Introduction to Magic
Magic is broadly defined as the manipulation of energy through will and intent. All humans are born with some ability to use magic, but without a connection to one of the Old Gods, this ability remains untapped. It's not impossible for one to learn to use magic without this connection, but the odds against it are astronomical. Throughout all of recorded history, only a handful of cases have been confirmed by one of the Old Gods. The vast majority of suspected cases have been confirmed as the result of late aspecting.
Most mages form their connection to the Old Gods between the ages of 8 and 12. This process, known as aspecting, occurs as the incipient mage’s personality becomes clearly defined enough to develop a sense of individual identity and personality traits. Each of the Old Gods has an affinity for certain traits. The Alchemist, for instance, is drawn to insatiable curiosity and a desire to experiment, while the Soldier is drawn to aggression and the will to fight.
While this may seem straightforward on the surface, the reality is anything but.
Lineage seems to play a role, though to what degree varies from God to God. The Conjurer seems to care very little about parentage, whereas Healing abilities are almost always passed down along paternal lines, and the Soldier's many aspects along maternal lines.
Children raised in the Vale also have a greatly increased chance of aspecting when compared to children raised in the real world. While being born within the Vale almost guarantees that a child will aspect, children who travel to the Vale at an early age and spend their formative years there are also far more likely to aspect than those who remain in the real world.
Further complicating matters is the fact that personality traits formed at a young age aren't necessarily permanent. Everything from puberty to life experience can have a marked cumulative impact on one’s personality, but gradual change over time seems to have little to no impact on a mage’s connection with their aspected God. Although truly radical personality changes are rare, they have been known to occur, typically as the result of brain damage or psychological trauma. Such changes do appear to have an impact, but how much is a result of the change itself is unclear. A more likely explanation is that the injury or trauma has a pronounced impact on the mage's ability to bring to bear will and intent.
If all of this seems dreadfully unclear, that's because, even after the better part of five thousand years of recorded history and untold thousands of years of prehistory, much of magic remains a mystery. The Gods themselves are unclear on many points, and remain remarkably reticent on others. If that wasn't bad enough, much of what we thought we knew was the result of deliberate misdirection, usually from the Conjurer, and the Enchanter actively discourages close examination of his powers.
As a result, any academic study of magic must inevitably be approached with great caution. There's much we simply can't know, and without a fundamental willingness to question our own assumptions, any such endeavor is doomed to fail.
Nonetheless, we have enough confidence in the basic mechanics to construct this primer. That's not to say that we won't find out it's badly wrong at some point in the future; it certainly wouldn't be the first time! In the event that our base assumptions are inaccurate, this primer will be redacted and an updated version will be released. Until then, we must assume that it is as close to the truth as the truth can be known at this time.
The Old Gods
Any discussion on magic would be incomplete without at least a passing explanation of the Old Gods.
The Old Gods are the first beings known to use magic. They are, for all practical intents and purposes, immortal, and their powers are immeasurably greater than those possessed by any merely mortal mage. They are not the source of magic, but they are the source of our connection to it, and even today, our ability to use it is shaped and defined by them.
There are seven Old Gods.
The Eldest is the oldest and most powerful. While no one would call him their leader, precisely, he does have a degree of control, and on the rare occasions when he puts his foot down, the others tend to listen, however reluctantly. Though he has no specific talent, he can use all magic with ease.
The Soldier governs magic best used for violent ends. His aspects are all geared towards fighting, be they passive enhancements like the Brutes, or active spells such as those used by Evocators. Historically, he's been the Eldest’s staunchest ally, and serves as his general when the Eldest goes to war.
The Conjurer controls illusion magic. His Illusives are capable of bending light and sound to their will, and as a result, dominate both the magical and mundane entertainment industries. The Conjurer himself has a passion for storytelling. He's also a pathological liar who seems incapable of telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Anything he says is considered suspect.
The Enchanter is, perhaps unsurprisingly, the source of enchantments. Although his gifts have contributed immeasurably to the betterment of society, he, more than any other God, has worked to destroy it. His hatred for the Eldest is legendary. While the Eldest has called him to heel many times, it is inevitable that he will find new ways to undo the works of the Eldest, given enough time. For now, he seems content with the Association, but how long this happy state of affairs will last is anyone's guess.
The Healer gives us healing magic. Thanks in no small part to her desire to understand the human body and the ailments that affect it, mages have long understood concepts that modern mundane science is just now coming to grips with. Her compassion is every bit as legendary as the Enchanter’s hatred, but the results have often been just as monstrous. Wise mages learn to fear her kindness and never show weakness in her presence.
The Alchemist controls alchemy, or the art of making potions. Of all the Gods, she is the most apolitical, at least where their inner feuds are concerned. Though she's known to work with the Healer, she cares about nothing but her work, and if she's not one to play power games, she reacts with predictable displeasure towards anyone who attempts to use her for their own gain. She is a force unto herself, and even the Eldest leaves her alone unless there's no other choice.
The Child is far and away the most dangerous of the Gods. Her powers are poorly understood, and investigating them is strongly discouraged. What we do know is that she governs chance and probability. While this might seem harmless, the Eldest disagreed, and convinced her to voluntarily exile herself and cut off humanity from her powers. She, like many children, is capricious, arrogant, selfish, and at times thoughtlessly cruel, but also capable of great kindness and compassion. Historically, those who have aspected under her have shared those traits, and the human race has paid for their actions in blood and horror.
Exactly when or how the Old Gods first learned to use magic is unknown. By our best reckoning, they first appeared somewhere between ten to fifteen thousand years ago, long before the advent of writing or a coherent dating system. Since nothing resembling civilization would appear for several thousand years, their early exploits must be considered lost, unless and until one of them sits down to explain things.
