Yet more
Enjoy.
~
It was after one of our hunts, as my friends and I sat around our camp fire that we decided to join the army together. We were old enough and none of us truly relished the idea of living out our days in Sel Naeve. For all that it was a prosperous trading town sitting at a crossroads for travelers of all sorts; we wanted more - a chance to see more of the world, for one thing. At the time, the war had gone cold - nothing more than occasional skirmishes on the border. We'd raid some border village or coastal port and the Scians would attack to get it back, but not pursue our troops after retaking their land. Neither side had made any real offensive push since I was born. Why there was even a war at all is hard to say. There's the history taught in school and the history one can find in certain books. Neither version is entirely clear on who started it; the only clear point in both versions is our nation's enmity to Scia. It could have been their inquisitions against their own people - the purges of "unholy magicks" - despite their obvious embrace of aetherturgy in their hex-craft and bioturgy. It could have been their bioturgy that lead to that hatred. The monsters attributed to their fleshcrafters are things of purest nightmare and the exact origins of their creations are best left to imagination.
~
My father didn't oppose my decision to join the army. He wasn't exactly happy to be losing his provider of rare animal goods but I think he understood my motives to join. I presented myself at the recruiting office and a few days latter I, my friends, and some score of others were proceeding through the bland medical examinations and other tests that were required of prospective recruits. Only one event of that time stands out to me, as it was the most important. After some examination or other in which we were screened for deformities in posture and movement two aetherturges entered the room. I knew what they were immediately - in this day and age few go about wearing robes other than clergy, scholars and aethermancers. One was obviously the apprentice of the other, or at least junior in whatever way they organize themselves. The elder mancer carried a curious device and directed the boy at the head of the line to hold it. The ends glowed at his touch, a faint pale blue. The aetherturge took it and proceeded to the next. As each in line took the device a subtly difference light would appear. Some were not so subtle. Some cast a furious crimson or emerald - those young men were directed to one of the side rooms. It was my guess, as I waited in line that those few who reacted strongest to the rod would not become common soldiers. My friend the machinist had been the first taken out of our group, before even the examination, as we had to declare our occupation or schooling at the beginning. It seemed machinists were something some other branch of the army was in dire need of. One of the most startling displays of the aetherturge's device was one that seemed to please them the most - one lad's light glowed in a way that is difficult to describe, a light that seemed as though shadow itself shed light into the room. That glow made the elder aetherturge, a dire looking old man actually smile as he directed the recipient of that light to yet another set of rooms in the building. When the device came to me I expected no reaction at all. I had never been prone to mysticism or given any hint of being touched with the capacity to manipulate the aether. My expectation was dashed in a manner I will never forget.
The moment the aetherturge's rod touched my had it flared to violent life - blazing a searing voltaic blue-white. Startled beyond telling I dropped the thing as though it had burned me. It hit the floor with a hollow ring and I could only stare at it, as though it had betrayed me. I had no desire to join the ranks of aethermancers, no desire at all to enter into that arcane existence; but I followed the elder's direction to a nearby door. I found myself in a small waiting room with several cushioned chairs - I took to one and waited. It seemed an interminable time before the door opened. The younger aetherturge entered and I finally got a good look at him. He was barely older than myself and seemed filled with an exuberance I found immediately annoying. He affirmed that no, I would not be an aetherturge - that I was something else entirely. That while I could channel the aether, as a copper wire conducts voltaic charge, I could never learn to control it - but that this was not a problem for the army. There was a use for my odd capacities and I was immeasurably valuable. The student aetherturge went on at some length, speaking of things that made little sense to me at the time. I only learned that I once my training was finished I would be in command of some of the most powerful aether weapons military minds had devised - for true war was finally coming and this would be the war to end all wars.
Training was brief and brutal. Because of my future position I was instructed in unique skills that the common soldier was not trained in. I came into training a passable marksman, upon leaving, my skill was much improved. I learned how to scout a battlefield without being seen, to kill silently and unnoticed and how to work along side but independently of infantry. The final stage of training was hardest to take. In order to become a proper "plug" for the aether weapons I was capable of wielding, subtle machines had to be placed into my flesh. This had to be done while awake and aware of the pain. How I did not go mad from it all, I will never know. Some distant part of me wailed and screamed as the bioturges cut into my arms and back, sliding wires deep into flesh and bone to anchor them properly. The surgery was bloodless and the incisions healed without scars but their bioturgy could do nothing for the pain. I have often wondered since then what sort of person can perform those acts on a man who is half mad with agony and begging for them to stop. The pain subsided eventually and left me with a new awareness - the purpose of being conscious for the bioturges' operations. Without the awareness of the machines, I would never be able to control the aether weapons that connected to them. What I did not truly understand at that time, was that now my own body no longer belonged to me.
