Day 2, Fall of 512 AV
Early Evening
Syliran Campsite, enroute from Zeltivan to Sunberth
Early Evening
Syliran Campsite, enroute from Zeltivan to Sunberth
The flames from the nearby campfire crackled, illuminating the features of a studious ethaefal as he studied what seemed to be a relatively new book. On closer inspection it was mostly empty, except for a page or two where words and pictures appeared to be handwritten. The ink still looked fresh and not decayed from years of disrepair, similar to the sprightly condition of the book.
Eridanus sat on a log, his Artist's toolkit sprawled out beside him with the necessary graphite pencils half taken out from their compartments, a hand pausing above an empty page as he scrounged up his face in concentration.
Taking one hand out, he began to focus, his brows furrowed as if he was in pain. He was not physically so of course, but mentally for this was not the first attempt already. As he exhaled, tiny spools of res formed into a crude, polygonal ball before his ring finger on his right hand that he extended partially in front of him. Though tiny, the magical substance glowed in the purest of white, its existence declaring itself to be the physical manifestation of moonbeams.
With a hiss, the mage moved his finger fractionally as he mentally commanded the ball to move, but it only moved a few inches before it dissolved into nothingness. No flames, no spark, no combustion, no explosion. Only a soft fizzle and the intense silence of failure and disappointment.
The celestial being sighed, wiping a sweat from his brow as he did so, pausing to stare at the blank page on his book, as if intent on finding an answer to his predicament from it somehow.
Eridanus sat on a log, his Artist's toolkit sprawled out beside him with the necessary graphite pencils half taken out from their compartments, a hand pausing above an empty page as he scrounged up his face in concentration.
Taking one hand out, he began to focus, his brows furrowed as if he was in pain. He was not physically so of course, but mentally for this was not the first attempt already. As he exhaled, tiny spools of res formed into a crude, polygonal ball before his ring finger on his right hand that he extended partially in front of him. Though tiny, the magical substance glowed in the purest of white, its existence declaring itself to be the physical manifestation of moonbeams.
With a hiss, the mage moved his finger fractionally as he mentally commanded the ball to move, but it only moved a few inches before it dissolved into nothingness. No flames, no spark, no combustion, no explosion. Only a soft fizzle and the intense silence of failure and disappointment.
The celestial being sighed, wiping a sweat from his brow as he did so, pausing to stare at the blank page on his book, as if intent on finding an answer to his predicament from it somehow.