Luck Based Magic Book That Will Have A Title Eventually

[The Assassin In Red He/Him]

OK, as some people know I've had a luck-based magic system in my brain for a while, so I've been trying to come up with a reasonably interesting story to go with it and I thought it would be cool to share my progress and such with all the readers on the Shard! *Prologue coming soon...

So here's a plot overview, DONT READ IF YOU DONT WANT SPOILERS! (It's not completely done yet and I don't quite have an ending...)

Spoiler

The way to become a heldimancer is to drink an extremely rare and expensive elixer that destroys all of your memories of your life before. Protagonist wakes up as a Heldimancer and starts being trained, he wants to know about his past. He is being trained by Garn who is just a terrible person, but most Heldimancers are because they have no memories of happier times and only know war. He continues to try to find out about his past. He goes on a mission and is horrified by the deeds of his colleagues. He is forced to kill. He is beginning to regret becoming a Heldimancer as he realizes they are basically war machines. As he searches more for his past whilst being forced to kill and destroy constantly, he finally gets a lead: his home town. He requests a break from serving the kingdom to seek out his past. But he is denied as the war has reached its apex. After some time a new heldimancer joins the fold, and the protagonist is his mentor. This protagonist attempts to instill a sense of innocence in the younger man. The apprentice dies. This pushes the protagonist over the edge and he runs away from the kingdom to his home town. Quickly finds out a horrible truth. He became a heldimancer to escape his past. When he returns home he is bombarded with images of corpses of people he doesn't remember, their blood on his hands. He is a murderer. He finds out that those people were his family. (He finds this out through ways I will determine later, same goes for why he killed them.) For a time he grapples with self doubt, but he eventually comes to the conclusion that the world is a terrible place and it's kill or be killed. He returns to service a changed man. (Note to self: use the metaphor, "He was changed into a man of energetic resolve and destruction like the Luck he had come to know as a close friend and harbinger of death." Maybe change the wording, but that sounds awesome.) He then goes on to assert himself as leader of the Heldimancers through sheer brutality. (Ending to be determined)

 

[The Assassin In Red He/Him]

OK! I finished my rough version of the prologue. I wrote it on the docs mobile app, which for some reason can't indent. I also put in some notes in parenthesis and brackets, I think. I'm terrible at coming up with names, so the protagonists placeholder name is Bob... Please give any constructive criticism or comments you have. If you have any questions I will be happy to answered. And without further ado, enjoy the prologue! (Warning for very very mild violence and gore)

Spoiler

Although it was midday, the sky was dark. Thick rainclouds blotted out the sun while a light mist came down from the heavens. For miles, dead bodies littered the ground often in clumps. A large battle between rival kingdoms had taken place here recently. A single man walked through the field with a casual gait. His name was Garn. No one would be quick to describe him as handsome, but he wasn’t hideous either. He was in his late fifties, which is not rare for a Heldimancer such as himself. A little Luck goes a long way. He also seemed to be fit as a man half his age. Garn wore a stained white shirt and some soldier's trousers. He had intense, brown eyes and eyebrows that made him look as though he was always pettily remembering a time he was wronged by a friend. Garn was sent to this Spirit-forsaken place to collect one thing: Luck. All humans produced a certain amount of Luck, and this could be collected and manipulated by people called Heldimancers. Once a human was dead, they stopped producing Luck, but that already made remains for a time. After large battles like this, Heldimancers like Garn were sent to recover Luck before it deteriorated. It’s not like the dead need it anymore.

To Garn, every body looked like a source of heat, with little distortions emanating from each and every corpse. He was able to Take this Luck into himself. When a Heldimancer Takes in Luck without using it, it makes their actions more likely to succeed. After finishing sucking Luck from a larger pile of the dead, Garn spotted an upright figure in the distance. This wasn’t surprising. The other side was likely to have also sent a Heldimancer. It was nothing Garn couldn’t handle.

“Ho there!” The other man yelled. The yell was nearly drowned in the great distance between them. Although he could make out no physical details, Garn could tell from the man's voice that he was far younger.

So much for the element of suprise… “Yeah, hello.” Garn’s response lacked the enthusiasm that practically oozed from the other man’s words..

“I’m going to assume you're another Heldimancer?” He said with thickly accented words as he walked closer.

