Completed Magic in the Dark

[Huskabar]

Season: Winter/Day: 63rd/Year: 513/Time: Midnight In the dingy darkness of the poorly lit apartment, two gnarled hands moved ahead, gesturing outward to the space in front of them. Moments passed, as concentration intensified, each second bringing Huskabar’s anticipation to new heights. Suddenly a rip formed along this empty space, causing an opening in all that is, to reveal all that is not. An old set of eyes took in the sight of the oh so beautiful nothingness, in all its splendor, his lips gradually curling up into an all-too satisfied grin. It was time to take this practice up another level. The small rip in space gradually moved away from the old man’s physical body, the astral limbs holding the edges of the very small hole, as the void moved to the other side of the room. He then attempted to move the void back towards himself, but as he did, he felt the minuscule gateway tighten, and before it could return toward him, it was gone. “I would say you need a little more practice,” came a familiar, yet uninvited voice. Quickly the elderly man spun his head in either direction, looking for the source of the voice, but he could not be found. He slowly reached upward, rubbing his scalp, as a confused expression made it’s way across his face. “Oh, don’t be so surprised. You should have known I would come say hello sooner or later, son,” said the voice again. The old man stood from his seat, searching the room with even more care than before, but not a single being aside from himself occupied the dwelling. He thought that perhaps he had stayed up too long, or perhaps this city was bringing back too many memories. Whatever the reason, he thought sleep was the answer… As his eyes scanned along the leaking cracks of the apartment’s sealing, a strange feeling cascaded over him yet again, followed by the voice once more, “Oh, you aren’t done practicing already, are you?” Huskabar sprung from his near sleep, now spinning in circles, in search of the speaker, calling out into the darkness, and to his dismay there was a reply… “If you ever want to be the best, you can’t stop practicing,” the words filled his head. He placed his hands out before him once more, the wrinkled digits spreading, as he called forth yet another void, opening a split of space before him, this time pushing his limits, the chasm expanding as he spoke out the incantations with conviction. The pull of the void causing his long silver mane to flow along the escaping air. He then projected the portal upward, and along the contour of his room, before noticing his provisions bag beginning to rise, causing him to swiftly move the void to the other side of the room. “You do realize there is a cost to all of this in the end, don’t you?” came the voice. Those words…. Those words… The very same words were reiterated to him when he first began his training in magic, originated from the concern of his name deceased father. Could he be losing his grip on reality, he wondered… No, no, no. I must be overgiving, he surmised, since he could not possibly be so frail minded that nostalgic reconnection with a place of personal history would tailspin him into lunacy. Of course not, shaking his head, as he huffed at the thought. “Oh yes, you are so very sane. All well balanced individuals speak to their dead father in the dead of night. I thought that was common knowledge.” He tossed himself back into bed, pressing his hands against his ears, as his body tossed and turned through the night, letting the uninvited noise fade into the darkness of slumber.

[Huskabar]

