Searing 34, 122
Previously, on this series of jungle adventures…
Find out now, in this thread!
Imogen’s sword hit the frozen spirit, and it did, to be clear, bounce right off.
There’s nothing surprising about this particular interaction. Ice is not as hard as steel, especially not sunlight reaved into steel and infused with the living aether of a (reasonably) powerful witch. However, a zweihander’s blade is no more than eight millimeters thick. It’s not a floppy weapon, by any stretch of the imagination, but if you try to drive it directly into a solid boulder of ice, it is going to be the first of the two to bend.
”Ack!” Imogen hissed, just managing to recover her feet as she stumbled to the side. She understood the physical dynamic of her weapon well, she had known that this could happen; it just would have been very cool if the sword had… shattered the magic in one go, or something.
“Imogen!” the Chief yelled, his voice filled with concern. The icey spirit of Gihah, though constrained by the magic binding it, was not precisely within his complete control. The enormous lizard spirit was now fixated on Imogen, mouth slowly working as it decided whether or not it should try to swat her in return.
”I’m fine!” Imogen replied, keeping her eyes on Gihah. The spirit was slow both physically and mentally due to the confining ice, but it was going to become more active very soon if she kept hitting it. ”This might take a few hits.”
In truth, she suspected that this was a failing not of physics, but of spirit. The Cursebreaker magic could burn away an enchantment in an instant, if the Nova-fire burned hot enough. Whatever held the river captive was a fearsome magic, to be sure; if Imogen could not stoke her own spirit to match that intensity, she would accomplish no more than a few cracks.
Not that it mattered much. This was her only useful plan, so she simply had no choice but to make it work.
With that in mind, Imogen dug her feet into the lake’s frozen surface and charged again, this time bringing the edge of the sword up towards the scratch on Gihah’s hide. The sword hit and stuck, being less susceptible to bounce at such an angle, and Imogen felt the argent fire hiss as it warred against the magic corrupting the spirit’s own aether.
This made up Gihah’s mind, and the spirit roared silent fury, sleet and steam pouring from its mouth. The lizard spun, bringing its tail around to try to crush Imogen; thankfully, it was still slowed by the ice, and the Orkhan woman was able to back quickly away before it could bend far.
The place she had been striking the spirit was now cratered and black, but it seemed that she hadn’t quite gotten through the ice with the slash either. In an ordinary fight, she would have called out her shield and spear- the one to help block any surprise hits, the other to harry the creature while she tried to reposition. Right now, however, simply skewering the spirit wasn’t going to accomplish much. No, summoning the rest of her Pact weapons would do nothing but dilute her fire’s intensity.
If she thought she’d have a moment to think, however, Gihah quickly disabused her of the notion. Having determined to kill her, the spirit charged, icy limbs clinking along much faster than she’d expected. Imogen rolled to the side, the big lizard barreling past.
Ironically, this might be a positive development. Whatever the ice binding the river was, it would now have to work overtime to suppress the irritated elemental.
Distraction or no, Imogen conjured her shield. It wasn’t going to be able to stop a head-on attack, but she didn’t fancy losing a limb to a thrashing tail or splintering ice today, either. With that floating at her side, Imogen charged the spirit again, just as it recovered itself from its early strike. With a hearty kiai, she brought the weapon down in a bright, flaming arc to-
-skid off the beast’s hide anew.
Imogen braced her will against her shield as Gihah’s rear paw slammed into it, and allowed the pact weapon to push her backwards across the ice before it, itself, was sent flying. She caught it with another act of will, allowing the (now slightly dented) shield to orbit her once more.
”...not getting anywhere this way.” the Sunsinger muttered to herself. She couldn’t keep doing this. Gihah was getting faster, and it would need roughly one good hit to make her the immediate former Head Janitor of the Pfenning Theater. Meanwhile, while she was cracking off ice, it was a very surface-level effort. She needed to get the Nova-fire to Gihah’s very heart if she was hoping to break the enchantment on the rivers.
Yes, that was right.
Imogen had spent the entire fight against Gihah unconvinced of her magic. The plan might be bad, it might not work, it might…
”Chief! I need a minute!”
This wasn’t an entirely reasonable ask in the middle of a crisis situation, but Imogen had every faith in the Chief. Moving back, she assumed the most relaxed, natural stance she could devise; her feet open, at shoulder width apart, her arms at her sides. With an act of will, she pulled her sword into the air in front of her, until the fire licking at the crossguard was at the level of her nose. Then, she closed her eyes.
