|Magic & Brush
Author: GradGirl2010 PM
A year had passed since the blot was defeated. Peace had returned to Wasteland. But while everyone is focused on rebuilding Wasteland, the Mad Doctor hatches another plan. Plans which involve the Terror – the Essence – the blot left behind. But once again someone is dragged into Wasteland! Who is this Cat like child? And how can she defeat the Mad Doctor?Rated: Fiction T - English - The Phantom Blot & The Mad Doctor - Chapters: 5 - Words: 24,900 - Reviews: 12 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 03-24-13 - Published: 11-23-12 - id: 8731089
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Magic & Brush
A year had passed since the blot was defeated. Peace had returned to Wasteland. But while everyone is focused on rebuilding Wasteland, the Mad Doctor hatches another plan. Plans which involve the Terror – the Essence – the blot left behind. But once again someone is dragged into Wasteland! Who is this Cat like child? And how can she defeat the Mad Doctor?
Another Victim of the Blot
This is an AUish fic and my first one for this game. Constructive criticism only. I've been playing with this idea for a while. If you don't like it, don't read or comment!
Link to character - . / user/itachi_good_boy/ .html? filters[term]=anime %20cat %20girl &filters[primary] =images&sort=1&o=127
Not too long ago, a very curious mouse had entered my workshop and saved the land of Wasteland. A land I had created for all forgotten Toons. But I'm afraid the tale did not end there. Ha-Ha…No. Soon another will be swept into the Land of Wasteland by their impetuous curiosity. But like before, their arrival to the strange land will not be for naught. For Wasteland would need a new kind of hero. A hero who would need more than paint, brush, and thinner.
My Granddaughter, Cecelia, had come to my workshop to visit me. I did so enjoy my white haired granddaughter's visits. Her red eyes beaming with elation. Though I was a little astonished her wardrobe had taken a black turn. She assured me it was just for looks. Her favorite color was still blue.
She was anxious to begin her magic training. As she should be. 10 years in age though she may be, she showed much promise as a future sorceress of the highest order. But like all novice witchlings, Cecelia needed to be trained in discipline, conservation, casting, and strategy.
Discipline over magic entails keeping control over your magic, not the other way around. Magic weighs heavily on the body and mind, often times it can corrupt you if too much is used too fast or before one is prepared for the strain. Taking time and having patience is the key to discipline over magic.
Conservation of her energy is so not to exhaust herself too swiftly. There is a way to cast powerful spells or a barrage without depleting your stamina. If one conserves their energy and uses small spells in place of large ones, they will prevail and last longer.
Casting deals with proper pronunciation. Speaking a spell or casting one through hand and body motions incorrectly could yield hazardous consequences and random results. Done correctly…the results can be fascinating.
Strategy is of the most importance. When you cast one spell, there are times you can combine it with another, creating an astonishing combination. It could be a smiled ice spell to the ground and an electric spell touched to it. Or one could combine the electric and ice together and create something entirely.
As I stated, my granddaughter was gifted and possessed a great talent. But I'm afraid her discipline leaves much to be desired. A free spirit whose heart is a flutter can often lead to uncontrolled magic. But she was a quick learner. With time and practice she could rival me. Coincidentally, the events that transpired would give her the 'such time' and practice she needed. And it will all be courtesy of his cat like curiosity.
The hours dawned on the late hours of midnight. I had decided to adjourn to my quarters for a goodnight's sleep. I asked Cecelia to join me upstairs so she may go to bed in a room I had prepared for her. She insisted I allow her to remain awake for a little while long so she could study the tiny magic book I leant her. I granted her an extra five minutes. Then it was off to bed. She thanked me and I was off.
Two minutes had barely past and already Cecelia's curiosity was beckoning for mischief. On the mantle of my fireplace, her eyes fell upon the paint brush once used by myself and the mouse who entered my workshop. Next to it was the paint and thinner. Had I known what would transpire, I would have put those tools away. But never did I imagine a simple art project would reap such results.
(Yensid POV end)
Cecelia dragged a chair to the mantle and stacked four books onto the cushion. She grabbed hold of paint, thinner, and brush and lugged them to the table. Anxious to begin painting a picture, Cecelia anxious searched for a piece of canvas she might be able to use for her project. In her excitement, Cecelia's elbow knocked into the paint. She managed to catch the bottle before it completely spilled over. A few drops splashed out. But they did not touch the table. Instead they hovered in the air. No…The dropped covered something. A pointed…tower? In the middle of a table?
