The Enclave > Lore > Wizardry

Seafarers' Needles

The Magi of the Vanished Isles employed enchanted needles to guide their great ships across the Unending Sea, the needles pointing this way and that as the currents shifted. This lesser wizardry was one of many given to the Datarii in trade in older times, and the stonefolk made good use of it.

In the present day, Seafarers' Needles are enchanted throughout the Enclave to guide wayfarers on dry land. Merchants traveling between Port and other Enclave communities use the wizardry of the needles to avoid the Farthest Roads. Canny Ammander hunters and woodsmen find their way home by following the point of the needle - marks on trees and known paths soon fail as guides in the Farthest Forest.

[ Posted by Reason on December 21, 2004 | Permanent Link ]

Declarations and Refutations

There are refutations and then there are Refutations; the wizardry of Ammander sages is subtle but surprisingly effective. The common folk of the Enclave believe that a compelling case in ink or oratory can sway the Powers and the Farthest. Many an old legend tells of Trespassers summoned and banished, of curses, punishments and rewards created from nothing more than quill, ink and knowledge.

The Silent, one of the many to disappear into the tower of The Ebon in the time of the Greater Power, was a prolific writer. Her papers and tomes on every subject imaginable piled high about her isolated manse. As her name might suggest, The Silent found noise quite intolerable.

An Ammander merchant and his mules came uninvited one day in high summer, or so the story goes, determined to buy as much as he could. Many papers should mean a low price, after all. The Silent would have nothing to do with this trader, so there he stayed - shouting, singing, kicking up dried tinder and warming himself by a crackling fire as night fell. The mules brayed incessantly.

The Silent could stand no more than a day and a night of this terrible fellow and his animals. She wrote a Refutation to end all Refutations, direct and puissant, scribed most carefully on the cheapest, poorest parchment. The sage emerged from her manse to thrust the Refutation upon the trader. His face paled upon the reading of it, and he ran as though the Powers themselves were chasing him - but in silence. For all we know, he is running still, Refutation clutched tightly in his hands, somewhere in the far reaches of the Ammand.

The Silent, or so the storytellers would have us believe, dined well on salted mule for half a season.

[ Posted by Reason on January 4, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Lying Scales

Lying Scales were once a curio, a trade good from distant lands and of no practical value to the Magi of the Vanished Isles. The two sides of a Scale balance in quite erratic and unexpected ways. The Datarii found such minor wizardry endlessly fascinating; they created ingenious new uses for these and many other similar novelties.

Less reputable folk have found their own uses for Lying Scales in the generations since the secret of their creation was traded to the stonefolk. Fortunately Scales of a form useful for deceit are quite rare now. Most are very old indeed, dating to a time before the Vanished Isles became Lost.

[ Posted by Reason on January 5, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Peerless Blades

A sword that cannot be sheathed is of no use at all as a visible symbol of lordly status in Three Stones - city law is quite clear on the carrying of weapons within the walls. The Watch may turn a blind eye to nobles and their ornate locking scabbards (heavy enough to serve as a club), but a naked blade would certainly attract unwelcome attention. Thus it is that the Verden Blade gathers dust and cobwebs on a stone pedestal in the manse of the current Lord Verden of Three Stones.

The origin of the Peerless Blades is a matter for conjecture. One story tells of a swordsmith in training, Lost in the Farthest Workshop until he stumbles upon the Smith of All. Ammander troubadors prefer the comedic version: Jarn the Apprentice stumbles from frying pan to fire and back again in the course of forging his first sword, ultimately emerging victorious after many tribulations ... but with a sword so puissant it cannot be used.

Some old writings claim that the Datarii made the Blades, and that they would be foolish indeed to reveal this talent to the unruly folk who dwell under open skies. Sages usually suggest that any such overt wizardry dates back to the time of the Magi. The Corner once said, in a manuscript commissioned by the grandfather of the present Lord Verden, "Forged by Powers, sharp as thought, sheathed only in stone, come to us from far. A sword for war, a weapon for distant seasons. It is well for us all that so great and noble a figure watches over this Peerless Blade."

[ Posted by Reason on January 10, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Black Stone

Datarii legends claim that the black stone crags and monuments found throughout the Enclave are remnants of the long-vanished Draugh. Black stone resists the tools of Ammander guildsmen just as it resisted the wizardry of the greatest searfaring Magi; it simply cannot be broken or marked by the Enclave peoples. Even the stonefolk, for whom all rock yields like clay, cannot work Draugh stone.

In truth, most Datarii have little interest in black stone, as for anything that cannot found beneath the mountains of Great Home. Still, The Denier unlocked the secrets of the Black Tower of Three Stones after his time with the stonefolk many generations ago. Other equally important discoveries may yet remain to be made, hidden half in myth and half in the Farthest Enclave.

[ Posted by Reason on February 2, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Wizardry of Seafarers and Islefolk

Only tales and seafarers' songs remain of the old, potent Magi wizardry that faded with the Vanishing; sails to charm the wind; great tomes and ledgers that knew their own contents; robes to slick away arrows and fire like rainwater; hulls that avoided shoals of their own accord; full sea chests weighing less than a feather; cold wizard-lights to bring day to night; fishhooks to call and land the mightiest eels of the Unending Sea.

Dusky Islefolk in Port, Cael and fisher villages know only a little of the old wizardry; the ways of the Magi Vanished along with the Isles. All that is left now was once traded to the stonefolk or recorded by renowned Ammander sages such as The Denier or The Expected Smile. In truth, few descendants of the Magi have the perseverance or the talent in their blood - wizardry may come easily to Datarii, but not to mortal folk.

