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These simple robes are sometimes reinforced with mithril, silver or golden threads. They are relatively easy to create, but require painstaking attention to detail in preparing the embroidery that runs through them. While they were originally favoured by magicians who tend mana sites, they are increasingly popular with magicians who focus their magic on spellcasting rather than ritual magic.

By invoking the simple charms woven into the fabric of the vestment, a magician can unwind the magical essence inside a piece of cyrstalised mana. The resulting energy is channelled through the precious metal embroidered into the robe, and infuses the wearer, restoring their personal ability to perform incantations.


  • Form: Robes.
  • Effect: Once per day you can consume a piece of crystallised mana to restore two points of spent personal mana..
  • Materials: Crafting a crystaltender's vestment requires no special resources. It takes two months to make one of these items.
The dance was demanding, but the dancer was strong. The Merchant Prince who had paid for it sat straight and sharp in her satin chair, her eyes knives which seemed to peel away the layers of metaphor and interpretation to reveal the magic beneath. Julianna knew her employer didn't trust her, and she knew why; the woman had hired Troupes to perform rituals for her before, and been stung by high charges for meagre effects. But Pride was her Virtue, and considerable was her skill, and Julianna had no intention of letting her employer down.

Her robe shone and glittered in the faint candlelight, and the wide hem spun around her as she twirled. When she stopped, suddenly, it took a moment to catch up. She ceased tracing the intricate knots in the air with which she drew out her own reserves of power, and in poetic form she poured that power into the ritual.

Then she palmed the first crystal into her hand, and traced the runes that defined her employer's request.

Lann, the Bargain; the deal came first.

Sular, the Ship, to be protected from disaster.

Hirmok, Dominion; in this case, control of the waves beneath.

Pallas, Wealth, for the fine silks and spices that the Merchant of Sarvos had invested so much in.

A crystal dissolved into the air with each of the runes; the swift sword-strokes of Lann; the slow and billowing arc of Sular; the twin-handed arch of Hirmok; the expansive Pallas, crowned with its point. Between each, a few seconds of knot-twirling, symbolically capturing the crystal's magic.

Two more and the game was made. This was Julianna's big break; no Merchant Prince rewarded success quite like this one. Or punished failure like her.

Naeve, Hunger. Ambition that defined her employer. In the back of her mind, a chill arose.

Queros, Influence. These goods would play some greater part in the Dead Reckoning than simply the money they would make.

Two runes. One crystal.

Julianna hesitated. Had she dropped one? There, it glinted on the floor by her drummer's foot. She couldn't stop the dance any more than she could stop a tide, but the realisation of her error made her hand stutter for a moment. She had perhaps five seconds before the power dispersed uselessly, and Naeve was hungry.

It came to her just as her hands clapped at the end of the knot. It would be unorthodox, but her employer didn't know that.

She leant back and blew on the crystal as she traced the outer fang of Naeve in the air, the gesture meaningless to the magic but good showmanship. She concentrated - this much she could do mid-ritual - and blew on it again as she drew it down again. It glowed for a second, and she pressed it into the robe in the centre of her abdomen. It dissolved at the touch.

The robe took the crystal, stripped it apart, and fed it straight to her soul. Without its axes and its vertices, it was unbound and unconstrained. Power flowed through her like lightning, making her shudder, and blossomed in her soul. Perhaps it was the dance, but it felt quite improper.

Quickly she tied a portion of that power into her mental image of Naeve before her chance was lost. The experience of using the new robe was exhilarating, but failing to perform the ritual would be a far worse comedown.

Queros she traced with no crystal in her trembling hands.

And then she stopped, and just for a moment her head dropped in genuine exhaustion.

And then she straightened up and ran a hand through her short hair, and adopted a pose of utmost poise. "Your ship will not sink," she said, and the Prince looked as if she believed her.