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TormakSaber
 
PostPosted: Tue, Aug 16 2016, 8:38 AM 

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Joined: 16 Dec 2004
Location: Somewhere

The news reaches Amia Island and the Ruathym region slowly, as some news tends to - and often after some local mages have already discovered it themselves. The Kohlingen Seven Stars Academy along with several apprentices in Tarkuul are simultaneously the first locals in the region to discover it, but soon the knowledge is proliferated across the island, and a travelling Oghmanyte confirms it: Magic has changed across the Forgotten Realms. Sorcerors begin to spontaneously manifest new powers, blue flames licking at their fireballs, and intense flashes of light accompanying a cleric's Searing Light spells. The most dramatic reports come from hushed whispers and displays of power from legendarily known mages and priests, such as a priestess of Waukeen in Waterdeep, who, upon the casting of a Legend Lore spell, was not only able to successfully divine the location and stories of a family relic thought lost, but was also actually capable of replicating the creation of the object. Other stories come from the far East, where the Red Wizards of Thay demonstrated terrifying new powers against a regiment of Aglarondan Griffon Riders who drew near the border between the nation-states. Storytellers conclude the story with what is supposedly a firsthand account of the Simbul of Aglarond having a magical duel with a hooded man who revealed himself to be Aznar Thrul, Zulkir of Evocation. Not only a position thought to be unfilled currently, but also a man thought to be dead at the hands of one of his own servants after being assassinated.

No matter where the stories come from, however, they are always fantastic, and always being documented by scribes of Mystra, Azuth, Oghma, and Gond, and many many more, as new powers, both arcane and divine, continue to flow into the Forgotten Realms, gifts from Mystra to her Children in the Art.

_________________
Davion Telemos - Monk of the Four Winds
Korthan Isharnos - Dragon Shaman of Thunder Spirit Zamasham


 
      
LibrisMortis_666
 
PostPosted: Tue, Aug 16 2016, 16:01 PM 

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Joined: 02 Jun 2015
Location: Georgia, United States.

The Headmaster, in Tarkuul, would call all the Apprentices that would have noticed the sudden change in the Weave. He'd instruct any gathered Sorcerers to demonstrate the change, even if minor, so he may observe it. Recording down the date of such change, the apprentices, and recording Aznar Thrul's name down.

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This is our DMsImage


Auri: Champion of Bahamut


 
      
bobofwestoregonusa
 
PostPosted: Wed, Aug 17 2016, 1:28 AM 

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Joined: 09 Jun 2012
Location: Southern Florida

Gerald tests his transmutations with low expectations.

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Gerald Edmund
Discord: Flannel Beard #5433


 
      
SamTheGiantSlayer
 
PostPosted: Wed, Aug 17 2016, 1:53 AM 

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Joined: 31 Mar 2014

The two Elven Councilors of Winya Ravana, practiced both in the nature and study of arcana, can be seen testing such gifts within a contained space along the fair Elven grounds of their enclave. The two seem to enjoy this manner of spellcraft as a leisurely habit, practicing several circles of magic with one another - in the ways of efficient utilization, negation, and empowerment through the use of cooperative spellcasting. Though the gifts might be said of the Lady of Mysteries among others, it appears that the Elven duo impart much of their thanks upon their magical patrons Corellon and Sehanine Moonbow.

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Thats the way it crumbles ... cookie-wise!


 
      
Roach
 
PostPosted: Wed, Aug 17 2016, 2:16 AM 

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Joined: 09 Aug 2016

The Artist known as Roach hears the news of new arcane magics and lets out an audible sigh.

"Great, more shit I won't know a damn thing about."

She then skips along on her way.

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"I'm an Artist, you wouldn't understand." -Roach
viewtopic.php?f=3&t=86936


 
      
Dark Immolation
 
PostPosted: Thu, Aug 18 2016, 7:54 AM 

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Joined: 20 Apr 2008
Location: The downeaster "Alexa"

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Had anyone expected word from Beldor, they'd yet to receive it.

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You think Magic is your ally... but you merely adopted the Art. He was born in it. Molded by it.
Sometimes, an angel is simply a devil with better intentions.


 
      
Chronos
 
PostPosted: Sat, Aug 20 2016, 18:29 PM 



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Joined: 16 Jul 2016

A gathering of few arcanists took place within the halls of Le'Quella community area in Winya Ravana. It seemed that the recent incidents had created activity and discussion. As common ground was found, agreed upon was another gathering to set down the details for work to be done. Tentatively promising signs of activity of arcane community in the forest city.


 
      
#StraightOutaAvernus
 
PostPosted: Sat, Aug 20 2016, 19:29 PM 

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Joined: 11 Nov 2015
Location: WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU WHERE WHEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO DIE?! NGAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!

[With her natural inclination to magic arts, Stormwind's own use of her invocations -- stronger, more bolstered, as they had shown long before she heard the news; hearing that it had become a pattern sparked a curious bit of thought… thought became careful note-taking, and observation of anything she could find even 'slightly' different about the effects of magic in the realm. When she'd satisfied her own curiosities, she took her findings below with her..]

