Vignette - Beastmaster or Pet Meister

“What path have you imagined, Candidate?”

“I will make the strength of the beasts my strength. I will befriend them, take care of them, love them and in return they will do the same for me. It’s not an easy thing to take a wild animal and tame it. It takes understanding of the social dynamics of the animal, and it takes sincerity from the trainer.”

Chapter 10

No man is an Island. Such an inane cliche phrase, and a worse book. He had spent months trying to get a rune that characterized himself. Months trying and months failing. Yet after a meal and some banal chatter he felt he at last understood. In his loneliness he had boxed up his feelings. Fears and longing sealed away to maintain his sanity. But those feelings were an important part of who he was. Of course he couldn’t describe himself accurately without including the mess of emotions and drama that was his social connections, the history of his social life.

It was not wrong to box them away during those first five years of isolation, but all things have a price. A complete Self rune was surely not possible when the self it describes was not complete. A self portrait on a field of white, vs. a self portrait in the family home. Is it any wonder which would resonate more?

The euphoria of reestablishing those connections of the heart, even if just in part rang through his mind. He was sharper, brighter in this moment then he had been in years. Manic almost in his giddiness. Heart healed, loneliness patched and sanity stabilized, it was time to fly! Time to take the half formed image of self and add connections. To make his island into an archipelago.

So take a human outline, add rays out from a central point, Then add a symbol to the head, connections are to the heart, but the mind rules.

The image and outline of the goal was engraved in his mind, he just needed to flesh it out and put it to stone. The euphoria was pulling at him. The creative fuge had happened to him before in life. Only a few wonderous times but it had happened. When all the stars aligned and everything suddenly made sense. Disparate pieces of information no longer just a jigsaw puzzle, but instead a detailed how to guide to the universe. He could feel it calling to him. Calling him under and he would not surface until the task was done.

He had to be quick. He could not waste the opportunity, but he also could not afford to collapse during it! A few steps took him over to the water basin and a quick, very cold head dunk cooled him down. As he shivered he made sure not to break eye contact with the newly made hot tub outside the window. It stared back at him with warm, seductive eyes. He was sure of it. The slut.

He drank deeply and stuck a corner piece of bread in his mouth. Devouring it in his haste whithe barely a chew. Done with what bodily maintenance he could front load it was time to begin. He carefully selected a custom stone card. It was made with Stone essence this time, a cube 2 inches squared per side, sized to fit in the check box of the “Specific” rune. immensely durable, it weighed a full pound.

Next to it he placed his “Pen-is-Mightier”. Another pen with a different aperture might have been easier to use, but this was his first success. The first success was a momentous symbol. Such things had to be accounted for in a world of magic. Especially when his magic focused so heavily on symbols. Using it to define himself would be helpful.

Last he placed several pieces of chalk on a hide table mat.

He was calm despite the euphoria.

He was focused.

He was ready for the next step.

Sitting down the chalk seemed to move itself, years of practice allowing his hands to glide through the motions. He could have made the simple human form in a few breaths, instead he took several minutes. The chalk lines had exactly the same width and the ray lines were ruler straight.

The chalk made its way back to the mat, and he picked up his “Pen-is-Mightier” with a fond small smile. A moment, he paused, gathering all that he had learned and planned together in the forefront of his mind.

With perfect clarity and focus he started the first cut, the first imbuing of intent.

As the removal field made contact he felt it on his foot. A heavy pressure, uncomfortable but not truly painful, he did not let it distract him. Following the chalk the pressure crawled up his legs like a deep tissue massage, around his arm and to his head then back down. The circuit completed with a snap, a palpable connection existed between him and the rune. A finger dragged lightly across the stone brought phantom feedback to the body.

The magic was building and it must flow. He continued on to the rays. The first ray to the top right was his father, stoic and vast, slow but sure, unhindered by all the slings and arrows of adversity. Top left was his mother, small, delicate, with an all encompassing love, a will of iron and a temper to match her hair. The magic pulsed with each line. A feeling of contact, as if they stood behind him, a hand on either shoulder.

The flow was perfect, he needed to follow it. Reginald to the right, Jenney to the left. Violence tempered with wisdom on one hand, infinite compassion on the other. Left and right leg’s Marry and Jason. Perfectionism with a desire for affirmation vs. Brilliance and will to succeed, untempered by failure and rife with the arrogance of the inexperienced. Two more presences gathered behind him, weaker by far than the previous four. He resonated with them, but perhaps having no magic they could not resonate back. Thoughts for a different time.

