Tag: training

#Lore24 – Entry #185 – Supers Month II #4 – Something Worse than Man

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

With some supplies from Granny Opal’s stores, a bit of food, and plenty of powder and shot, I set out from her cabin and didn’t look back.  I wanted to see the country, see what had become of it after the war.  I was kinda an odd case at that time, I guess.  I’d had my life torn apart by the war, but I didn’t feel no strong emotions about it.  I guess my trainin’ in the arcane, learnin’ that there was a much bigger world out there that most people don’t even know about kinda put things in a whole new perspective.  Things I’d only heard of growin’ up that I thought were fairy tales were real, in some way or another, and though I didn’t know it at the time, it weren’t too long before I’d run headlong into some of them.

I’d only ever been around small towns and the hill folk growin’ up and even when I was with Granny Opal, so for all my desire to explore, I was nervous as heck when it came to dealin’ with people, and they were not shy about givin’ me the hairy eyeball.  Guess it was the fact that I was dressed like a mountain man, wearin’ leathers and hides instead of them dresses and the like that women normally wore back then. 

I was a lady out of time even when I was a youngin’, I ‘spose. 

Still, as I made my way along through the small towns and down them hills and valleys of Kentucky, goin’ from place to place, I was slowly learnin’ how to speak with folk again, though I could tell there was some serious trauma all over the place.  I’d lost count of how many wounded soldiers I’d seen makin’ their ways back home, or how many homesteads I’d come across that were abandoned or burnt out.  Weren’t none of it right, and it ought not have happened, and I don’t even think I understand exactly how it came about even to this day.

But, I’m ramblin’ on here when I need to get to my point.  It were maybe three months after I’d cleared on outta Granny Opal’s holler and I was over on the western end of the state in the flatlands, just south of Bowling Green when I first came across one of them kinds of things Granny had warned me about.  By this time, I’d managed to earn a bit of money and had won a few shootin’ contests, and had myself a pretty well-kept Colt Navy revolver and a proper gun belt and clothes (still weren’t wearin’ none of them fancy dresses, though), and I still had my trusty old Enfield and a wicked little Arkansas toothpick I’d picked up.

As it were, I came across the scene of a right tragic affair down in a town called Franklin, and a spread that had been allied with the Confederates that had seen its own brand of Union terrors.  Place stood out cause it was a unique lookin’ house, octagon shaped, and I could see the arcane energy in turmoil all over the property.  Was somethin’ much worse lurkin’ around them parts back then, cause the Veil Between Worlds was right thin there; I just didn’t know if it were cause of what happened, or if that had caused the stuff that had happened there.  I’d seen places that had off-kilter flows before, but nothin’ like this.  Didn’t take much talkin’ with the locals to learn that somethin’ was goin’ on, and it weren’t no Union troops doin’ it.  There were people goin’ missin’, and piles of bloody remains bein’ found, like people and livestock both were bein’ butchered and eaten.

Don’t know really what made me do it, just a sense of doin’ the right thing, I guess, but I decided to do what I could to deal with the problem.  Not that I was no expert or nothin’, but I reckon I could shore up the barrier and root out anything that might’ve been comin’ through.  Won’t linger too long on the nitty-gritty details here; after some huntin’, I’d learnt that it was a pack of dogmen that had moved into the area, come from somewhere on the other side through the leyline that went through the area.  Kinda like werewolves, only without the subtlety, I ‘spose.

It weren’t the brightest decision I ever made to track these things, to be sure, but I was young and dumb back then.  They knew I was a trackin’ them pretty quick, and it weren’t long before they came after me.  Musta been a good two-dozen of them in that pack.  Asher and I both got one hell of a workout that first encounter, and thankfully they’d only sent half a dozen after the lone human and her horse, thinkin’ I was easy prey.  They weren’t countin’ on me havin’ magic bullets, nor on Asher movin’ faster than them.  He weren’t just no ordinary horse, after all, and had grown stronger alongside me.

