[center][b][h1][color=a187be]Qael'Naath[/color][/h1][/b][/center][hr]
Had it been more than a few days? Perhaps a few weeks or months. Truly, it could have been a few years. Qael’Naath couldn’t tell really. Time had passed, that’s all he knew. Enough time that he could carefully sculpt a few of the lesser islands floating around Xal-Zastarha. The island formation had begun to float over the prairies now. It was only when he laid down to rest and observe the Itztli and Eloxochitli form tribes and spread across the jungle island that he felt that faint, familiar tugging. His mana had once more found something with healing properties. Through the time he was working, his wound continued to heal, but also continued to ache. It held him back, kept him slow. There was now no telling what Qullqiya had achieved. Though it would seem she had done it in secret still. Alas, with the hope he set forth to find whatever his creation had found.

In due time he found himself watching a tribe of fur-dressed humans walking along a great river. Yet he couldn’t immediately find what could possibly help him. Not deterred he slowly came down from the clouds and landed just beyond the horizon from the humans. Then, like a mere mortal earthbound, he approached them. In his current form, he would look odd at best. With tips of tentacles falling from his elsewise dark hood, which housed his three pairs of glowing eyes. He did his best to suppress his aura of divinity. Preferring to look as a regular stranger. Though as with all strangers, it made the tribe he was approaching weary. They lifted sticks and stones, ready to strike. For a moment Qael thought he would have to kill them all to find out what could heal him. It would’ve been a quick thing, he would turn them all to dust. He raised a hand, his fingers were ready to snap. Then an older woman came rushing towards her younger folks and pushed the makeshift weapons down. “Down you fools. Is this what Oraelia taught you? A stronger comes bearing us no harm. We will welcome him.” She motioned Qael to follow him, as he lowered his arm. She was wrong, Qael could very well mean harm to them. But it was always better to spare an entire tribe. Their numbers were not yet prosperous enough.

“Come. Come.” The elder said. She guided the God of Magic to a small circle of people, who were sitting on the ground and eating raw vegetables. She bid him to sit down and offered some food. Which he respectfully too.

Still, Qael’Naath could not see the source of healing power. Nothing stood out. Nothing glowed or looked exceptionally well crafted. Everywhere he looked he just saw furs, sticks, and stones. He would have to draw out the healing powers. [color=a187be][b]“What do you know about magic?”[/b][/color] He asked the elder.

Who looked up with astonishment. “Magic? You mean the power of the gods?” She said.

[color=a187be][b]“No.”[/b][/color] Qael shook his head. How foolish had he been? He gave them the power but never taught anyone. Would teaching them all the basis of his magic take too much time? Or would they elsewise never discover it? Things to ponder upon. For now, he decided to turn the situation into his favor. [color=a187be][b]“I mean real magic. The power that lets normal people like you or me change the world around us.”[/b][/color]

“Such power exists?” A curious youth who crept ever closer asked.

“Netha! We should be thankful for what the gods have chosen to give us. It should be enough.” The elder chastised the youth, though she still didn’t take her eyes off Qael.

She wouldn’t help him but youthfulness was always a good source for willing experiments. [color=a187be][b]“Open your hand.”[/b][/color] Qael said. [color=a187be][b]“Have you ever seen fire? Like when lightning strikes a tree?”[/b][/color]

The youth nodded. Once he had seen it. An entire tree consumed by fire. He had been in awe with it.

[color=a187be][b]“Good. Now imagine that fire in the palm of your hand. Imagine it burning.”[/b][/color] The youth’s will was quite weak. At this rate, he would barely create a spark after several years. Luckily, Qael was near. With a single thought, he aided in the creation of the fire. First, it was nothing a small, candle-like flame. But it grew and grew until the man had an orb of fire float in his hands. The people around him recoiled, especially the elder. Yet Netha was overjoyed as he looked into the fire. Which he thought he was controlling. But, a god can give and a god can take it. With another single thought, he tipped the balance of the spell. The fire got out of the youth’s control. It began to burn erratically and shifted violently. Growing and shrinking again and again. The man’s amazement quickly turned into terror as he realized he did not control the fire anymore. Then it happened: the fire was fully destabilized and spread to his hand. Burning away the skin as the orb itself shrank for the last time and exploded. He screamed. His hand was horribly burnt and broken by the fire. Everyone gasped in horror and inched away from the fire except for Qael, who continued to watch on.

“The Oaken Branch!” Someone yelled. “Quickly get Oraelia’s gift.” Qael’s thoughts perked up when he heard the name of one of his sisters. So Oraelia had been here? He waited patiently as someone rushed over with an oaken stick with green vines around it. To Qael'Naath it looked like nothing but a stick at first, but now he saw its divine properties. They placed the tip of the branch on the youth’s forehead. The flesh and skin began to mend. First, the pain got worse and the man screamed. But after a while, his entire hand was back to normal. If one could see under the god’s hood, they would’ve seen something akin to a smile. The artifact would be useful for mortals.

“Magic is a curse!” spat the Elder as she lifted the youth up. “We would be wise to never practice it.”

