You were a young human male, born to a nameless family of serfs sworn to a landed noble, who himself was sworn to the lord of the land, who himself was sworn to the king of the realm. You were a farmer's son of good health and moderate fitness, with an uncommon intellect that might've gotten you sent to an academy if your parents were yeomen or given to an apprenticeship if you weren't your father's firstborn and set to inherit his responsibilities when he passed. You were no different from your father, or your father's father, or any one of the serfs in the land you were born. You were happy, beloved, and fulfilled in body and spirit, set to live an ordinary life without extraordinary accomplishments. You were content, like your father, and your father's father before him. All of that is gone now, and the peaceful simplicity of your life before will never be again. Now, you are a Wizard, a nexus of arcane power fit to rival the heavens, a savant of mystic insight worthy a court of archmages' envy, and among the loneliest of men there are to be found in the breadth and span of creation.
Each Wizard has an Attunement, a metaphysical inclination which forms the foundation of their magic and in which they are nigh-unmatched, even in their own kind.
Which is yours?
Fire: At once the blaze all-consuming and hearth quietly nurturing, few are the elements as dual-faceted as the flame.
Water: Flowing water and frozen ice, a world none too welcoming awaits below the waves and beyond the glaciers.
Earth: The sediment underfoot and stone underneath, unyielding, unbroken, when forced into motion, unstoppable.
Air: Lightning flashes as wind blows, either a happy spark and crisp gust, or a wrathful conflagration none can escape.
Creation: Bringing forth matter where before there was none and mending what was broken, not always selfless.
Destruction: Hastening the inevitable, shifting between a hammer's blow and a scalpel's touch, not always cruel.
Abyssal: The essence of what lies below, an abomination, shackled and chained to a will weak beneath the weight.
Celestial: The essence of what soars above, a celebration, asked and bequeathed to a will unworthy to be lifted.
Beasts: All that which skitters on four legs, eight, or none and more besides, gnarled in fang and jagged in claw.
Blood: Distinct alongside and inseparable from the flesh, the essence of the soul transcribed to mortal material.
Chaos: Lack of stifling structure, and cessation of self-declared reason abiding by its own logic, the end of Order.
Order: Lack of arbitrary anarchy, and uplifting ironclad hierarchy perpetuating immutable law, the end of Chaos.
Light: Radiant, swifter than sight and permitting nothing to be hidden, save glorious source that blinds the seeker.
Darkness: Stygian, rarely found below the sun and stars, comforting in embrace, terrible in lack of true witness.
Necromancy: The dead, brought back and driven to obey, the living, enfeebled and undone, seldom a kind thing.
Pestilence: Rot and bile, phlegm and muck, foul portents and fouler intentions, the finger points, the vermin obey.
Time: Everywhere and inescapable, aged-beggars and god-emperors alike bend the knee, but it can be tweaked.
Space: Movement, when cause and effect are changed, one can't be sure to where their next step will take.
War: Clashing of iron and emboldening of souls to join in reckless passion, perhaps the subtlest of esoteric arts.
Peace: Ending feuds and encouraging prosperity, often taken advantage of, more often turned to its antithesis.
Life: Vines coiling, flowers blooming, health invigorated and safeguarded, much closer to malevolence than anticipated.
Death: Bleak in finality and silent in coming, done rightly there is no pain, it is its own mercy and it heeds no judge.
Artifice: The binding of forces into petty trinkets and clumsy serviles, true artifacts are within one's grasp.
Binding: Intricate and complex, the trapping of others into sworn pacts and the weaving of quiet curses.
Divination: Senses beyond the self, peering throughout space and time without regard for what is sane.
Enchantment: Alone, little more than a soft whisper, joined with more, it becomes a murmuring song.
Illusion: Deception not of the tongue, but of the sight, the sound, the very soul and much, much more.
Abjuration: Enforcing the way that the world should be, undoing magic and bringing a return to normalcy.
Runecraft: Simple at first glance yet complicated beyond compare, understanding is a laborious life's work.
Summoning: Calling creatures and conjuring substance from places foreign in mien and alien in countenance.
Warding: The construction of barriers and circumventing of obstacles, walls, shields, and resistances alike are here.
Arcane: Both raw and primal, refined and erudite, the working of true magic stripped of all else.
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Topic: You are a Wizard (SG) (Read 1146 times)