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Postby Bobbybobby99 » Sun Aug 27, 2017 7:46 am

Okay! I talked about this on the Discord a little while back; I'm calling it 'Pledge', for now, since 'Pact' was already taken. Since it's really long, I've divided it into conveniently bite sized chunks.

There are eight aspects to a contract (also called oaths, vows, and pledges); the bond, the boon, the bane, the flame, the rain, the pain, the patron, and the period. The bond is the involved obligation, the boon is the directed positive effect while the bond is maintained, the bane is the directed negative effect when the bond is broken, the flame is the generalized positive effect as a side effect of the contract taking place, the rain is the randomized negative effect as a side effect of the contract taking place, the pain is the, well, pain (and, at higher tiers, *boredom*) felt by all of the involved participants, the patron is the magnitude of whatever you swear on, and the period is the duration of the obligation.

Within a contract, every aspect has to have a balanced 'tier'- tier is a rough measure of the power level of a bond. So you can't say 'By my pinky, I swear to keep my shoes tied- may a mosquito bite me should I fail, and may the strength of ten men aid me in this task'- bigger bonds need bigger boons and banes and flames and rains and so forth, and vise versa. An example of a balanced (and very potent) contract for someone with no affinities would be swearing 'By Jove (Patron), I swear to go to all lengths to protect my child, (Bond) till the sun dies and pigs fly (Period)! May lightning strike me down should I falter in this (Bane), and let my slightest movement carry me many miles if I so wish (Boon)!'.

And then their next moment would stretch on for hours of unimaginable torture and about a month of completely immobile-and-still boredom (Pain), and then they'd blink and find that they'd been turned into a magical (Flame) talking hummingbird or something (Rain), so, not all made of roses- it's really not a great idea to make any big contracts without having someone with rain and pain potential there.

Most people don't have any particular affinity (or 'potential') for any of the aspects of a contract, but a fair portion of the population does. Affinity is measured on a scale of 1 to 8; most people with [aspect]-potential are tier 1. You may either add or subtract your affinity for an aspect from its strength in a contract. People with a tier 2 affinity always also have another tier 1 affinity; people with a tier 3 affinity always have another tier 2 affinity and another tier 1 affinity, and so on. See the following for population percentages; about 1/8th of the general population total has some sort of affinity. Note that different houses (see next post) have different ratios of people with affinity.

Tier 1. 1/9th of the population.
Tier 2+Tier 1. 1/80th of the population.
Tier 3+Tier 2+Tier 1. 1/720th of the population.
Tier 4+Tier 3+Tier 2+Tier 1. 1/6400th of the population.
Tier 5+Tier 4+Tier 3+Tier 2+Tier 1. 1/57,600th of the population.
Tier 6+Tier 5+Tier 4+Tier 3+Tier 2+Tier 1. 1/512,000th of the population.
Tier 7+Tier 6+Tier 5+Tier 4+Tier 3+Tier 2+Tier 1. 1/4,608,000th of the population.
Tier 8+Tier 6+Tier 5+Tier 4+Tier 3+Tier 2+Tier 1. 1/40,960,000th of the population.

There are particular translation convention words used for people with particular potentials- people with bond-potential, for instance, are often called 'witches'. If someone has multiple potentials, they're referred to by the higher of the two. People mostly don't fuss too much about using correct terminology unless they're trying to be proper; calling a witcher a wizard is about as much of a faux-pass as using the word 'irregardless', or 'ain't'.

The bond: This is the basic, fundamental part of a contract; you swear to do something, and you either do it or don't do it, and if you do you get a boon and if you don't you get a bane. You can swear that you've *already* done something, like 'I've said only truth this conversation', and you can swear to do something contingent on someone else doing something, in which case the vow only kicks in when that contingency is met. Sticking to a bond, notably, is generally *easy*; doing it feels natural, and you can basically only break one intentionally or by being forced (which can be used to combat executive disfunction). You can add in a contingency that being forced to break the bond doesn't count as breaking it, but that reduces the power of it. People with bonding potential can kind of make contracts for other people- they can say 'do such and such and you'll get such and such, and if you falter such and such', and then if the wisher (that's the formal term) accepts they can make the deal with the other person's affinities.


