Post by Shiro on Jun 3, 2009 13:04:38 GMT -5
Issilude sighed as he carried a box of ingredients – dragon oil, doomspeak weed, finnigus pus, and aperthine crystals mostly – to the small shed he and his granduncle used as a testing ground for new spells. The two of them had been working on a new transportation spell, one that didn’t involve covering oneself in feces, for a year already, but they had had very little luck. It was frustrating to think that such a fundamentally simple spell should be so difficult to create. Still, their previous attempts hadn’t been total failures. They had discovered one rather potent hair dye that allowed the wearer to change their hair color at whim, even after appilication. Issilude, being the guinea pig of the two, currently had blue hair with dark green tips, just for fun and to test how much control one had over the color three months later.
Issilude knocked on the door to the shed with his head, his arms being occupied with the box. A graying old man opened the door, with a stern, wrinkled face and the amber eyes of a mage; Issilude’s granduncle, Doliver Valience. Doliver’s face relaxed slightly when he saw his apprentice, and he chuckled as he stepped aside, “Put your hair back to normal, boy, we have work to do.” Issilude’s hair returned to its normal grayish white as he walked over to a low table by the right wall, placing the box on top before getting to work, mixing the oil and pus with black ink to form the basis of a magic conductor.
Several hours later, the two were ready to test their new spell. Doliver finished speaking the final incantation, then handed the small amulet they had made to Issilude. It was a silver disc, with one of the aperthine crystals in its center, covered in writing made by the magic ink. Issilude watched Doliver back away and nod, before closing his eyes and muttering the word “Impiger.” Suddenly, golden light flared from the amulet, blinding him. When he could open his eyes again he was wet, cold, and surrounded on all sides by white. Then the white vanished and he realized he was falling from very, VERY high up.
Issilude knocked on the door to the shed with his head, his arms being occupied with the box. A graying old man opened the door, with a stern, wrinkled face and the amber eyes of a mage; Issilude’s granduncle, Doliver Valience. Doliver’s face relaxed slightly when he saw his apprentice, and he chuckled as he stepped aside, “Put your hair back to normal, boy, we have work to do.” Issilude’s hair returned to its normal grayish white as he walked over to a low table by the right wall, placing the box on top before getting to work, mixing the oil and pus with black ink to form the basis of a magic conductor.
Several hours later, the two were ready to test their new spell. Doliver finished speaking the final incantation, then handed the small amulet they had made to Issilude. It was a silver disc, with one of the aperthine crystals in its center, covered in writing made by the magic ink. Issilude watched Doliver back away and nod, before closing his eyes and muttering the word “Impiger.” Suddenly, golden light flared from the amulet, blinding him. When he could open his eyes again he was wet, cold, and surrounded on all sides by white. Then the white vanished and he realized he was falling from very, VERY high up.