_________________
*So, i've got a question for ya.
*do you think even the worst person can change…?
*that everyone can be a good person, if they just try?
*all right.
*well, here's a better question
*do you wanna have a bad time


Playing: Tanar'i Shit Disturbers


 
      
Dark Immolation
 
PostPosted: Sun, Aug 21 2016, 3:25 AM 

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Joined: 20 Apr 2008
Location: The downeaster "Alexa"

"So. That's what you think it is, then?"

"..."

"That's what you're choosing to believe, out of all of this?"

"It's not what I'm choosing to believe. It's a concern."

"You, a man of creation and life abundantly, choose to make a doomsday out of this."

"You're intent to make me out to be the madman here. Not that I need your help. But look at it this way: if I, of all people, find something strange and less than... wondrous in this... perhaps it means something."


"It means you're--"

"Tell me that I'm wrong."

"What?"

"Tell me. That I'm wrong. Tell me I cannot be right on this. Tell me it's just another baseless musing and I will come back to bed right now."

"... You don't know..."

"No one knows. No one knew! That's the point. No one saw this coming. No sages, no prophecy, nothing. Of all the things followers are shown in dreams, of all the things oracles divine about the future... this had nothing. Midnight is not the kind of being that simply 'gifts' things of this sort upon the Realm. Certainly not magics of these types. Destructive evocations becoming more powerful. Divinations now not only granting people the means to discover ancient and hidden weapons, but the knowledge to make them anew. A Zulkir standing on equal footing with the Simbul. How could anyone think She would bestow this sort of thing upon mortal arcanists after seeing what damage the Arcanum wrought not but a few years ago?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways."

"Tut. The proclamation of all zealots when something goes beyond their explanation. The fact of the matter is that there are no Mystran holy days--that I know of--that coincide with these happenings. And they are happening gradually, not all at once. This is not a gift. This is the loosening of a grasp. If not hers, then one of the others. These are not boons, they are what has managed to slip between divine fingers and into our own waiting hands."

"And that means...?"

"I don't know what that means. And that is what concerns me. It can mean... hope. It can mean damnation. It can mean this is the beginning of something even I cannot turn aside. It can mean the time has finally come."

"Well. If you want to sit out here and fret over this, go right ahead. I'm going back to bed."



He turned his head, having watched her go, and looked out into daybreak. Upon the horizon, Amaunator rose fierce and orange-red against the waning night. Beldor held his mask and helm in hand, feeling the surge of the Weave rush and recede beneath his fingertips. Then into his veins. Then into the core of his being.

He saw that the sun had risen.

He saw that an age of fire loomed beyond it.

_________________
Image
You think Magic is your ally... but you merely adopted the Art. He was born in it. Molded by it.
Sometimes, an angel is simply a devil with better intentions.


 
      
Aiseth
 
PostPosted: Thu, Sep 01 2016, 1:22 AM 

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Joined: 21 Dec 2011

In the very north, the black robed enchantress conducts an array of experiments in her own enclosed quarters, noticing some peculiarities with common spells. Two days later, a letter of request is sent to the hidden nation of Halruaa through private channels. She then teleports to Mouth Firth to be near the so-called "Aurora Borealis" for further study where she builds camp.

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MuseReader: Aiseth Nosdivan- Master EnchantressImage


 
      
Strom
 
PostPosted: Mon, Sep 19 2016, 14:38 PM 

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Joined: 23 Jan 2012
Location: Wales, UK

In the dark spaces of Tarkuul, a necromancer shuffled amid ritual objects and bleached bone. Aarin's fingers laid the last of the ritually prepared bandages into the enbalming fluid and laid onto a stone slab. Unaware of the magical flux that could still be taking the realms. His fingers turned the point of his ritual blade toward his chest, and he steeled himself for what came next. He cut a single incision into his solar-plexus, teeth gritting as he bore the pain. "Hnh..Hn.." He drew a calming breath.

Slowly his forcibly steadied hand removed the animated remains of a scarab beetle from a canopic jar nearby. It's mandibles chittered, as the minute magical carvings upon them activated and he muttered softly in Loross; "Let your work begin." Magic flared around him, as the palemaster's ritual stirred to the key words. The beetle surged with motion; crawling inside of the wound and into the cavity to begin it's macabre work. . . Aarin stifled his screams. Long minutes passed before the first wracking cry escaped his lips, emptying his lungs with a hoarse cry. As the deeper magics took hold, a pair of skeletons gripped the shivering form and started to wrap him in the bandages... Muffling the writhing necromancer behind a layer of specially prepared linen, implacably wrapping him, as if some twisted parody of a Mulhorandi King.

... Eventually the calm took him, as the dull thrum of magic took his senses and coaxed him into slumber.

Yet, would he awaken with his 'Deathless Vigor'..?

_________________
Characters:

Rook

Image

Timezone: UK (GMT+0)


 
      
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