Tier 1. I swear to wear my mother's locket whenever I can. I swear to work one or two hours a week at [insert profession or hobby or chores here]. I swear to do this task taking no more than two hours. I swear that I have already done something.
Tier 2. I swear to always wear my amethyst earring. I swear to work three or five hours a week at [insert profession here].
Tier 3. I swear to wear my favorite bright green sweater whenever I can. I swear to work six or ten hours a week at [insert profession here].
Tier 4. I swear to always wear my red riding hood. I swear to work twelve or twenty hours a week at [insert profession here], not including vacation days. I swear to love [insert person here].
Tier 5. I swear to always wear my obnoxious yellow top hat. I swear to work thirty or forty hours a week at [insert profession here], not including vacation days.
Tier 6. I swear to be silent in the daytime. I swear I'll be a vegetarian. I swear to never have sex. I swear to not maintain more than 22,500 bucks worth of material possessions. I swear to hate redheads. I swear to protect my sibling/cousin/father to all ends.
Tier 7. I swear to not maintain more than 15,000 bucks worth of material possessions. I swear to never tell a lie. I swear to uphold the Hippocratic Oath. I swear to believe that squirrels are messengers of god. I swear to protect my spouse to all ends. I swear to sleep twelve hours a day when possible.
Tier 8. I swear to not maintain more than 6,000 bucks worth of material possessions. I swear to never wear glasses (if you have poor vision). I swear to never speak. I swear to uphold the code of chivalry. I swear to complete pacifism except in self defense.
Tier 9. I swear to not maintain more possessions than the clothes on my back. I swear to remember nothing of my life. I swear to complete pacifism.
Tier 10. I swear to never open my eyes. I swear not to move my legs or my left hand. I swear to retrieve the Silmarils at all costs.

The boon: This is the reward you get for swearing; it's some positive effect, specified in the contract or left unspecified, that maintains so long as you don't break your word. Unspecified boons are stronger, but they're also unpredictable, and accordingly often unhelpful for the task at hand. Boons can be 'the cancellation of such and such bane', though this can lead to dangerous spirals. People with boon potential can be the recipient of a boon when they're otherwise uninvolved in a deal. If someone with boon affinity increases their bond level above ten for a contract, they get a number of tier 10 boons equal to 2^tier-10. Aging is one of the hard limits of the system; you can't interfere with it.


Tier 1. Immunity to hangovers. You look better in portraits. You can telekinetically shovel dirt. You can control your own fertility at will. You always smell like you're wearing perfume. You're immune to a specific disease. You have sea legs.
Tier 2. You can do arbitrarily complex arithmetic instantly, in your head. Andalite-esque mental timing. Resistance to altitude sickness. You never have to use the restroom. You're heavily resistant to a specific poison. You can either read, speak in, or understand a new language.
Tier 3. You can switch sexes with about half a minute of meditation. Claws, comparable to a cat's. Ambidexterity. You always know which way is north. You can detect nearby gold or silver. You can speak normally underwater. You're slightly prettier. You know a new language.
Tier 4. Ability to see in ultraviolet or infrared. You only need one meal a month. You have a photographic memory. You're mildly more artistically or musically talented. Immunity to disease.
Tier 5. Double-jointedness. Gliding, at about 16 miles per hour. A lapdog's sense of smell. You can heal relatively minor diseases with a touch, once per day. You don't need to sleep. You don't need to breath. Perfect balance. Immunity to poison. You can speak with plants. You heal twice as fast. Danger sense. You can see normally invisible things. You could win beauty pageants.
Tier 6. Flight, at about 12 miles per hour. You can run thrice as fast. A bloodhound's sense of smell. Immunity to mental or physical curses. Surface level mind reading of people you can see. You can regrow your limbs, much like a starfish (though without any cloning). You can speak with animals. You heal fifty times as fast. You can walk on air and water. Invisibility, but your reflection is visible. Omniglotalism.
Tier 7. Flight, at about 80 miles per hour. Deeper sight-range mind reading. You can telepathically talk and share senses with people at range. You heal as much in a minute as most people do in two days. Your shadow is animated, and you can spy through it.
Tier 8. Flight, at about 640 miles per hour. Ability to turn insubstantial and invisible. You can act and think at twice the normal rate. You're immortal (to everything but aging), and heal fifty times as fast. You can teleport, with a couple minutes meditation for longer distances. Peak human dexterity or strength or health.
Tier 9. You can regenerate within moments from virtually everything, and never tire. Instant, long range, parameter based teleportation. You can grow twenty feet tall, and proportionally strong and durable.
Tier 10. You can regenerate within half-seconds from virtually everything, and never tire. Instant, potentially trans-dimensional, parameter based teleportation. You act and think six times as fast.

