The Nature of Magic

Dear Cybiline,

It is with a cautious heart that I receive news that you wish to take an apprenticeship at a weavery. As your second-mother, I probably have a say or two on the matter, though I'm not sure you'll like it.

I know I have countless times turned to these miserable pile of papers to spill my frustrations and distill from them meaning, or at least the shadow of a sense that could be rescued amid the endless stream of nonsense that washes over us all, weavers. The feeling is not new, at least not for us, elders in the craft. Still, the frustration never gets old, does it, really?

Magic it seems to you, but how close to the mundane it is. It baffles even me at times. It doesn't matter that we say that it's not a deep mystery and that anyone can do it, but they're always looking for cryptic shortcuts, for intricate games of the mind. How many charlatans have profited from it! How many rose to power because of it!

But this... This power that comes from all matter is so disappointingly simple to understand. 

The problem, of course, is, first, how to set your intuitions to the right spectrum. And the second, to hone that intuition.

Now, that's where things get tricky. Weavers of all walks of life have dedicated themselves to do just that, being them learned or naturals. How many books have been written to describe the most precise of methods just to help people get a grasp of the ficklest sensibility to that notion? I have piles of them and could burn half, for all I care. If you want to be a weaver, you have to expose yourself to weaving. Breath it like you breath the very air that enters your lungs, my dear. That's key, though I'm afraid it's not the only one.

With time, you'll see how your intuitions will bear fruits, so many fruits. It's like something clicks in your mind, really. You'll know when it happens, and when you do, everything else will follow. You'll be able to interpret without effort, and know where such and such bits go together.

Well, it's true that many people use words or trinkets as clutches to interpret the Texture. Don't feel embarrassed if you come to need them, only pigheaded weavers make a big deal out of it. Me included, but that you already knew.

But I said to earn and to hone your intuitions were a problem. Yes, they are, only inasmuch as they do not come with structured education or practice, but with experience from exposure. And that changes wildly from place to place, and even from person to person. If you endure that process, then there's nothing to worry about: you'll be a weaver in no time.

The true problem, and I can't emphasize it enough, is to lose yourself in the weaving.

Now, heed my words, and promise me you will not forget them. This is the only thing that you must not let go, lest all goes to ruin and another good weaver is lost to it.

Do. Not. Interpret. Beyond. Reach. That is the golden rule, the definitive ban, the unavoidable warning. Every time you do it, you go further down the untamable underbelly of the Texture. Every time you come back, you bring a little bit of the untamed with you.

Weavers who go deep into the Untamed start interpreting everything wrong. And that's where the ruin begins.

But enough with gloomy discussions. I know you will make the best decision and be a baker instead.

Just kidding. But if you choose to be a weaver, go and be a competent weaver. And more importantly, a sensible one.

Now, I've emphashized more words than I care to in a single letter, and you're not even one of my apprentices. Go and be a kid, you'll be fine.

And send me a package of sweet tapiocas with your next letter, or else I won't dignify to respond.

Sincerely yours,

Your most devout (and mostly tired), 

Giedana Armestrome, Head Interpreter of the Heiendam

The Fate of the Dwarves

Esteemed Duval,

I received your letters with the greatest anticipation. I am glad you start to make the right questions, instead of the simply convenient ones. It caught my attention, however, that you have missed a great deal about the recent history of the Dwarves, so I took upon myself to illuminate you, however briefly, on some pieces of information that might kickstart your own research on their apparent exile.

It has long been speculated about the woes of the Dwarvish peoples, masters of the moors and highlands of the Northeastern Territories. For some, they seem to have dwindled into extinction, but to others, it has been all but a ruse to reinstate the High Thorn as the epicenter of Dwarvish communities.

Erratic reports have lent little but weak evidence either way: the peoples of Baladrogue are known to have moved up North, across the Scorching Rings in the search of suitable, untamed lands to settle in. Cnoctans moved further East, beyond the frontiers of the Gorge, from where it is said that they built great ships to sail across the Sea of Salt. What engineer did they have to build such marvelous machines one cannot know, though they have probably perished in those ravenous waters.