"What do you suppose…?" She trailed off, poking the…point. The paint didn't smudge onto her finger. Instead it drizzled slowly, drawing out a tiny mosaic window on a tower. The other drops revealed a patch of green, some sort of gear, and an odd statue head.
Curious of the drops, Cecelia dipped the paint brush into the blue paint. She prodded the odd tower, drawing it out fully. Cecelia blinked in awe. It was the tower of a castle! Cecelia followed the general direction of the drops, bringing to like a landscape of a wondrous land she had never seen. A land she believed she would only see in her dreams.
After the mouse hero was returned to his world, I placed a chamr over wasteland which made it invisible and intangible to all and everything. Everything, apparently, except paint and that brush.
Cecelia reconstructed Wasteland, bringing the beautiful once ravage by thinner back to life. She was saddened by certain areas that seemed decimated and ruined. The thinner disaster – a disaster she was not aware of – had dealt serious damage to the plane. Almost irreversible. Regardless, Cecelia tried to fix it. She soaked the brush in paint and began to paint over the thinner.
As the brush glided over the vicinity of the Tomorrow City, something happened.
(Yensid POV end)
A sharp charge of electrical energy sparked from the mechanical area. It shot up the brush. "OUCH!" Cecelia cried out. The brush fell from her hand. "GRR!" The space erased the paint around it, creating a large circle of green. Green similar to the thinner.
For a reason unknown to me, the land around Tomorrow City was rejecting the paint with a strange ferocity. But Cecelia, a stubborn young lady, would not be deterred. She tried to paint the area once more. The area repelled her. Drawing on more paint she tried once more. The shocks came even faster and stronger. Cecelia's hand began to hurt. But it only strengthened her resolve.
Taking the bottle of paint she poured its contents onto Tomorrow city. The electrical energy fought back violently. Slapping the paint away, but in vain. The paint covered Tomorrow City, bringing a triumphant smile to Cecelia's face.
That triumph was short lived.
(Yensid POV end)
Through the waterfall of paint, a jet black mush…ink…slithered around the stream like a snake coiling up a tree trunk. The ink shot into the bottle of paint, halting its flow. Cecelia shook the bottle, wondering if she was out. The paint she had poured began to ooze from the space, as if someone was pumping the paint out through a hose. The paint spilled onto the table, dripping onto the floor.
Cecelia, not wanting to get in trouble for making a mess, grabbed the paint sponge and began scooping the paint to the bottle. But it wouldn't go inside. The paint fell to the bottle neck, but it wouldn't enter the bottle. "What gives?" Cecelia snarled impatiently. Glancing through the bottle hole, she sought the problem. A dark green eye glared at her. "AH!" She jumped.
The bottle started vibrating. The contents within the bottle were bubbling violently, foaming out the nozzle. Cecelia snatched up the cork and plugged it. The bubbling paint overwhelmed the bottle. It shattered in an explosion of black and blue. Cecelia was startled back, falling to the floor. She groaned in pain, massaging her rear, ruffling her green, white, and black plaid skirt. "What on earth? AH!" The ink that snaked its way into the bottle writhed on the table like a dying worm.
Cecelia, arching a brow in curiosity, crawled over and climbed up, peering at the ink worm cautiously. "Weird." She prodded it. The worm wriggled, squeaking. Its body was squishy…slick. "Gross." Cecelia giggled. She reached her finger to poke it again. The worm tilted its head up. A mouth with razor sharp teeth drew itself on the worm and snapped. "WHOA!" Cecelia flinched back. The worm hissed, warning Cecelia to keep back. "Well…" She snarled, offended. The worm jerked its body, jumping across the oozing pool of paint and dove back into the electrical area of the landscape. "PFFT! Good riddance." She spat.
The clock on the wall tolled on midnight, indicating the end of Cecelia's five minute reprieve from going to bed. Yawning and stretching, Cecelia meandered tiredly to the spiral staircase, prepared to collapse in her bed for a good night's sleep. She'd clean up the paint tomorrow. For the time being she could blame it on the magic brooms.
Unbeknownst to Cecelia the paint on the table started to mildly bubble again. Sharp thinner trails scaled from the landscape, traveling over the pool of paint, mixing and consuming it. The paint and thinner coagulated, turning into a black, inky paste. The paint in the sponge turned to paste as well. The sponge steadily inched toward the landscape like something were pulling at it. The worm that snapped at Cecelia wriggled in the paste, absorbing it into its body.