The bane: This is the penalty you get if you break your word; it's a negative effect that comes into play at that time. There are two types; 'unknown' banes, and specified banes. Unknown banes happen when you don't specify a bane in the contract; they're generally milder than specified banes have to be, but they're also unpredictable. It lasts approximately for the intended duration of the oath, restarted. People with bane-potential can take the banes of others, such that they're harmed if the other person breaks their word, and reduce the required severity of those banes.


Tier 1. Your hair turns blue. You always talk in the third person. Trouble remembering names. Your sexuality changes. Your menses is heavy and especially uncomfortable. You're incapable of deliberately meeting someone's eyes. You lose about two thousand bucks worth of material goods. You acquire some minor compulsive habit when stressed. You can't float in water.
Tier 2. Relatively minor and infrequent headaches. Minor colorblindness. You feel a compulsion to donate about 5% of your income to random beggars. Your skin turns green.
Tier 3. Turned into a sociopath. Mild flashbacks in stressful situations. A moderate phobia of the number thirteen. Need ten hours of sleep a night. Mild clumsiness. Anosmia. You have to sing everything you say. You're less attractive, in a hard-to-put-your-finger-on kind of way.
Tier 4. You acquire a stutter. You frighten nearby animals terribly. Severe, common nightmares when you sleep. Nearsightedness. Severe difficulty with lying. Bad luck mostly manifesting in trivial yet deeply annoying ways. You see the world in monochrome.
Tier 5. Mental block against disobeying the law in all but extreme situations. Severe insomnia. Inability to feel joy or anger or fear or disgust or... Severe clumsiness. Mild bipolar disorder. Lack of function in one eye.
Tier 6. Severe epilepsy. Hemophilia. Paraplegia. *Severe* phobia of the dark. Aging at eight times the normal rate (if you're fairly young). Inability to heal naturally. Muteness. Thousands of nearly invisible eyes follow you around, reporting whatever you do to the people you'd least like to hear it.
Tier 7. Blindness. *Bad* bad luck- if something can go wrong, it will. Agonizing chronic pain that pops up all day thrice a week. You're constantly harassed by a group of prankish fae.
Tier 8. Agonizing *constant* chronic pain, that goes away only when you sleep. The strength and dexterity of a toddler. The mind of a five year old. Blind *and* deaf *and* lacking the senses of touch and taste and smell (but still capable of using telepathy). Some effect that'll leave you dead in three months if the bane isn't countered.
Tier 9. Turned into a talking frog. Completely paralyzed. Some effect that'll leave you dead in three days if the bane isn't countered.
Tier 10. Instantly lethal effects, like being struck by lightning or hit by a meteor.

The flame: As a result of overseeing a contract, there's a sort of generalized residue left behind; a fingerprint from the universe handling things personally, metaphorically speaking. Someone involved in the contract can absorb that residue, measured in 'clout', and use it for at-will magical effects for the intended duration of the contract (see later section for further details). People with flame potential can gain clout from contracts they are otherwise uninvolved in, and steal clout from the enchantments of others.


Tier 1. 1 clout.
Tier 2. 2 clout.
Tier 3. 4 clout.
Tier 4. 8 clout.
Tier 5. 16 clout.
Tier 6. 32 clout.
Tier 7. 64 clout.
Tier 8. 128 clout.
Tier 9. 256 clout.
Tier 10. 512 clout.

The rain: In addition to positive metaphorical-universe-fingerprints, there are also negative ones, sometimes also referred to as 'the graze of the hammer of the heavens as it nails the Honest to their geas'. These give someone (designated beforehand) who is involved in the barter process a semi-random negative effect, proportional to the power of (and lasting as long as) the contract, unless there's someone with rain-potential nearby; they can channel the random ailment into a specific one. It's often best thought of as a sort of 'malovelent genie' type thing, when undirected- oh, you're immortal now but you can't feel joy, or similar, though it's also often whimsical.


