|
Post by Weaver of Fates on Sept 4, 2005 12:21:33 GMT -5
Given By: Juperas
A person's magic is limited by how expansive his imagination is. He must be able to visualize what he wants to do. So if he wanted to cast a fireball, he must visualize a ball of fire in his mind. He must then visualize himself casting the fireball. It can come from anywhere. He can visualize it coming from his lungs and he will belch a fireball. He can visualize a flaming projectile coming from his sword.
|
|
|
Post by Lord Pharen on Sept 4, 2005 12:52:16 GMT -5
Alright... Here is the history and everything else in more detail:
The History of Magic:
A village had been pillaged and ransacked. The women were taken for personal desires and the men to be sold as slaves. The children were to be raised as bandits and to serve the self proclaimed chief, Guthnark, of the Tribulon clan. The bandits had taken the prisoners of the village to an abandoned stronghold that they claimed as their own. Guthnark had the women put in the upper quarters while all the men were to be shackled in the dungeon.
A young scholar of the age of 12, the time where a boy must become a man, was shackled behind bars. He was stared in his cell. The bandits only fed the men water, just to keep them healthy until they would auction them off. The young scholar tried not to think about his hunger or how cold he was. The scholar had endured this much by his faint belief that a mythical hero would come and smite the evil. He would imagine the smallest sounds was the rhytmitic beat of a marching army. He would scream for help, hoping the army would help him. The bandits had officially declared this one crazy. The scholar was beaten. He was weak and could not move on his own. The bandits left him there in his shackles with an open cell. He wouldn't be able to move anyway they thought.
The scholar closed his eyes. He was weary, he had no chance of living. They had taken his life, but they had not taken his free to imagine. The scholar thought back to one book he had read. A book where a man had challenged a Demi-God to a duel in some sort of demonic game. The man had summoned ice to rain down on the God, the God reacted with his breath. The scholar thought about the shackles which cut off the circulation of his wrists. e imagined that they would break. It was a stupid thought, but the scholar believed it for a slight second. He looked at his hands. The scholar saw they were pale white, but he had not realized that the shackles no longer binded his hands. When he finally realized it, he couldn't believe it. He had many questions as to how it happened. Was it that the shackles were rusty and old? Was it that a God had seen too much? Or was it magic? The scholar, with renewed strentgh, left the stronghold.
The scholar later learned how to do what he did. It was the power of his imagination and his belief that he could or it would happen. He experitmented with this new power. He learned to do many things such as snap trees in half, dent metal, and blow down doors with the simplest thought and the faintest belief. For many years he kept this power secret, until he was struck ill. He knew he had to pass on the power that could make people legends He posted messages near temples and city halls. Many thought of it as a way for some to get a simple laugh. But the few people who believed in legends and myths came to his house. There he passed down his secrets. Many tried and few succeeded, but through those few a new age would begin. The age of Wisdom. The age of Legends. The age of Magic...
Don't kill me for this crappy history. Thought it up today...
|
|