DANIEL MEIERER

     “I ain’ done one’a dese in a long while, so do pardon my potential rustiness on my capabilities as a teacher. I feel I ‘ave neglected de side of a mentor. So, as I ‘ave alluded ta it, I am gonna teach ya my two most used abilities. One a bit more passively, de otha’ as I use it wit’ everything, and it’ll be coming up a lot. As well, furtha’ disclaimer, I am a bat shit crazy plant. Anything I say is not ta be taken as fact for dis school of magic, but how I use it. Yes?” As he waited for acknowledgment, he would snapped his fingers, lifting his hand to make a series of gestures. One of his veggie cult members, waiting for his single, let out a squeal of acknowledgement before scampering off towards the dungeons.

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     A scuffle and a series of noises could he heard from the corridors as Doc’s minions struggled. The high pitched, obnoxious screeches of his distressed, simple veggie cult was indistinguishable. As well the somewhat disappointe sigh that followed. Rubbing his temple, Doc filled the air.  “We got ourselves a volunteer. Don’ worry ‘bout dem. Won’ be ‘ere for long. Don’ get comfortable. Cute as dey may be. We ‘ave out lovely skin’a de evening. I been needin’ a new stag skin. For reasons. Now, lets start by explaining what i am talkin’ ‘bout what I will be teaching. Skinwalkin’! As well Ritual magic, as I said, I use it for everything of such importance.” His voice gave a peculiar giggle, almost bringing his lips to a creepy grin.. Only to have his attention stolen.

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     A loud, hollow knock was heard, along with a loud squeal as the elusive eggplant veggie cultist came flying momentarily into vision. It was such a fine specimen. Probably the greatest of his veggie cult members. Which was a crying shame, as it became the finest purple mush ever seen given the force it met with the wall adjacent to the entrance to the hallway. A vinestalk flopped uselessly to the ground. Doc’s face, now being covered by his hand and in such hiding the anguish this caused. Probably at the endless disappointment his veggie cult was proving to be more than grief.

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     “Don’ help dem vby de way. Dey must learn, and de day thing shouldn’ be dat difficult for all deir vines.. Anyway. Dey will be a moment. De demonstration comes afta’ de explanation normally anyway, don’ it? So.” He clapped his hands together. At first it seemed like his typical habit to talk with his hands, but a keen eye would notice him gripping the skin of his palm.

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     “I, as some of ya know, am not a mammal. Not a fauna at all. Not even a meat body! I am a parasitic plant dat weaves itself through de meat body host dat I lobotomized. Now, I sometimes need ta jump forms. I do not like constantly changin’ my face. I am fond’a dis one. Luckily, I was taught scraps of de art’a skin walkin’. Which I tailored ta my tastes, as I like ta customize my looks. For instance, I ‘ad ta remove de extra eyes dis form came wit’! As well de spider legs. More room for vines, and also got in de way’a my wing.. De eyes my flower eye..” He waved his handi n the air, as if dissipating his own words through the library. “But I am rambling:”

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     “Skinwalkin’ is an ancient and elusive piece of dark magic. It was created by a tribe’a people in de west. Luckily, thanks ta de stigma dis practice causes, some sought de peace ta practice deir arts in lands dat didn’ ‘ave legends of de skinwalkers. Dey say dey can steal your form wit’ a look… De one dat taught me? Said, least for ‘is sect, dis wasn’ true. No, no it takes far more.. Basically, skinwalkin’ allows ya ta take on de form of de creature whose skin ya wear. Ya can’t exactly get deir metaphysical traits, but advantages are about. Say de stag I am gonna be usin’. It is a good agile form, allowin’ for de use of powerful antlers, wit’ cushionin’ around de neck and scalp ta help protect de brain. Though I, personally, got otha’ methods. As a freaky flower. Now, I ain’ gonna go inta de specifics. As well, ain’ gonna be runnin’ around in skin suits ya’self either afta’ just dis class. Not dis class.. Well, maybe. Y’all hear how I ramble. No~.” He gave a rapid, chaotic chuckle.

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     ”I am gonna teach y’all how ta get de most important piece! Ya must practice dis on animals or humanoids, whoever, and ever get a fine collection of skins. Ya won’ be able ta use dem properly, least for skinwalkin’, but think’a dis like enchanted leatherworkin’. A mixture of necromancy, ritual magic, and other schools I glanced at are at place here. So consider dis also a lesson on mixin’ magics, should ya judge my method befittin’ your own.