Recently, however, it has come to the knowledge of experts that the peoples of Clanclade and Raiquers have taken another road, one the goes below the Surface. Though the hate of the Dwarves for the Underground is widely known, it seems the Cans and Quers, as the jargon among anthropologists go, were desperate to leave the Surface. What motivated them to take such a radical route is still a mystery to many, though some explanations have been offered in the past few years.

The best accepted theory hypothesizes that a prestigious seerperson from among the Cans and Quers made a catastrophic prediction. Generally, such predictions are not so strong as to drive the Dwarves to take such radical measures, but the peculiar circumstances of such prophecy are still very much unfathomable.

One other theory, and a more controversial one, proposes that the three peoples have actually formed a great alliance, none of which has been seen ever since the days of the Great Descent. According to this one notion, the Dwarves have decided to populate the unchartered worlds, leaving all of the Continent behind.

It is certain, however, that such a theory needs much improvement in certain aspects. For example, all these people as a whole have a history of absolute obsession regarding their land and their territories. Would they give them up so easily in p     ursuit of mysterious threads in the dark? I don't think so.

Another sore point would most certainly refer to this uneasy - at best - alliance among these people. Do you think they would just flock together and put together such extravagant machinations? Well, that is what I would very much like to ask Ms. Erdebrando (in fact I did a few days ago).

Thus I break myself from this letter. Remember to work on sections 23 and 24 of your thesis, they are simply dire. And you know I say this only because I know for a fact you can do better.

Sincerely yours,

A. Selva, Geographer to the Dims

17 of 10, Year 766 of the Horn Calendar

The Great Descent

The Great Descent, or the Great Expulsion, tells the story of the long exile of the Tieflings in the Underground. Once proud, majestic rulers on the Surface, the Tieflings became too greedy, too eager, quickly sprawling over frontiers that should not be crossed and finding resistance from those that inhabited therein. Driven by inner turmoil, the diseases that took hold of Tiefenland started to infect the Surface as a whole.

A universal front to halt the advancement of the Tieflings was formed, and thus the horned peoples were pushed back to their land, and beyond. The fear in the hearts of some, who thought Tiefenland would rise again, sooner or later, led to a series of treaties, threats and deals that eventually sent all of their great houses into the darkness of the underworld. A tacit ban on the presence of large Tiefling communities on the Surface took hold along the years, until very few prospered and kept roots on their motherland.

The Tieflings, however, did not take long to get along with their new habitat and flourish. A home is a home, even where the sky is not there to welcome you. And thus the Terratarium was founded and still prospers to this day.

Places of the World: Tarimbo

Tarimbo, otherwise known as the Rounded Jewels of the Western Bank, is a citadel located upon the Resilient Coast in the Underground. Its many towers rise in the shape of wide mushrooms made of rock and stone, bursting with peoples from all walks of life: Gnomes from Dartarilho, Grey Dwarves from Tawapã and Deep Gnomes from Elterobim, all peoples of the Resilient Alliance. Needless to say, the Alliance was formed from the political effort between several territories to the East of the Endful Sea.

Some bigger folk, such as Tieflings, from Tiefenland, and Lizardfolk, from elsewhere, also make a living behind its walls, most of them artisans, merchants and sell-swords. Upon close inspection, one could also find a few Black Orcs from the Banners, but any other peoples besides them are much more difficult to find.

The citadel is a feast of sensations: open markets, narrow streets, festive flags and lights overhanging alleys. Most buildings are tall enough for the taller species to enter, but still comfortable for the taste of shorter patrons. A visitor could walk for hundreds of days among the streets of Tarimbo and still miss most of its features, such as the constellation of shrines dedicated to the many demigods worshipped by the peoples of the Alliance.  

Tarimbo is ruled by a council formed by respectable families of Gnomic, Grey-Dwarvish and Deep origin. They seldom meet, only doing so when the matter is of the gravest importance. Their last summit happened not too long ago, upon the arrival of the White Eternal on the Surface.