The first truth was that the weapon and the wielder were one, a single being split across bodies of flesh and metal. Imogen was an excellent warrior, and so this truth came easily to her.
The second truth was that the will was one. This was the plateau upon which Imogen traveled, still struggling for mastery. The conflicting waves of the mind had to be quelled; only a firm hand could steer a ship in crosswinds.
The third truth was that the world was one, and Imogen still did not know what that was supposed to mean, outside of some sort of lazy positivity vibe. She could only hope it wouldn’t be relevant for this spell.
Reaching within herself, Imogen cast for the streams of consciousness which made up her will. Her concern over her failure in Koidhouo’uv, her worry about whether Carina was getting her letters, her (barely cognizable) concern that the Pfenning was going to get dirty in her absence, her self-doubt, her persistent feeling that there were better options, if only she were smarter.
Those were the weapons which the Liar-Beast had wielded against her weeks ago, but she was the one who had forged them. Unfortunately for the Liar-Beast, Imogen was an abysmally bad smith.
And what hadn’t killed her then wasn’t going to do it now.
Wresting every threads of self into alignment, Imogen channeled her aether into the Nova. Though she was absorbed in her meditation, the brightening intensity of the argent light began to cut through her eyelids, the void of her vision getting lighter and lighter. Distantly, she could hear shouting as Chief Oping’s chains of Elementalism began to fail. A crashing noise as the frozen Gihah wrested free, and prepared to attack a third time.
Permitting no thought in the bright void, Imogen took hold of her sword and dropped down into the same charging stance she’d opened with. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry from the intense silver light at her side, and focused on the form of the spirit.
Then Imogen charged again, and drove her sword of flame directly into the frozen spirit’s chest.
Across Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv, the villagers prepared for battle, or for the outcome of that battle. Men and women alike took up weapons- few of them were unready for battle against the Koid’s herd, for everyone had been caught unawares by the fire beasts once or twice in their lives. The older children were given charge of the younger ones, told to flee up the hills, where they could watch to see if the fires overcame the village. They were told to run to the neighboring villages if they did, to contact the Shield army.
Then the villagers descended the slopes of the village’s lake, massing at the edge of the river to await the arrival of the herd.
Through the morning, the herd grew closer. As afternoon rose, the beasts began to test the edges of the frozen water, finding it devoid of the angry spirit of Gihah which had tormented them for so long. Brazen, some of the monsters charged the village lines, repelled after a few kicks.
In other places, the village forces were less lucky. When one skirmish broke out with the Koid-blooded, the monsters lured several of the men and women across the frozen river, where they were quickly surrounded by the sentient wildfires which were the Koid’s heralds.
As the sun reached its zenith, the misty forests filled with red lights, and the fire-beasts prepared for an all-out assault which would shatter Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv’s resistance once and for all.
Then, just as the herd began its approach over the river, a miracle occurred. A flash of silver ran the length of the frozen water, and suddenly the solid ice that the herd were walking across began to crack, giving way to cold water. As the villagers watched, the ice covering the river crumbled away into meltwater.
Then the river roared with renewed vitality as the waterfall and retaining pond broke, releasing the surge which had been building in the frozen headwaters. With a roar, the rivers of Gihah flooded, washing away the unfortunate fire beasts who had been crossing early, and driving the rest backwards with whinnies and screams of outrage.
Previously, on this series of jungle adventures…
- Imogen Ward had escaped the lair of the great fire Primal, Vonaid Koid!
- But when she returned to the Gihah, she found its watery defenses had been frozen over!
- Facing a horde of fire beasts, Imogen proposed to heal the river by stabbing it!
- Will our heroine’s plan fix things, or just kill an innocent river spirit for no reason?
Find out now, in this thread!
Imogen’s sword hit the frozen spirit, and it did, to be clear, bounce right off.
There’s nothing surprising about this particular interaction. Ice is not as hard as steel, especially not sunlight reaved into steel and infused with the living aether of a (reasonably) powerful witch. However, a zweihander’s blade is no more than eight millimeters thick. It’s not a floppy weapon, by any stretch of the imagination, but if you try to drive it directly into a solid boulder of ice, it is going to be the first of the two to bend.
”Ack!” Imogen hissed, just managing to recover her feet as she stumbled to the side. She understood the physical dynamic of her weapon well, she had known that this could happen; it just would have been very cool if the sword had… shattered the magic in one go, or something.