Tier 1. More minor than a tier 1 bane; your hair might acquire pink highlights, or you might lose or break a thousand bucks worth of material possessions, or your religious beliefs might be weakened, or you might acquire an allergy to a rare substance, or you might become infertile.
Tier 2. Equivalent to a tier 1 bane.
Tier 3. Equivalent to a tier 2 bane.
Tier 4. Equivalent to a tier 3 bane.
Tier 5. Equivalent to a tier 4 bane.
Tier 6. Equivalent to a tier 5 bane.
Tier 7. Equivalent to a tier 6 bane.
Tier 8. Equivalent to a tier 7 bane.
Tier 9. Equivalent to a tier 8 bane (but never of the imminently lethal variety).
Tier 10. Equivalent to a tier 9 bane (but never of the imminently lethal variety).

The pain: Swearing something *hurts*; not just in the sense that an acceptable rain or bane is 'chronic pain', in the sense that finishing the oath turns the world into a temporarily very unpleasant place. With minor contracts, it's pretty, well, minor, practically ignorable, but it pretty quickly escalates. The moment after swearing sort of dilates; you subjectively experience a ton of (painful) time within an instant, formally called a 'moment of moment', and informally called 'the click'. The pain feels like something symbolically appropriate to the involved oath, and fades. People with pain-potential can take the pain of someone else's swearing for them, and reduce it; you really don't want to swear anything major without someone with pain potential on hand.


Tier 1. About as much as a barely-triangle for one fifth of a second.
Tier 2. About as much as a triangle for one second.
Tier 3. About as much as a square for one second, then sixteen seconds of triangles.
Tier 4. About as much as a pentagon for one second, then sixteen seconds of squares, then a minute of triangles.
Tier 5. About as much as a hex for one second, then sixteen seconds of pentagons, then a minute of squares, then sixteen minutes of triangles.
Tier 6. About as much as a star for one second, then sixteen seconds of hexes, then a minute of pentagons, then sixteen minutes of squares, then an hour of triangles.
Tier 7. About as much as an *evil* for one second (your mental capacity briefly expands to accommodate this), then sixteen seconds of stars, then a minute of hexes, then sixteen minutes of pentagons, then an hour of squares, then sixteen hours of triangles.
Tier 8. About as much as a niner for one second (your mental capacity briefly expands to accommodate this), then sixteen seconds of evils, then a minute of stars, then sixteen minutes of hexes, then an hour of pentagons, then sixteen hours of squares, then a day of triangles.
Tier 9. About as much as a tenner for one second (your mental capacity briefly expands to accommodate this), then sixteen seconds of niners, then a minute of evils, then sixteen minutes of stars, then an hour of hexes, then sixteen hours of pentagons, then a day of squares, then sixteen days of triangles.
Tier 10. About as much as a hypothetical elevener for one second (your mental capacity briefly expands to accommodate this), then sixteen seconds of tenners, then a minute of niners, then sixteen minutes of evils, then an hour of stars, then sixteen hours of hexes, then a day of pentagons, then sixteen days of squares, then a month of triangles.

The patron: You generally have to designate a 'patron' for a contract; you're bargaining with the universe, but you need an intermediary. The involved patron can be yourself (at the weakest), an inanimate object, another person, or a deity; only the patron of a contract can release you from that contract. Patrons can also be things like 'my virginity' or 'my henceforth un-self-spoken name'; that is, actions. People with patron-potential count more if used as the patron of someone else's oath.


Tier 1. Some simple physical action you can perform.
Tier 2. Some elaborate physical action you can perform, or an object worth less than ten bucks.
Tier 3. An object worth less than a hundred sixty bucks.
Tier 4. An object worth less than 2,600 bucks, or another person.
Tier 5. An object worth less than 40,000 bucks, or another person with patron potential, or a group of other people exceeding 16 in number (who must be unanimous).
Tier 6. An object worth more than 40,000 bucks, or a group of other people exceeding 260 in number, or a group of people with patron potential exceeding 16 in number (who must be unanimous).
Tier 7. A demigod, or a group exceeding 4,000 in number, or a group of people with patron potential exceeding 260 in number (who must be unanimous).
Tier 8. A lesser god, or a group of people with patron potential exceeding 4,000 in number (who must be unanimous).
Tier 9. An intermediate god.
Tier 10. A greater god.

The period: This is 'how long the contract lasts'; it's pretty straightforward. Most people have to base their oath lengths on astronomical events- 'the next full moon', 'dusk', 'a year and a day', 'till the sun is dust and the stars are rust', etc. People with period-potential can base their oaths on more mundane, less unchangeable time periods, like 'when the milkman comes in the morn', though doing so can be dangerous (if, for instance, the milkman dies). The duration-for-strength-purposes in those cases is the *expected* duration of the contract. Contracts that involve some sort of task completion never extend past the completion of that task.