That gained a frown from Qael’Naath. [color=a187be][b]“It was not magic’s fault.”[/b][/color] He said, defending his creation. He outstretched his own hand and spawned the very same orb of fire in the middle of his palm. He changed its color, shifting from red and orange to bright green, then to purple, then to blue. He grew it, and shrunk it again. Most of the tribespeople tried to get away. But when they saw that the stranger had it all well under control, they inched closer. [color=a187be][b]“Magic is an incredible gift that should not be taken lightly. It lets you alter the world around you through a substance called mana. Let me teach all of you the proper way. Stretch your hand.”[/b][/color] The recently burned youth did not obey, but a few others did.

[color=a187be][b]“Now imagine the fire in the palm of your hand. Imagine a small flame. Then demand that it exists. Do not want it. Wanting means longing. It implies inaction.”[/b][/color] He rose up and walked in between those with their hands outstretched. Some were getting closer. [color=a187be][b]“Be arrogant.”[/b][/color] He said. [color=a187be][b]“Tell the world to change how it is. Do not accept anything else.”[/b][/color] Tiny flames flickered into existence for a moment but then died. Excitement rose up amongst the few fledgling sorcerers. Qael’Naath was almost proud of them. [color=a187be][b]“Good. Again.”[/b][/color] For days he wandered amongst those of the tribe who were willing to embrace his gift of magic. At most there ten people that could bring a small candle flame into existence for longer than a few counts. Still, in the grand scheme of things, it would be a success. He ate with them and pretended to sleep with them but all he cared for was their magic and Oraelia’s gift. Still his wound continued to ache. Every night he had seen the Oaken Branch kept by someone with too much of a grip. He needed a moment alone with the branch. He got it, at the end of the week. When he simply had to ask for it. The Elder had watched him with suspicion but gave it none the less.

That night, Qael laid down at the edge of the group. When everyone except those few who stood guard fell asleep, he slipped into the shadows with the Branch. Under a tree, away from the group, he slowly lowered the branch tip against his forehead. In an instant, he felt that familiar tingle again. Traveling through his body. He waited a little bit, but in his heart, he already knew it was in vain. Oraelia’s Branch didn’t have the power either. Exhausted, he put the Branch down.

“Are you hurt, stranger?” A voice came. Qael recognized it. The Elder. She had followed him into the forest.

[color=a187be][b]“I’ve been hurt for a long time now.”[/b][/color] He said. His exhaustion made pretending hard. He sat down on a fallen tree. [color=a187be][b]“For longer than you can imagine, I’ve been traveling this land in search of a cure. Something that heals me. Everything failed. Every creation of my siblings was useless against my affliction. And it's making me so tired.”[/b][/color]

“What is it that ails you? Surely Oraelia, Mother of Life could help you.” The Elder said.

Qael’Naath sniggered and tossed her the Branch. [color=a187be][b]“That is her creation, and I suspect I’ve found another one of hers far down south. In a wonderous land of a thousand colors. Even I must admit that I find it beautiful. Within that land, there is a lake akin to that Branch. It heals all physical wounds of all mortals.”[/b][/color] He said. [color=a187be][b]“Neither have cured me. How could they?”[/b][/color]

“You said it cured all mortals.” The Elder said. “Yet it cannot cure you. Who are you?”

She was clever, curious. If she wasn’t so against magic, she would’ve made an excellent servant to magic. Instead, she had sworn her life to many of the better gods. Oraelia, a Cadien and Neiya who Qael did not know, and surely several others. [color=a187be][b]“I am the God of Magic, and I came here hoping for a cure for a self-inflicted wound.”[/b][/color]

The Elder did not seem particularly phased. “I have seen gods before in my life.” She explained. “Is your magic evil?”

[color=a187be][b]“Magic is all, Elder,”[/b][/color] Qael explained. He gently raised his hand. Tiny lights slowly flowed towards it. Creating a big orb of illumination. It bathed the forest in golden light. Akin to those of the sun. [color=a187be][b]"It's in the air and in the water. In the trees and dirt. It can give you everything. Good or bad. That is the beauty of it."[/b][/color]

“I’m not sure that I like it. Perhaps it is… too much power.” She said, as she looked towards the orb for a moment, and then away. Like the sun, it was still hard to look at directly. “The gods give us what we need, and we make do.” She said.

[color=a187be][b]“Admirable stubbornness, Elder.”[/b][/color] Qael’Naath said.

The old lady gave the god a gentle smile. “I am old. With my own two eyes, I have seen the gods. I think I’m allowed to be a little stubborn.”

Qael’Naath just nodded. [color=a187be][b]“I must go now, Elder.”[/b][/color] It was her time to nod now. And in an instant, he was gone. As if he had never been there. The orb began to slowly fade until it was thoroughly extinguished. Holding the Oaken Branch she walked back to her tribe. Ready to tell them a new tale. The tale of how she met the wounded god of magic.

[hider=Summary]
Qael'Naath goes to find Oraelia's healing object once again and finds a tribe of humans. In an attempt to reveal what item it is, he deliberately destabilized a spell of someone. Then, because the Elder called magic dangerous, he chose to teach those who wanted to learn for a week. They are now able to conjure a small flame. But it's something. Then he takes the Branch in the middle of the night and attempts to heal himself. It fails.

The Elder finds him, and they exchange words about magic and the views of mortals on the gods. Finally, Qael leaves the tribe.
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[hider=Might, DP & Prestige]
[b]Post length: 10.3K[/b]
Oaken Branch >> +5 Prestige
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