After that, things got real dangerous, real cat n’ mouse kind of huntin’, and I took a few licks myself.  If you can, I’d recommend NOT getting’ bit or clawed by dogmen; ain’t a pleasant thing.  I must’ve been out there in those fields and patches of trees for a good two weeks trackin’ these things in and out of the places where they’d jump the Veil.  Each time I’d come across a portal, I’d work up the ritual to seal it off, usually havin’ to fend off another bunch of the pack while I did it.  They eventually got the hint, though, and cleared out of the territory, and I put up as strong a warding as I could in the area to bolster the Veil, though I don’t expect it to have lasted forever.  Ain’t had a chance to make it back there to follow up, cause my life would take a drastic turn after that little excursion. 

#Lore24 – Entry #184 – Supers Month II #3 – The Way of the Gun

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

The rifle I’d managed to get my hands on weren’t anything special, just an old Enfield muzzleloader that had seen a bit too much work on the battlefield.  Accurate enough for what I wanted if a bit on the “well-used” side, but not like them new fancy repeaters that were startin’ to show up.  Couldn’t get my hands on a new Springfield or no revolvers at the time either, but that’d come later on.  I’d grown up with this kind of gun anyhow, so I knew all about their quirks.  Even spending a couple years in the hills with Granny Opal didn’t affect my aim too much; a dozen shots with the gun and I was pretty much dead on target.  Not that she appreciated all my shootin’ up in her holler, and I don’t reckon Smoky liked it none either, but the meat I brought in with it made up for it, even if she might’ve looked at me like I was a little off in my head.

Still, weren’t too long after that when I started playin’ around and mixin’ my magical learnin’ with my shootin’.  Started by enhancin’ my caps so that they would always go off for one, so none of that misfirin’ for me!  Then I started messin’ with some of the divination to enhance my aimin’; before long I was nailin’ shots with that ol’ rifle that nobody on Earth had the right to make.  After that, I got the bright idea to start infusin’ some elemental energy into my shot.  First time I shot a tree with one of them explodin’ Minie balls, I was somehow impressed and terrified at the same time.  After that I toned things down a bit, makin’ a smaller charge, tryin’ some fire and ice and such.  Even tried workin’ with the power to try some kinda quick reloadin’ scheme with an elemental helper, but that didn’t work out so well.  Wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’d wind up doin’ with my guns by any stretch; I was just getting’ started after all.

One day down in town, I heard that the War Between the States was declared done and learned about President Lincoln getting’ assassinated.  Seemed like things were on the mend, but I’d learn soon enough that couldn’t be further from the truth.  Still, I got that itch to see just how things had changed since those Union bastards came in on us.  I was still raw about that, but war ain’t nothin’ great, and brings out the worst in everyone, so I wasn’t plannin’ on holdin’ a grudge or nothin’; I done dealt with those that did it, after all, and was finally startin’ to sleep full nights again without wakin’ up screamin’. 

But, that’s neither here nor there.  Once I’d mentioned to Granny Opal I was thinkin’ about explorin’ about a bit, she put me through my paces in the next few weeks, makin’ sure I had all the knowledge I could ever need.  We parted on good terms, in her cantankerous way, and I was even told I was welcome back if I ever found myself back in this neck of the woods.  I’d never make it back to her, though, and I never really found out what happened to her, but I half expect to see her show up somewhere down the line, chidin’ me for not visitn’ her none.

#Lore24 – Entry #183 – Supers Month II #2 – The Way of Magic

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

I’d learn a few things when I finally woke up and took account of where I was.  I could smell the age of the old cabin mixed with the scent of herbs and fresh-baked bread, saw that my wounds had been tended and bandaged.  It only took a few moments before I realized I was right hungry, so I eased out of bed, unsteady as I was at the time, and stepped through the open doorway into the main room of the cabin.  That was when I’d meet Granny Opal for the first time, a witch older than the hills themselves so it was said.  I’d heard the name growin’ up but didn’t ever figure the tales of a witch up in the distant hills to be fact till I saw her and she introduced herself.  She weren’t nothing like what I figured from what I’d heard about her; she looked more like the ‘granny’ of her namesake than the old crone you’d think of when you hear the word “witch”, gray hair up in a bun, plump and wrinkled with age, a little pair of glasses threatening to slip off her nose, that kind of look. 