“Imogen!” the Chief yelled, his voice filled with concern. The icey spirit of Gihah, though constrained by the magic binding it, was not precisely within his complete control. The enormous lizard spirit was now fixated on Imogen, mouth slowly working as it decided whether or not it should try to swat her in return.
”I’m fine!” Imogen replied, keeping her eyes on Gihah. The spirit was slow both physically and mentally due to the confining ice, but it was going to become more active very soon if she kept hitting it. ”This might take a few hits.”
In truth, she suspected that this was a failing not of physics, but of spirit. The Cursebreaker magic could burn away an enchantment in an instant, if the Nova-fire burned hot enough. Whatever held the river captive was a fearsome magic, to be sure; if Imogen could not stoke her own spirit to match that intensity, she would accomplish no more than a few cracks.
Not that it mattered much. This was her only useful plan, so she simply had no choice but to make it work.
With that in mind, Imogen dug her feet into the lake’s frozen surface and charged again, this time bringing the edge of the sword up towards the scratch on Gihah’s hide. The sword hit and stuck, being less susceptible to bounce at such an angle, and Imogen felt the argent fire hiss as it warred against the magic corrupting the spirit’s own aether.
This made up Gihah’s mind, and the spirit roared silent fury, sleet and steam pouring from its mouth. The lizard spun, bringing its tail around to try to crush Imogen; thankfully, it was still slowed by the ice, and the Orkhan woman was able to back quickly away before it could bend far.
The place she had been striking the spirit was now cratered and black, but it seemed that she hadn’t quite gotten through the ice with the slash either. In an ordinary fight, she would have called out her shield and spear- the one to help block any surprise hits, the other to harry the creature while she tried to reposition. Right now, however, simply skewering the spirit wasn’t going to accomplish much. No, summoning the rest of her Pact weapons would do nothing but dilute her fire’s intensity.
If she thought she’d have a moment to think, however, Gihah quickly disabused her of the notion. Having determined to kill her, the spirit charged, icy limbs clinking along much faster than she’d expected. Imogen rolled to the side, the big lizard barreling past.
Ironically, this might be a positive development. Whatever the ice binding the river was, it would now have to work overtime to suppress the irritated elemental.
Distraction or no, Imogen conjured her shield. It wasn’t going to be able to stop a head-on attack, but she didn’t fancy losing a limb to a thrashing tail or splintering ice today, either. With that floating at her side, Imogen charged the spirit again, just as it recovered itself from its early strike. With a hearty kiai, she brought the weapon down in a bright, flaming arc to-
-skid off the beast’s hide anew.
Imogen braced her will against her shield as Gihah’s rear paw slammed into it, and allowed the pact weapon to push her backwards across the ice before it, itself, was sent flying. She caught it with another act of will, allowing the (now slightly dented) shield to orbit her once more.
”...not getting anywhere this way.” the Sunsinger muttered to herself. She couldn’t keep doing this. Gihah was getting faster, and it would need roughly one good hit to make her the immediate former Head Janitor of the Pfenning Theater. Meanwhile, while she was cracking off ice, it was a very surface-level effort. She needed to get the Nova-fire to Gihah’s very heart if she was hoping to break the enchantment on the rivers.
The Ork witch had never been much for introspection, and her uncle had often told her that meditation was a distinctly secondary pursuit for a warrior. Master Gerhard, however, had insisted on such training.
“Nova fire,” he had told her, “Is the defining magic of our order. But whence does it come and go, Corporal Ward? Is it bound to your sword, or bound to your heart?”
“My heart.” she had answered, promptly.
“No. To answer that question betrays a fundamental misunderstanding. There is no difference between your sword and your heart, Corporal. It is like asking whether your magic comes from the spirit or the self. They are all the same.”
The rebuke had stung, and more than she expected. “With all due respect, sir, what difference does this distinction hold? If I swing my sword into a steel wall, all the conviction in the world won’t make it cut. If I try to break a god’s curse, my fire will die before the god’s magic.”
“Perhaps.” Master Gerhard responded, his voice strangely neutral, “We are all warned against hubris, of course. I will not tell you that if you meet some wandering archdemon in the dead of night, you should test your strength against his. But if, in fact, you must do such a thing, you are certain to fail only if you have convinced yourself that it is inevitable.”