Tier 1. A minute (rounding).
Tier 2. Five minutes (rounding).
Tier 3. An hour (rounding).
Tier 4. Five hours (rounding).
Tier 5. A day (rounding).
Tier 6. Five days (rounding).
Tier 7. A month (rounding).
Tier 8. Five months (rounding).
Tier 9. A year (rounding).
Tier 10. Permanent (or close enough).

Clout comes in two forms; *raw* and *purled*. Raw clout is the stuff you get from contracts; pulled clout is the stuff you get when you shape that into an enchantment, conjuration, charm, or curse. You can unfurl something that you purled just about instantly, but purling clout takes one second per clout that you're purling.

Enchantments are pretty bread and butter; they can turn a regular object into an enchanted object, imitating about 160 bucks worth of modern consumer goods per clout purled into the enchantment. Larger objects are easier to enchant than smaller ones; enchanting something into an object half the weight of its modern-consumer-counterpart costs twice as much clout.

Conjurations are also pretty simple; they let you outright conjure up to a 160 bucks worth of non-technological items, 'non-technological' being roughly defined as 'invented no later than 1400 CE'. You do have to conjure things within air, in a space that 'belongs to you' metaphysically (a designation that generally corresponds to legal ownership), which generally prevents perforation tricks. It goes poof when the clout purled into it fades, *unless* it's been heavily dispersed or chemically changed (such as if eaten, evaporated, planted, or similar).

Charms are where things gets tricky; they function a lot like giving yourself and/or others very minor, very flexible, temporary boons (and most boons are already pretty minor). It takes about 24 clout to purl a charm granting a benefit equivalent to a rank 1 boon, 48 clout to do something equivalent to a rank 2 boons, 96 clout for a rank 3 boon, and so on. One clout is enough to create a very *small* personally accessible pocket dimension, enough for about 50 grams of stuff, or cover the back of your neck with scales to prevent sunburn, or let yourself produce a single watt worth of electric current/sparks/a candle flame, or so forth.

Curses are a lot like charms, but negative; they let you give someone some very, very minor ailment, or other disagreeable thing. 24 clout let you imitate a rank 1 bane (pertinently, that's enough to make someone have a crush on you), 48 clout let you imitate a rank 2 bane, and so forth. One clout would let you turn a lock of someone's hair gray, or make them almost imperceptibly more vain, or a little less fertile, or similar.
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Re: Pledge.

Postby Bobbybobby99 » Sun Aug 27, 2017 8:01 am

Contents of this section: everybody is a shapeshifter! There's a caste system! 'The three little pigs' would be a plausible news story and 'he was delivered by the stork' would refer to a stork midwife! They have weird measurement systems!

Shapeshifting and naming
Calling someone a 'big bad [clan name]' is a serious insult, along the lines of the N-word. The standard mode of address is 'first name' 'clan name' 'house name'. So, for instance, Peter Cottontail Rabbit.

Shapeshifting regularly is rejuvenating, such that the average person lives for about eighty Pledge years, rather than eighty earth years.

Most people have five forms; New (human with one minor animal trait), Crescent (human with one major animal trait and three minor animal traits), Quarter (human with two major animal traits and five minor animal traits), Gibbous (humanoid animal), Full (animal with one minor human trait). Major traits are like 'I have wings', or 'I have a crocodile head', or 'I have the knees down of a goat', minor traits are like 'I have slit pupils' or 'I have cat ears or a cat tail', or 'My right hand is instead a bird talon'. Gibbous forms and up have fully compatible, ahem, reproductive anatomy, though often differently sized.

Being in new form is socially equivalent to wearing a burqa, being in crescent form is like wearing a regular outfit, being in quarter form is like going shirtless, being in gibbous form is like being in your underwear, being in full form is like being completely naked and most people don't do it in public unless they're unwise college students or porn stars.

Tribes and houses and clans
Royal (0.5%), Noble (1.5% each), Bourgeois (4.5% each), Common (9.75% each), Ignoble (0.5%).