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      Whistling, impatiently towards the hallway, he pulled at the skin on his arm. It gave way far easier than one would expect, showing that it, normally, was held by his specially designed vines. Unhooking from his skin, it pulled away like a sticky leather. The moment the skin removed itself from his muscle, the skin lost its usual lush liveliness and instead appeared more like a mummy’s dried skin. That of a perfectly preserved specimen of the medical art, mind you. Runes showed themselves to be tattooed onto the skin in a delicate pattern. Once having shown as Doc’s tattoos, he had since taken to hiding them with a few adjustments. Beneath the skin, like tape being pulled from a surface, the muscle below appeared with his countless vines disappearing into the perfectly preserved network. Not a hint of his blood could be seen, having long since re-engineered his body to be more efficient. He went not further than the elbow, allowing a transition between his faux fresh flesh and the dried hyde that hung beneath his exposed elbow.

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     “Feel free ta come closa’ ‘n look at dis. Ask questions. ” Doc, seemingly taking on a new composure the more he rambled about a topic he held a firm fascination and fixation on, lost more of his meek demeanor, stepping forward and holding his macabre arm out for any who might want to examine it. “Please take care not ta rip it off. While I could repair it, I would prefer not ta at dis moment. I am already ramblin’ enough, and dat is an entire class in itself I’d imagine. And I’d like my arms protected for de ritual. Who knows what dat meat body de veggies are wrestlin’ got in ‘im. I don’ need no fungus.”

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     Finally, a group of sentient vegetables finally came with Doc’s captives in tow. A set of six, the veggies converged with one to each arm, and two to each hooven leg, one with a hoof covered in purple moosh. Vines grew from the top of their heads, entangling around the writhing, naked male satyr. Spouting similar feminine features to Doc, it was clear he was snagged for his own taste in skins. It was so hard to find ones in his size. The vines kept him bound, enough to be brought to the center of the room.  He tried to scream and cry out, but a professional set of interrupted stitches made certain his lips were sealed. Doc didn’t need to have his lecture interrupted. He had already harmed of one his creations. Not like he could do much worse than what he had planned.

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     Doc shooed his veggies and the prey to the side, where the pair would struggle while Doc continued, taking a box of purple chalk from the desk. “Dere is an important step I must explain before we remove ‘is flesh; Now dat we ‘ave caught our victim after a honorable hunt; I would like ta explain what I mean by ritual magic. As I use it.” Vines began growing from his back in almost the same formation as his wings normally came out in, but lacking the purple petals that allows him lift. Each vine took a piece of chalk.

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    “A sigil is a very useful component in magic. It is a very volitile magic, especially when ya use it wit’ little care for de rules so many mages follow for deir own safety. Luckily, dere are plenty of sources of trial and error so ya don’ gotta blow ya own assistant up, unleash a demon, or so many other things daty can go wrong.” He outstretched his arms to the many books around them. “I warded de shelves for dis ritual. Well, more for de experiments, but things get messy and I don’ need de nightmares ‘avin’ another case’a my prisoner’s remains growin’ on de wall and askin’ for sweet release.” He clicked his tongue, as if berating himself.

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     “Now den. A sigil can be considered a symbolic representation of your spell. Ya can become abstract, so long as you yaself believe in de out come. Startin’ wit’ de outer circle, ta contain de spell.” his vines made quick work of drawing a circle. “A circle in de center where we will place our output.” His vines drew as he dictated. “Another circle to separation de space between de two circles…” He mumbled, scribbling away. “Now.. more circles, with balance being kept in mind, drawn within to house the reagents. In my case, I give a portion of de reagent’s energy ta de four natural elements, and de four divine elements. Put in ya own beliefs inta ritual magic, as dat is where de sigil gathers much of its power. Now, as de natural elements as less complex den de, quote unquote, divine elements, we place de divine elements closer ta de center, centered along a compass.”

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     Holding up a compass, he placed it down and drew a circle, between the inner circle and the dividing circle, along the four cardinal points (north, south, east ,west). “Now, for de natural elements, we place dem perpendicular along de outer circle.” The vines went along scribbling them long the outer circle, he drew the four smaller circles along the intercardinal points (ne,se,nw,sw.).

