The Festival of Guide and Guild - Day 3: Flinterforge

Greetings all! Day 3, if you haven’t guessed, is in celebration of Flinterforge! Here’s your prompt:

“You are an ideasmith, and here is where you mine what is possible.” Meet the Day’s Work by sharing an idea for—or a picture of—a new spell or magiqal artifact.

Happy Day of the Flinterforged!


The nurses tittered and whispered immediately after the young, tall resident with wavy, jet black hair passed by on his way to check on a patient. It was 2 o’clock in the morning. He rubbed his eyes as he walked.

“Who was that now?” one younger nurse asked, her eyes following the man down the corridor, “he’s the cutest resident I’ve seen on nights!”
“Don’t get used to it,” said the nursing supervisor. She was a a middle-age woman, of medium build. “That’s Dr. Calderon. You’ll never have to call him to the floor; no one ever dies when he’s here at night. Besides, he’s going to graduate come June.”
“Wait,” a third said. She was bent and gray. “I’ve been here for 30 years. That can’t be true. I call residents for death pronouncements almost every night.”
Almost every night,” the nursing supervisor emphasized, “but not on nights Dr. Calderon is here. All the ladies on the other units say the same thing.” Dr. Calderon ambled by again on his way back to the call room. He smiled at the nurses, blissfully unaware of the conversation transpiring. They didn’t specifically carry it on while he was in earshot. They didn’t want it going to his head. Cute as he was, he was still just a resident.

That night, no one in the hospital died. Patients made it through surgery without complication. Patients waiting for hospice made it one more day until their families could bring them home to die surrounded by loved ones. Traumas in the emergency room were stabilized and brought upstairs to the intensive care unit. Some of them may have needed ventilator machines, but none of them died. Blissfully unaware of the goings on in the rest of he hospital, Dr. Calderon gave verbal orders for medication over the phone, watched TV and checked his Instagram account.

In the morning, Dr. Calderon signed out to his fellow residents, filling them in on events that happened to their patients overnight. He went home and ate a light morning dinner. Right before bed, he took off his lucky charm: A small silver ankh medallion on a thin silver chain he had taken from the gym lost-and-found around the start of his residency, after watching to see if it was claimed after a couple of months.

Blissfully unaware of what it meant to wear the necklace, the pause he’d placed on the cycle of life and death was lifted.


Spell: Pyrography

Description: Turns a night around the campfire into a much more interesting experience.

For centuries, the life-force of stories has been connected with fire. As a species, humans are wordsmiths. We are creators, builders, explorers and destroyers, and we share those conquests and failures and triumphs with others until they become something called history. (If they are told often or loosely enough they just might become myth. ) Stories told around the campfire are in our blood. Oral tradition predates the written word, and has sometimes held the distinction of enduring long after written records of these stories die.

For some interesting info about this see:

Spell Details:
This is a communal spell, first and foremost. Telling tales would not really have a purpose otherwise. Two magiq users must feed off of the power of each other, even if only one is casting. Spellsickness may affect all parties involved, but it will affect the caster the most. Passive bystanders will only get minor spellsickness and might need to take a short nap if the spell gets powerful enough. This is perfect if you all are anxious insomniacs but still need some sleep!
The caster focuses on a story, any story and stares deep into the fire. I have only observed this specific ability in Thornmouths but there is no indication that is it guild specific. I think it has more to do with the company I keep. In more powerful iterations of the spell, the caster might even tell a story they do not know. If the connection to the mind flame or whatever central, communal guild force they have is strong enough, the caster could pull from knowledge of other guild members, past and present. However, this will result in significantly more severe spellsickness. If the caster instead pulls from their own experience, the magiqal cost is much less.

Focus on a story, something with meaning to you. (I have also observed that if the person casting does not care about the story or loses the attention of the audience the effects are much less impressive. This is a spell that feeds off of wonder and emotion.) Stare deep into the campfire and focus on the tale. It could be real or completely made up or even somewhere in between (the best stories are). Picture the events in as much detail as you can. If you do not have details, create them. If you hate the ending, make a new one. Should the casting be effective, the fire will begin to take on the shapes of the characters in the story. You might speak along with the fire or you might let the fire do the talking, leaving it up to your friends to interpret. Other than that, go wild! This spell is incredibly personal and unique to the caster. There is no one right way to do it.

If anyone else has observed this ability or found any reference in old guild texts please share!



A Magiq Notebook/Manual

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