Tribes are like castes, houses are kind of- subcultures? In the same tone you'd say 'I'm a New Yorker' you'd say 'I'm of House Hummingbird'- and clans are individual families. Houses are distinguished by their percentage-of-potentials; people born to Royal houses almost always end up with one affinity or another (about 79 times out of 80), people born to Noble houses commonly end up with one affinity or another (about 1 time in 2), people born to Bourgeois houses often end up with one affinity or another (about 1 time in 5), people born to Common houses uncommonly end up with one affinity or another (about 1 time in 16), and people born to Ignoble houses only rarely end up with one affinity or another (about 1 time in 80).

(The above applies to all ranks of affinity; if you look at above average affinity, the skew is even more visible. About 1/71th of the population is tier 2 or above; people born to Royal houses are tier 2+ about seven times in ten, people born to Noble houses are tier 2+ about one time in nine, people born to Bourgeois houses are tier 2+ about one time in fifty, people born to Common houses are tier 2+ about one time in 220, people born to Ignoble houses are tier 2+ about one time in a thousand. Ranks above tier 2 aren't similarly distinguished- if you were in a room with a tier 2+ noble and a tier 2+ ignoble, you wouldn't be particularly *more* surprised to find that either of them were tier 3 or 4 or whatever.)

In terms of social status and general wealth, Ignoble houses are like the homeless, Common houses are like households that earn 43,000 a year, Bourgeoise houses are like households that earn 150,000 a year, Noble houses are like households that earn 245,000 a year, and Royal houses are like households that earn 500,000 a year. This is relative, not based on actual wealth compared to earth- people in general are substantially better off than on earth, because of long life spans and magic, in spite of the low tech level.

The so called 'tribes' are grouped by tribal tendency towards affinity in a particular aspect; about half of those belonging to a tribe with any affinities will have their tribe's affinity as their highest.

Houses and tribes list
Mammals. Bond. Office and administration support (22,000). Known for their: Speed. Colors: Brown and green.
~ Teller, Accounting or auditing clerk, [Insert word here] clerk, Courier, Postal service worker, Meter reader, Dispatcher, Secretary, Data entry worker, Typist, Proofreader, Desktop publisher, Recordkeeper, Order filler, Sampler, Weigher, Other assistant.
Royal house: Koalas.
Noble house: Bats.
Noble house: Platypus.
Bourgeois house: Beavers.
Bourgeois house: Shrews.
Bourgeois house: Echnidae.
Bourgeois house: Sloths.
Common house: Anteaters.
Common house: Squirrels.
Common house: Hedgehogs.
Common house: Armadillos.
Common house: Rabbits.
Common house: Kangaroos.
Common house: Moles.
Common house: Monkeys.
Ignoble house: Rats.

Carnivores. Boon. Personal care and service, Sales and related services (21,400). Known for their: Charisma. Colors: Red and yellow.
~ Animal trainer, Casino operator, Usher, Locker room attendant, Undertaker, Barber, Concierge, Travel guide, Daycare worker, Fitness trainer, Cashier, Salesperson, Travel agent, Advertising agent, Insurance agent, Telemarketer, Real estate flipper, Landlord, Sales clerk, Manicurist.
Royal house: Great cats.
Noble house: Pandas.
Noble house: Foxes.
Bourgeois house: Walruses.
Bourgeois house: Skunks.
Bourgeois house: Seals.
Bourgeois house: Otters.
Common house: Housecats.
Common house: Bears.
Common house: Raccoons.
Common house: Badgers.
Common house: Hyenas.
Common house: Mongooses.
Common house: Weasels.
Common house: Dogs.
Ignoble house: Wolves.

Herbivores. Bane. Military, Protective services, Installation, Maintenance, Repair, Transportation (20,000). Strength. Colors: Black and brown.
~ Solider, General, Firefighter, Bailiff, Fish and game warden, Police officer, Sheriff, Detective, Life guard, Security guard, Mechanic, Installer, Rigger, Locksmith, Pilot, Bus driver, Chauffeur, Flight attendant, Crane operator, Trucker, Packager, Ship captain, Sailor.
Royal house: Elephants (and sirenia).
Noble house: Whales.
Noble house: Deer.
Bourgeois house: Horses.
Bourgeois house: Sheep.
Bourgeois house: Dolphins.
Bourgeois house: Giraffes.
Common house: Pigs.
Common house: Goats.
Common house: Cow.
Common house: Rhino.
Common house: Camel.
Common house: Donkey.
Common house: Antelopes.
Common house: Llamas.
Ignoble house: Hippos.