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     “Now, dis is de most complex part. We begin drawing runes along each one. Modifyin’ de spell ta our needs. I got a few.. Peculiarities wit’ my body, for example, so I take dat inta consideration. Ta take inta consideration my shape, but otherwise it is ta create a pathway for de magic ta follow, as well ta contain other components of dis spell. I will allow ya ta draw this as needed, though modifications would still need ta be made ta allow it ta form ta ya skin. As well, dere is far more dat must be done ta prepare ya body; spiritually, mentally, and physically; for de ability ta take on a creature’s form. I am leavin’ de reagents a pleasant surprise for both you and our guest until I start takin’ dem, but deir properties are also outlined. Along wit’ de percentage of de energy I wish ta go ta de elements each circle represents, which I will also go inta detail as I place de reagent. For each ritual, dese runes will be different. Same for each reagent. Dis takes knowledge of runic magic, but a creative mage can replace it for a similar magical study, should it fit de requirements.”

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    His arms and vines scribbled away, creating a vast series of designs around the circles through the runes. Given the complexity of the spell, it required a vast network of runes. It was this lone part that had him use his vines, as opposed to a need to show off. This saved him time. Rhythmically dancing around the circles filling in every piece, he surrounded every circle inside and out, before gracefully bouncing into the center circle. “Any questions before we move on ta de collection of reagents?”

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     Clapping his hands against, Doc continued. The chalk in his hand discarded to a pair of vines that returned it to the box. “Now. I know we coverin’ a lotta subjects ‘ere, but dis ain’ simple magic. Dis ain’ as simple as slappin’ dat skin off ‘im. No. no ‘e ‘as ta suffer.” The stayr squealed through its stitches, trying to struggle more. “In fact, it is quite important dat we make certain dat ‘e DOES. NOT. DIE.” He made certain to enunciate each word, once more both for the class and his guest to hear. “Until most reagents are extracted.” He whistled suddenly, snapping his head towards the veggie cult and the satyr. The suddenness made the veggie cult stop and stare up at him in the midst of their endless struggle. The satyr did not, and cleaved its foot through the broccoli’s head. The fluff just tangled arought the hoof of the satyr, much to its dismay.

 

    Doc’s following hand gestures were caught by the cult’s soulless stare, scampering to drag the circle. Showing a sudden determination and formation, the group scampered in a circle around the sigil. THe satyr was forced into the air as cult’s entangled nest of vines gained cohesion, thanks to Doc’s continued gestured. The vines took on a formation with clear inspiration taken from a spire web. Suspending the satyr above his sigil, high enough for Doc’s hand to slide along his cheek. His vines stretching his lips to inhuman lengths as his eyestalk stretched out to examine his flesh. Perverse as his actions and stare was, he was clearly looking right through the creature, having long since written off as an object, as his rambling helped explain. His voice taking on a far more excited tone as he tugged on his cheek. Testing his victim’s skin’s pliability.  

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    “Ya see.. In dis kinda ritual.. An honorable death is highly important. Hunted down like de animal dey bein’ treated as, forced ta think as de primal beast dey descended from, forced ta unda’stand dat what chases dem is worse den death. Dat we wantin’ dem bewggin’ for escape. For dere every wakin’ moment since capture ta be agony. Like seasonin’ de meat. Similarly, deir death must be honorable.. Now, I ain’ talkin’ dat white knight garbage. Proper honor. Honor’a de wild. Taken down bare ‘anded, or vined in my case.” He gave a cheeky giggle. “And what is more honorable den ‘avin’ deir life taken ta expand de knowledge of our family?” He stopped groping the creature’s skin with a clap to the cheek. “Wit’ de added benefit’a a new form for me.. But Flourish is also a requirement. Why I can’t just take any skin I find.” Whether or not it was a lie, as he had said, it was the belief that it was true that counted.

 

    “Most of all.. Ya must enjoy it. Must enjoy chasin’ dem down. Must enjoy tearin’ dem apart. Must enjoy every scream dey make. Dis is dark magic we deal wit’, and doubt can warp de form. Dis can make some sinister bodies, yes, but it could warp ya mind beyond recognition.” His wriggled the vines under his skin with another fit of cackling laughter, hoping to accentuate his point. “Though, for those who seek new heights in deir magic.. Messin’ wit’ dese steps can be de way ta go. Funny enough. De madness can also assist in keepin’ ya from messin’ up followin’ rituals! Since ya just guaranteed ta enjoy it! Especially wit’ such a wonderful guest. Most honored guest.” Another clap to the cheek.

