Magic, Channeling, and the Rivers

The Rivers/Channeling 

An intricate, invisible framework of magical energy weaves itself through the world; air, sea, and land alike- including underground. These rivers entangle and intersect at certain points, known as a confluence. While their energy can be channeled even outside the direct flow of one of these ‘rivers’, the points of confluence are where their attuned powers are most potent. The intersection of two rivers is good. Three is immense, and a confluence joining four or more of these ‘rivers’ is, while exceedingly rare, also extremely powerful.

Similarly, places between these ‘rivers’ can lie beyond the reach of magic. These similarly named ‘eddies’ are often desolate, remote areas that do not naturally attract people to settle there, though are not always devoid of the occasional village or town. Places that are beyond the reach of their magic is, thanks to the thriving tradition of superstition, considered a dangerous place for a Traveler to wander.

In Practice 

The channeling comes with little fanfare. Traveler magic is largely instinctive, and outside of occasional theatrics, is known to simply be allowed to happen, rather than being cast intentionally. This has caused speculation and suspicion from other races and cultures who embrace the studies of higher magic; suspecting that Traveler magic is largely a practice of faith or a mythical belief, more than any actual arcane ability; though those who have seen a Traveler channeling from a particularly potent confluence would quickly attest that their abilities are indeed genuine. 

 

"Dear me," the Chosen dragoness remarked to her scout, "Are you sure that's the only confluence nearby?" She looked out to the indicated spot, uncomfortably close to a raging battlefield; where the lesser, younger bipedal races were bickering over some inconsequential thing, as they seemed to do at least once every few Cycles. This battle seemed particularly bloody, and she wasn't exactly looking forward to dirtying her feet in the blood-soaked mud. It was times like this that she felt inclined to question the tribe's traditions of never taking to wing while on the trail.

"Yes, ma'am, however it is a rather strong one. I've called for four Guardians to clear the way if you feel this is indeed necessary." the scout, half the Chosen Pathfinder's size looked a touch nervous, sickened by the sight of the warring tribes beyond the crest of the hill. 

The dragoness sighed, and steadied her resolve as the Guardians flanked her. Without further words, she began forward and traversed the hillside toward that broad battlefield, while the rest of the tribe waited patiently behind. The tribe had plenty in numbers to win this fight should they want to, and to snub out either of these races in their entirety for that matter, but this wasn't their battle to fight, nor their intention. In all truth, the Travelers would rather see the lesser tribes live in thriving harmony, but such notions seemed, so unfortunately, beyond the capacity of most of the little folk. The smell of blood was strong on the air, though the five continued their approach unmolested.

Despite the raging war, the lesser races knew to keep their distance. 

As the Pathfinder's four feet settled on the grassy patch the scout had indicated, she felt the unmistakable thrill rush up her spine. Her scales stood on end, rendering her appearance more comparable to a pinecone than a dragon, briefly. She let it find her, and let it in. Light through a lens. Wind through a valley. Shaped, not stopped. 

She remembered her instruction. Her shaman's guidance not to fight it. Not guidance, no. Warning. A warning, to never try to dam up the river. It will flow, despite her efforts. The tingle turned to a surging heat that welled in her chest and stomach, and her breast swelled with breath. She allowed the sensation to take her, and as she released the tension in her breast with a bellowed, guttural roar, the Confluence's power flooded through the filter of her patron god's soul that resided within her. 

As the echoes of her roar echoed off the distant mountainsides, the deafening silence of the valley was immediately noticed. She leveled her head, and found the four Guardians flanking her, fast asleep in armored heaps on the ground. The battle had stopped in its tracks, both armies collapsed atop each other, fast asleep in the bloody mud among their dead kin and enemies. She woke her Guardians, and ushered them back to the hilltop to rejoin and wake the scout. 

"I suppose it's safe to cross, now. Please, ask our kin to do their best not to wake these savages. Though, I am curious to see what will happen when they finally do rouse," she said with wonder on her voice. Looking back from the hilltop, she surveyed the tribe, and frowned- as they, too, were fast asleep, having fallen precisely where they stood, as their kobolds desperately worked to wake them.