Hm. [Comes with a curiously furrowed brow that's tilted once more in Fenris' direction, pondering.
None of the pieces fall short, nothing said untrue, and yet it serves as no perfect alignment, either. Like two identical puzzles with differing cuts, the devilspawn lies in the details: Astarion doubts his rescuer's misguided in belief— the man's too clever-sounding for it. Devoid of the fanaticism of a gnoll or goblin village dunce; he listens. And any creature that listens, isn't damned by his stupidity.
And if the theories about mages or makers are wrong, whatever Corypheus did to tear open the sky and bring him here, wouldn't have worked.]
Once, yes. Still....sort of, but not exactly.
[Easy to follow, right?]
Long ago our kind was contained within one of the astral planes. A place bursting with wild magic and— according to old legend— our own gods as well.
No demons, no unholy abominations or blighting plagues. Granted there were wild spirits that would gladly serve as tricksters when encountered, but nothing more. And while crossing into the material plane wasn't particularly easy, over time, it did begin to happen more and more once contact between worlds was established.
Now understand I'm not a scholar. Hells, I've never been capable of escaping the walls of my master's sprawling city let alone traverse the planes—
So you'll have to make do with the broadest beats and save more intensive study for when the shoe is on the other foot and you cross into my world instead. [Is ever so matter of factly said.] But what I can tell you is that there was a human w— a mage, to coin your term— who was beyond blessed with talent for all things arcane. Even the elves thought him more skilled than any mortal creature prior.
Long story clipped down to a thread: raise your hand if you think that hubris might've gone straight to his head and caused a disastrous calamity the likes of which no realm has ever managed to recover from.
no subject
None of the pieces fall short, nothing said untrue, and yet it serves as no perfect alignment, either. Like two identical puzzles with differing cuts, the devilspawn lies in the details: Astarion doubts his rescuer's misguided in belief— the man's too clever-sounding for it. Devoid of the fanaticism of a gnoll or goblin village dunce; he listens. And any creature that listens, isn't damned by his stupidity.
And if the theories about mages or makers are wrong, whatever Corypheus did to tear open the sky and bring him here, wouldn't have worked.]
Once, yes. Still....sort of, but not exactly.
[Easy to follow, right?]
Long ago our kind was contained within one of the astral planes. A place bursting with wild magic and— according to old legend— our own gods as well.
No demons, no unholy abominations or blighting plagues. Granted there were wild spirits that would gladly serve as tricksters when encountered, but nothing more. And while crossing into the material plane wasn't particularly easy, over time, it did begin to happen more and more once contact between worlds was established.
Now understand I'm not a scholar. Hells, I've never been capable of escaping the walls of my master's sprawling city let alone traverse the planes—
So you'll have to make do with the broadest beats and save more intensive study for when the shoe is on the other foot and you cross into my world instead. [Is ever so matter of factly said.] But what I can tell you is that there was a human w— a mage, to coin your term— who was beyond blessed with talent for all things arcane. Even the elves thought him more skilled than any mortal creature prior.
Long story clipped down to a thread: raise your hand if you think that hubris might've gone straight to his head and caused a disastrous calamity the likes of which no realm has ever managed to recover from.