Birds. Flame. Healthcare, Health tech, Healthcare support, Cleaning (18,000). Known for their: Health. Colors: White and red.
~ Chiropractor, Dentist, Physician, Surgeon, Podiatrist, Physical therapist, Veterinarian, Hygienist, Nurse, Pharmacist, Athletic trainer, Psychiatrist, Medical assistant, Medical aide, Phlebotomist, Janitor, Maid, Exterminator, Landscaper, Lawn mowing person, Tree trimmer.
Royal house: Eagles (and hawks and falcons).
Noble house: Penguins.
Noble house: Owls.
Bourgeois house: Waterfowl.
Bourgeois house: Hummingbirds.
Bourgeois house: Cranes (and flamingos).
Bourgeois house: Tinamous.
Common house: Rheas.
Common house: Fowl.
Common house: Doves (and pigeons).
Common house: Songbirds.
Common house: Vultures.
Common house: Woodpeckers (and hornbills).
Common house: Parrots.
Common house: Waterbirds (and kegu and grebes).
Ignoble house: Corvids.

Reptiles. Rain. Management, Business and Finance, Legal, Governance (18,400). Known for their: Wisdom (aka perceptiveness and willpower). Colors: Violet and black.
~ CEOs, Marketing manager, Fundraising manager, [Insert anything here] manager, Legislator, Education administrator, Agent, Cost estimator, Retail purchaser, Lawyer, Actuary, Accountant, Auditor, Credit analyst, Revenue agent, Judge, Politician, Magistrate, Mediator, Hearing officer.
Royal house: Pythons.
Noble house: Seaturtles.
Noble house: Chameleons.
Bourgeois house: Salamanders.
Bourgeois house: Turtles.
Bourgeois house: Geckos (and anoles).
Bourgeois house: Boas.
Common house: Snappers.
Common house: Skinks.
Common house: Toads.
Common house: Frogs.
Common house: Tortoises.
Common house: Moniters.
Common house: Lizards.
Common house: Vipers.
Ignoble house: Alligators (and crocodiles).

Fish. Pain. Computers, Engineering, Science, Education, Training, Library (17,100). Known for their: Intelligence. Colors: Blue and white.
~ Statistician, Software developer, Architect, Cartographer, Engineer, Drafter, Engineering technician, Zoologist, Astronomer, Chemist, Physicist, Sociologist, [Insert field here] Technician, Elementary school teacher, High school teacher, Gym teacher, Professor, Librarian.
Royal house: Seahorses.
Noble house: Rays.
Noble house: Scorpionfish.
Bourgeois house: Wrasses (and percomorpharia).
Bourgeois house: Carp (and koi, goldfish, and minnows).
Bourgeois house: Tetras (and pirañas).
Bourgeois house: Cichlids.
Common house: Salmon (and trout).
Common house: Bass (and misc. perciformes).
Common house: Sharks.
Common house: Lungfish.
Common house: Tunas (and mackerel).
Common house: Catfish.
Common house: Gobies.
Common house: Cod (and neoteleostei).
Ignoble house: Eels.

Arthropods. Patron. Farming, Fishing, Forestry, Construction, Extraction, Production, Craft, Sex work (18,200). Known for their: Dexterity. Colors: Green and violet.
~ Farmer, Rancher, Farm laborer, Agricultural inspector, Fisherman, Hunter, Logger, Animal breeder, Gardener, Construction laborer, Stone mason, Carpenter, Electrician, Glazier, (Large scale) Painter, Roofer, Driller, Factory worker, Baker, Butcher, Tailor, Launderer, Jeweler, Stripper, Prostitute.
Royal house: Butterflies (and moths).
Noble house: Bees (and wasps).
Noble house: Dragonflies.
Bourgeois house: Stickbugs.
Bourgeois house: Centipedes (and pillbugs).
Bourgeois house: Mantises.
Bourgeois house: Arachnids.
Common house: Grasshoppers (and crickets).
Common house: Aphids.
Common house: Shrimp (and barnacles).
Common house: Cicadas.
Common house: Beetles.
Common house: Ants.
Common house: Lacewings.
Common house: Crabs (and lobster).
Ignoble house: Flies.