The old wizard arose from the gutters, unsure how he had come to find himself there in the first place. He wiped away the filth and slime, leaving only the stench to haunt him, before joining the darkness of the Sunberth city streets. In the distance there was a silhouette of a man, peering back at him, with an almost menacing grimace. Huskabar found himself compelled to move closer, despite the fact the smile seemed to only grow all the more exaggerated with each step he took. Suddenly the darkness took form, and there before him was the vision of his father, his head contorting, as his eyes narrowed, before repeating the words he had heard not long before, “You do realize there is a cost to all of this in the end, don’t you?” The elderly man stumbled backwards at the sight of the apparition, losing balance as the words rang in his head, falling back against the grimy cobbled street, falling through its surface, into utter nothingness. His hands sprung forward to grip for reality, but it slipped away into the fading distance. His body spun through the emptiness, as a feeling of helplessness washed over him, which was a feeling he hadn’t felt in quite some time. All at once, a deep roaring laughter came from his lips, for though there was the faintest spark of nostalgia, an even greater emotion filled the warlock in that moment, defiance. Suddenly his hands shot from his arms in the form of great tendrils, wrapping around the all-too familiar specter, yarning his body upward from the dark, back into the city streets, his eyes glowing with a burning red, squeezing his father in his grasp, as he called out to him, “A cost? A cost? It is I who am owed, and it is I who shall collect.” The city sprung into havoc, as the sky ripped open into utter chaos, dead bodies soaring up into a floating sea of blackness, screaming out a single name, “Huskabar!” Death, havoc, destruction, and then…. Immediately his body sprung upward, his eyes wide open, to see that he was still in his apartment…. “A nightmare? No…. A dream…. A wonderful dream,” he spoke to himself. He stretched out his arms, giving a low yawn, as his aged body gradually regained its mobility. It still seemed to be night, but Huskabar felt far too invigorated to go back to sleep. He threw his hands forward with conviction this time, a tear in reality soon forming in front of him. An almost unworldly smile sprawled its way across his expression, as his eyes narrowed, before use his projection to spin the chasm across the room once more. The void was growing much larger than before, and the push of this void was so great, that he could barely stand on his two feet. It did not quite span the size of a sewage drain, but it was greater than any of the warlock’s previous attempts. It was clear that he was finally making some progress. There was something about all of this that felt intoxicating, and though he felt compelled to hold onto this feeling as long as possible, and this powers seemed to be soaring to new heights, his senses began to kick in, and he remembered his various warnings of overgivining. He gradually closed the mighty portal, only to hear, “Oh you aren’t done already are you? This was just getting fun!” And as Huskabar turned, he saw what appeared to be his father standing behind him. “Oh, what’s with the long face, my boy? We can’t all keep our heads on straight!” he said with a wild laughter, as his own head began to spin upon his body like a top, his eyes glowing red just like before. Huskabar reached down, pinching his arm, only to realize he was indeed awake. “No, son. It looks like you are stuck with me! I’d get that checked out if I were you!”

[Huskabar]

There was only one thing left to do, and that was to once again brave the waters of the mighty ocean known as slumber. He laid his body down to rest, and a tiny piece of himself was almost convinced that the strange vision of his father would be once he was well rested. It was as if his eyes were shut for only a moment, before looking over his body to see that he was young again. It looked as if he were once again in his early twenties, though he did not feel any different. He took a moment to look around, noticing that he was in a strange white room that he had never seen before. Everything was so very bright, and he could barely make out where the doors were, though the room did seem to have them, and it was at that very moment that a man entered the room. It wasn’t his father, but rather his teacher, and he looked different. His face was gaunt, and pale, and his eyes were sunken. He sat down in a chair at the opposite end of the room, before speaking, “There is more to magic than what I can teach you. Do you remember when I said that to you, Huskar?” The now young wizard nodded to his instructors words. “Good, but do you know what I meant by them?” “That there are many different types to learn, and that you only taught me three different categories of magic, Sir,” he spoke, but instantly he could sense the man’s disappointment. His ebony face soon sunk into an expression of melancholy, and without a single word, the man stood back up, before turning his body, and walking out the door. “Wait, teacher! Sir, wait!” he called out to him, but there was no reply. He just upward to chase after the man, racing to the door, dashing around the corner, and then falling in the very next moment, down into blackness. Again he reached upward, as he shouted out, “No, I must take control! No, I must take control, and be the greatest… I refuse to have wasted my life. I refuse.” suddenly he jolted his body back upward, only to see that it was now day. Well at least the voices seem to be gone, he thought, and just as he did, he spun around in a paranoid frenzy, but fortunately for him no strange vision could be found. The old conjuror let his eyes wander the room a moment, before hearing the low whimper of a dog, just outside of his room, causing opportunistic thoughts to develop, and in the very next moment he quickly dashed toward the door, cracking it open to see a lone stray searching the alleyways for food. He ran to his sack, retrieving a single loaf of bread, before placing his hand outside of the door, to lure the creature forward, “Here, poor fellow.. Come right in.” The half starved hound mix cautiously approached, before entering the building. The animal scoffed down every last bite of the food without even a second thought, before glaring up suspiciously at the wizard. The entire time Huskabar has been observing this creature, and then looking to his hand, gradually shifting it’s appearance to that of the dog’s paw. The surface of his hand which had once been wrinkled aged flesh was now ragged brown fur, and what was dirty chipped nails were now long jagged claws. “Not much of an improvement, but not much worse either, heh, fellow?” He stared down at the beast who was now intently gnawing at his own hind end. “Well be off with you, foul thing, you!” he called out, before punting the canine out of his door, to be received with a nasty snarl, but before the dog could truly react, the door was shut and locked once more. He looked down to his hand, to see that it had reformed to it’s correct shape, before all at once feeling a growl come deep from within his stomach. He immediately turned towards his pack, before projecting it forward, yet it was clear after a moment, that he was not quite strong enough to truly lift his luggage. The pack just continued to awkwardly drag along the floor, pausing at several intervals. He simply shook his head, before walking towards the pack, picking it up, and opening it in search of food. Perhaps all of this practice would be easier with a full stomach. He found another loaf of bread, before quickly bringing it to his lips, letting his hunger get the best of him. Perhaps he was more like that stray hound than he realized. After all, he never really did belong, himself. In any matter the bread was now completely gone, and his body felt a surge of new energy. He would take a break to allow himself to recover both strength and djed, but then it would be back to practice once more. It appeared that he could indeed learn his craft in Sunberth, but he couldn’t help but feel that some socialization might add some balance to his life… He thought on this for a moment…. “Nay,” he said to himself, with a shrug.

