The Magic of Magicbuilding: Magical Bleeding, Part Two

Welcome to the Magic of Magicbuilding, our little spinoff feature that focuses specifically on building a magical system for a fantasy setting.  This week, we're going to see what happens when our magical bleeding spills over the landscape.

What We Have So Far

Last week, we decided that some extra-dimensional energy, more or less the energy we've been referring to as "magic," naturally makes its way from those other dimensions to ours.  We labeled this effect "magical bleeding," not as in blood (although we did imply that in the opening paragraph), but as seeping from one layer of reality to the next, like ink bleeding from one page to another.

We decided this because we needed a reason for people to figure out how sigils worked, and the upshot is that sigils are a layer of separation between people and magical energy.  We already know that the small amounts of magical energy used by people to activate the sigils are already enough to cause sympathetic side effects; without the sigils, people are exposed to much greater amounts of energy, and the side effects become both more severe and more permanent.  Eventually, a tipping point is reached, and the creatures using that magical energy become mostly magical energy themselves.

We didn't mention it last week, but we have a straightforward label we can apply to all creatures in our setting that are primarily magical energy.  We can call them "monsters."

We also briefly talked about extra-dimensional beings traveling from their reality to ours.  We concluded that only very small creatures (smaller than a spoon) or those that can temporarily assume a very small form, such as shapeshifters, could make the trip.  What we haven't discussed yet, and what we'll start with, is the environmental side effects of energy and creatures moving from other dimensions to ours.

Classically Sympathetic

The idea we're playing with here is old.  Really old.  "Ancient Celts had a few ideas on the subject," old.  And that's okay!  Not every idea we use for our magicbuilding needs to be new or fresh, though all of them should reflect our unique perspective.  So it shall be with the following concept:

At the confluence between two realms, the energies (and, therefore, the environments) blend.  The area where energy from the Plane of Fire pours through is going to be fiery in nature.  The locale of a portal to the Plane of Air is going to be windy.  So on and so forth.  We won't go so far as to say that the one causes the other, because it doesn't really matter for our purposes, but the two certainly correlate.  In general, then, we can describe what each area looks like based on the energies associated with it.

A thought:  how would the portal look?  The actual nexus would be a hole in reality, no more than a finger's thickness in diameter.  Entropy dictates that energy naturally flows from excess to emptiness, so the dimensional energy from the other reality will be thickest at that point.  Holding to our rule that physics dictates things until we state otherwise, the default appearance of this "reality hole" would be similar to that of an Einstein-Rosen bridge:  A shimmering, spherical distortion.  The energy emerging from the hole would deflect light around it, making it hard to perceive directly.

The direct effects of the energy would be massive near the hole, but would drop off exponentially further away, so each of these magical areas would be fairly small.  Rough, we-did-this-on-a-napkin math suggests even the largest of extra-dimensional tears would affect no more than about a mile around it.

Based on the dimensions associated with our magic system, we can guess at how each area would look:

  The Dimension of Fire.  The center of the area would be an unending fire or other source of seemingly inexhaustible heat, such as the caldera of a volcano.  Thanks to the semi-conscious nature of magical energy, the flames in this region would seemingly dance about of their own volition, moving across surfaces that normally couldn't burn and taking shapes that almost look alive.

  The Dimension of Water.  The center of the area would have water pouring from it constantly.  A lake with no source, a "magically pure" spring, an oasis in the desert, or the depths of an already aquatic area would all make sense.  The unifying theme here is wet. Because the Dimension of Water deals in liquids instead of energies, the waters won't have a life of their own, but it wouldn't be unusual to see unique liquids aside from pure water.  A shimmering pool of liquid mercury would also be possible, for example.

  The Dimension of Air.  There are technically two different Dimensions of Air, and thus, the area around a portal to the Dimension of Air will take one of two broad forms.  The first will be an area of unusually pure atmospheric gas... which is technically incredibly deadly.  Unmixed gases are either unbreathable (and will cause you to pass out without even noticing within moments) or volatile; a portal that emits pure oxygen is a fireball waiting to happen.  The second form looks dangerous but is ironically safer- a permanent storm of wind and static charge, with constant but relatively low-level lightning.

  The Dimension of Earth.  Energy from this dimension affects the geophysics of the area, so the presence of an Earth portal is felt rather than seen.  Constant thrumming vibrations, incredibly common small-scale earthquakes, and shifting rocks make this area difficult to traverse, and likely wildly unpleasant (it would feel like being on a ship deck during a storm), but possibly the least dangerous of the elemental portals.  As long as you're careful not to get caught under any of the shifting rock, your biggest fear will be stumbling into a sudden hole in the ground.

  The Singularity.  "Trippy" is probably the easiest way to describe it.  The area around a portal tied to The Singularity will not obey the conventional laws of physics.  You might find yourself stepping from one side of the area to the other without crossing the intervening distance, or maybe you'll spend five minutes inside the area and discover upon leaving that months have passed... and those are the minor effects.

  The First World.  The lands of the fae are ruled by energies that correspond to mental and emotional states.  The areas around their portals will likewise be mentally and emotionally evocative.  Since nothing we've said so far dictates that only one emotional or mental state should be evoked at a time, the area will likely be shockingly chaotic, with gentle glades that exude calm overlooked by pitch-black woods that invite creeping dread.  Larger portals will have plants, small creatures, and shapeshifters from the lands of the fae surrounding them, providing a truly alien feel; what must a plant that lives off of emotion rather than sunlight look like?

  The Chthonic Realms.  The Other World's energies give new and unusual definitions of life and death.  Things that should not be alive stumble about this area, while things that should be alive instead wither away.  Creatures we would think of as undead would predominate.  Because the Realms grant life but not sapience, the only thinking creatures in the area would be visitors from the Other World, and unless that dimension is occupied by mouse-sized geniuses, it is likely the "shapeshifters" who will be in charge.

  Despite the inherently creepy nature of the Chthonic Realms, the truly desperate are likely to congregate near these portals.  Those closest to death will be willing to put up with a lot if it means their continued survival.

  The Many Voids.  These portals are hazardous to everyone's health.  Mutation, transfiguration, and transformation abound in the area, with the forms of living creatures becoming more and more fluid the closer one gets to the center.  Expect to see trees with eyes and tentacles, foxes with 11 legs, and, should you enter the influence of the portal, a sudden development of fleshy hooves and disturbing sensory organs.  Perhaps ironically, the denizens of the Many Voids themselves will be less fluid in nature, since they can control those energies.

Conclusion

We now have a rough idea of what the sources of naturally occurring magic in our setting look like.  From these areas, magic flows, much as winds do, varying in strength and nature, but accessible to those willing to suffer the consequences.

We also have the first intimations of what the extra-dimensional creatures of our setting are like.  The fae fall into two camps- the incredibly tiny and/or plantlike fae, and the shapeshifters.  Continuing to take pages liberally from the Ancient Celts, we can call these two camps the Seelie and Unseelie fae.  The creatures of the Underworld are either unthinking and undead, or shapeshifters who can bestow or alter the not-life energy of their dimension.  The denizens of the Many Voids are surrounded by constant, chaotic mutations, but are themselves fully in control of their own bodies... perhaps to an extreme.

With how much ground we still have to cover, it looks like we'll need a Part Three.  Next week's agenda:  covering these creatures in more detail, and perhaps deciding what the natural magical energies of our world are like.

No promises.