“Yep.” It was no use hiding his identity from the man, he would try to kill him either way. Garn began walking as well. The other man broke into a sprint. Sighing, Garn prepared for a battle. With the distance between them quickly shortening, Garn began to shape a small amount of the Luck he had already Taken, while also Taking more from the corpses surrounding him. No physical movement was required to manipulate Luck, but Garn always felt that acting as if you were shaping a physical object makes the whole process easier. With a quick movement of his hands, Garn Changed the Luck into a blade made of a light silvery-gold color. The blade was one-sided and curved slightly to the back. It had a simple look, a blade made only for utility. The other man had also made a blade, but it was far larger and more ornate, with intricate patterns from the hilt along the back of the blade. Wasteful child.

When the other man reached Garn, the man brought his blade to the side, preparing for a large sweep. Garn bashed the beautiful sword toward the ground with his pommel. With his free hand, he punched the man in the face and then proceeded to kick him in the stomach. He brought his sword up to cut into the man's skull, but the man quickly charged forward and lightly touched Garn’s chest. Garn felt intense vertigo before he even started moving. He quickly accelerated backwards to breakneck speed. He also felt his Luck leaving his body. Garn was gliding just above the ground, and there was already a great distance between him and the man. He began to slow. 

The momentum finally let up, and he tumbled to the ground. Garn drew as much Luck as possible before Changing the Luck into motion and applying it to himself in the direction of the man. Again, he felt the vertigo and the edges of his vision began to go dark. He was moving faster, pushing his body further than it was designed to go. He reached the man and, without missing a beat, punched him in the face as he passed. Finally, he stopped being propelled forward and landed in a crouch.

 Garn began sprinting forward, applying a small amount of motion to himself as he moved. He also started drawing in massive amounts of Luck from the surrounding corpses. He stopped Changing the Luck into motion and went on to let it sit, making his actions more likely to succeed and letting him store it for a limited time. When Garn reached the man, the man was no longer dazed by the punch, and he attempted another grand swipe. Garn blocked upward this time and went in for the kill. The perfect blade easily stabbed through the man's flesh. The man coughed blood all over Garn.

Great, now my shirt is dirty. Just for that, Garn thrust the blade deeper and twisted. The man screamed in agony. Garn let go of his blade, stood calmly, and walked away, Taking Luck as he left.

 

The rain came down strong. Pouring down as if the sky was mourning a loved one. Garn reached camp nearly an hour after his encounter with the enemy Heldimancer. The camp was placed about a mile out from the nearest village. The dirt the camp was built on had already been turned to mud by the near-torrential rains. Making his way to the Heldimancer tent, he noticed there was some kind of commotion taking place at the entrance. Garn quickly pulled one of the soldiers he recognized aside. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Garn said in a cool yet threatening tone.

The soldier, well acquainted with Garns constantly threatening temperament, replied in an equally cool tone. “New Heldimancer shipm’nt, s’pposed to t’be takin’ th’ elixir soon.” The man spoke quickly with an accent that seemed to exclude as many vowels as possible.

Garn shoved past the man. He went on to walk through the crowd. Most knew to part around him lest they invoke the rage of a Heldimancer. Inside the tent wad empty except for the other Heldimancers, who were crowded around the new recruit. The man looked to be in his mid twenties. He had a thin, almost skeletal frame with pale skin and black hair. He sat hunched over in his tiny stool staring at a glass held in two hands. Inside the glass was a purple liquid so vibrant it seemed to glow. 

“He write down his information yet?” Garn asked, the coldness gone from his voice. All that was left in it's wake was a quiet curiosity. It wasn't often that a man decides to become a Heldimancer, and it was rarer still that he arrives at camp without taking the elixir. 

The elixir is and incredibly rare substance with widely unknown ingredients. It is said that it allows one to commune with the Spirits and come to a bargain. This almost always leads to all of one's memories being completely destroyed with no hopes of retrieval. Other times, one will insult the Spirits and be given incredibly weak Heldimancy whilst losing one's more important memories. Like, for example, how to breathe. In legends and rumors, it is spoken that one can flatter the Spirits in such a way that one is given exorbitant amounts of power, all the while never losing an ounce of memory.

It was customary among Heldimantic communities to have a new recruit write down important information about themselves and their lives, as a kind of mental handhold. Most wrote down entire books worth, trying to keep as much of their life and self as possible.  Garn still had his:

Name: Garn

Home Town: Don't matter

Family: Gone

Other: Work well, serve the kingdom.

(Add an indent) Simple, but effective. He'd never needed to do any searching, and it left him with a simple goal. He had done that to the best of his ability for the last thirty years.

