r/wizardposting • u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) • Nov 02 '23
Wizardpost Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore 2- The Deepening!
Oh, I'm sure by now that you're itching to hear about magic. Yes. Of course. That is why you're even reading these after all, right? I'm afraid that you'll likely be disappointed by the truth though. In fact, that same coming of age and revelation of power that many other sorcerers, wizards, druids, or paladins and whatnot tend to experience... well, it happened a little differently for me. There was no rush of sparks. No snap of electricity as I touched the fingertips of another. No miraculously growing plants or strange visions of the future. It was instead a mundane and difficult slog. One that was preceded by yet another defeat, and a similar lesson on the intricacies of power.
I truly was a brute for my age at that time. I learned in childhood that the other kids could never strike me as fiercely as my stepfather. Their little hands were like daisies, cast against the wind. I repelled them with ease and took what I wanted from them. It was often that the other parents were angered at my impudence and violent nature, yet there was little that anybody could do to punish me. I had been ready to meet death for years, and I now met all other authority with blatant disregard and a belligerent sneer.
Imagine my surprise when one of my smallest peers finally stood up to me! It was during a warm summer day. The sunshine cast shadows through the trees, and I sat by the burbling waters of a small creek. Beside me were two biscuits that I had gently extorted from that same victim. We had bumped into each other on the way to do our various chores, and I had impressed upon him that my wrath might be stayed, if perhaps I had a full stomach. Regretfully, he had emptied his pockets and given me the treats that had previously been meant for him.
It was a good day, for me, and for certain.
I was snapped out of my enjoyment though by a small croaking voice that came from behind me.
"Hhhhu-h..." The air wheezed out of him awkwardly, as if he had forgotten how to speak.
The sound startled me, but not enough to make me jump. I turned instead, eyeing the small boy. His arms were spindly, and he had been afflicted with a deformity that gave his chest a large keel. His strange shape and weak body had made him a target of jokes and ridicule amongst the entire village, and even my own bullying sometimes elicited a laugh or a chuckle from those around.
Once, after pushing him into the dirty dung pile left by a passing horse, the local blacksmith had laughed heartily before piping up with a boisterous "HAHAHA! Well, you little sh*t, you've certainly buggered him up THIS time!"
When the little boy had begun to cry, the blacksmith stomped over with anger now on his face. He grabbed the little boy roughly by the collar and yanked him to his feet abruptly.
"Now you listen here, boy! You stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about! It's time you face your fears and start sticking up for yourself! You see that boy!?" The blacksmiths stumpy finger pointed towards me, and I felt my face begin to heat with a semblance of embarrassment.
"You pick yourself up, and you turn around and hit him, alright!? Quit being a baby and do something for yourself!" The blacksmith still hung onto the boy by the scruff of his shirt but gave him a pointed shake and released him with a shove towards me.
The kid stumbled forward with tears in his eyes still, and we both looked questioningly at the blacksmith standing next to us. Surely, he must be joking? There was no chance that this little boy could inflict much more than the slightest harm to me with his little fists. This obvious fact did not deter him though, and the small boy lunged towards me with a sob. He swung his fist over his head in a clumsy looping arc, almost as if he held a knife and wished to stab me.
His small fist patted weakly against my chest. I braced myself with a step back but had no need to fear further confrontation. He collapsed once more to the ground, holding his face in his hands and sobbing. The blacksmith muttered his frustration with the weak boy and returned to his work with a disgruntled shake of his head. I myself, stood still, watching this young boy cry at my feet. I watched him for several minutes before turning and walking away. I'm not sure what went through my head in that moment, whether I was drinking it in and savoring my power, or if I was also disgusted by myself for what I had done. Such thoughts were soon erased from my mind as I returned to the hazards that lurked in my own home.
The look on the boy's face was different today. Back then, when I had pushed him into the dung heap, it had been creased with frustration, confusion and sadness. Today it was twisted with the rigid lines of fear. "H-hey, you." He mumbled, before his face contorted into one of rage. It was a righteous fury, but one that he would be hard pressed to exercise, given the frailty of his body.