Still, she weren’t one to mince words and dillydally about, so she told me how it was and how it was going to be for a fair sight.  As she told it, I’d sought her out on my own after a fashion now that my powers had woke up, and she was gonna teach me how not to get myself and others killed with what I could do, at least, not by accident.  I guess maybe she took a bit of pity on me then when my stomach spoke up, cause she said she’d wait till after breakfast before startin’ my lessons.  I never once questioned her ‘bout all this; just seemed right to me now that I didn’t really have noweheres else to go; I had family up north ‘round Lexington somewhere, so I’d been told, but I never met them, so they might as well not have ever existed.  I took a seat at the old table and noted all the strange things she had hangin’ ‘round her place, animal bones and sticks and beads and feathers and the like, all kinds of different arrangements, and all kinds of bottles and jugs filled with things I’d learn about later on, not all of them pleasant.  Granny Opal was a good cook, I’d say, fixed some fine bread and stew, though the taste was a little funny till you got used to it.

Once my stomach weren’t interruptin’ us from jawin’, she started teachin’ me about what had happened.  I started gettin’ images in my head of what all had happened that day as my memories came rushin’ back.  I got real close to sickin’ up right then when I remembered what I’d done, but managed to hold all that food I’d just eaten in somehow.  As she went over the basics and started learnin’ me some techniques to focus my mind and spirit and my head cleared up, I first became aware of my familiar, Asher, lingerin’ over by the fence, chewin’ on some grass.  Turns out he’d been my familiar since I’d handled breakin’ him in a couple years back, I just never realized what it was I’d done.  Now that I’d started learnin’ the ways of magic, it weren’t long before I was talkin’ to him in my head and hearin’ his voice just as plain as day.  That’s how I eventually learned he’d picked me up out in the woods, havin’ slipped outta the stables on his own once the shootin’ started, and he’d sensed Granny Opal all on his own and took me to her.

I’d be sittin’ out the rest of the War with Granny Opal, becoming an apprentice witch, I suppose.  She’d introduce me to her familiar soon enough, a big ol’ bobcat named Smoky, and though he weren’t no normal bobcat, he still put Asher’s nerves on edge whenever he was about.  I’d learn that our familiars acted as something of a buffer and a conduit for tappin’ into the magic that was all around us, though I reckon magic had started to fade away from the world a while back for whatever reason, which was why there weren’t too many of us witches about anymore.  They were also magical beings, our familiars, bonded to us for the rest of our days, though they could certainly still be killed through other means, and were that to happen, we’d lose our connection to the majority of our magic till we bonded a new one. 

I’d learn some basic control techniques, how to call upon the elements and formulate magical essence into our “spells”, and a fair bit of her herbalism and alchemy, and how to use the mystic sight, too.  ‘Course, I had to learn all them pesky rules and such about what I should and shouldn’t be doin’ with my magic, but I’ll save all that lecturin’ for somewheres else. 

We didn’t see a lot of visitors out there at Granny Opal’s cabin; not many would venture out that way unless they was in need of some of her special healin’ poultices and the like.  Everyone was downright afraid of her, really, but I figure that was more just somethin’ she spread around to keep most people away.  She enjoyed her privacy, and just tolerated me for a short spell, I reckon.  Still, she weren’t unpleasant or mean, was a good teacher, and was mostly patient with me.  I’d ride Asher down through the hills a good ways to town ever so often to pick up a few supplies that weren’t traded to Granny by her occasional visitors, and I’d pick myself up a rifle for huntin’ and such after a fair bit of tradin’. 

Granny thought I was a might touched in the head when I came back with that gun, since everything we could ever need we could work through magic in some way or another, but I just didn’t feel right not havin’ one.  Sure, I could fling rocks or manage a spurt of fire, or somethin’ else like that by then, but I don’t reckon that’d go over well outside her little holler.  Folk just weren’t gonna accept that sort of thing in the modern world.  Might actually be why magic started to fade, I guess; people just stopped believen’ in it.  I didn’t plan on stickin’ around forever, and she didn’t expect me to either.  So, I’d start playin’ around on my own, and as I’d learn, I could do some right fancy tricks when I combined my magic with my shootin’.