Being a self insert can be quite boring at times

Honestly, ending up in a psychedelic void seemed like a promising thing to me. I mean, normally it'd be a terrible sign, but I don't do drugs. Like, any. No pot, no alcohol, definitely nothing harder. So, given my fascination with jumpchains and cyoa's, I suspected that good things were in store for me. Or I was dreaming, but I preferred to hope for the former.
Cough. "Hey kid. You planning to pay attention any time soon?"
I'd like to say that I didn't scream like a little girl, but that would be a lie. Directly to my right there was a man. And you know that cliche about doubting the Divinity of the ROB? Haha, yeah no. As soon as I saw him I had absolute certainty that he was a god. And that knowledge removed any possibility of me speaking.
"Ah, good. Now then. I would like to offer you the opportunity to alpha test a new system for me. Not if you agree."
I instantly nodded. There was no way I was turning this down.
" Excellent! Glad to work with you. Now, I know you've heard of WAIFU CATALOG. Bad news, they're real. Good news, they're dead. You'll be testing what I've made of their system after all the evil has been ripped out of it. So really only the talents and defences. But you have free choice of where you end up and who you are."
He slid a sheet of paper in front of me.
"You'll have one hundred points to spend, just tap done when you're ready to go. I'll read your mind and send you off. Anyways, I'm out."
He disappeared somehow. No sparkles, no light, just… not there anymore.
So I looked at the sheet and made my choices.
Body, martial, wild, science and soul talents for forty, with mind, soul and destiny for a total of one hundred.
As I tapped done, I focused on the Belgariad. It was time to become awesome.

A/N
This is mostly me getting there idea on paper. I promise that further chapters will be longer. Constructive feedback is welcome.

 

Living in Faldor's Farm is such a relief. Like, to an enormous extent. But, well, it can get a bit boring at times. As in, most of the time, currently. I'm sure it'll become much better as I get older and can actually, y'know, not be stuck with my Uncle all day, everyday.
Gotta say though, Colors Dude made my life so much simpler due to my family. Uncle Durnik is a pretty cool guy. Solemn? Sendarian? Oh yeah. But funny nonetheless. I'd really grown to like him. Unlike others.
My peers were… not awe inspiring. Not in the least. Zubrette was a little bitch in the making. She was such a pain to deal with, given that she was constantly doing her best to be in charge. Garion hadn't had the opportunity to really grow and develop his character yet, Aunt Pol was constantly watching over him and making sure nothing happened to him. Any that made it hard to have fun with him (cough make trouble cough). The other two boys I really didn't hold much of an opinion on. Primarily because none of us found the others interesting. So I mostly ignored them.
Body talent though? Holy shit. It was crazy. On one hand, I constantly ate like a starving teenager. On the other hand though, I was doing fantastic, physically. I probably had twenty pounds on Garion, in just pure muscle. It was glorious.

Time passed. Seasons changed. I got bigger. Things changed. When I turned six Uncle Durnik had me start helping in his forge. Not having me forge or anything, that would have been insane, but doing tasks like fetching water or coal, moving around the iron. The whole time I was in there with him, he kept up a running stream of commentary on what he was doing and why.
The most surprising part was how easy it was. Not the physical parts, I'd expected those to be fairly simple. What startled me was how easily I understood blacksmithing. I picked up on the basics very, very quickly. Unnaturally so.
It wasn't until Uncle Durnik was commissioned to make a sword for one of Faldor's guards that it clicked. Martial talent. It wasn't just how to fight, but also how to lead. And, apparently, how to equip your army.
Oh, I still picked up how to make other things, but weapons? I KNEW weapons. Well, as best as I could without actually ever making one. Uncle Durnik didn't think six was an appropriate age to actually be in front of the fire, pounding steel.
Of course, this new knowledge of what martial talent included did have one additional effect. I began playing 'swordfight' with the three stooges. And I think I may have caused my first really major change. You see, all of us started out as scrubs. I quickly outpaced Rundorig and Doroon. Garion though? He improved continually. Like, I could not consistently defeat him. If I kicked dust into his eyes? Next time he'd be ready to do it back. And he'd make sure that some loose gravel accidentally hit me too. We were little monsters.
After a few months of us fighting whenever we had some free time, I began to suspect that Aunt Pol wasn't a fan of me. Probably because I was teaching her innocent little angel to fight. She subtly demonstrated that too. Whenever I needed to be patched up because Garion cheated first, my scrapes and bruises seemed to need an impressive amount of polling and prodding.
Eventually I got tired of waiting and asked Uncle Durnik about smithing.
"Uncle Durnik?"
"Yes Daven? What can I do for you?"
I clenched my fist, slightly anxious.
"Will you let me forge something? Anything, I just want to do more than fetch and carry."
Uncle Durnik gave me a long look. Then he paused, thinking thoroughly.
"Well, you're nine now. And you seem to be strong enough to begin an easy project. Let's see how you do on some nails."
I was so excited. I could begin working as a blacksmith. Just with nails, yeah, but you've got to start somewhere.
"Thank you so much Uncle! I'm ready to start whenever you are."
Honestly? Once my enthusiasm for actually being able to do some real smithing fired down a bit, things got a little bit boring. Nails, nails, nails. They weren't hard to make, and with my body talent helping with fine control? Not all that heard to master either. Not that that meant I could progress yet. Nails for months.
And while I loved blacksmithing, I didn't love hooks. Or forks. Or wagon wheels. But Uncle Durnik wouldn't let me craft blades. He was adamant that I was too young. I wasn't happy. At all.
When I was twelve though, he gave in and let me make a blade. A simple sword. And that was when the trouble started.