[Huskabar]

The following hours passed like sap springing from a tree, and though the wizard’s djed was returning, it couldn’t be soon enough. “Patience. Believe me when I tell you, the last thing you want to hear is the sweet whisper, my son.” At this point, Huskabar stopped fighting these strange visions, and was rather successfully ignoring them altogether. “So what made you come back here anyway? You always did hate this place as a child, and I was definitely under the impression you used to dream of leaving, with no plans of ever coming back. You know, I never did get to say goodbye to you, nor did you get to say goodbye to me. Ever consider the fact that you aren’t crazy, but trapped in a downwards spiral of guilt? Or hey, maybe you are nuts. What do I know? I am just your father after all.” “Enough! You are nothing like Kravon Skorn, so please stop pretending that you are! That man was soft spoken, intelligent, and one of the kindest souls I ever knew… He picked his words wisely, and you just blabber like a fool. It’s bad enough to not know whether I am imagining you or not, but to constantly be insulted by your defile of my father’s memory is becoming too much to bare. Silence! Silence! Silence!” he called out into the approaching darkness, dusk bringing forth the comfort of night, and as he scanned the room, there were no visions, and not a word to be heard. “It’s about time! Finally… alone… alone….” he looked across the shadowy corners of the room, feeling the comfort quickly dissipate. The chilling blackness crawled closer from every direction, trapping him like a rat on a sinking ship. A sharp pain ran up his spine, causing him to immediately inhale air, as a single pair of eyes formed in the furthest corner of the apartment. “Father, is that you?” the elderly man called into the darkness, but no reply was given. The eyes moved closer, as a low hiss could be heard, the wizard’s body beginning to tremble. He reached outward to project a void towards the creature, but nothing happened. It was as if he had no abilities whatsoever. He leapt to his feet, before scrambling towards the door, gripping at it’s knob, pulling wildly, as he screamed for dear life, but the door would not budge. He turned to face his attacker, expecting to see a large set of dripping teeth, but there was nothing there. “What… What… was that?” He scratched his head, his aged eyes peering across the room, unsure of what had just happened…. “What… what is this place?” He asked himself, filled with confusion. “You know where you are… You know what is wrong,” chimed a familiar voice, and the old man turned to see the vision of the speaker, “You waited too long to truly begin your pursuit, my boy…. Now age has brought your mind to illness.” Huskabar shook his head rebelliously, not wanting to accept these words as facts. He could not give into this sickness… Not until his destiny had been met. He refused to let these visions take control of him. “Magic isn’t going to help you. It will only make all of this much worse. You should go live a peaceful and simple life while you still can. You know that there is no good end to the path you are now traveling.” Despite the fact he heard every word, the old wizard could not accept them. He already knew that he would pay any cost to follow his fate out to it’s end.

