17th of Summer, 516 AV
To the grader,Minnim has a fundamental misunderstanding of Animation theory. He believes that creating the animation removes a part of his soul. I understand this is not truly the case, and would appreciate if incorrect lores were either forgone or marked in some way (e.g. with a question mark). Thanks.
The old, ratty journal lay spread flat on the table, open to the very first page. On it were a series of notes, taken long, long ago. The ink was fading, the parchment crumbling, and the leather cover soft with the wear of decades. But still, the information inside held true, and it was this information that Minnim treasured, for it told him what he needed to create his own animation.
Of course, he knew that it didn't tell him everything. He had taken the notes more hastily than he normally would have as a last second thought before setting off for Zeltiva. With the information incomplete, he knew there would be mistakes, probably even disasters, before he found the correct way to do things. But it would be worth it, to one day have an immortal friend, someone who could live alongside him as a brother, or a son.
Minnim had pored over thse same words on different pages, back in Sahova, where he borrowed the books from The Great Library. He had thought of keeping them, but the chance of someone chasing him down was too high, and so he had spent days copying the important information into his journal. He had studied these notes with high hopes for years, and for bells that morning as a refresher course. But now, as Leth rose to his place in the sky, Minnim was preparing to put the information into action for the first time since settling in Zetiva almost ten years ago. Minnim peered out the open window, scanning the streets outside for any evidence of passerby. Though Animation as a world magic was not necessarily banned in the city, it was neither a highly praised skill, and was always something to be cautious about.
Finally certain that the time and setting was right, Minnim moved to the center of his cottage, carrying with him his book, ink, quill, and a single piece of pure white chalk. On the ground before him lay a single piece of fabric, no longer than a yard, its floral pattern long faded and its colors dulled by the years in storage as it waited for this very purpose. Minnim placed his tools down beside the fabric with an almost loving gentleness. These were, in fact, some of the few things that Minnim felt a passion for, should a scholarly persuit be called a love, or passion.
Flipping to the first page. Minnim looked over the words, hardly recognizing his own girlish handwriting from so long ago. He read aloud, loving the feel of the old Nader-Canoch on his tongue. "Two circles must be made initially. One will contain the object, the other, the lifeform it is to be modeled after. A line will connect these circles, allowing the soulcore, and other layers of life, to be passed from one to the other."
Minnim snorted in self-depreciation. He had stopped using Nader-Canoch since leaving Sahova, and had since become horribly rusty. He could hear the sailor's accent in his voice- something he never would have believed had he not heard it- and the words stumbled over each other clumsily, as if they were all one long, choppy word. However, it was still intelligible to Minnim's ears, and so he ignored the horrid speech for now.
Following the directions in the book, Minnim took his chalk and slowly began to draw a circle on the ground. He could not remember whether or not the circle needed to be a circle or if it would function as an oval, so he kept as close to perfect as possible, striving for an exact circle, as the notes directed. When the first was finished, he started on another, larger circle, this one taking much more time to perfect. When at last the drawing portion was complete, Minnim picked up the piece of fabric, carried it to the smaller circle, and placed it inside. Soon, he thought as he walked back to his own circle. "Soon, you will live."
To the grader,Minnim has a fundamental misunderstanding of Animation theory. He believes that creating the animation removes a part of his soul. I understand this is not truly the case, and would appreciate if incorrect lores were either forgone or marked in some way (e.g. with a question mark). Thanks.
The old, ratty journal lay spread flat on the table, open to the very first page. On it were a series of notes, taken long, long ago. The ink was fading, the parchment crumbling, and the leather cover soft with the wear of decades. But still, the information inside held true, and it was this information that Minnim treasured, for it told him what he needed to create his own animation.
Of course, he knew that it didn't tell him everything. He had taken the notes more hastily than he normally would have as a last second thought before setting off for Zeltiva. With the information incomplete, he knew there would be mistakes, probably even disasters, before he found the correct way to do things. But it would be worth it, to one day have an immortal friend, someone who could live alongside him as a brother, or a son.
Minnim had pored over thse same words on different pages, back in Sahova, where he borrowed the books from The Great Library. He had thought of keeping them, but the chance of someone chasing him down was too high, and so he had spent days copying the important information into his journal. He had studied these notes with high hopes for years, and for bells that morning as a refresher course. But now, as Leth rose to his place in the sky, Minnim was preparing to put the information into action for the first time since settling in Zetiva almost ten years ago. Minnim peered out the open window, scanning the streets outside for any evidence of passerby. Though Animation as a world magic was not necessarily banned in the city, it was neither a highly praised skill, and was always something to be cautious about.
Finally certain that the time and setting was right, Minnim moved to the center of his cottage, carrying with him his book, ink, quill, and a single piece of pure white chalk. On the ground before him lay a single piece of fabric, no longer than a yard, its floral pattern long faded and its colors dulled by the years in storage as it waited for this very purpose. Minnim placed his tools down beside the fabric with an almost loving gentleness. These were, in fact, some of the few things that Minnim felt a passion for, should a scholarly persuit be called a love, or passion.
Flipping to the first page. Minnim looked over the words, hardly recognizing his own girlish handwriting from so long ago. He read aloud, loving the feel of the old Nader-Canoch on his tongue. "Two circles must be made initially. One will contain the object, the other, the lifeform it is to be modeled after. A line will connect these circles, allowing the soulcore, and other layers of life, to be passed from one to the other."
Minnim snorted in self-depreciation. He had stopped using Nader-Canoch since leaving Sahova, and had since become horribly rusty. He could hear the sailor's accent in his voice- something he never would have believed had he not heard it- and the words stumbled over each other clumsily, as if they were all one long, choppy word. However, it was still intelligible to Minnim's ears, and so he ignored the horrid speech for now.
Following the directions in the book, Minnim took his chalk and slowly began to draw a circle on the ground. He could not remember whether or not the circle needed to be a circle or if it would function as an oval, so he kept as close to perfect as possible, striving for an exact circle, as the notes directed. When the first was finished, he started on another, larger circle, this one taking much more time to perfect. When at last the drawing portion was complete, Minnim picked up the piece of fabric, carried it to the smaller circle, and placed it inside. Soon, he thought as he walked back to his own circle. "Soon, you will live."