A/N
And here we are, chapter one. Garion being semi competent with a sword as well as a cheating cheater who cheats should make some things interesting, eh? Let me know any thoughts on what to improve.

 

So. The Belgariad is the story of a farm boy going and killing a god. It's quite a bit more than that, but I'll try to give a bit of background. I 100% recommend reading the series as well though. So.
Aldur( a god) had a shiny rock. His brother Torak (also a god)(kind of a bitch) was jealous of how shiny the rock was. So he stole it. The rock took offense and burned him and cracked the mantle of the Earth. Aldur had his disciples (Sorcerers [long lived, very powerful humans]) go after the rock. War started, shit happened. Fast forward to present. Torak is asleep, Aldur is elsewhere. Shiny rock gets stolen again, cue first book. Most things will be explained as they come up in the story.

 

Swords are not simple. Anyone who tells you otherwise it's full of it. The first sword you make is even more complex, because this is your first sword and you want it to be perfect. A smooth ends up putting their heart and soul into its creation. And here? In this world, with soul talent, I ended up putting my Will in as well. Oops.
It began simply. I selected what bars I thought would work well and began to heat them. My focus was absolute. I would not, I could not, make a mistake. And then, and then!
I will up in bed with a bastard sword clutched in my hands.

~Polgara the Sorceress~

Pol was in her kitchen, preparing a hearty stew, checking the other cooks, keeping watch on Garion when she felt it. Someone was gathering their Will by the Farm. Someone she didn't know. Understandably, Pol panicked.
'Oh Aldur, keep little Garion safe' she prayed as she sprinted out of her kitchen beginning to prepare her will for combat, barely sparing a thought to the old reprobate she had for a father
'Father! Come quickly! A Sorcerer is attacking!'
Hey rush was oddly short as almost immediately after exiting her kitchen, she realized that the Will was coming from Durnik's forge. Polgara began cursing herself for her slow reactions when she felt the Will being shaped and released.
"Speed" Polgara pushed her body faster as she rushed into the forge.
She froze as she realized that the Sorcerer was Daven, Durnik's exasperating nephew.
Pol watched as Daven brought his hammer down on the bar of metal, feeling shocked as his Will poured into the steel, shaping it alongside the hammer. She watched as he continued to hammer away at the metal, slowly beginning to shape a sword.
"Is something wrong Pol? Daven didn't cause more trouble with Garion, did he?"
Pol paused for a moment to recenter herself as she thought of an excuse.
"Oh no, not this time. Old Wolf was looking for him and so I came to see if Daven was busy. I'll tell Old Wild to stop by later."
Turning, Pol walked out at a much more sedate pace, reaching out with her mind to Belgarath.
'Take your time, Father. It seems one of the boys here is a Sorcerer. I'll need you to have a talk with him though, so don't wander off.'
'Alright Pol. I'll be there in the evening. Make sure there's plenty of booze, I had to rush away from an excellent tavern.'
Polgara rolled her eyes as she reentered her kitchen. The stew was ready for some seasoning and Garion would soon need his hand whacked, if the way he was eyeing the fresh bread was any indication.