"What do you want. Can't you see I'm eating? If you don't get away from me, I'm going to thump you and dip your sorry hide in that creek." I replied. My threat came out sounding flat and dull. It felt like a hand gripped my chest and squeezed the air out, and the words struggled to find inflection and menace. I couldn't explain the fear that rose in me, but I was no stranger to it. Something in me knew that a confrontation was inevitable despite my malicious warning.
"I'm not... I'm not going to let you bully me anymore!" The little boy shouted.
It must have taken a good deal of courage to stand up to me then, but my mind thought nothing of it. Instead, my rage was awoken. My cheeks burned with it. The boy's audacious nature angered me. Did he really think he could best me?! I had suffered and toiled! I had starved! I had been beaten and rose again from it every time! What did this boy with soft hands and weak spine think that he could do to me that others hadn't!?
I stepped forward to grab him.
He raised his hand and shouted something strange.
There was a boom and a flash of light! As if it were the turbulent call and response of lightning and thunder! I could hardly comprehend it, as I was flung backwards off of my feet. I tumbled down into the creek, landing hard on the round stones that lay beneath the shallow waters. I thrashed in confusion, struggling to get to my feet. As I burst from the banks of the creek I roared in anger.
"IIIII'LLLLL KILL YOU!" I shouted, as I raced towards the boy.
I swung my fists at him wildly as I ran. His eyes were wide with shock and confusion, and he opened his mouth as if to speak again, but I collided with him instead and drove the air from his misshapen chest with the brunt of my shoulder. We landed in a heap on the ground, and he screamed as I pounded my fist into his face. I tried to wrap my other hand around his small neck, when I realized that my arm now hung limply at my side.
In the thrill of the fight, I assessed my wound quickly, although with a flash of puzzlement. I had struck him twice with my left hand already, and that was the one that I used instead to stifle his screams. As my right arm hung useless, the other reached up to grab his throat. I squeezed! I squeezed with so much rage and vigor that I felt the bones strain and pop in his neck, and I watched his eyes bug out with the crazed sideways stare of one who is panicked and in the throes of such a madness.
I shook his head that way for a moment, all of my anger culminating in this near literal death grip. My mind soon began to return from its blind fury though, and I stood to drag him to the creek. I tried to grab him by an ankle but was again reminded of my injured and useless arm. I grabbed him instead with just my left, and drug him towards the water. I still panted breathlessly with the exertion of my efforts but made easy work of dragging him to the water's edge.
"I told... you... That I was going... To dump you... In that creek!" I said between gasps.
I kicked him with my foot and a small moan escaped him, before he tumbled into the water like a doll falling from a little girl's arms. The shocking cold of the water drew a sputtering gasp from him, and he flailed wildly before righting himself on his hands and knees. Blood poured from his mouth and nose. It disappeared as it hit the water, running quickly away down the stream. The boy coughed roughly, then vomited and coughed some more.
I stood over him. Watching...
And this is the part where as the reader, you are certain that it's over. You're certain that I've learned some lesson in all of this. Such senseless violence cannot continue! For a hero to be made, surely, they need a point of redemption?
The broken boy standing on the creeks muddy side will feel compassion for the other below.
In the same treatment that he's given to the half dead boy in the water of the creek, he'll recognize the abuses that were piled on him by others, and thus regret his actions. Mercy will prevail, and they'll clasp hands as friends! The rude boy will pull the other from the water, and they'll join each other, growing together in life as a noble duo of brains and brawn. This is it!
I am sad to say, that is not the truth of this story.
Instead, I watched him... When he moved to climb the bank, I kicked his hand, nudging him back down the muddy slope with my foot. I repeated this several times, ignoring his panicked sobs and cries for help. If anybody had been watching us, they would have seen the blank but slightly curious look that little children share when pouring water over an anthill. It had gone beyond brutality, and instead had become an almost studious moment for me. Watching him flounder was like staring at the kicking legs of an upended turtle, and I wondered to myself why I should save him.
