EPT
The language spoken by Harell is known as the Tiroth.* It is a tongue that differs from other languages in that it is not representative of meaning, but is meaning itself. As such, the Tiroth is less about communication (at least for mortals) and more about shaping existence. When using the Tiroth, one cannot lie nor hyperbolize nor speak metaphorically. If you say “I see a pink elephant” in the Tiroth, then you will see a pink elephant. If you say “I saw a pink elephant,” then as of that moment you have seen a pink elephant, even if no such experience existed prior to your statement.** If you say “There is a pink elephant” then so shall there be, and it will presumably be enjoying the new and sudden existence it recently came to possess (or perhaps now it always existed). The point is that what you say in the Tiroth defines reality, which makes the language, and the knowledge thereof, incredibly dangerous.
Luckily, intoning the words of the Tiroth is not the same as speaking the language. You cannot simply make and unmake the multiverse because you happened upon a spellbook and a pronunciation guide (though for safety’s sake, no such guides exist). One can only speak the Tiroth if in possession of the requisite amounts of knowledge, intention, and power. Of the three, knowledge is the easiest to obtain. Like all languages, the Tiroth must be learned, and it is a particularly complex language. Furthermore, the Tiroth is taught exclusively in the magical academies of Iris, and even then only to students who have already been subjected to rigorous tests and trials. One can come to learn the Tiroth through other means, but all of such methods exist on a legality spectrum ranging from “questionable” to “tantamount to genocide.”
The second key aspect to speaking the Tiroth is intention. Simply put, speaking the Tiroth requires you to really mean it. This may sound straightforward, but because the language manipulates the very fabric of existence, understanding what you’re saying enough to mean it becomes complex. Without fully considering the form, impact, and consequences of a sentence of the Tiroth, the arcane tongue will ring hollow. This requirement is why spells exist. Spells are specific sentences of the Tiroth that create predictable, reliable, and comprehensible effects. These effects can be explained in great detail to students of magic so that the intent necessary to speak the Tiroth comes more naturally. It’s also why open-ended spells such as Wish or True Polymorph can only be used by talented and extremely experienced spellcasters: the less you know about what’s about to happen, the more difficult using the language becomes. Higher-level spells tend to be more complex sentences because they must encompass more complex effects, although some such spells are very simple sentences that just require lots of magical power to make them work. Also, this reliance on sentence structure and construction means that most Wizards are real sticklers for grammar.
The third aspect needed to speak the Tiroth is power. When creating something from nothing (or reducing something to nothing), some kind of fuel must be consumed. For the gods, that energy comes from the forces within themselves, which, in turn, come from the faith that sustains them. The Animata, on the other hand, do not naturally possess such a font of magical energy. Luckily, it just so happens that the existence of the Animata and their free will created such a power source.*** Before mortals were born, the Fateweavers prepared a single tapestry to document the progress of the multiverse. When mortals introduced free will, Fate had to change. Instead of a single tapestry, Fate now had to weave many: one for each possible future, one for each undecided choice. When a choice is made, the half-completed works representing the other paths are discarded. The “garbage bin” of the Fateweavers is called the Null. The Null is a plane of unrealized futures and is brimming with the energy that would have accompanied the mortal should they have followed the path that is now severed from Fate. The Animata discovered the Null early in Iris’ history and learned to tap into its boundless power to invoke the magic that had previously been usable only by begging boons of the gods. To make a long story short and dramatic, the power required for mortal magic comes from devouring the energies of once-possible futures.**** Early magical education involves honing the senses and mental acuity necessary to connect with and draw power from the Null. This practice is safer for an initiate to learn than the Tiroth because without the structure of Harell’s language, the energy of the Null confers few benefits (save for a mild high).
If this magic system sounds familiar, then you’ve probably read a fantasy novel in the past 50 years. The concept of “true language” magic isn’t especially novel, but it is my favorite (runners up include Mistborn’s Allomancy and Sabriel’s Necromancy and Charter Magic). I love the idea of words being more than symbols, of words composing the very realities they describe. Our ability to communicate is one of the most important facets of our human existences, so it’s not much of a stretch to imagine words being even more important. In the small way I can call myself a writer, the notion that words are the building blocks of the world is gratifying and inspiring. I’d guess that at least a few other authors feel the same way. Books like Name of the Wind and Eragon influenced the development of the Tiroth, but my primary inspiration comes from Ursula Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea. I first encountered the system of “true language” magic (Old Speech to Le Guin) in her books and it entranced me. I loved the practice and control required to utilize the powers of Naming, as well as the moving symbolism in the act of sharing your true name. I could understand the horror of resurrecting the dead by speaking their names into the void and the fear of being hunter by a nameless evil. In my wildest hopes and dreams, the Tiroth and the magic players create with it could inspire the same flights of fancy that I enjoyed while reading those magical words.
* Because truth. Get it? Yay for bullshitting “rudimentary linguistics.”
** This might provide a lot of incentive for players to solemnly utter “I know kung fu” in the Tiroth.
*** It’s almost as if someone’s making this up as he goes.
**** These are the kinds of magic school revelations that should have you questioning why you’re doing what you’re doing.
You can read this magical explanation and a bunch of other stuff at the N3rd Dimension.