~Daven~

I groaned as my mind started to clear. My head was killing me. What had happened? The last thing I remember was…
"So you're awake. Good."
I looked over, seeing Old Wolf, or more precisely, Belgarath the Sorcerer. He was the one who continued what I had started with corrupting Garion.
"I-I had just begun to heat the steel for a sword, and then it all goes blank."
Old Wolf grimaced a bit, but soldiered on.
"Well kid, you made your sword. And you started something big."
I looked at him in shock. Surely he wasn't impling-
"You're a Sorcerer, Daven."
Part of me was amazed. Despite all that has previously happened, this really made it sink in. I had magic. This was going to be so cool!
"What do you mean, old man? Sorcerer? What is that?"
"Well, a Sorcerer is someone who uses their Will to alter the World. We use a word to shape and control our Will."
I looked at Old Wolf with wide eyes, impressed that he had confessed to being a Sorcerer this quickly.
"Like us, Old Wolf? After you a Sorcerer too?"
Belgarath smiled slightly at my wide eyes, slightly caught up in his memories.
"I am, Beldaven. And I'm going to teach you how to become an excellent Sorcerer. Well, after you recover."
I look quizzically at Belgarath.
"What's wrong with me anyways?"
"You've overstrained your Will by pushing it too far when creating your sword. Sorcery can be dangerous to both others and yourself. Take this pain as a lesson to always be careful."
Belgarath stood up and began to move away from my bed.
"Get some rest, we'll talk in the morning."
As he walked out, I took a moment to examine my sword. It was a Damascus sword, about four feet long in the shape of a bastard sword. There was a single blood groove and it had a slightly rounded tip. The handle was a smooth black wood. I couldn't find a sheathe, and so I leaned it up against the wall beside me.
As I laid back down, I let out a sigh. Damn. Tomorrow is going to be exciting. Learning Sorcery. My science and soul talents will surely get a workout.


A/N
So there we are. Sorcery will get some more explanations next chapter and well get a bit of world building. Canon will start up in about two years, so I'll try to get there at a decent pace.

 

As I slowly woke up and came to full lucidity, memories of the previous evening stuck me. I was instantly fully awake, the shock of the previous evening going through me. I was going to be a Sorcerer, someone whose only limit of power was knowledge.
Before hopping out of bed, I took a moment to feel my head, checking to make sure that the pain and fuzziness was gone.
Feeling fine, I hopped out of bed and began to dress for the day. Knowing Belgarath, I opted to not dress in anything fancy. I didn't want to get anything irreplaceable dirty if my Sorcery didn't go quite as planned.
Once dressed, I walked towards Aunt Pol's kitchen for some food before trying to find Belgarath.

~Belgarath the Sorcerer~

Belgarath was old. Ancient really. He had been the first of Aldur's disciples, many thousand years ago. He had seen kings rise and fall, talked directly with the Gods, he had even felt true love.
Despite his varied experiences, Belgarath found himself surprised by young Daven. A Talent for creating Will blades was not a simple thing. Will blades had the potential to be able to say even Gods. A mighty responsibility for a mere twelve year old.
So he wasn't going to mention it.
As Old Wolf sat in a corner of Pol's kitchen, he kept an eye on the door, even as he nibbled on some of the bread that Pol had made earlier. She really was an excellent cook. Too bad she caught Garion when he attempted to borrow some Mead for the old storyteller.
Ah well. Can't win everything.

~Daven~

As I hurried into the kitchen, I noticed Old Wolf sitting in the corner. So I grabbed some bread and cheese and made my way to him.
"Are you ready, Daven?"
Belgarath's voice startled me slightly. I hadn't thought that he was aware of my approach, given that he seemed fully occupied with his breakfast.
"I am, Old Wolf. Where are we going?"
He hummed for a second, seemingly considering his options.
"Let's go by the pond, we should be able to find a quiet place there."
Nodding my agreement, I followed him out of the kitchen and to the nearby pond. When we reached there, he turned and looked at me for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.
"Now, the first thing to know about Sorcery is that everything you do is going to have reactions and effects following it. Despite the lack of clear limits we have, if you do something without proper knowledge and understanding, you could cause an ice age. And then I'd have to fix it. And nobody would like that. So if you have a really cool idea, don't do it. Ask me first. Or else."
His words really made me think. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was trying to scare me. But I did know better. Originally, Garion almost caused an ice age when he wanted to play with lightning. I'd definitely have to be careful with this power.
I nodded my understanding to Belgarath, causing him to continue.
"Now, to start things out, we're going to find you a nice, large rock, and you are going to lift it up and move it for me. Understood?"
I nodded and we began looking for a boulder. It took a few minutes, but we found one that was sufficiently large. Interestingly enough, there hadn't been one there previously. Was this all for a test? Oh yeah.
See, the normal first thought would be to say lift, and lift it into the air. The problem is, the rock going up is going to produce a push downward as well. And guess what all that force is going to do? Push me into the softer ground of the pond. Cue learning about cause and effect.
I paused before I did anything. Belgarath hadn't explained how to actually do anything.
"Old Wolf, house am I going to lift it? I don't know how to do Sorcery yet."
He grinned at me.
"It's quite simple. Gather your Will, and then say a Word. That's all it takes, the Will and the Word."
So I did that. Or, I tried. I probably looked rather constipated, to be honest. Belgarath seemed to find it amusing though. Which probably wasn't a great sign for my progress. But I would get it. I would succeed. It was my only option. Shit was going to go down, and I needed the edge that Sorcery would give me. Otherwise I would be doomed. So I. Would. Succeed.

A/N
And here's the first lesson on Sorcery. It really has no limits but understanding and power. Heck. Garion did resurrection. Granted, it was a horse, but still. Crazy stuff.