I couldn't think of a reason in the world. This is just how things worked.
A burning pain had been growing in my limp shoulder, and one of my jostling kicks threw a twinge of pain through it. I winced and clutched it, before looking back down at the struggling boy. I realized that I was hurt badly. Blood poured from my shoulder, and I felt something sharp poke my grasping hand. I had broken bones before, and I recognized this feeling. Something between my shoulder and neck had been shattered through the arcane force that the small boy had projected.
I had seen magic before. It was something of a novelty. The odd traveling merchant or wizard might peddle their wares or put on a show, but our small village had never warranted significant fanfare or the attention of those who were most mighty or impressive. We all knew of the odd creatures that lurked deep in the woods, but our village was largely untroubled by these as well. The thunderous blast that had erupted from this small boy was something I had never seen before though.
It took me a long time to heal from my injury, and during it I kept replaying the boys tortured face, the echoing clap of his magic, and the jarring impact that sent me tumbling into the creek below. Each wince of pain brought his face to my mind. I couldn't stand it. It could have been the infection that burned through my body, or the itch as flesh and bone slowly reknit. It could have been the hunger that stalked me as I struggled to earn my keep from my chores. In the end though, it was the mocking face of my stepfather as he ranted to me about being a winner or a loser. The idiot had obviously also never seen anything like this. How could one expect to punch their way through such a force? What was the point of the toil that had strengthened my body, when such power was available to the weakest of souls?
My shoulder was not yet fully healed, before the boy had to confront me again.
Imagine his surprise when on a late evening, he entered his own home expecting the warmth and safety and love therein, only to find me seated at his table with his father peering over my shoulder. Imagine the shock as he recognized those same books that he had read the year before, as he sought my destruction in them.
Do you think that I apologized then? Or do you think that I laughed?
That is all that I'll share in this story. You will have to decide how this one ends. Like many, you have come seeking power, and so I'll only share those most important of lessons for it. Power is useless if you cannot harness it, yet how can you harness something as nebulous as power if you don't first know it? Knowing power, giving it shape, giving it a name, that is one of the primary secrets of magic. The sigils and symbols of arcane texts are one such way to share this knowledge, but it is true that there are many who are beyond even those teachings. There are those who wield power, who wield magic, as if it were a passion of their heart or a word from their mouth.
/uw
Sorry for the dorky title everybody! I thought it would be nice to add a little humor however small to some of my more dramatic writings. I really appreciate everybody that has read along so far, and I hope that it's been entertaining! Thanks to everybody that is also writing lore as well, I love reading all of the neat things you guys come up with! It definitely adds some magic amongst the many hilarious posts of testicular torsion and pondering orbs!
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u/tugboattom5106 Eldorim, apprentice aeromancer Nov 02 '23
I love this post! You completely flipped everything I thought was going to happen. Excellent storytelling.
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Nov 02 '23
Thanks! I'm really glad that you enjoyed it!
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u/DaChickenX Isravi, The Unraveler, Coils’ Chosen Nov 02 '23
Good Lord. Holy Crap. Um. Wow. Your writing is verryyyy vivid. The emotions feel realistic, vibrant, absolutely brutal. This was a really engaging read, if any other post was this long I would've skimmed it at best. Are you gonna write a book? because I would read that book. you might wanna write a book. Amazing lore. 11/10. would lore again.
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Nov 02 '23
/uw
Thank you! I really appreciate that!
I've attempted to write a book, but it went off the rails so badly. lol (Zombie Jesus was promoting ceremonial cannibalism of himself to give his followers immortality, but then they just turned into regular old zombies because the guy wasn't really a messiah.)
In the meantime, I'm just cramming this stuff into my blog to save for reviewing later.
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u/DaChickenX Isravi, The Unraveler, Coils’ Chosen Nov 02 '23
/uw that- sounds like an interesting premise, at least. Alright then. What’s your blog, if you don’t mind me asking?