The pool of paste thinned into a thick arm like tentacle, anchoring itself into the mechanical area of the landscape. "Brrr…arrgghh…" A gargling voice growled. Cecelia touched the fifth step of the staircase before hearing a something crash. Looking back, the thinner bottle was smashed on the floor. Cecelia's eyes widened in horror.
The tentacle lifted its body from the table, exaggeratedly swinging its upper body as a head struggled to form on the end. The sponge was stuck to its body. It was sucked in, dragged down like it were falling down a tube. A five fingered claw like hand sprouted on the end. Paste oozed from the appendages. The fingers drummed, flexing as they were just formed. Cecelia's legs quaked, rooting her to her spot. Her heart pounded against her tiny chest, nearly leaping out of her mouth. Her crimson red eyes were clued in petrified terror.
In the center of the palm, a sickening green eye popped open. The black pupil was a narrowed slit, scanning the room with a deep abhorrence. It was searching for something. Move…run…get grandpa…Cecelia subconsciously took a step back. The heel of her black shoe crunched on a piece of stray wood from Yensid's carving hobby.
The eye palm snapped to her direction. Cecelia flinched, cringing with scared whimpers. The three in the eye rippled in red. "BRAE! BRAE! BRAE!" It blared like an alarm. The arm leaned back then lunged forward. Cecelia's leg finally received the massage her brain had been screaming for her to do. She turned on her heels and scrambled up the stairs. The hand gripped her ankle, tripping her on the steps.
"GAH!" She screeched. The hand pulled her back down the stairs. Cecelia clawed her hands into the stone, not wanting to go. Wildly she kicked at the hand, only to get her other foot caught in the paste. "GRANDPAAA!" She shrieked desperately. The hand dragged her along the floor, bringing her toward the table. "GRANDPA HELP ME!" She begged. Tear streamed down her cheeks. "PLEASE…GRANDPA!"
It my bed I was admiring a photograph of my daughter, her husband, myself, and a six year old Cecelia. I had forgotten how similar Cecelia looked to Lyra. She definitely behaved like her father. It was…woefully nostalgic. But I was pleased to know Lyra and Michael lived on in her.
"GRANDPAAA!" I stiffened in my bed at the voice. It was Cecelia. "GRANDPA HELP ME!" I heard her again. I threw the covers from my person, wondering why she was crying out for me in such a frightful manner. "PLEASE…" I quickened my pace. "GRANDPA!" I stormed down the stairs as fast as my legs would carry me. When I arrived to my working area, I was horrified to see Cecelia being dragged by the ankles by an ink like monster.
"GRANDPA! HELP ME! PLEASE!" Cecelia wept, tears beading down her face. The creature had started to drag her up the table. With a wiggle of my fingers and a whip of my hand I cast as powerful a spell I could without doing harm to Cecelia. I hit the creature in its body, making it drop Cecelia to the floor, but not release her feet. Cecelia clawed at the arm, desperately trying to get free. I raised my hands to cast another spell. A secondary hand sprouted from the body and struck me in my stomach with an incredible force. The spell in my hands was disrupted. I was winded. "GRANDPA!" Through wincing eyes I saw Cecelia be pulled onto the table. The tips of her shoe were touching Wasteland, being sucked toward Tomorrow City. A tiny vortex had formed. I moved to cast my spell again. The hand swatted at me again, knocking me in the head and into the wall. "GRANDPA, NO!" Cecelia's knees were already consumed. The second hand grabbed hold of Cecelia's legs. I could hear Cecelia little nails claw at the wood. Her whimpers broke my heart. "DON'T LET IT TAKE ME! GRANDPA! PLEASE!" I fought my daze and lunged for her.
As Cecelia's torso was consumed, I grasped her little hand and pulled hard. Her crimson eyes pleaded to me with tears to not let go! To save her! I had to! I could not lose her!
Once again the hand shot out. I grabbed it, fending it off as I continued to pull Cecelia out. I had her halfway. Her waist was all that remained. Then a third hand emerged, connecting with my face. I released Cecelia. She screamed in despair as she was consumed by the vortex. I reached my hand for the vortex. It could not enter. I could not reach her. So I did the next best thing. I grabbed the brush and Cecelia's spell book. I tapped the purple gem in the center of the book, whispering words. I then tossed the brush and book into the gradually closing vortex, praying they would reach her.
I know not what became of Cecelia. Nor if she escaped the malicious hands that abducted her. All I could do was pray. Pray that my Cecelia would be safe and find her way back to me.
I'll leave it there for now. What'd you guys think?