Word: Lagan

lagan

 [lag-uhn] / ˈlæg ən /

noun

Law.

1. anything sunk in the sea, but attached to a buoy or the like so that it may be recovered.

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                Ben could feel his body going cold. The would on his side pulsed and the red color bled through the white cloth distressingly quickly. He wished he could have gone to a hospital, any kind of doctor’s office, really. But he did not have a choice. He had to get to the drop point before he passed out. Or likely worse.

                What really sucked was that the drop point was in the middle of the ocean. Which meant the only medical supplies he currently had access to was what first-aid kit was on the boat he had “borrowed”. He gritted his teeth as he regretted not having time to get it treated properly before having to get away.

                He winced as a particularly choppy set of waves made the boat lurch and jump, agitating his wound even more. He glanced at the package. It bounced a bit, but stayed put. That was good. If it went overboard before he got to the right place, everything would get a lot worse for the others.

                Luckily Ben was getting close. His vision was getting blurry and fading, but he could hold on just long enough to get to the right place. Sure enough, he saw it. A small reflector bobbing just above the water. The kind of thing that most people would just ignore. But for Ben, it represented the end of his current mission.

                He slowed the boat to a stop, thankful that the weather was nice. Ben gritted his teeth and got to work. His wound throbbed and blood started to leak out from beneath the bandage, but he had to do this. The boat was low enough to the water that he was able to grab the reflector and pull. Attached to it was a ring of floatation devices, hidden by the water. And attached to those was a long rope.

                Ben let out a groan of pain as he pulled. Not for the first time he wondered why the damn thing had to be so long. But eventually the rope came out of the water. A hook was tied to the end of it. A hook that he was able to use to attach the package to the small buoy-like assembly. The other members of his team would be able to retrieve it once the heat died down enough.

                Getting the package overboard was not easy though. The thing was heavy. It pulled at his side, and he could feel his limbs starting to go cold for reasons that had nothing to do with being wet. Blood had soaked completely through the bandage, and he had no time to change it. If there was enough material left to do so.

                His arms trembled as he dumped it. The rope followed, and the reflector buoy left the boat not long after. Ben looked overboard, holding his breath that it would work. That the package was not too heavy for the small assembly to remain floating. He only breathed when he saw the reflector emerge from the water.

                Ben limped to the steering column and start the boat back up. His vision started to go dark, but thought he could hold on. Maybe just long enough to get back to land. A grin crossed his face as the boat continued on its way.

Word: Plication

plication

[plahy-key-shuhn, pli-] / plaɪˈkeɪ ʃən, plɪ- /

Also plicature

noun

1. the act or procedure of folding.

2. the state or quality of being folded; a fold.

3. Surgery.

   1. the folding in and suturing of tucks, so as to tighten weakened or stretched tissue.

   2. the folding of an organ, as a section of the intestine, and the attaching of it to another organ or tissue.

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                Leslie was folding small paper stars. She said it was for some school event for her niece and nephew. Chris wondered why she was doing that instead of their parents, but he was grateful. It gave him a rare opportunity.

                He was currently looking at his phone. More specifically, the news. The city had a super hero, and he was currently comparing the costumed heroine with his girlfriend. And the more he looked at the two of them, the more sure he was. Now he just needed some kind of proof. And those small paper stars gave him the perfect opportunity to test his idea.

                “Hey, do you need any more paper?” He asked.

                Leslie did not answer right away. She was lost in the action of folding. “Hm?”

                He chuckled at the lackluster response. Instead of asking again, he acted. He slipped an extra something into a pack of origami paper and handed the thin papers to her.

                “Thanks.” She said, more out of habit than actually acknowledging his action.

                “No problem. If you need anything else, let me know.”

                She did not say anything. Her fingers simply kept going. More and more of the tiny paper ornaments covered the table as she worked. And then she reached his little surprise. Instead of the quiet rustle of paper being folded, the room was filled with the screech of metal being bent. Leslie stopped and actually looked at what she was doing. At the sheet of metal she had casually bent without even noticing. And then at the wide grin and sparkling eyes of her boyfriend.

                “I knew it!” Chris said triumphantly.

                “I…I don’t know what you think you’re thinking, but whatever it is, it’s wrong.” Leslie said quickly.

                Chris showed her the picture on his phone. “I don’t think I am. I think this is you. Am I right? I bet I’m right. I’m right, aren’t I.”

                “Uh…No. No you are not.” Her face was getting slightly flustered. He knew Leslie could tell a lie, but not if she was put on the spot so suddenly. She needed to think about her lies before she told them.

                “Hah! I knew it!”

                “Chris…Don’t say it. Don’t say what you’re about to.”

                “I’m dating a genuine super heroine! This is awesome!”

                Leslie groaned.

                “Oh, don’t worry, Les. I’m not dumb enough to go talking to anyone.” Chris said. “If I even hinted at knowing your secret identity, it’d put a massive target on my back. That’s something I can live without. So yeah, I’m not even going to even suggest that I know who’s behind the mask.”