 

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     “Now, ta keep all de magic contained within de circle in a spell dis chaotic, it is advised ta ya use music ta temper de forces and spirits dat mgiht be drawn to ya ritual. Dey can cause plenty of issues if dey decide ta mess wit’ ya runes, posses de spirit, among otha’ things.” with a snap of his fingers, his cultists looked up to him again with those button eyed voids. A far shorter series of gestures sent them into a fit of noises and screeches. At first it seemed like they had lost their minds, wriggling and squirming with no apparent order. One by one, the adorable cultists began to sway in unison while their voices began to take on a far more harmonic, and symponious, quality to it. Pleased, Doc continued.

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     “Which is why it is also advised, while doin’ dis, ta use incense, pipe smoke, or both ta further appease deir senses. As well ta honor dem. Now, in dis case, it is a special mix dat’ll also calm down our enraged stag ‘ere. My favorite blend’a poppies, peyote, pot, poitin, lavender, rosemary, rose petals, and tobacco.” He lifted the prepared pipe up. “Soaked in de blood of your sacrifice, left ta dry. Normally, de pipe is all we’d use, but we got a lotta twisted spirits out dere dat love rituals like dis. Need more.” He gestured to four prepared bowls on the table.

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     “Ta act as incense, and ta help dry and smoke de skin while we remove de organs, we place a mixture of de various aromatics, incense, and woods. I like a mixture of hickory and mahogany.” He took the bowls and places them between the circles on the outer ring, in a bowl covered in carved runes that would allow it to begin to ember. “We place dese between de regents for de natural elements. Light dem as ya wish, I like ta use a series of fire runes ta control de temperature. Best done in layers. Metal inside where it heats de combustables, outside is a specially carved rock, where de metal is melted over so it sinks inta where ya carved de runes. Gotta special order dese normally. If ya know metallurgy or are good wit’ controllin’ rocks or crystals, dese also work ta make bowls or otha’ sources of heat.” As smoke began to rise from the bowls, some of the runes would show their purpose. Trapping the smoke between the inner and outer circle, it allowed the class to keep from having the same existential drug trip that the stag would soon have. The thrashing would really have caused his vines’ precision to plummet.

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     “Now, questions before removal? Oh, oh I know..” Prodding the stag’s forehead, he bent forward to stare down at the panicked male. “More delays yes. Yes ya get ta live even longer! A most joyous occasion.” Fidgeting awkwardly, as he once more forced himself bide his rambling, he forced his vines to clear his throat. That was what meat bodies seemed to do in situations in front of a class that’d normally leave him fidgeting. “And I know I been goin’ one for god knows ‘ow long like dis.. But I assure ya, we gettin’ closer ta de end.. De components are all slowly comin’ togetha’. Each one highly important, I assure you. Since I rambled again, and since we gotta wait for dis guy ta stop squirmin’, questions?”

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     Once more, he clapped his hands together to draw attention. “Finally, de reagents I keep ramblin’ about so vaguely. Now, excuse me but I gotta get showy wit’ dis. I hope I won’ be hard ta unda’stand while I dance.” He bowed his head, before slowly beginning to rock his shoulders and hips. His veggie cult adjusting their tune accordingly. The vines holding on to chalk shot forward to get to work dutifully and deliberately creating complex sequences of runes along the stag’s body, their movements being seamlessly placed into his form. Once the chalk was discarded, he continued. His vines taking precise motions and already aligning themselves with the organ of choice, circling the entangled male like a eccentric, freaky ass dancing predator. With fluid and grace, of course.

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     Dictating as his vines quickly and delicately sliced and slide through the stayr’s body with the biological knowledge of a parasite, he did his best to make sure every action was made with the idea of keeping the stag alive as long as possible. The noises and squirming soothed as he began to puff at his pipe, heated in a similar manner, without inhaling, merely blowing it directly into the Stag’s face as he passed, calming him. “De natural elements are self explanatory. Air, Earth, Fire, ‘n Water. De elements most people tend ta think of when it comes ta magic, de ones dat dictate magic on a planar level.”

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     “Now, we ‘ave de directions a little cock-eyed for typical rituals of dis nature. Normally, water starts in de north. I am sure you’ll get de pattern, since minus bein’ skewed, it is de same. It is skewed on purpose, of course. First~.” He chuckled, and began by pusing two vines into the male’s sides, while another two made larger incisions allowing the kidneys to be removed. The vines gracefully placed them down in the North Western circle. Doc took a puff from his pipe as he took a step near the reagent. Spinning on his heel in tune with the reagent being place down, he blew the smoke out towards the direction it represented. As he’d repeat for each reagent. “Ta de North West, Earth. Why Kidneys for Earth? Kidney stones, a’course.”

