I realize this is a cast iron gate but I’m choosing to believe it’s a magic protection ritual
Tag: magic
There are monsters within me and they will be your undoing.
Fantasy RPG worldbuilding tip #137: mess with what counts as magic.
I don’t mean replicating modern technology with magical analogues – that stuff’s common as dirt. What I mean is taking a step back from the conventional paradigm of starting with a world that fundamentally resembles our own and layering magic on top of it, and asking yourself: what if this obviously non-magical thing is a form of magic in this world?
History furnishes numerous examples. It’s well-known, for example, that the Ancient Greeks didn’t distinguish between pharmacology and sorcery – but did you know that the Vikings considered picking locks to be a form of magic? That it’s demonstrably a mechanical skill that can be learned by anyone is beside the point; that a person was able to learn that skill in the first place was, itself, seen as evidence of consorting with evil spirits!
So run with that: pick a perfectly ordinary skill or pursuit, one that’s integral to our everyday life, and suppose that in your world, it’s a mystical practice that transgresses against the natural order. What does your world look like then?
To pose a common example: literacy. Treating literacy as a form of magic isn’t historically uncommon; the modern word “grimoire” – a book of spells – ultimately derives from the same root as “grammar”. So let’s run with that. The process and mechanics of learning to read are the same as they are in our world, but the implications may be very different. Perhaps knowing how to read books automatically confers the ability to read minds. Perhaps literacy grants the ability to understand the speech of beasts. There’s all sorts of directions you could go with it.
It’s critical to resist the urge to fall back on describing our world with magic laid on top. If you’re doing the literacy-as-magic thing, then you are not describing a world in which a reading-based school of magic exists; you are describing a world in which the acts of reading and writing are and always have been mystical practices, with all the societal weirdness that implies – and further, the mechanics of reading and writing do not materially differ from those of their real-world counterparts, though the outcomes may vary wildly.
The other major trap to watch out for is picking something too esoteric to really dig into. You’ll find plenty of fantasy settings where, say, clockworking or steam engineering is a form of magic – but clockworking isn’t something that ordinary people do in their daily lives. This sort of worldbuilding is much more effective when the practice in question is ubiquitous.
Other everyday activities that might make good candidates for converting into mystical practices:
- Cooking or baking
- Dressing (i.e., the act of putting on clothing)
- Farming or gardening
- Keeping pets
- Lighting fires
- Makeup (i.e., facial cosmetics)
- Personal hygiene (bathing, grooming, etc.)
- Representational art (that is, drawing pictures of things)
- Rhyming (even unintentionally!)
Again, no wimping out; to pick a faintly ridiculous example from the preceding list, if you’ve decided that bathing is magic in your setting, that doesn’t mean that there’s a magical way to take a bath – it means that taking a bath is an inherently mystical process, and there’s no non-magical way to go about it. Similarly, if you went with cooking, what you’ve got is a world in which all prepared food is, in some sense, also a magic potion.
Give it a shot!
If you don’t want to use animal parts or curse or whatever in your magic, that’s fine, but don’t go telling other people they can’t. And don’t act like your way is the only way that has ever been.
I’ve seen so many authors (and so many people on here 00) acting like magic that they personally don’t like just doesn’t exist.
Witchcraft has always used bones, fur, meat, and blood.
Witchcraft has always been used for personal gain.
Witchcraft has always been used to curse, hex, jinx, and cross.
Witchcraft has always used plants and herbs.
Witchcraft has always been used to heal.
Witchcraft can be used for good, for evil, or for neutral.
Do whatever you want with your magic, but don’t deny history.
And if it’s not your tradition, back off. All witches are equal, but not all witches are the same! You deal in fate magic? Great, I don’t and my tradition doesn’t deal with fate much (okay, my sub-tradition, there are people in the tradition who deal in fate but that’s not my path). I curse (not everyday but my tradition has no beef with curses). You don’t? Rock on. Do your thing and may you prosper.
Telling another witch in a path you don’t know how to do shit is like telling an Abuela fresh over the border she isn’t making empanadas right because she uses chicken and bakes them. Not your village, not your place.
When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.
This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.
She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.
“Do you need help?” she offered.
The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.
“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.
This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”
“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”
This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.
Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.
The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.
“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.
She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.
“An outrage! Put me down!”
“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.
“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.
“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”
The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”
“Really? Can I hear some?”
“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.
She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.
In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.
“There you go. Food mountain.”
The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.
She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”
“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.
“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.
She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”
It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.
“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”
“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”
She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”
It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”
“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”
“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”
“Don’t worry, I got it.”
Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.
Fuck pockets! XD
Concept: conjured demon obliged to give lesson in informed consent when novice warlock attempts to sell somebody else’s soul.
