already-existent negativity but in the portrayal of culture as more than what it is. Culture is many things; it is representative of an individual's ideals, codifies a multitude of traits or features into identifiable groups, and can even serve as a microscope into more extraordinary truths. Through culture, we can identify ourselves within a community and, in turn, recognize what constitutes ourselves. 

If there is one thing that culture is not, it is race.

A Misunderstanding?

It should be stated that by no means is this a rampant issue. As more and more media has been published in film and literature, this odd contextualization of cultures as one big blob has begun to die down. Nevertheless, its presence is still felt, and some of the greatest works of our time have proven guilty of adjudicating its existence. From time to time, fantasy fiction predicates an idea that species persist off of mono-cultures—the elves and dwarves of Lord of The Rings, the Daleks of Doctor Who, and the many races of The Sword Coast in D&D—which inform their behaviour. All dwarves are trudging midgets with large beards who live deep within the earth, and all elves are ethereally beautiful aristocrats, deeply "attuned" with nature (wood elves) or snobbish of its creations (high elves), who wander the woodlands with longbows. 

This is in and of itself not a bad thing. The problem is when these ideas become assumptions of the norm rather than the individual. What comes to mind when you think of an elf? An orc? A human in fantasy fiction? A walking tree? Once these monoliths of culture become synonymous with the thing they symbolize, it becomes challenging to separate them again. Arnold Kemp over at Goblin Punch has a fantastic analysis of this problem here.  

So what can be done? If this issue holds the key to worse problems, how can we solve it? I don't know, not just because I think it still has some value but because I am looking for another solution. In designing cultures, not races, I wish to develop groups which stand against the grain of preconception. 

Of course, I'm bound to stumble and fall on the way down, and there is undoubtedly a fine line where culture and race intersect, but I see value in developing one separately from the other. Like faith, lore, and ideals, these totems can be set independently of one another, serving complimentary as a result.

Let's run through an example or two.

Art by Jessie Wu

Same Beginning, Same End

Unless you were grown in a vat or removed through cesarean (salutations, my fellow tumour babies), we were all born the same way. All human beings pop out of a womb after a couple of months, and in much the same way, we all eventually return to the earth. In this sense, we are all the same, but it is beyond this beginning and end that our differences arise. Everything from our genetic makeup to our surroundings to our cultural background differentiates us. 

In a group of a hundred people, the chance that two people share a birthday is nearly 100% (some argue that you can get >50% with as few as 23!). Imagine the fact that you share a birthday with somebody may just be the only similarity you have with them? 

Humanity as a species is ridiculously diverse. Ever since our ancestors scattered across the African continent and spread upon the rest of the world like lice, we've changed in nearly every way imaginable. Think of how many kinds of people there are, and not just in the visual sense? We have conquered entire landscapes—volcanos, canyons and island chains—for no reason other than a desire to live there. How much of your life do you think has been manipulated as a result of your living environment? Ever moved to a place that's nothing like where you grew up? Weird, huh? All aspects of our living experience—immigration examples notwithstanding—serve to teach us how to survive in that environment. Our customs, routines, and social norms act as how-to, informing us exactly how anybody stays in this place, especially the dominant majority. 

What would life be like if we all stuck around? What if humanity managed to construct a babel-esque structure, a leaning tower of pisa for communes, and we just evolved there instead? The issue with mono-cultures is that, in and of itself, the problem of settling, you cannot quell dissidents unless you first dispel free thought. An entire species living in a particular, interconnected location is bound to be made of dozens, if not hundreds, of different interacting groups of people. Sure, you can argue that it's unlikely you'll explore many of these groups in a story (or the author will simply focus only on the dominant majority), but there is absolutely value in depth. 

Ignoring questions of interracial and purely racist consequences, although intriguing and potentially significant, think of how a group can evolve only through their environment? In a tower-city surrounded by desert, how do you come about water? Is emphasis placed on the construction of aqueducts or mines? How does the every-man treat it? Is water a resource (at least somewhat) openly shared, for it is considered a necessity to all, or is it tightly regulated and/or hoarded? How do groups get around the tower, and is such transportation common? Are levels segregated?

Some of these questions may seem purely anecdotal, but they fulfill two objectives: to serve and to inform. What may be seen as "normal" to one faction may be reprehensible to another and openly preached by a third. Culture is not some magical background force that symbolizes the penultimate person; it is an evergreen, constantly changing power, which not only evolves with the group who created it but with the individual it seeds.

There's Lots More To Explore. I'll Be Back.
Art by Pieter Bruegel The Elder

 

The Lolea

The Workplace Recommends Dexterity
Art from Bloodborne

Per The Twelve Laws, Artisans never stop learning. Their education is perpetual, a machine that winds around itself, fueled by wind, wine, and blood. Graduates from the Artisinal Schools move on to join the ranks of coordinators and warmages in the military arm of The Republic or return to their hometowns to serve as courtiers. Occasionally, however, a student will show some prestigious bout for talent early on in their studies, and their name will be called separate from their classmates. Rarely does this occur in a single graduating class, but all who witness the sight of well-dressed inquisitors fear what is to come.


