The Angel of Truth

No. You aren’t calling him that.

Pseudo Sage

You’re not sure if this Sage is fully solid; he’s able to move his hands quickly, cleverly, flipping a coin up into the air, tossing it between either hand, but the rest of him is still, settled.

“Salamander,” he says, watching the coin shine through the air, “is headstrong aggression—not strictly negative—strong passion, determination, the willingness to just Do Shit Your Way and not bend your principles.” He catches the coin and turns to look at you. “Very much like red gnosis.”

He shows you the coin, the vague suggestion of fire, of burning. “Undine is the flip side of that,” and he literally flips the coin, and on the other side, there’s an impression of water flowing. “It’s being able to easily adapt to any situation you find yourself in, and a willingness to just kind Do Whatever and go with the flow. Doesn’t strictly imply that you lack determination, just that things don’t have to be your way or the highway.”

The Sage goes back to tossing the coin around, eyes locked on it, and you absolutely don’t point out the Sage has just described himself, because you’re here to learn.

“Gnome is your sense of community and comradery,” he looks away, begins tossing around the coin again. “Willingness to go the extra mile to help people, especially ones you know and care about, always being ready to wingman for someone. It’s also being being The Friend That Will Help You Bury A Body, No Questions Asked And Exacting Brutral Revenge Upon Those Who’d Dare Harm Your Own.” He flashes the coin face-up at you, and the face shows veins of ore, precious gems, the earth itself.

“Jinn is the flip side of that.” When he flips the coin this time, you’re expecting it. Lightning cleaves the opposite face. “Nothing is above anything! All things are equal, especially under the laws. It’s about being able to look a situation with cold dispassionate eyes and make hard choices.”

He sits up and addresses you directly. “These can sort of sound similar,” he concedes, “but especially when expressed in mechanics these can feel very different. Gnome is: ‘if you attack my friend, I will gain a massive damage buff’ or ‘every so often I can jump in front of attacks that didn’t target me,’ with Jinn being more ‘if you take a specific action which I am now declaring, you’ll eat a huge penalty’ or ‘you are incapable of targeting one specific person for a bit’.”

You blink. You weren’t expecting the Sage to address you so clearly, but that makes sense. You nod, grateful for the clarification, even if it strips some of the mysticism away. Though—you watch, as the Sage, having made that clarification, flows back into his languid position—one Sage’s systematizing ontology can be another Sage’s game mechanic.

“Dryad,” he continues, “Is The Old Ways. Traditions, things and ideas that have been around forever, the natural order and foundations of the world. It’s also, when it needs to be more physical.” He shows you the coin, and there’s a tangle of trees and plants, for a given value of trees-and-plants. He seems almost bored by this one.

“Luna is the Strange, Unknown and Alien,” the Sage flips the coin, and the other face glows with color, strange and unimaginable and not the kind of thing you’d find struck in a coin face. “It’s anything that’s kind of weird and surreal and hard to get a grasp on, for out-of-context problems and solutions both that suddenly make themselves known.” He tosses the coin up again, and catches it, looking at the Luna-face. “There’s also an element of change in there, but I don’t think I personally tend to focus on that too much. It’s also both kinds of aliens and kinda explicitly Cosmic flavored when it needs to be.”

The Sage tilts his head back for the last two. He doesn’t sigh, but he takes a moment. The last two always seem to require at least a moment.

“Shade is about Secrets and Complexity. It’s about the Deep Lore that’s hidden out of sight, the things you don’t need to know for the world to keep spinning but are capable of leaning if you really set your mind to it. It’s also about creating elaborate Rube Goldberg machines to solve problems!” He laughs at something, and you think he enjoys this one very much. “‘Physically’ it’s very Dark-y—blast of dark magic, shadow tendrils, ink and portals.” He tosses the coin up and it disappears in a purple portal, only to reappear in his hand. He shows you the face of the coin, but it’s just an infinite hall-of-mirrors of portals, and he shrugs almost apologetically.

“Wisp on the other hand is about Truth and Directness,” he flips the coin, and it’s just a glowing white light and you wince at the sudden brightness. The Sage laughs. “Wisp is when you walk up to the Gordian Knot and go ‘yeah fuck all that’ and cut it with a sword instead of trying to untangle it. You don’t generally go out in search of Wisp things, because they’re all around you, staring you in the face. Accepting things for what they are now, rather than what the could be or had been. It’s about just doing one thing at a time, but doing it really well.” He considers for a moment, then adds, “or having High Cost, High Power skills. But Wisp is light, and not holy, even if it looks the same. It’s also glowing auras and smashing things.”

You nod, and the Sage seems satisfied enough with your comprehension. “Thank you for your time,” you tell him.

“Anytime. No problem,” the Sage says easily, disappearing the coin. His gaze has already moved on to something you can’t quite see. You take your leave.