Cone of Fivvin

[PKGriffin]

As some writers here may know, NaNoWriMo is coming up soon, so for a little tidbit, and to get myself into the writing mood, I thought that I might start up my own little Magistream-world-story-adventure-thing. I have tried before a few times, but I hope to get a bit further than chapter two this time.

So naturally I will just post up Chapter 1.1 to start. I am a bit of a writing procrastinator -- can you tell?

Characters

Name: Fivvin Murre
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Familiar Companion: Sive, Amarth Alagos
Magi Type: Volcanic Magi
Rank: Four

Name: Roe Jalko Fuin
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Familiar Companion: Nieras, Vassant Beetle
Magi Type: Growth Magi
Rank: One



Cone of Fivvin

Chapter One


A volcano overlooked my mother’s house, or her grandfather’s house, as it had been before she was born, since its frame had been erected over a hundred years ago. As a child I never thought much of this volcano, which had been named by my great-grandfather when he wandered out to the future site of our house. He called it Mt. Fivvintus, after himself, and thought it a mountain for his entire life. My great-grandfather was not much of a rock-studier.

Fivvintus erupted only once in that hundred years or so, and I happened to be born on that day. I don’t remember it, of course, but my mother said that ash fell down in thick sheets, like snow, and covered the sky with a pale darkness for days on end. The ash may have led to Daela’s allergies and breathing problems, though I got out surprisingly well for an infant. On that day, my mother named me Fivvintus, more after the mountain than my great-grandfather. I never really liked the name, but it came to fit me well in the next few years. I still always preferred my nickname, Fivvin.

* * *

The day always starts out for me with a basic class on spellwriting, which lasts an hour more than it should, and then I take myself over to a precision spellcasting class. Before either of these, I have of course eaten breakfast, washed, fed Ryru and Telp (Sive just steals anything she can get from my breakfast plate), dressed, and awoken. Spellcasting, especially precision spellcasting, is one of my poorer subjects, but I have the luck of being a morning person. Daela, my half-sister, is a much better caster, but you can’t even get her to walk in a strait line in the mornings. I have some off time after those two classes, during which time I am supposed to be studying. I usually do, only I don’t study my own material; rather, I help Semeune with her morning class work – which is counter-intuitive, I might add, since she is supposed to be tutoring me at that time.

At the Keep, classes are only mandatory in the mornings; the rest of the day is for short quests, magi-creature “bonding time,” and general meandering. I like the classes, just not the ones I am taking now. In the afternoon, I sometimes head out to the library or explore the hidden passageways and corridors with Semeune. Before noon, however, Sive always pecks at me to get moving toward the dining halls. She is a very piggy Alagos, and I probably shouldn’t feed her so many butter-rolls. Then again, she is awfully gentle by Alagos standards – and an absolute cretin by any other creature’s standards – and I happen to wonder if it’s because of her sweet tooth – er, beak.

It was shortly after one of these butter-roll-filled lunches, on a brisk autumn day while the sun beat down bold rays of light, just as I like it, that I met Roe. He was a short boy, and he looked young – so much so that I wouldn’t believe he was eighteen. He had dark hair tucked under a floppy brown city-hat, both the hat and the hair brown to match his eyes. I remember that I didn’t like his eyes much, probably because they were sneaky and clever. All my eyes are is brown, and not a pretty brown either.

Roe did not seem to care much for hygiene or appearances, wearing over his dirt-grimed skin some patchwork trousers which must have been sewn and torn over a dozen times recently. I’ll admit that his coat wasn’t half-bad, a fine woolen cloth which clearly received better care than the trousers, and Roe’s gray undershirt, which I figured must have been white or yellow once. His shoes were wooden clods, the kind that northern farmers wear on their feet to keep from sinking into the mud, especially after rainy days. It hadn’t rained for nearly a month, though.

There was something about this boy that I did not find very welcoming, but he looked just as uncertain about me. His brows were creased together so that they almost touched, yet he still looked sharp and keen, somewhat like a crafty Kitsune. He approached me from a distance, which surprised me, because I thought I had given the impression of being asleep. Sive cawed angrily at the intruder, her smoldering feathers turning gold at the edges. “Easy,” I told her in a muttered breath. She ruffled her feathers up in agitation, but made no further motion to fly. I thanked the biscuits under my breath; she had likely eaten too many to take off, the silly bird.