Lolea are executioners. Plucked most often from the classrooms of the Artisinal Schools, Lolea are curated by inquisitors and other Artisans (particularly professors) for inordinate talent, selecting those in the top percentile of their classmates. A Lolea's purpose is to serve both as warden and executioner, defending the school's interests and the well-being of its students. Their hand is expected when intruders breach the walls, or when a mage's rituals go awry, and violent acts must be performed. They are killers, calculating and ever-watchful, and these young artisans' training regimen ensures that. If the training lacks impact, trauma eventually achieves the same result.


Not all Lolea are trained artisans, but all understand the danger of chaos left undivided. Numerous Lolea have been conscripted from the ranks of soldiers and guildsmen, seen by some of the former as a sign of honour and respect. Others are hired from less-pleasing backgrounds and then shipped off to the farthest corners of The Republic, serving as intermediaries. Occasionally a Lolea will retire from their services only to return to the job market touting their skills, a mage-slayer for hire. Demand is high among The Twin Provinces.

The Appearance Is Different But Ask An Artisan; The Vibe Is The Same
Art by Saeed Farhangian

The Lolea

Skill Proficiencies: Arcana, Insight
Tool Proficiencies: Any one set of Artisan's Tools
Equipment: A set of Artisan's Tools, a steel mirror, 10 feet of chain, a signet or badge of your corresponding patron, and a belt pouch containing 5 gp
----------
Optional Feat: Mage Slayer

Feature: Architect Slayer

You were brought upon the chambers of great constabularies and artisinal schools, serving as a last defence against the chaos. As someone who serves (or served) among the ranks of the Lolea, your title pulls immediate respect. Soldiers and academics will nod as you pass; your presence is welcome in positions headed by the military and anti-magical environments, and those in positions of power may grant you small benefits otherwise unfit for your station. Artisans will often spite you, and those who choose not to satisfy your ego will likely discredit you entirely. 


Call of Honor
The lifestyle of a Lolea begins with equal parts talent and image. No matter how qualified you may be, you cannot join the ranks of the mage slayers unless you are chosen to be one. When trying to figure out how your character's patronage came to be, consider the table below for ideas.

d6	Lore
1	I was assigned my position through hard work and rank-climbing. Those in my detachment chose me worthy.
2	I earned my role through nepotism: a bloodline of stalwart killers.
3	I was chosen by my artisinal school to ward against my classmates.
4	Inquisitors approached me sometime after graduation. In exchange for wealth and comfort, I must shadow other Artisans; my friends and my partners.
5	I earned this position by being unorthodox. My esoteric talents perpetrate my lifestyle, a trait others found compelling.
6	Another Lolea granted me his title as punishment for a deed I'd done.

Suggested Characteristics
Being a Lolea is not an easy task, nor is it explained away as one. Many cope with their occupation by finding other vices to confide in, while others take pride in their work. Not all executioners work on behalf of the Artisinal Schools either: plenty of dedicated individuals (with or without the proper education) are willing to perform the same tasks for coin. Whatever your background, your duties remain the same, and those who genuinely believe in protecting the greater populace will surely be rewarded.

d8	Personality Trait
1	I am cold and unflinching. Violence is a necessity; death must be dealt.
2	I am empathetic toward those I supervise.
3	I hate working alone and, if possible, perform all of my tasks in pairs.
4	Hypervigilance has kept my partners and me alive.
5	There has never been a moment where I have doubted what I've done.
6	I am a strict loyalist to the laws of man.
7	I carry an odd glibness in my words, fragments from another time.
8	I perform any task to the highest bidder.

d6	Ideal
1	Order. My actions are for the greater good, to protect the world from the whims of chaos. (Lawful)
2	Utilitarianism. The needs of the many outweigh the fears of the few. (Neutral)
3	Pride. The occult disgusts and terrifies me, so I must stand in their way for posterity's sake. (Evil)
4	Pleasure. The acts I perform grant me untold satisfaction. I will do it again and again until the earth is dry. (Chaotic)
5	Service. I will perform my duties with the utmost respect. There will be no victims while I serve. (Good)
6	Avarice. No man has ever word a job for free, not of their own accord. (Neutral)

d6	Bond
1	This is the blade of the colossus, which strikes down the architect and all its crafts.
2	My sigils are in the eyes of a thousand dead men. My armour is the vessel for a messenger of death.
3	Those who share my craft are more than siblings; they are the roots which hold me taut.
4	I am a soldier first and a Lolea second. My allegiances are to The Republic and its many suzerains.
5	Magic is a gateway to things beyond the veil of understanding. By perfecting it, I become truly superior to those I supervise.
6	The Artisans think themselves slick, devoid of imperfection or rot. I am living proof of their foretold annihilation.

d6	Flaw
1	The last time I faltered, people died. Never again.
2	Artisans are simply frogs who have yet to realize they are in the pot.
3	This job is a chore; these tasks are a farce. I wish I was at home in my underwear.
4	I am sensitive to the sight and smell of blood.
5	Work has desensitized me to social situations. I find it difficult to converse about things besides my occupation.
6	I am suspicious of everyone and everything related to the supernatural, even my closest friends.