~
~
It was after one of our hunts, as my friends and I sat around our camp fire that we decided to join the army together. We were old enough and none of us truly relished the idea of living out our days in Sel Naeve. For all that it was a prosperous trading town sitting at a crossroads for travelers of all sorts; we wanted more - a chance to see more of the world, for one thing. At the time, the war had gone cold - nothing more than occasional skirmishes on the border. We'd raid some border village or coastal port and the Scians would attack to get it back, but not pursue our troops after retaking their land. Neither side had made any real offensive push since I was born. Why there was even a war at all is hard to say. There's the history taught in school and the history one can find in certain books. Neither version is entirely clear on who started it; the only clear point in both versions is our nation's enmity to Scia. It could have been their inquisitions against their own people - the purges of "unholy magicks" - despite their obvious embrace of aetherturgy in their hex-craft and bioturgy. It could have been their bioturgy that lead to that hatred. The monsters attributed to their fleshcrafters are things of purest nightmare and the exact origins of their creations are best left to imagination.
~
My father didn't oppose my decision to join the army. He wasn't exactly happy to be losing his provider of rare animal goods but I think he understood my motives to join. I presented myself at the recruiting office and a few days latter I, my friends, and some score of others were proceeding through the bland medical examinations and other tests that were required of prospective recruits. Only one event of that time stands out to me, as it was the most important. After some examination or other in which we were screened for deformities in posture and movement two aetherturges entered the room. I knew what they were immediately - in this day and age few go about wearing robes other than clergy, scholars and aethermancers. One was obviously the apprentice of the other, or at least junior in whatever way they organize themselves. The elder mancer carried a curious device and directed the boy at the head of the line to hold it. The ends glowed at his touch, a faint pale blue. The aetherturge took it and proceeded to the next. As each in line took the device a subtly difference light would appear. Some were not so subtle. Some cast a furious crimson or emerald - those young men were directed to one of the side rooms. It was my guess, as I waited in line that those few who reacted strongest to the rod would not become common soldiers. My friend the machinist had been the first taken out of our group, before even the examination, as we had to declare our occupation or schooling at the beginning. It seemed machinists were something some other branch of the army was in dire need of. One of the most startling displays of the aetherturge's device was one that seemed to please them the most - one lad's light glowed in a way that is difficult to describe, a light that seemed as though shadow itself shed light into the room. That glow made the elder aetherturge, a dire looking old man actually smile as he directed the recipient of that light to yet another set of rooms in the building. When the device came to me I expected no reaction at all. I had never been prone to mysticism or given any hint of being touched with the capacity to manipulate the aether. My expectation was dashed in a manner I will never forget.
The moment the aetherturge's rod touched my had it flared to violent life - blazing a searing voltaic blue-white. Startled beyond telling I dropped the thing as though it had burned me. It hit the floor with a hollow ring and I could only stare at it, as though it had betrayed me. I had no desire to join the ranks of aethermancers, no desire at all to enter into that arcane existence; but I followed the elder's direction to a nearby door. I found myself in a small waiting room with several cushioned chairs - I took to one and waited. It seemed an interminable time before the door opened. The younger aetherturge entered and I finally got a good look at him. He was barely older than myself and seemed filled with an exuberance I found immediately annoying. He affirmed that no, I would not be an aetherturge - that I was something else entirely. That while I could channel the aether, as a copper wire conducts voltaic charge, I could never learn to control it - but that this was not a problem for the army. There was a use for my odd capacities and I was immeasurably valuable. The student aetherturge went on at some length, speaking of things that made little sense to me at the time. I only learned that I once my training was finished I would be in command of some of the most powerful aether weapons military minds had devised - for true war was finally coming and this would be the war to end all wars.
Training was brief and brutal. Because of my future position I was instructed in unique skills that the common soldier was not trained in. I came into training a passable marksman, upon leaving, my skill was much improved. I learned how to scout a battlefield without being seen, to kill silently and unnoticed and how to work along side but independently of infantry. The final stage of training was hardest to take. In order to become a proper "plug" for the aether weapons I was capable of wielding, subtle machines had to be placed into my flesh. This had to be done while awake and aware of the pain. How I did not go mad from it all, I will never know. Some distant part of me wailed and screamed as the bioturges cut into my arms and back, sliding wires deep into flesh and bone to anchor them properly. The surgery was bloodless and the incisions healed without scars but their bioturgy could do nothing for the pain. I have often wondered since then what sort of person can perform those acts on a man who is half mad with agony and begging for them to stop. The pain subsided eventually and left me with a new awareness - the purpose of being conscious for the bioturges' operations. Without the awareness of the machines, I would never be able to control the aether weapons that connected to them. What I did not truly understand at that time, was that now my own body no longer belonged to me.
~