[Huskabar]

The image of his father gradually faded from sight, with a slow shake of his head, but it had been a very long time since Huskabar had last sought his father’s approval. It was clear that his window of opportunity would close just a little more every day. If he didn’t start practicing, his mind would be gone before he ever reached his true destiny. He extended out his hands, before gradually shifting them into the form of paws, nearly identical to those belonging to the hound he had previously observed. This time he morphed all the way up to both elbows, causing an all too pleased smile to appear on his wrinkled face. “Excellent!” He placed out his paws, slowly concentrating, as he gestured forward, opening a void in front of him, this time even bigger than before. He turned his body, guiding the void around the room, practicing all forms of his knowledge, as he projected the void across the room, his eyes glaring with pure focus. He was aware of the risks in practicing so regularly, and intensely, but he was also aware that if he did not, he would soon be even less than a memory. This went on for several minutes, until his astral hands grew heavy, and tired, and as the void closed, and his hands regained their mobility, as well as their previous form, he could not help but notice that some of the feeling in his right hand was gone. He ran a finger along the thumb, and felt nothing. “See? And this will be just the first of many sacrifices.” said the voice of Kravon Skorn. Huskabar simply turned his back, and ignored the voice, as he slunk into the corner, his old frail bones growing far beyond tired at this point. “You know you could have avoided that too. You just had to practice your projection with the ripping method, didn’t you? Well there is far more than that to come if you continue down this road. You know this!” The djed-drained codger barely had the energy to move, and this was far from the first time that he had been close to overgiving during practice, but this time was different. There was no euphoria, but rather a dry and bitter compulsion, and though that thirst was undeniable, the sudden nerve damage to his hand, had a way of quickly sobering him from his temptations. He gradually stumbled across the room, before collapsing down to the ground, before making it to his bed. His eyes fluttered as he laid against the ground, watching the crack in the sealing rip open into a void of death and despair, laughter spewing out in great volumes, as he began to roll and shake,whispering out to himself, "You are Huskabar. You are a destined for great thing. You are Huskabar!" he repeated these words with conviction. He would not let age take his memories and dreams from him, nor could he allow this illness of the mind to turn him into a rambling mad man... He simply could not allow that to happen. He gazed up into the black abyss, a small piece of him secretly hoping these visions were real, and that in any moment he would be sucked upward into the emptiness, and all of his pains, fears, pressures, and disappointments would melt away into nothing. Suddenly his brow tensed, and his head began to shake from side to side. "You won't stop that easily, will you boy? You won't let this slow you down," spoke the returned sight of his father, "No, you are strong, I know this. You will find a way to overcome any challenge, won't you? Get some sleep, son." The void above him gradually began to close, and the laughter slowly faded from thought, and with each passing second his eyes grew heavier until.... Blackness.

[Matthew]

Huskabar

Experience Points:

• +2 Morphing
• +1 Observation
• +2 Projection
• +4 Voiding

Lores:

• Dreams: Sometimes Hard to Seperate From Reality
• Magic: Always a Cost
• Magic: Knowing your Limits
• Magic: The Sweet Sensation of Mild Overgiving
• Morphing: Hands into Dog Paws
• The Voice: Overgiving, or Something More?
• The Voice: Able to Take Form
• Visions: Overgiving, or already Insane?
• Voiding: The Basic Essence of Empty

Additional Details:

• Some damage has been done to the nerves in your hand. For about a week, it is fairly useless and prone to sudden spasms. You regain most of your control during the week after, though the spasms still come and go.

Additional Notes :

Huskabar, I am pretty sure they are Winter Expenses, but it would help future gradings if you specifically marked your Seasonal Expenses as "Winter". Just to help speed it up when we check through your CS. Another thing I noticed was that a lot of the time, Huskabar was able to easily cast his magic. There wasn't much of a prep period, and the effects were usually quick and accurate. That is above the skill level of a Novice, I believe. Even so, it was still enjoyable to read.

If you have any questions or concerns relevant to your grade, don't be afraid to send me a private message so that we can work it all out! Please remember to mark your Grading Request as Graded.

A shout-out to Ollic Rimesage, who was kind enough to make this template for me.