Magic
Legend
“Reality consists of physical things spun of Mana threads from the Astral, weaved into existence by Vornir determining everything’s fate, as well as Gods and powerful Mana Manipulators twisting things to their will.”
History
Skjald El Mary
Skjald Sejrik
Organisation
Skjald Vinotis
Skjald El Mary
Special
Story
The ability to utilise magic is perilous, especially when displayed in the wrong setting. That day at “The Prudent Mule” in Pikleby, Ivory Vale, I’ll never forget. A card-playing group suddenly erupted in a heated debate, culminating with one of them leaping to his feet in a display of ability, deep into the art of channelling heavenly forces. He began yelling numerous Truenames at a slim man across the table.
However, he was dumb enough to deploy a strong, long-casting channel. The recipient of the energies had no intention of suffering whatever annoyances his opponent was causing, so he got up and showed himself to be a manipulator. Hand weaving intricately and confidently while tossing supplies towards the chanting fool. He was clearly a master manipulator of the essence, aiming for a faster release and stunning, situation-ending impact. The surrounding card players and visitors at the adjoining tables were taken aback by their behavior. Except for me and a hooded alcoholic who gazed wide-eyed and mumbled to himself, everyone panicked and began to escape or hide. It was rather amusing to watch others panic and freeze over. The channelling idiot grasped the consequence and changed his spell just as the Essence manipulator launched his miniature, devastating lightning bolt. At the corner of my eye, I noted that the mumbling alcoholic was not paralysed by terror. He clenched his teeth and squinted his eyes in a determined glare at the guys in battle. He blinked, and the Essence Manipulator’s hand twisted out of sync, flinging all of his ingredient pouches into the erupting Lightning Bolt, causing it to go out of control and grow into a pulsing ball of electricity and magma-flames sucking up the Channeler’s hazily controlled energy. Both gasped as elements and heavenly forces hit their bodies. As their trapped mana spilled out, they bent, twisted, and were ripped open. Then they erupted in a shower of coloured lights, blood, and guts, almost touching my ale mug! The resulting hush was deafening. Everyone held their breath, sat rigidly, or lay prone in terror. Except for the hooded, somewhat tipsy mentalist, who took a large swallow of his mead and stood slowly as he assessed the situation and me. I’m still convinced I noticed a power-recognition blink and a little smile twist of the lips when we shared the glance. I nodded in recognition of a well-hidden caste. But we never brought it up again. Skjald Yell'a'Beard |
Last Updated on 2024-07-27 by IoM-Christian