He continued by threading a vine through the male’s urethra, while another made an incision along the waist, where the other side of the vine threading through the tip of his length came out with its bladder entangled. “To de North East, Water. So a bladder, obviously.” His vines targeted a single lung next. “For air in de South East, A lung. Largest of course. Can’t half-ass dis when ya gotta give some ta de elements. Now, de otha’ gonna pick up de slack, but not for long. Dis smoke only does so much.” His vegetables began to pick up the tempo and, in tune, he began moving and speaking quicker. “Finally in de South-West, we got fire. A stomach! As stomach acid can be as volatile and burn in a similar manner.”

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    Really beginning to pick up his pace, Doc had to explain further for a moment. “Now dese next elements could be considered more.. Metaphorical. Dese are de ones dat influence de actions of de cosmos, life, death, and everything in between. It works in far more subtle ways. Dey can corrupt and create in equal measure, and require deir opposite ta truly thrive. Ta appease dese elements, we must take care and speed ta keep dem alive as long as possible.” He slammed his foot down in tune with the beat as he patched each fire. Blowing smoke into each one, the temperature began to rise as the smoke began to take on figments in the wisp resembling the many runes he wrote down. The embers in each bowl igniting into flames.

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     “De element’a life is a varyin’ one, as well requires care. De genitals have artieries in dem dat could really make us lose dem quickly. As well, I want de skin in tact. So..” He let out another mischievous giggle, as the vine still threaded through the stag’s manhood began to squirm oddly. A gut wrenching movement could be seen with in his sack, as violent twitches could be seen in the muscles of the stag, clearly the smoke was making certain to do nothing on the man’s pain. Those properties were for the element.s From the open stomach cavity that had the most organ traffic, a horrendous mess of tissues and fleshy tubes, slapped down into the center of the norther circle on the inner ring. The stag’s genitals, sans insides of course, laid flat against its pelvis. Both his penis and sack looking more akin to deflated balloon. “I normally suggest usin’ a hot stone or blade ta cauterize de arteries. I just pinched dem off.”

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     “For those dat are still watchin’ afta’ dat show,in de eastern circle we got order, de eyes.” His vines slipped into the tear ducts of his victim, popping out the eyes down to the optic nerve with the care and speed one would expect from someone who turned an extendo-flower-eye into his main identity. Repeating the same ritual, with ever puff of his pipe he made, the smoke inside seemed to darken, with the skin becoming visibly drier, smoking the man alive. The organs he pulled out were beginning to look a hint darker as well. He was really hoofing it now.

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     “In de south we got death. Death. Which will come shortly afta’ dis, so followin’ dat we got chaos in de west. De heart and brain, respectively.” His vines worked in cohesion now, a dance he had clearly done a distressing number of times. As he tore the heart from his chest with his vines, holding it high enough for the Satyr to see, he gave him just enough to take it in before his dance brought him behind his head, where he smashed a thick stick against his scalpe, his vines having helped prepare the area. Just before he made contact, the heart was placed down on its circle. Leaves grew to help him collect the gray matter as it poured out, shloshed down onto the final circle.

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     Doc brought his other hand down. His dance clearly over as his veggie cult, in unison, stopped singing as their vines began coiling back around their bodies, slowly sinking into wiggling bones. The victim’s head smashed into the center of the chaos circle. A purple light began to spread throughout the circlem following the circle from one side of the head and his palm to the other. One by one, the reagents began to burst into minute balls of light, countless of them that began to spiral into the blackening smoke, creating the illusion of a stary night. The smoke began to churn, spiraling into the crushed skull of the stag. Its began began to churn with in its skin as Doc’s vines rushed to escape the inside of the circle, but his hand stayed firmly inplace against the corpse’s face.

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     The sound of bones snaping, sinew snaring, and a truly unholy sloshing noise, the stag’s body seemed to slowly deflate, like a chunky liquid being forced down a metaphorical drain that was under Doc’s hand, which appeared to be a mild struggle. As quickly as Doc had finished the ritual, the stag laid as nothing more than an empy, and dried, skin. The runes, once chalk, now appearing like a smoky tattoo.

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     Hopping to his feet, Doc held up the skin with a happy smile and a ‘tada’ stance that had its energy fueled by the delight that, this time, the skin hadn’t come to life. Though he was still holding it out like he was expecting it to attempt to strangle him.