Invertebrates. Period. Community and social service, Arts, Design, Sports, Media, Food preparation (17,600). Known for their: Skill (aka idiosyncratic talents). Colors: Yellow and blue.
~ Therapist, Counselor, Social worker, Priest, Artist, Designer, Florist, Actor, Director, Professional athlete, Coach, Dancer, Musician, Announcer, Reporter, Editor, Writer, Technical writer, Translator, Photographer, Talk show host, Cook, Chef, Bartender, Waitress, Barista, Fast food worker.
Royal house: Jellyfish.
Noble house: Octopods.
Noble house: Starfish.
Bourgeois house: Squids.
Bourgeois house: Worms (oligochaeta).
Bourgeois house: Oysters.
Bourgeois house: Corals.
Common house: Nudibranches.
Common house: Cucumbers.
Common house: Mussels.
Common house: Clams.
Common house: Anemones.
Common house: Chitons.
Common house: Snails.
Common house: Slugs.
Ignoble house: Urchins.

Social effects of magic
Metal, mundane plants, food, and drink aren't scarce- metal because conjured metal can be melted down and cooled and thereafter rendered mundane and non-vanishing, plants because seeds can be conjured and planted are thereafter rendered mundane, food because it can be eaten and rendered mundane, and drink because it can be used or drunk and by the time it fades it'll generally have sufficiently dispersed or evaporated to be mundane. This is naturally a large plus for the general standard of living, and for the amount of steel/gold/silver whatevers going around.

Technological progress in general is *very very slow*, mostly because there's very little incentive to progress very much from 'medieval', when you can get all the magical modern conveniences you want for the price of a few middling contracts *and* binding contracts make war much less likely and less advantaged by tech development (if you develop a slightly better sword making technique during wartime you get laughed at by paracarpets shooting lightning staves) *and* by a general culture that doesn't much respect mundane innovation. The general tech level is around Roman, though conjured objects are around 1400-CE-an.

5 carats in a gram, 16 grams in a lot, 5 lots in an ounce (80 grams) 16 ounces in a pound (400 grams), 5 pounds in a dharni (4.4 pounds), 16 dharni in a talent (70.5 pounds), 5 talents in a double-sack (352.5 pounds), 16 double-stacks in a triple-ton (5640 pounds), 5 triple-tons in a keel (12.6 tons), 16 keels in a shipload (202 tons), 5 shiploads in a division (1007 tons), 16 divisions in a flotilla (16,100 tons), 5 flotilla in a fleet (80,600 tons), 16 fleets in a navie (12,900,000 tons).

5 atoms in a second, 16 seconds in a jiffy, 5 jiffies in a minute (80 seconds), 16 minutes in a moment (21 minutes), 5 moments in an hour (1.8 hours), 16 hours in a shift (28.5 hours), 5 shifts in a day (6 days), 16 days in a week (94.8 days), 5 weeks in a month (474 days), 16 months in a season (20.8 years), 5 seasons in a year (104 years), 16 years in a phase (1660 years), 5 phases in a cycle (8306 years), 16 cycles in an age (132,900 years). Months are lunar phases, years are revolutions around the sun, cycles are mystical global warming/global cooling events, ages are convenient periods that you can mark time up from. Yes, this is super weird and confusing.

Wood season is about March 4th to May 16th, Fire season is about May 16th to July 28th, Earth season is about July 28th to October 9th, Metal season is about October 9th to December 21st, Water season is about December 21st to March 4th. Other translations would be 'spring, summer, autumn, fall, winter'.

In our equivalents, Wood shift is about 6:48 AM to 11:36 AM, Fire shift is 11:36 AM to 4:24 PM, Earth shift is 4:24 PM to 9:12 PM, Metal shift is 9:12 PM to 2:00 AM, Water shift is 2:00 AM to 6:48 AM. Other translations would be 'morning', 'afternoon', 'evening', 'night', and 'before-morning'.

5 ligne in an inch, 16 inches in a foot'n'third, 5 feet'n'thirds in an ald (6.7 feet), 16 alds in a chain (107 feet), 5 chains in a furlong (533 feet), 16 furlongs in a mile (1.6 miles), 5 miles in a yojana (8 miles), 16 yojana in a daywalk (129 miles), 5 daywalks in a travel (646.5 miles), 16 travels in a rove (10,340 miles), 5 roves in a wend (51,700 miles), 16 wends in a lunar (827,500 miles), 5 lunars in a meteor (4,137,000 miles), 16 meteors in a solar (66,200,000 miles).
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