Zelgadis Greywords: forever a stone (
livesarock) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2011-11-18 11:15 pm
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Entry tags:
i got the maaaagic in meee [OPEN]
WHO: Zelgadis, people, ~*magic*~
WHERE: That poor, abused vacant lot where all the magic and fighting happens when it's not the type bent on destroying everything forever
WHEN: Saturday and Sunday afternoons
WARNINGS: Idk you tell me
SUMMARY: Guess who got his magic back finally? Time to make sure none of his spells will like be horribly mangled like last time.
FORMAT: No I do not care
He's got his notebook – a tattered, overused mess of clumped-up pages stuffed in with the spiral-bound pages still barely clinging on after so much wear and tear. It's all from memory, everything scratched and scrawled down (with a few architectural doodles here or there of no real importance); the power words for spells big and small within his capacity – or just slightly out of his reach. He's always learning, after all. Or trying to. Living in a world so empty in magic makes it a challenge. Not to mention the conventions of other people's magic being different in ways he hasn't managed to bridge...yet.
The walls of the buildings surrounding the lot light up now and then with the flashes of fire and light; smoke billows and the ground gives a shake or two at times. It's controlled chaos with no victims but a few jutted rocks and the air around him.
He's got a long list to get through, and he feels a little pressed for time. The City does like piling on the crises, after all...
WHERE: That poor, abused vacant lot where all the magic and fighting happens when it's not the type bent on destroying everything forever
WHEN: Saturday and Sunday afternoons
WARNINGS: Idk you tell me
SUMMARY: Guess who got his magic back finally? Time to make sure none of his spells will like be horribly mangled like last time.
FORMAT: No I do not care
He's got his notebook – a tattered, overused mess of clumped-up pages stuffed in with the spiral-bound pages still barely clinging on after so much wear and tear. It's all from memory, everything scratched and scrawled down (with a few architectural doodles here or there of no real importance); the power words for spells big and small within his capacity – or just slightly out of his reach. He's always learning, after all. Or trying to. Living in a world so empty in magic makes it a challenge. Not to mention the conventions of other people's magic being different in ways he hasn't managed to bridge...yet.
The walls of the buildings surrounding the lot light up now and then with the flashes of fire and light; smoke billows and the ground gives a shake or two at times. It's controlled chaos with no victims but a few jutted rocks and the air around him.
He's got a long list to get through, and he feels a little pressed for time. The City does like piling on the crises, after all...
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Just...going through my spells. Making sure they work properly still.
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... Huh?
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What?
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[]
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I don't know...It just did last time. The spell activated on the wrong target, even if it did the same effect...It wasn't supposed to work like that. So. So I'm just making sure it hasn't happened again.
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You're not practicing on anything.
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How far are you?
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How much do you have left?
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he squints up at Baroona, then back down to the notebook, scanning it. flipping a page, looking at the back.
then the next.
and the back of that one.
flipping to the next...]
There's still a whole lot of––[wait. blinkblink. looking back up blankly a second, then frowning.] Wait. Why?
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I'm curious.
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glancing at his notes again.]
...Still a lot. I haven't touched the earth shamanism yet.
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I meant "earth shamanism". What does it mean?
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Show me one.
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...
he's. he's only doing this spell because he was gonna ANYWAY, OKAY. and the extra effort to make it work right is only because he was gonna ANYWAY.
yes.
ahem. finger pointed down against his side, drawn upward as he says:] Dill Brand! [and sends rock and debris shooting upward in a near circle around him.]
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