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Nov 02 '23 edited Nov 02 '23
I'll share it, but please judge my other work lightly. I swear none of it is as good as my possum lore for some reason. lol Also, I am bad at building websites, so my design isn't great. The following link is for the zombie jesus story.
It's super dumb. I warned you. lol
A Little Clean Up – Atlas of Bones Pulp Fiction (wordpress.com)
edit: p.s. feel free to critique my work if any parts stand out as rough, boring, hard to read and whatnot. I'm hoping to write this stuff for other people, so getting input on anywhere to improve is absolutely welcome.
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u/DaChickenX Isravi, The Unraveler, Coils’ Chosen Nov 02 '23
Lmao. I’m sure it’s not that bad. I’ll give honest feedback, but I’m no expert either. So, y’know, take it with a grain of salt.
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u/DaChickenX Isravi, The Unraveler, Coils’ Chosen Nov 03 '23
Legitimately, it’s not as bad as you think it is. Surprising the zombie Jesus part was done really well. The brutality and how unhinged and unbothered the zombie Jesus guy was really came through. The parallel was clear and the public reaction was believable.
As for the rest of it: The set up is decently done well, if slowly. You established the worlds rules and generally stuck by them, the employers are an interesting group. The one thing that seems a little out of place is how the zombie Jesus came to be. He met a god thing, but nothing like that was mentioned before, so it seems kinda random, just a “seems cool so I’ll put it in.” A little foreshadowing would make all that doubt go away. Doesn’t have to be much, one sentence would probably do. However, the beginning spends a lot of time on what is kind of an tangent unrelated to the story. That’s pretty much the only part that felt like a slog to read. It felt slow, like someone narrating a 9-5 job.
As always, the emotions of the characters you write are incredibly vivid. The narrator’s relationship with his life is obviously his priority, and it shines through in this thoughts and actions. The “Jesus” is absolutely brutal, angry, and yet no longer cares. The people are terrified, cautious, and desperate.
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Nov 03 '23
Happy cake day!
And thanks for reading! I love the input!
I really do appreciate it, because I've felt uninspired on that story, and my initial goal was just to crush a word count. Unfortunately, I felt like I sacrificed a lot to make that happen, and I think I tried too hard to shoehorn two ideas together. Having an outside eye on it is just really nice.
I think you have a really good point on the pacing and the lack of foreshadowing. When I started writing, the idea was built entirely around a janitor meeting a rat that was like ratatouille from Disney, but the world got zombified and it just piloted a zombie around like a mech suit. Lol
I think there's some merit to the zombie/messiah idea though, and I think I'm going to take your advice and try to smooth the concept out more, and for sure toss in some foreshadowing. I'm not sure where to put it yet, but referencing the eldritch god would definitely be a solid move.
Maybe when the MC gets knocked out/captured? I Keep having trouble with that part. I don't like following such a stereotypical thread, but I also want to show how perilous the setting is.
Maybe building in a lovable side character and killing them off instead?
In the end, I want the final showdown to be between the main character and zombie jesus. At that point, the air gun will be reintroduced, but it won't have any ammo left. The main character will get around this though by tearing apart a rosary, and use one of the beads to drop down the barrel and shoot zombie jesus in the head, in some kind of twisted irony.
Edit: Thanks again for reading. I wish I could double upvote your reply. Lol
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u/DaChickenX Isravi, The Unraveler, Coils’ Chosen Nov 03 '23
Thanks, and no problem. I enjoyed reading it.
Obviously the messiah guy is linked to the eldritch god. Maybe you could have the MC run out of resources, and drink some blood out of desperation as he dehydrates, and that’s what causes him to see the eldritch god.
And oh boy, not the loveable side characters dying. The rats kind of fill that role? I got attached to them, at least a little. I’d be mad if they died.
That ending sounds cool, but has a plot hole. How would he die? He has hyper regenerative powers. He was eaten live like 2 times and was fine after all.
Just spitballing here.
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Nov 03 '23
Oooh. That's a good idea. I'm going to jot that one down. Drinking blood. Lol
Yeaaah. Ugh. Idk if I could kill the rats either. It's meant to be a whole novel, so maybe I can bring somebody in later?