“But you see, sir,” the warlock says, ritual dagger still held high over his head, “I want it more though.” He glances uncertainly between the young man bound to the altar and the demon in the summoning circle.
“That doesn’t matter,” the demon says. He’s still relaxed, still nonchalant, but his patience is wearing thin. “It doesn’t matter how much you want someone’s soul– you can’t take it if they don’t give it to you.”
The warlocks brow furrows. “Uuuuh, yeah I can? I’m literally about to–” he makes a stabbing motion down, prompting the bound man to scream into his gag.
“No!” The demon can’t believe he’s being forced into this position: convincing a human to NOT murder. “If you do that, you get nothing, I get sent back, and you’ve got the stain of murder on your immortal soul.”
“But–”
“No,” the demon says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, okay? Did you ask if you could take his soul?”
“No, but–”
“Then end of story. He didn’t agree to it, he didn’t know tonight would end in murder, and he didn’t know that he’d be part of a devil deal. So no, his soul won’t work and you can’t harvest it to bind me to your will.”
“But… I can’t use MY soul,” the warlock says. The dagger lowers slightly and he squints at the demon in confusion. “How would i become all powerful if you owned my soul?”
“That-that’s the catch,” the demon says. He doesn’t even want this mortal anymore. He just wants to go back to hell and wait for someone actually ready to play be the rules. “Okay? Devil deals can never make you all powerful because the demon had power over you in death. Th-that’s just how it works.”
The warlock frowns. “So you trick people into giving you their souls? How’s that better than–” he gestures to the angry man bound to the altar “–this?”
“Because you know I’m going to take your soul!” The demon bursts out. The flames around him flare higher and he takes calming breaths. “You know it belongs to me! I don’t promise all power– I just promise power. It’s– I inform you of what you get and the consequences. You agree anyway because you’re human and greedy. Okay? Get it?”
The warlock nods slowly, free hand coming up to rub his chin. “Yes….yes. I see.” He nods. “I just need to get someone to agree to pay the soul toll for me!”
The demon resists the urge to banish himself.
Could you please reblog this if you are a witch who isn’t Wiccan?
leahelizabeth89
replied to your post “I am enjoying this show. And right now am wanting very much to take…”
“I’m not a philosopher, Harry,“ [Michael] said. "But here’s something for you to think about, at least. What goes around comes around. And sometimes you get what’s coming around.” He paused for a moment, frowning faintly, pursing his lips. “And sometimes you are what’s coming around.”
-The Dresden Files
This is an interesting quote. It is also making me crankier than usual, though I doubt that was the intent.
I’m gonna put the rest of this under a cut because I have some strong opinions and my tradition is not everyone’s tradition, and dude, if something works for someone else, cool beans. If not, that’s ok too.
Also because deities and spirituality and people should have the option to be able to skip that if they’re not interested.
Rule of Three still doesn’t apply outside of the tradition from which it came.
Now, Newton’s Laws of Motion? Those apply for the magic I use. Which is why, if doing something that’s going to have a lot of reaction, I use an anchor and shielding.
Which is another part of why I look at that concept that “harm comes back three-fold” and laugh on a good day, and loudly bitch about it on a bad day. Because equal and opposite reaction. Conservation of energy.
Yes, I apply physics as I understand them to magic. It makes sense to me. And it makes magic work. For me. For other people, other rules and limitations apply, because they work from a different tradition/baseline.
Add to the magic I tend to use that I’m typically invoking deities, and all my deities are related in some manner to death and change and conflict? I’m not going to use magic often, and when I do, I am the aspect of my deities, I am invoking the Winnower of Death, the Chooser of the Slain, the Queens of the Dead – of the dishonored and the forgotten and the outcast*. The Mother of Monsters, Hunger, the Listener and World Snake, the Judge, the Lord of the House, the Protector, War, and Death. (In order – Anat, The Morrígan, Hel and Persephone, Loki, Fenrir, Jörmungandr, Hades, Baal, Cerubus, Ares, Mot.)
These are the aspects of my deities that speak to me. This is the magic I work.
And yeah, it’s entirely possible I’ve done permanent and irreparable harm to my body in the magic I work. It’s worth it. It’s worth it to see someone walk free of what would have swallowed her whole and eaten her soul while her grandmother could do nothing but try to warn her. It’s worth it to see a friend smile again. It’s worth it to see those who would do – and have done – harm to others have that harm repaid to them.
And I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
*Outcast, not outlaw. Those who the powerful of society would harm because they merely exist.
I am enjoying this show. And right now am wanting very much to take the people who wrote the current episode and ask them what they were smoking, because that is not a universal magical constant, you dicks.
*grumbles about bullshit perpetuated by media*
There's a Mirror on the Wall 