(Add an indent) One of the Heldimancers jumped, as if he was startled by Garn’s presence. “Yeah, he did, but… well, let me show you.” The soldier walked over to a small table with a shred of paper resting on it. The soldier brought it over to Garn with a concerned look on his face. 

Your name is Bob (this will be the placeholder for now). Don't try to find out any more. Please.

(Add an indent) “Hm,” Garn adopted a  quizzical look, “So your running from something?” The young man looked up with a glint of terror in his eyes and downed the entire liquid. He passed out on the spot.

 

Edited August 6 by The Assassin In Red

[ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ Male]

On 8/6/2024 at 8:34 AM, The Assassin In Red said:

OK! I finished my rough version of the prologue. I wrote it on the docs mobile app, which for some reason can't indent. I also put in some notes in parenthesis and brackets, I think. I'm terrible at coming up with names, so the protagonists placeholder name is Bob... Please give any constructive criticism or comments you have. If you have any questions I will be happy to answered. And without further ado, enjoy the prologue! (Warning for very very mild violence and gore)

  Hide contents

Although it was midday, the sky was dark. Thick rainclouds blotted out the sun while a light mist came down from the heavens. For miles, dead bodies littered the ground often in clumps. A large battle between rival kingdoms had taken place here recently. A single man walked through the field with a casual gait. His name was Garn. No one would be quick to describe him as handsome, but he wasn’t hideous either. He was in his late fifties, which is not rare for a Heldimancer such as himself. A little Luck goes a long way. He also seemed to be fit as a man half his age. Garn wore a stained white shirt and some soldier's trousers. He had intense, brown eyes and eyebrows that made him look as though he was always pettily remembering a time he was wronged by a friend. Garn was sent to this Spirit-forsaken place to collect one thing: Luck. All humans produced a certain amount of Luck, and this could be collected and manipulated by people called Heldimancers. Once a human was dead, they stopped producing Luck, but that already made remains for a time. After large battles like this, Heldimancers like Garn were sent to recover Luck before it deteriorated. It’s not like the dead need it anymore.

To Garn, every body looked like a source of heat, with little distortions emanating from each and every corpse. He was able to Take this Luck into himself. When a Heldimancer Takes in Luck without using it, it makes their actions more likely to succeed. After finishing sucking Luck from a larger pile of the dead, Garn spotted an upright figure in the distance. This wasn’t surprising. The other side was likely to have also sent a Heldimancer. It was nothing Garn couldn’t handle.

“Ho there!” The other man yelled. The yell was nearly drowned in the great distance between them. Although he could make out no physical details, Garn could tell from the man's voice that he was far younger.

So much for the element of suprise… “Yeah, hello.” Garn’s response lacked the enthusiasm that practically oozed from the other man’s words..

“I’m going to assume you're another Heldimancer?” He said with thickly accented words as he walked closer.

“Yep.” It was no use hiding his identity from the man, he would try to kill him either way. Garn began walking as well. The other man broke into a sprint. Sighing, Garn prepared for a battle. With the distance between them quickly shortening, Garn began to shape a small amount of the Luck he had already Taken, while also Taking more from the corpses surrounding him. No physical movement was required to manipulate Luck, but Garn always felt that acting as if you were shaping a physical object makes the whole process easier. With a quick movement of his hands, Garn Changed the Luck into a blade made of a light silvery-gold color. The blade was one-sided and curved slightly to the back. It had a simple look, a blade made only for utility. The other man had also made a blade, but it was far larger and more ornate, with intricate patterns from the hilt along the back of the blade. Wasteful child.

When the other man reached Garn, the man brought his blade to the side, preparing for a large sweep. Garn bashed the beautiful sword toward the ground with his pommel. With his free hand, he punched the man in the face and then proceeded to kick him in the stomach. He brought his sword up to cut into the man's skull, but the man quickly charged forward and lightly touched Garn’s chest. Garn felt intense vertigo before he even started moving. He quickly accelerated backwards to breakneck speed. He also felt his Luck leaving his body. Garn was gliding just above the ground, and there was already a great distance between him and the man. He began to slow. 

The momentum finally let up, and he tumbled to the ground. Garn drew as much Luck as possible before Changing the Luck into motion and applying it to himself in the direction of the man. Again, he felt the vertigo and the edges of his vision began to go dark. He was moving faster, pushing his body further than it was designed to go. He reached the man and, without missing a beat, punched him in the face as he passed. Finally, he stopped being propelled forward and landed in a crouch.

