[ For any wizard, there was always the erroneous chance that they would find a portal and step inside-- it was a call of sorts, how could one resist the very idea of stepping into something unknown. Pandora's box, except instead of hoping stepping out.. hope merely stepped in, to disappear into the aether.

Except Gale, as he confusedly emerged from the mawing purple void, did not precisely remember stepping inside a portal. The last thing he recalled was a blur, something with a book and a glowing boot which he pressed to a chest that was hurting. He winced as the tattoo glowed just above the neck and then he found his knees hitting grass and dirt. ]

Ah, an audience I see-- how peculiar, however at this conjecture, I am not precisely sure that I remember an audience? Well Volo had been lurking around but I do not remember seeing him..

[ He was not sure, in fact, of what he was going to say except that a cool breeze touched his body and he realized he was.. nearly naked. He dragged himself up to something akin to his full height while he sought to cover himself. Desperately, he attempted to search for familiar faces within the torchlight wielding crowd of villagers. ]

Can anyone tell me where I have landed? [ Thankfully no one attempted to high five him this time on his way out the portal. That was something, right? ]

[ The page fell down and like magnetism it floated into his hands, cradled within his own open palm. The words glowed and he was for a moment caught in the lure of the written word. Certainly, it was why he had pursued the wizard lifestyle-- because he was enamored with knowledge, books and the sweet tang of a spell flowing within the Weave.

His eyes caught and held parchment, and then he was moving it over the grace and beauty of words, how they hummed with energy.

Dark magic crackled from his fingertips, a voidal flare as the ichor flowing through his veins caught like ink and melded with it to create a spell, but not one of his own repertoire (he had not the wherewithal to cast which had been frustrating) but here as he spoke the words, a void started to spread underneath his feet; gravity that made his booted feet feel heavy, attempted to suck him down.

He blinked and then fell backwards, flat onto his arse while he watched the eddying whirlpool grab a milk bucket and hungrily pulled it to it's dark violent depths as it evidenced; but still his fingers clutched parchment and he was attempting to push himself further back on the ground. ]

This is not the normal type of magic that I have encountered. This book is it's own entity, cleaving to my mind-- though I did not speak any words whatsoever. [ There were other pages and they fell downward in a whirling waltz, disturbing if they all contained that same mote of power as a single page did. ]

We must be careful, perhaps we should attempt to collect them? Reform them back into a tome?

Hello, this is Nia aka alwaysbeenasmiler with yet another socially inept magic user because I have a BRAND(tm)! Feel free to hit me up with plotting either in DM or over on plurk and please be kind to my adopted baby boy because everyone is mean to him, including that Lae'zel.

Paper Airplane texting is also welcome! (I love texting threads; fast and fun for those low spoons nights)