What we do “know” is purely conjecture. It's thought, for instance, that all seven originated from the same tribe of hunter gatherers, and that the seeds of their well known feuds originated during this time, but there's no way to prove it.
What is known with a high degree of certainty is that their feuds trace a long and bloody path through history. Though fascinating, the historical angle is largely irrelevant to this primer. A more complete account can be found on other works, but for the sake of background, we’ll briefly cover the origin of their collective title: the Old Gods.
Exactly who came up with the name is, like so much else, unknown. The meaning, however, is clear enough: they were the oldest known gods to humanity, and the vast majority of religions are based on legends drawn from their exploits. This is no accident. The Conjurer, with his penchant for storytelling, ensconced them in myth and mythology for reasons known only to himself. He's claimed any number of motivations over the years, but all we can say for sure is that he's a pathological liar and that trusting his word on anything is a risky proposition at the best of times.
Regardless of where the name came from or the motivations behind the Conjurer’s actions, the name Old Gods is wildly appropriate, for they are the basis behind everyone from Odin to Shiva to Yahweh. Though they bear little resemblance to each other in terms of powers or personality, the Old Gods do share a few common traits.
They are, as previously mentioned, functionally immortal. Though they can be hurt, albeit with great difficulty, no known method of killing them has ever been found, despite their periodic efforts over the years to do one another in. Additionally, they do not age, are not susceptible to poisons or diseases, and can sustain themselves indefinitely without food or drink. On the rare occasions where they’ve suffered injuries they couldn’t recover from immediately, they still healed at a much greater rate than any mortal. Despite their immunity to nearly everything that could possibly harm them, they are at least voluntarily susceptible to the effects of recreational intoxicants.
They are also able to modify their appearance at will through a process more akin to shapeshifting than true illusion. Although the Eldest and the Conjurer both have the ability to create illusions, they too seem to prefer the shapeshifting method. There are suspected limitations. No Old God has ever been able to alter their height or weight, for instance, or drastically alter their apparent age. They can also force one another to revert to their true Neolithic forms, though doing so is considered unspeakably rude.
Fascinating though their commonalities may be, it’s in their differences that the Old Gods define magic.
Will and Intent
One cannot understand magic without first understanding what we mean by will and intent, two separate concepts that must work in perfect harmony if one wishes to use magic.
Will, in this context, is a tricky thing to define. One might simply say that it is the desire to use magic to shape the world, but anyone who’s ever used magic will find that definition unsatisfactory. It’s not enough to simply want to use magic. One has to believe, truly believe, that the universe will bend itself to suit them, and they have to have the mental fortitude to force it to do so.
This is not an easy thing to accomplish. From our earliest days, we learn how the world works. A huge part of early childhood development is figuring out the rules of our world so that we may move through it safely. Through observation, trial and error, and instruction, we build a rock solid image of the world in our minds and in our hearts, and we trust it implicitly.
A small child may not know what gravity is, but they know that falling hurts, and they learn to fear heights. A little bit of fear might be fun, which explains the allure of jungle gyms and swing sets, but when they find themselves well and truly stuck, they almost invariably call for help, because the alternative is a painful fall.
Magic defies the carefully constructed rules that we learn as children. Using it requires the mage to cast those rules aside and to make a tremendous leap of faith.
As adults, it’s hard to remember just how confusing and frightening those early days of learning can be. After so many years of training and practice, mustering the will necessary to work magic comes as naturally as breathing. For a child, however, it often takes extreme stress to unlock one's potential. The purpose of the Magus Academy is to take young minds, prime them with the belief that they are, in fact, capable of using magic, and at the appropriate age, place children in situations of simulated peril. Only then can their true education begin.
The oftentimes harsh methods the Academy uses to coax children into making that leap of faith might seem barbaric in hindsight, but most children simply can’t harness their inherent ability without extreme measures. That they’re in no actual danger is no minor consideration, but the children themselves don’t know that, and for now, fear remains the best motivator for unlocking their potential.
All the will in the world, however, is useless without intent. Once a prospective mage learns how to summon their will, they must learn to control it. It’s not enough to have the wherewithal to call upon magic; one must be able to consciously shape and bind it to their will. This is where intent comes in.
If intent is easier to define than will, it’s also much more difficult to utilize in practice.
Without the ability to shape magic once called, a mage will never be able to effectively use their powers. It’s not uncommon for incipient mages to unconsciously use their power, especially to escape from mortal peril, but the results are highly unpredictable, and they can rarely duplicate the act without further training.
Shaping magic requires a degree of focus that, to the untrained mind, is utterly unnatural. One must perfectly visualize the desired outcome, leaving no room for deviation or error, as the slightest bit of wiggle room can cause all manner of unforeseen, and occasionally catastrophic, consequences.
Perfect visualization is not something that comes naturally to most, and even the rare few with the gift for it require training to perfect it. Even after decades of training, most mages still rely on rituals and props such as wands or crystals to aid them in the execution of particularly complex workings.
Though the uninitiated or foolish might decry such measures as laziness, experienced mages realize that they’re nothing of the sort. They are vital and indispensable tools of the trade for all but a handful of preternaturally gifted mages, and there’s certainly no shame in relying upon them.
If utilizing will and intent weren’t difficult enough separately, mages must learn how to meld them together into a cohesive whole in order to work with magic. One might have the willpower to turn mountains into smoking craters, or the ability to perfectly visualize every facet of a working down to the smallest detail, but one means nothing without the other. Weakness in summoning one’s will or focusing one’s intent, far more so than raw natural talent, will determine the limits of a mage’s full potential.
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