 Garn began sprinting forward, applying a small amount of motion to himself as he moved. He also started drawing in massive amounts of Luck from the surrounding corpses. He stopped Changing the Luck into motion and went on to let it sit, making his actions more likely to succeed and letting him store it for a limited time. When Garn reached the man, the man was no longer dazed by the punch, and he attempted another grand swipe. Garn blocked upward this time and went in for the kill. The perfect blade easily stabbed through the man's flesh. The man coughed blood all over Garn.

Great, now my shirt is dirty. Just for that, Garn thrust the blade deeper and twisted. The man screamed in agony. Garn let go of his blade, stood calmly, and walked away, Taking Luck as he left.

 

The rain came down strong. Pouring down as if the sky was mourning a loved one. Garn reached camp nearly an hour after his encounter with the enemy Heldimancer. The camp was placed about a mile out from the nearest village. The dirt the camp was built on had already been turned to mud by the near-torrential rains. Making his way to the Heldimancer tent, he noticed there was some kind of commotion taking place at the entrance. Garn quickly pulled one of the soldiers he recognized aside. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Garn said in a cool yet threatening tone.

The soldier, well acquainted with Garns constantly threatening temperament, replied in an equally cool tone. “New Heldimancer shipm’nt, s’pposed to t’be takin’ th’ elixir soon.” The man spoke quickly with an accent that seemed to exclude as many vowels as possible.

Garn shoved past the man. He went on to walk through the crowd. Most knew to part around him lest they invoke the rage of a Heldimancer. Inside the tent wad empty except for the other Heldimancers, who were crowded around the new recruit. The man looked to be in his mid twenties. He had a thin, almost skeletal frame with pale skin and black hair. He sat hunched over in his tiny stool staring at a glass held in two hands. Inside the glass was a purple liquid so vibrant it seemed to glow. 

“He write down his information yet?” Garn asked, the coldness gone from his voice. All that was left in it's wake was a quiet curiosity. It wasn't often that a man decides to become a Heldimancer, and it was rarer still that he arrives at camp without taking the elixir. 

The elixir is and incredibly rare substance with widely unknown ingredients. It is said that it allows one to commune with the Spirits and come to a bargain. This almost always leads to all of one's memories being completely destroyed with no hopes of retrieval. Other times, one will insult the Spirits and be given incredibly weak Heldimancy whilst losing one's more important memories. Like, for example, how to breathe. In legends and rumors, it is spoken that one can flatter the Spirits in such a way that one is given exorbitant amounts of power, all the while never losing an ounce of memory.

It was customary among Heldimantic communities to have a new recruit write down important information about themselves and their lives, as a kind of mental handhold. Most wrote down entire books worth, trying to keep as much of their life and self as possible.  Garn still had his:

Name: Garn

Home Town: Don't matter

Family: Gone

Other: Work well, serve the kingdom.

(Add an indent) Simple, but effective. He'd never needed to do any searching, and it left him with a simple goal. He had done that to the best of his ability for the last thirty years.

(Add an indent) One of the Heldimancers jumped, as if he was startled by Garn’s presence. “Yeah, he did, but… well, let me show you.” The soldier walked over to a small table with a shred of paper resting on it. The soldier brought it over to Garn with a concerned look on his face. 

Your name is Bob (this will be the placeholder for now). Don't try to find out any more. Please.

(Add an indent) “Hm,” Garn adopted a  quizzical look, “So your running from something?” The young man looked up with a glint of terror in his eyes and downed the entire liquid. He passed out on the spot.

 

That is really good! I will definitely read more of this.

[The Assassin In Red He/Him]

THANK YOU! I'm working on the first chapter right now, so expect that sometime soon!

[The Assassin In Red He/Him]

Hi there, I'm merely posting to say I haven't given up on or forgetten about this project. Life just got busy. I'm about halfway through the next chapter and intend to post it eventually. (Also the protagonist is now named Sorin, not Bob)

Edited Thursday at 07:39 PM by The Assassin In Red

[SpiritOfWrath he/him/Your Majesty]

Coooooool. Really good.

Spoiler

I have a suggestion, but this is less “you should do this” than “omgosh it’d pretty freaking awesome (albeit bad for story) if you did this!”

Make someone a Heldimancer by accident. Mmmmhmmmmmhmmhm… yes. So the government has no idea what to do with them, and they can’t be indoctrinated by the government at all because they already made new memories.

But I’m definitely looking forward to more.