                “You’d better not.” She said heavily. “What gave it away?”

                “Several things, most of which only I would know. First of all, your alter ego’s figure is identical to yours. And you do have a rather…distinct figure.” He said and moved his hands in a classic hourglass gesture.

                “I really hope my hips weren’t what gave me away.” She replied, giving him a dull expression.

                “No. If it was just that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Remember last week when you saved that cruise ship?”

                Leslie looked like she wanted to deny her involvement, but she sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

                “Well, when you were talking to the reporters, the way you answered the questions got my attention. It both looked and sounded like how you act when you’re forced to do something when you’re in a hurry. Which, considering that whole situation occurred about half an hour before your sister’s birthday party, was understandable.”

                Leslie did not say anything. A small smile came briefly to her face. “So it was something small that only you would know?”

                “Pretty much yeah.”

                “Well, I suppose if you were going to find out, that’s a good way for it to happen.” She took a deep breath. “So, what happens now?”

                “Well, I have about a hundred questions for you about your various deeds. And a bunch of ideas on how things will have to change.”

                She crossed her arms and gave him an amused smirk. “Oh really? And what kind of things are those?”

                “Well, for one thing, I’m definitely not opening any more pickle jars, miss ‘I can throw a school bus.’”

                Chris watched his super girlfriend burst into laughter. Yes, knowing her secret was going to make life a lot more interesting in all the best ways.  

Word: Impervious

impervious

[im-pur-vee-uhs] / ɪmˈpɜr vi əs /

adjective

1. not permitting penetration or passage; impenetrable.

   The coat is impervious to rain.

2. incapable of being injured or impaired.

   impervious to wear and tear.

3. incapable of being influenced, persuaded, or affected.

   impervious to reason; impervious to another's suffering.

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                The wall was a towering structure. Thirty feet tall and half as thick, and perfectly solid. No bricks, no mortar. The wall looked like it had been grown out of the ground instead of built. It was thanks to the many earth mages that had been employed in making the stones merge together around the thick metal core. It was also impressively sized in circumference. It had to enclose an area of land five miles across, well beyond what was needed for the town it enclosed. To give the place room to grow into a proper city was the reason given.

                It looked strong enough to last a thousand years, even without Miles doing anything to it. The problem was that the man in charge of the city wanted it to last longer than the sun. Miles was not sure he could do that.

                “Are you really sure you want me to do this? There are lots of better enchanters out there.” He asked.

                “And none of them are here. You are.” The city lord, Leon Hempwood, said. He was a towering man that looked almost as solid as the wall itself. “But even if they were, I would still put my hopes in you, Miles. I’ve seen your work. Your method is unique and has potential beyond anything I’ve ever seen. That’s why I want you to be the one to make this wall last longer than anyone living in its shadow.”

                The young enchanter was not sure if his city lord was serious or not. But he also knew better than to question the words of a man who could probably kill him by breathing too hard. Miles looked at the words he had written on the wall. The outline of his method of enchanting. Literary Enchanter was an odd class, but he thought it was decent.

                “But shouldn’t I have more time to practice? I mean, I’ve only ever done this with paper. I barely even know how to hold the chisel.”

                “You’ve been practicing stone masonry for two months. I’d say your stonework skill is at least Journeyman rank. That’s more than enough. Besides, we’ve set out so many skill boosters, mana recovery arrays and focus enhancers that even an apprentice could do the job as well as a master.” Leon said.

He waved his arm around. Just as he said, the area was littered with magical boosters that would likely give him the skills of a grandmaster Enchanter and Stonemason. If only for a few hours. And that was even before the additional materials that would be used the seal his work permanently.

“But I—“Miles tried to protest.

“No buts.” Leon said. “You can do this. Everyone that worked on this project believes it. Everyone here knows it. Now get up there and show the world what you can do.”

Miles swallowed a lump in his throat. He looked up at the words again.

This wall shall never fall.

No beast or man shall break it.

The stone shall be as a thing alive,

Any breaks that should be caused shall be healed, stronger than before.

Any that should break it should beware,

For the wall shall bring its wrath and vengeance upon those who do.

And then shall it be repaired, stronger than ever before.

Those who guard this wall shall share in its impervious might.

Those who are protected by it shall take comfort in its presence.

For this wall shall never fall.

Was it the best piece of writing out there? No. Absolutely not. Maybe if he was better at his job, Miles would have been able to make it better. Turn it into a real poem, or even a full story. But it was the best he could come up with after weeks of agonizing writing and re-writing. Maybe once he was more experienced, he could come back and make it better. But for now, he just had to do his job.

 He climbed up on the ladder, up to the first letter. Magical lights filled the area, and Miles felt his skills and magical power practically overflow. He knew exactly what to do. How to hold and use his tools to bring out the most in his work. How to fill each letter with his intent and mana to make the words real. He knew what was needed of him.

Miles set chisel to stone and got to work.