“Imogen, you are an earnest child, but practical. You are… sometimes lacking in vision when you evaluate your options, but you try to pursue the best course with admirable dedication. However, once you have set your path, you cannot waste time doubting yourself. If the way you have chosen is wrong, acknowledge it and choose another course.”
“But when you see no better path, do not torture yourself with doubt. If you are absolutely dedicated in your course, if your convictions do not waver, then the Nova will remain as strong as you are yourself.”
“And if it comes to it, maybe you can cut through a steel wall with a sword. Who’s to say until the moment arrives?”
Yes, that was right.
Imogen had spent the entire fight against Gihah unconvinced of her magic. The plan might be bad, it might not work, it might…
Might might maybe maybe no no failure failure.
”Chief! I need a minute!”
This wasn’t an entirely reasonable ask in the middle of a crisis situation, but Imogen had every faith in the Chief. Moving back, she assumed the most relaxed, natural stance she could devise; her feet open, at shoulder width apart, her arms at her sides. With an act of will, she pulled her sword into the air in front of her, until the fire licking at the crossguard was at the level of her nose. Then, she closed her eyes.
The first truth was that the weapon and the wielder were one, a single being split across bodies of flesh and metal. Imogen was an excellent warrior, and so this truth came easily to her.
The second truth was that the will was one. This was the plateau upon which Imogen traveled, still struggling for mastery. The conflicting waves of the mind had to be quelled; only a firm hand could steer a ship in crosswinds.
The third truth was that the world was one, and Imogen still did not know what that was supposed to mean, outside of some sort of lazy positivity vibe. She could only hope it wouldn’t be relevant for this spell.
Reaching within herself, Imogen cast for the streams of consciousness which made up her will. Her concern over her failure in Koidhouo’uv, her worry about whether Carina was getting her letters, her (barely cognizable) concern that the Pfenning was going to get dirty in her absence, her self-doubt, her persistent feeling that there were better options, if only she were smarter.
Those were the weapons which the Liar-Beast had wielded against her weeks ago, but she was the one who had forged them. Unfortunately for the Liar-Beast, Imogen was an abysmally bad smith.
And what hadn’t killed her then wasn’t going to do it now.
Wresting every threads of self into alignment, Imogen channeled her aether into the Nova. Though she was absorbed in her meditation, the brightening intensity of the argent light began to cut through her eyelids, the void of her vision getting lighter and lighter. Distantly, she could hear shouting as Chief Oping’s chains of Elementalism began to fail. A crashing noise as the frozen Gihah wrested free, and prepared to attack a third time.
Permitting no thought in the bright void, Imogen took hold of her sword and dropped down into the same charging stance she’d opened with. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry from the intense silver light at her side, and focused on the form of the spirit.
Then Imogen charged again, and drove her sword of flame directly into the frozen spirit’s chest.
~~~
Across Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv, the villagers prepared for battle, or for the outcome of that battle. Men and women alike took up weapons- few of them were unready for battle against the Koid’s herd, for everyone had been caught unawares by the fire beasts once or twice in their lives. The older children were given charge of the younger ones, told to flee up the hills, where they could watch to see if the fires overcame the village. They were told to run to the neighboring villages if they did, to contact the Shield army.
Then the villagers descended the slopes of the village’s lake, massing at the edge of the river to await the arrival of the herd.
Through the morning, the herd grew closer. As afternoon rose, the beasts began to test the edges of the frozen water, finding it devoid of the angry spirit of Gihah which had tormented them for so long. Brazen, some of the monsters charged the village lines, repelled after a few kicks.
In other places, the village forces were less lucky. When one skirmish broke out with the Koid-blooded, the monsters lured several of the men and women across the frozen river, where they were quickly surrounded by the sentient wildfires which were the Koid’s heralds.
As the sun reached its zenith, the misty forests filled with red lights, and the fire-beasts prepared for an all-out assault which would shatter Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv’s resistance once and for all.
Then, just as the herd began its approach over the river, a miracle occurred. A flash of silver ran the length of the frozen water, and suddenly the solid ice that the herd were walking across began to crack, giving way to cold water. As the villagers watched, the ice covering the river crumbled away into meltwater.
Then the river roared with renewed vitality as the waterfall and retaining pond broke, releasing the surge which had been building in the frozen headwaters. With a roar, the rivers of Gihah flooded, washing away the unfortunate fire beasts who had been crossing early, and driving the rest backwards with whinnies and screams of outrage.