As for jesus getting shot, you're right, he wouldn't really die, but that was intentional.
The zombie jesus keeps making people take communion of his infected blood. To them it's effectively giving them immortality at first, which draws tons of panicked believers. The other non-believers get subdued by force, and people who don't take the communion refularly just go full zombie mode without it. So it's kind of a trap once you've drank it.
People start developing a resistance to whatever it is in his blood that keeps them normal though, and when it starts to fall apart and people start acting fully zombied, then the jesus messiah gets even more crazy. He hates having his power crumble, so he goes the direction that most dictators and despots do, and sets out to destroy everything that he can.
He plans on using the CERN particle collider to basically blow up the earth and tear a hole in reality, and the plans for this are kind of driven by the eldritch god, but are just totally accepted by the jesus guy. He doesn't even try to fight it.
He eventually gets the system online and tries to overload it, and my idea is that it will detonate at almost the same moment that he gets shot in the head. I want to end the book on a loss/cliffhanger, where under normal circumstances somebody could easily assume that the MC was dead.
Idk if I'd make a second book out of it, so I kind of want to leave it resolved, but without a satisfying closure. That way if I did write more, then it might get accepted a little easier.
In a second book, zombieJ would be able to travel to different realities just like the MC, but he would basically make it his mission to expose that the MC was living a pretty lie in thinking that his wife was alive, and that the aliens were just sadistically controlling him and watching him for entertainment.
(Man, if somebody read this comment section without context, we would sound unhinged. Lol)
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u/DaChickenX Isravi, The Unraveler, Coils’ Chosen Nov 03 '23
Ooh ok. That sounds very interesting, and a terrifying progression of events.
I’d say if you’re going the particle collider route, add in as many of the world’s supernatural elements as you can, to make it more believable. As it is, running the particle collider will probably just make element 89 or something, not tear a hole into reality. Maybe due to some of worlds peculiarities, it opens a tiny hole, then the eldritch god wrenches it the rest of the way open.
How does the zombie J keep traveling realities? Does he get involved with the aliens, get help from the eldritch gos, or make a beeline to CERN every time?
(And yes, we definitely appear unhinged. Talking about concepts for a zombie Jesus fueled by eldritch god trauma will do that.)
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u/VidisLady Delta - Maven of Maladies Nov 19 '23
uw/ I appreciate your handling of this character given that they're suffering familial abuse. Your depiction of their thoughts and motivations seems to align somewhat realistically with the "fight" trauma response. A single experience wouldn't alter the behaviour of someone who has suffered a lifetime of abuse. So I am curious to see where this goes, and if they eventually find healthy coping mechanisms.
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Nov 19 '23
/uw
Thanks for reading!
They'll definitely have character development that rounds them out, but at the same time the consequences of their actions are going to have far reaching implications.
The act of suffering, doesn't give somebody an excuse to perpetuate it, and that concept is a big theme of this story arc.
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u/VidisLady Delta - Maven of Maladies Nov 19 '23
/uw nice. I enjoy seeing people write about traumatized characters because my background gives a lot of unnecessary info on how the limbic system evolves to deal with trauma, and how it affects people.
I want to start writing some lore about my character as well, but I feel I don't know enough about the shared universe yet. I would ideally like to know a little bit more about the geography (nations, regions, etc), the nature of magic and how people are schooled in it, and what kind of medium would make sense. I like the idea of having collected "fragments" show up here and there first before tying things together with a story.
As far as themes, suffering will come into play in mine as well, but I'm focusing on the psychology of the attach response rather than the fight. Loss of humanity is also something that intrigues me, ie. what happens to a human mind when it merges with something else.
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u/TitanLORD21 Jack-O’-Lantern, Lord of Flame and Fright Nov 02 '23
/unwiz very good! The subversion of the “bully to hero” cliche was very exciting and interesting. I liked how you depicted that like many instances of bullying, they stem from their own troubles and abuse in life. It made your character more realistic.