the streets whisper pain.
Characters; Minwu. Anyone from Verity is welcome to join.
Setting/Location; Verity training grounds.
Date & Time; Day 1; Afternoon.
Warnings; None.
Briefing; Minwu attempts to leave camp, fails, then makes the discovery that he can't remember most of his spells.
After his conversation on Amnitynet, Minwu found that he wanted to get outside more than anything. The white mage wasn't particularly happy about this situation- and wanted most of all to get used to being in a body again. It had been difficult to say the least to bring himself to his feet and pace the cabin a little- his staff of light used primarily for a walking stick for the short time he'd hobbled around inside. But things like basic hand-to-eye co-ordination came back rather quickly. He moved outside the cabin and took a good look at his surroundings, lifting his staffs tip from the ground and balancing the thing upon both narrow shoulders. It was... almost like his long-forgotten birthplace of Mysidia. Verity had a similar lul of magic surrounding it, similar expanses of trees, and the same ties to nature that the city of mages held at it's core. But.. Something else was prevailant. He didn't know what, but his senses informed him that he shouldn't like to find out.
Delicately and gently he moved himself through the camp grounds, the vaguest tinkling of various trinkets worn about his person the only comfort to his senses at that point, combined with the faintest swishing sound of clean linen. He couldn't say that walking was painful. It was more a case of numbness making him stumble every now and again; misplace his feet and give him the vaguest feeling that he was drunk. He could say that he probably was, off the sensory overload associated with being dead for so long and then alive instantly. A Teleportation spell would be about enough to get out of here. That way he could assess things. The thought of being in the wilds didn't bother him. Least of all the fact that the geography and landscape of this place was unknown. He intended to go; to find out - and to come back for Firion when he'd established a good place to stay undetected by Verity and monsters which were native to this land.
Minwu's plan was to desert. To make a stronghold somewhere which stood little chance of being found, and to form a rebellion with forces from all three sides. With enough people alongside, they could go into Verity and force Mikhail to send them all back to where they came from. It wasn't exactly like Minwu had much to go back to on a personal level, but his reasoning was as good as any. Firion had to get back to his world; to help with the rebuilding of Fynn. That took priority over this foolish war on this world and the opportunity of being chesspieces for squabbling leaders with the egotism to snatch lives.
He got a good way away from the campground and closed his eyes, preparing to recite an incantation that would bend and shift time and matter - Teleport.
"..."
A problem. He opened his eyes.
...How did that spell go again? Life. Wall. Barrier. ...Could he remember any of them? Had he truly been a wandering spirit for long enough even to forget the most elementary of all white magic?
Setting/Location; Verity training grounds.
Date & Time; Day 1; Afternoon.
Warnings; None.
Briefing; Minwu attempts to leave camp, fails, then makes the discovery that he can't remember most of his spells.
After his conversation on Amnitynet, Minwu found that he wanted to get outside more than anything. The white mage wasn't particularly happy about this situation- and wanted most of all to get used to being in a body again. It had been difficult to say the least to bring himself to his feet and pace the cabin a little- his staff of light used primarily for a walking stick for the short time he'd hobbled around inside. But things like basic hand-to-eye co-ordination came back rather quickly. He moved outside the cabin and took a good look at his surroundings, lifting his staffs tip from the ground and balancing the thing upon both narrow shoulders. It was... almost like his long-forgotten birthplace of Mysidia. Verity had a similar lul of magic surrounding it, similar expanses of trees, and the same ties to nature that the city of mages held at it's core. But.. Something else was prevailant. He didn't know what, but his senses informed him that he shouldn't like to find out.
Delicately and gently he moved himself through the camp grounds, the vaguest tinkling of various trinkets worn about his person the only comfort to his senses at that point, combined with the faintest swishing sound of clean linen. He couldn't say that walking was painful. It was more a case of numbness making him stumble every now and again; misplace his feet and give him the vaguest feeling that he was drunk. He could say that he probably was, off the sensory overload associated with being dead for so long and then alive instantly. A Teleportation spell would be about enough to get out of here. That way he could assess things. The thought of being in the wilds didn't bother him. Least of all the fact that the geography and landscape of this place was unknown. He intended to go; to find out - and to come back for Firion when he'd established a good place to stay undetected by Verity and monsters which were native to this land.
Minwu's plan was to desert. To make a stronghold somewhere which stood little chance of being found, and to form a rebellion with forces from all three sides. With enough people alongside, they could go into Verity and force Mikhail to send them all back to where they came from. It wasn't exactly like Minwu had much to go back to on a personal level, but his reasoning was as good as any. Firion had to get back to his world; to help with the rebuilding of Fynn. That took priority over this foolish war on this world and the opportunity of being chesspieces for squabbling leaders with the egotism to snatch lives.
He got a good way away from the campground and closed his eyes, preparing to recite an incantation that would bend and shift time and matter - Teleport.
"..."
A problem. He opened his eyes.
...How did that spell go again? Life. Wall. Barrier. ...Could he remember any of them? Had he truly been a wandering spirit for long enough even to forget the most elementary of all white magic?