The flow must go on. One last line to the Earth below. An open line, a willing connection to the many others he had met and was yet to meet. Contact, wonderfully fleeting, disparate and without the fine lensed accuracy of his family, the presence larger than life yet fractured into a million possibilities.

Seven total lines, six for family, one for the world.

Body and connections, both established and resonating but not yet complete. The capstone was still needed, the mind, the soul. One last deep breath, then the plunge. This portion of the rune had to be variable. It represented his inner self. Every careful stroke was a forced encounter, his life validated against his claims in a series of instant memories. A seed for the mind and soul, what they were now was just the start, they had so much further to grow.

At last his will nearing empty and his sweat pouring down his face and back in rivulets he could finally let the arrow fly. The messy missmash that was life juxtaposed with the carefully crafted framework of logic and will. A fractal enclosed in a simple elegant ring setting. It meshed and snapped to completion. A small little block that meant so much more stared at him from the table.

He stared at the works of his own hand in awe. I am so accidentally awesome!

This was no trick for a good TP experience. No magical Charmin substitute. This was an affirmation of who he was with safety valves for who he might become. It was powerful and deeply personal. A save point he could return to with a side of achilles heel. He would never be able to leave it lying around. If it was damaged he would suffer as well.

He stared at it. From this point on he could always return his body to how it was now. Slightly tired, slightly dehydrated from hours or days working. When he grew older, if he grew fatter, if he was wounded or decided to take up bodybuilding, it would not matter. He would return to how he was now. He had fixed his body's return point to how it was at this moment. For good or ill. All he needed to do was hit load.

He chuckled at the idea. He was hardly at the height of physical perfection. Ascetic living had trimmed his office worker waistline. But a short jog in the morning had hardly made him ripped. He could hardly say he wasn’t sad about the missed opportunity. Chicks dig muscles after all. If he was going to return to this moment he could have at least got a haircut first. He was as shaggy and disheveled as ever. It amused him to think of it. But he had no intention of modifying it in any way. Call it a small sacrifice, reaffirming that the mind was more important than the desires of the flesh. Even the really strong desires that five years alone brought… He quickly moved on from that particular line of thought.

“Congratulations Timothy Mason, you are the first in this world to find in your path a method for throwing off the chains of age. May you be forever remembered as the man who sought TP and found limited immortality. You sir, are bull shit lucky!” Akil’s cheerful voice sounded odd, almost as if he was trying to sound derisive and could not quite manage it.

“Of course you also made yourself a massive weakness. Unless you break the links, any harm that occurs to that object will occur to you. Congratulations again Candidate for making your own little voodoo doll. Be sure to keep track of it.”

Ya, that could be a bit of problem… Especially if I only use it once every 50 or 60 years...

“Enough of that, an announcement was made while you were preoccupied. From now on all guardians will be allowed to visit Trailblazers they are connected to. But only those who will commit to a prospective people group. Who of your acquaintances do you wish to be placed with when you descend back to Earth? There will be no bargaining or drama, simply compose your list and everyone else will compose theirs. We golems will shift you into acceptable groups based on varying emotional ties and optimal group sizes. None of your lists will ever be shared.”

“I will be able to have regular conversations? Company on more than one in five years schedule?” He excitedly began to stand.

“Hold on, that is only partially the case. They will be able to hear you, hug you, smile at you, even cook food for you. But they will only be able to communicate in more detail with each other. Your path must not be corrupted. Each guardian could have access to multiple pathfinders. The feedback they give could blend your paths together. Seven years was chosen as the isolation time for a reason. It’s enough time for you to solidify the beginnings of your path. After that, competition and discussion will hopefully help without all the paths blurring together.”

Half standing he froze, considering that. Then finished standing and jumped into the air “Woohooo! Hu-man contact! Hu-man contact! Hu-man contact” He chanted making a lap around his cottage, before finally settling down. Delighted, he responded to Akil “I’ll take what I can get! It's definitely better than the nothing I had before.” A smile still spread from ear to ear, refusing to go away.

“One last message Timothy, eternal youth is not forbidden to those who find it. It is forbidden to be shared. A world has limits on resources and space. A full society of immortals would be a disaster. I know you are thinking of your parents. DO NOT DO IT. Spreads of immortality are treated as an infestation in the Proctors' own worlds. They are exterminated with extreme prejudice and a wide blade. Three degrees of contact is the standard. That's those who know you, those who know them, and one more layer beyond that just to be safe. All ended before they can destroy society as a whole.“

Well shit...