Warning: My apologies in advance. Unlike my usual musings, this is deliberately written to conceal the identities of those involved. My reasons are my own.
I lunched today with some old friends, Alchemist, Morningblade and Strider. I've lunched with them individually over the course of the year I was back, of course, but it's literally been decades since I've lunched with all of them at once.
Lunch conversation was surprisingly light on reminiscing, given that this was the group I've learnt virtually all of my knowledge of the mystical arts from. As Alchemist puts it, individually, we are already quite scary, but we also taught tricks to one another.
Among us, Alchemist is the master transmuter. He is entirely gifted in most forms of the Craft, but chief among his gifts are divination, synthesis and transformation. His skill in the transformation of other people's gifts to unexpected forms and functions is especially noteworthy.
Morningblade is a master enchanter. His skills lie in the art of beguilement, deception, illusion and truth. It sounds entirely contradictory until one understands that only through the mastery of truth for truth's sake can one start mastering his art. Like me, he too is a swordsman. Though I've often criticised his chosen sword form for the lack of dimension, the fact remains that he was once my teacher in the arts of the blade.
Strider, my brother, is a master nullifier and numeromancer. His art is to find truth through complex linear forms. Through such forms he is also able to resist, nullify, and curiously enough, enable through the nullification of nullification. Though we are blood, the directions our Craft has taken is completely different. Strider possesses the most curious ability to work his Craft without noise or motion, something I've never been able to master.
I am the master evoker and runesmith. My truth is intuitive, direct and often without form, and needs to be bound with the use of symbols. The effects of my truth often deal in extreme high or low energy states in geometric (not necessarily Euclidian) shapes. Mine is the power to impart, alter or cease motion vectors.
Four forms, but always one truth. How I missed them.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Four forms, one art... *grin* sounds like the Eternal Hoodlum School of Shaolin or something. Enjoyed self.
Post a Comment