Still, most Magi-blooded shipwrights claim a little wizardry and many folk believe them. Islemarks are carved on prows, painted on sails and engraved on axes used by Seafarers' Guildsmen - marks thought lucky or effective are paid for in good coin, but only a few amongst the many descendants of the old Magi work true wizardry; Seafarers' Needles; wizard-lights; Unbroken Casks, and the like. Islefolk such as Nelaan the Lightkeeper and Master Shipwright Benlei are held in high regard for their wizardry, albeit the merest shadow of that wielded by the greatest Magi of the Vanished Isles.


[ Posted by Reason on February 19, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Unbroken Casks

There's ten spears here, more than enough to make it to the old tombs in high summer; we've half a season to find coin for mules, bows and provisions. We've all killed Neth in winter snow - they won't trouble us in sun and heat. The sage won't come, but we don't need her. A few coins and we'll have booklovers a-plenty at the Library of the City Within to find us all we need to know. Those Black Tower whitebeards can wait as long as they like if they think I'm cutting them into a share.

None of you have funny ideas about taking back what the dead aren't using anymore? Good. It doesn't matter how many women chased him when he was alive, Krineth's just dust and bones under his Hills now. Dead is dead.

Blood! The Unbroken Cask, of course, what did you think? I don't care what the stories say, my sage says differently. There's a handful in Port; they never rot, never break, never leak, lighter than a feather whatever you put inside. The Cask is there, in the tomb, in the Hills, waiting to be sold for more coin than you've seen in your life. Now, are you with me, or do I need to find a hardier set of spears?

[ Posted by Reason on February 20, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Krineth's True Map

If I had a stamped lead hundred for each alleged copy of Krineth's True Map in the shelves of our library ... well, I would be able to live handsomely for the rest of my years in a large manse on the Great Way. Take my word for it, there is no such thing!

Oh yes, indeed. Krineth was large beyond his stature even in life, but no map can show the Enclave lands. The purses of clever thieves and the Farthest Wilderness wait on those who would believe such a thing. By coming to me you have at least saved yourselves from the latter fate.

My, this is an elegant work for all it is useless. Look, there, the Neth Road in the Greenwood ... and all sorts of other fanciful suppositions. A portrait of Krineth on the final curl, well I never. If you cannot find a better price, I am sure I could convince the Master to part with three lead tens - this would go well with the other maps and curios.

[ Posted by Reason on April 6, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Salin's Fishhook

Salin found the Fishhook while shipwrecked and cast ashore on a rocky isle in the Farthest Sea, or so the tale is told. The Fishhook washed ashore one morning, glimmering in the surf as if waiting for the roguish seafarer who walked the shoreline, casting his eyes to the Sea in search of rescue.

The battered old Fishhook of strangers' metal would have tales of its own to tell no doubt, if only it could talk. It has a wizardry to it; working its whiles over eel and fish as Ammander sages over men and women. The fisher who holds Salin's Fishhook will never go hungry nor poor; the glowfish will swarm by night, the eels by day. The fisherfolk of Port and the Isleblooded of the coast villages tell tales of those fortunate few to find the Fishhook - they would return each day with a boat laden to the waterline.

How did the Power of seafarers return from his shipwreck to steal a new vessel and raise his next crew? Enclave troubadors tell it well: Salin rode from the rocky isle by night astride a great and mighty glowfish, the Fishhook caught deep in its gills and a cloth line taut in his hands. Far across the Unending Sea the fish took him, to the strange lands beneath the moon - but that is another tale.

No-one knows where the Fishhook lies now. Some say it was hidden away by jealous folk, others that it returned to the Unending Sea. Perhaps it is merely lost amidst old nets and unclaimed goods in the warehouses of Port - but who can tell the truth of tales and seafarers' songs?

[ Posted by Reason on June 3, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Wine From the Farthest Sea

To Enclave folk, any Visitors' drink is wine; many strange, rare libations have come from the Farthest over the generations. There was wine in the old Ammand too, favored by nobles and wealthy folk, made from the fruit of vines that did not thrive in the Enclave lands, or so the tales tell. Ammander nobles of the Enclave must content themselves with strangers' wine traded from the Farthest and by merchant folk for fat purses of coin.

Amidst an unending variety of strange casks and bottles in markets and the collections of Ammander nobles, the wine of the Magi is the greatest of all. Seafarers from the Vanished Isles brought wine from lands far across the Unending Sea in tradeships packed with crated urns and pitch-sealed barrels. Magi wine brings a strange lucity to those who drink deeply; the greatest sages of the early Enclave, contemporaries of The Denier and The Expected Smile, heaped praise upon its effects.

Lady Talmur of Three Stones is said to hold sealed urns of Magi wine in the cellars of her manse in the City Within, a modest part of the collected wealth of the large Talmur family.

[ Posted by Reason on June 4, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Ammand Spears

Spears of the old Ammand, crafted of Ammand iron from mountains once home to cursed moon-worshippers and heartwood from the great forests of the Ammane, can still be found here and there in Enclave lands. Their old design is distinctive, a match only for the red-veined spears forged by smiths of the Red Iron Guild - by those who are privy to the old secrets of the Guild, in any case.

Tarurn of Port is said to have carried an Ammand Spear against the Trespassers of Farthest Winter, and two more stand in the manse of Lord Verden in the City Within of Three Stones. The Ammanene carried spears away with them to the Watch of Trees, but others no doubt lie buried beside graves from the earliest seasons of the Enclave, or were Lost to the Farthest Wilderness with the first explorers.

For all their age, battered and worn, these Ammand Spears never succumbed to the passing of generations. Troubadors and seafarers tell tales of spears touched by the Shining Ammanene of ancient times, spears that will be carried by spearman after spearman for so long as the ageless Ammanene still live on in the Enclave.

[ Posted by Reason on February 2, 2006 | Permanent Link ]