As Roe approached (or the boy, rather, as I did not yet know his name), a small green thing flew out of his pocket and landed next to me. Sive didn’t like it, but I was simply confused. The Vassant Beetle proceeded to grow some new, fresh grass in a drying patch next to my left knee, climbing over my leg like a six-legged (and rather heavy) green stone. When it seemed satisfied, it turned and flew back to its master, who in that time had come to stand right next to me.

“Hullo,” he said in a surprisingly low voice. I jumped a bit, surprised both by his age, which was clearer up close, and by his closeness. “You’re Fivvin, aren’t you?” I think I sort of nodded, probably with an unnecessary open mouth. “Are you all right?” he asked, growing as confused as me with each passing second.

“Oh, er, yeah,” I sputtered. “I’m Vissint – er, wait, no, I-I’m actually Fivvin. Yes, Fivvin.” I laughed weakly, and forcefully, which didn’t much help the situation.

“I’m Roe,” he said, apparently expecting me to recognize him immediately with that bit of information. “You are my tutor, right?”

I gave some sound or another of sudden remembrance – which might have been a commoner curse, if I recall correctly. Students who have studied at the Keep for over four years are often asked to tutor the newcomers and get them acquainted with the area. It naturally does not give a good impression for a tutor to forget their care, so I quickly spat out, “Oh right, I remember, you are...erm…Yes, and I’m Fivvin Murre, Volcanic Magi. And you are…” I lent out a hand, hoping to cover for my lack of good memory for names.

“Roe,” he said, still a bit confused but also irritated now. “My name is Roe Jalko Fuin.” He said each part of the name with care and emphasis, apparently hoping that I would remember the whole thing. I thought that if I could call up the first bit without trouble, then I would be well-off, but I did make an effort to try and remember the rest. “I am a Growth Magi.”

Now this I had not foreseen. I did not think that the Vassant was his familiar companion, but the beetle had landed on the boys shoulder and sat there like a failed imitation of Sive. Often, a magi could guess at what another’s skill was based on their appearance – not including their practice robes, of course. Fire Magi usually have hot tempers and like to snap at people, while Water Magi are calm and collected, but quite frightening when angered. Wind Magi are very lofty, but skillful, and Dark Magi are of course secretive and ominous. These are all generalizations, but they are common generalizations, and you might be surprised to hear how often I find them true. However, it is important to remember that Growth Magi are always portrayed as kindly old women or crinkle-eyed gardeners who love flowers, fruit, and farming. This dark little kid did not quite fit my vision of a Growth Magi. Then again, some people are surprised to learn that I am a Volcanic Magi, though the semblance is there, I guarantee it.

We stared at each other for a few moments, awkwardly, neither one really saying anything to the other. I asked him a few questions; how old are you, where are you from, how has your day been, what is your name (he was not so happy to hear this question again, so he repeated his name to me about five more times), and what is your Beetle’s name. Its name was Nieras, but I didn’t have time enough to ask its gender.

A slight wind blew out about this time, though it was far different from the natural winds that blew on that day. The wind was deeply magical, and soon I could hear a voice in it. “All magi past rank three are requested to report to the compound area for a quest. The deliverer of the quest will be Master Danica, Astrology Magi. She asks for immediate help, as this is a task of utmost haste. It is considered a level four quest.”

The wind died down, and with it, the voice faded, still repeating the message and presumably moving on to a new area with different students. I was not familiar with the wind-announce system, but I knew what it was. Roe, however, did not. “Here, let’s head over there. While you are with me, you have the same level that I do, so you can attend the briefing. I’ll explain what’s going on while we walk.” Roe nodded, though he didn’t say anything to indicate his mood, and I stood myself up and began to walk toward the Keep.

[BluMajica]

I like your writing here PK, it really sets the tone for the rest of the story. Gives good character base and a lovely insight to the ways of the magi's training...I love the wind system!

Hope to see more from you.