A Humble Polygon

In the campaigns I run, I have worlds with ambient magic, meaning that nearly anyone or anything can access and apply magics. Some people don’t want to be spellcasters in this world, but they learn utilities. Basically anyone is able to learn really weak versions of 5e cantrips. Like the one I made, Ignite. It’s a really watered down version of Firebolt. It is touch based, and deals 1d3-1 fire damage. It varies from Firebolt in that it can burn carried or worn items. Still, that’s basically nothing. It generates sparks and heat from the hands, and is only really applicable as a firestarter, and in these worlds, that is sometimes all a person needs. The villain I created it for covered his enemies in oil and as a bonus action was able to ignite it.

Again, they don’t count as actual cantrips. I kind of put them in their own little category, and I decided people can learn as many according to half their level, so far.

Reading the lore book Unveiling, the personifications of the Light and the Dark were very vivid to me. They weren’t complex, majestic, sinister, or beautiful, like a lot of fanart depicts as such. They were caretakers. Caretakers of the garden don’t dress up in their fancy robes and ethereal garbs, no no. They get their tunics, their work pants, their sandals, and their gloves. They dress to work.

It was the description of the Gardener having chapped lips that really did it for me. That’s not something I would ever imagine this force or this personification of it having, but this description gave me a vivid, gritty mental image in my mind. The Gardener wearing a white tunic, and perhaps burlap pants. Sandals and kneepads. A full face. The Darkness perhaps with a fraying wicker basket. Same burlap pants, perhaps canvas. Barefoot. I saw the Darkness wearing a wide-brim hat of some kind. A narrower, but no less full face. 

The thing is, with this story, is something that’s seen all the time in scripture. The authors knew that. Jesus would always tell allegorical stories to explain doctrine. He wouldn’t delve deep into the philosophies and principles that govern existence right of the bat. Followers and students and scholars can’t learn like that easily. Like feeding meat to a baby that can’t even chew. You start with something they know, whether that be a son running from home, only to return to his father’s house with open arms, or a Gardener and Winnower, fighting over the rules of a game. The Darkness is making contact with humanity, so they choose a medium in which they can process and chew, rather than shoving mathematical and ontological truths into their brains. A planter and a reaper.

My first read, I read both “characters” as male. In lore, the Traveler in particular, the Light is perceived or at least referred to as female. My second read, I couldn’t see the see the Gardener other than male, but I imagined the gardener as female. It was entertaining for my brain to imagine the two sex roles play opposite of what you expect. It’s left ambiguous, though, so it doesn’t really matter.

Getting back to their descriptions, I don’t imagine the fight between the Gardener and the Winnower with the First Knife as a great cosmic battle of gods. They were wrestling. Sweating and struggling. Shoving and straining. It’s not an attractive or visually grandiose fight. I imagined it more of a school yard scuffle, or a backstreet mugging. It’s not choreographed, its messy and frightening. Each interaction results in a different rule being broken, and a universe becoming permanent.

I had a girl come up to me in rehearsals and just listen to my cardistry. Shuffling, springing, faroing, the whole nine yards. She got a real kick out of it.

One of my friends pretended to not care about my hobby. I saw him practicing one handed cuts in math class and prepping games in the library with a table spread.