Literomancers (LIT-er-uh-man-serz | / 'lɪt ər ə ˌmæn sərz /)

The Times, They Are A'Changin'

Literomancy has gone through waxing and waning cycles of power through the ages. It is believed to have been prominent during the Bronze Age, declined into the Middle Ages, risen again during the high Middle Ages and Renaissance, and to all appearances, come to an end sometime during the 1600s as the Age of Enlightenment developed.   This is thought to have coincided with the "awakening" of the artifact known as The Iron Tome. Some believe that Leonardo Da Vinci, himself a literomancer, may have viewed literomancers as a threat to the world, and "written" them out of existence when he held the Tome. Others say that literomancy did not decline until much later.   Whatever the case, for centuries, literomancy was greatly weakened. While Houses with totemic connections maintained their shapeshifting powers, that was the height of what literomancy was capable of for a long time.   For the most part, literomancy worked as modern Pagans and Witches believed magic did; by influencing probabilities. Magic took coincidental forms that were easily explained by happenstance. For example, if one wrote a charm to obtain more money, one might inherit some from a long-lost uncle, get a raise at work, or step on a $20 bill on the sidewalk.   The Great Houses fell into decline. Most nobles of the Great Houses grew up in working class families, just like everyone else. Furthermore, frequent cycles of pogroms against witches, scholars, and the like have cropped up repeatedly through history. In general, literomancers practiced their craft quietly and out of the public eye.   With the reawakening of the Iron Tome in late 2020, and the return of the Undead Horde, things have changed dramatically in a very short period of time. Literomancers who have never had a fraction of such power now find themselves capable of spectacular feats that echo fantasy literature and roleplaying games. In the past few years, literomancers have summoned meteors to strike the earth, learned to teleport, and even raised the dead.   Needless to say, the literomantic community is having some trouble adjusting to these changes. The temptation of such phenomenal power has gone to some heads. Others are deeply frightened by the extent of these capabilities and desperate to learn to manage them. Many of the older Great Houses, who have family histories that include being persecuted, preach caution. They try not to make overt displays of power, and when they must, they caution others around them not to rely on powers they are not certain of themselves.   The discovery -- or rediscovery -- of Magic Drain has cooled some of the hotter heads. Clearly, the human -- or Werebeast or other mortal sapient -- body has limits as to what it is able to tolerate in terms of raw magical power.   Still, with more literomancers appearing every year, and the more direct effects of the Iron Tome rewriting reality now being obvious to everyone, it is clear that literomancers will continue to need to make big changes in how they behave towards each other, and in the world at large.

What Makes a Literomancer?

All literomancers are writers, but not all writers are literomancers. So what makes a literomancer? What transforms writing into the magic of words?   No one can say for sure. One theory, based on the existence of literomantic families, is that it might be genetic. However, the spontaneous appearance of literomancers that has proliferated since The First Word War seems to contradict this.   Is it cultural? To some extent, the answer is probably yes. It's easier for those with a tendency to be literomancers to develop those tendencies in literomantic families, where they are surrounded by a support system.   But most literomancers think it's simply a manifestation of the inner spirit. One is, or is not, a literomancer. Sooner or later, especially with the pressures of the modern age, the magic will manifest.