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Reading Excuses / First!
« on: December 15, 2010, 02:04:34 AM »
Welcome back everyone.
Glad to have the forums back again.
Glad to have the forums back again.
"Magic is what makes fantasy fantastic," someone says, "you can't apply rules to them or else it loses wonder!" I respond, "Sure, but if you want to write them you will certainly want to know how they work." Writing is all about execution, and I find applying some basic laws of physics to magic systems make them more understandable and realistic. Here, I'm going to outline my basic method for developing a magic system.
Column by Chaos2651
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Something blew against him. “Wait!” Kaladin said. “Why is there so much war? Must we always fight?” He wasn’t sure why he asked. The questions simply came out.
The storm rumbled, like a thoughtful aged father. The face vanished, shattering into droplets of water.
More softly, the voice answered, ODIUM REIGNS.
the Thrill—the enjoyment and longing for war—was part of what drove the Alethi as a people
He was losing his thirst for battle. That worried him, as the Thrill—the enjoyment and longing for war—was part of what drove the Alethi as a people
The Thrill excited him, strengthened him
He felt a spike of regret along with displeasure at the Thrill. Surely these Parshendi—these soldiers—deserved respect, not glee, as they were slaughtered
He remembered the times when the Thrill had been the strongest. Subduing the highprinces with Gavilar during their youths, forcing back the Vedens, fighting the Herdazians and destroying the Akak Reshi. Once, the thirst for battle had nearly led him to attack Gavilar himself. Dalinar could remember the jealousy on that day some ten years ago, when the itch to attack Gavilar—the only worthy opponent he could see, the man who had won Navani’s hand—had nearly consumed him.
His army surged forward behind him, and the Thrill bubbled within. It was power. Strength greater than Shardplate. Vitality greater than youth. Skill greater than a lifetime of practice. A fever of power. Parshendi after Parshendi fell before his Blade. He couldn’t cut their flesh, yet he sheared through their ranks. The momentum of their attacks often carried their corpses stumbling past him even as their eyes burned. The Parshendi started to break, running away or falling back. He grinned behind his near-translucent visor
“All who can fight are needed,” the woman said. “And all who have a desire to fight should be compelled to come to Alethela. Fighting, even this fighting against the Ten Deaths, changes a person. We can teach you so that it will not destroy you. Come to us
Holding his breath, he clung to the Stormlight. He could still feel it leaking out. Stormlight could be held for only a short time, a few minutes at most. It leaked away, the human body too porous a container. He had heard that the Voidbringers could hold it in perfectly. But, then, did they even exist? His punishment declared that they didn’t. His honor demanded that they did.
-Szeth, Prologue
“We will not have much time,” Kalimeris said. “Dais, shoulder your pack, you're first. Then you Sen.” the swordsman looked at Senna with the same sternness as he did everyone. The last time he had looked with kindness was before Overlook, Dais thought. “I'll be last; leave me if you must.”
“What's going on?” Dais asked. Doing as he was asked he quickly put the rucksack back on. From above the rope came down.
“I can hear it too, like a rumbling horde of Chittins without a rose in their way,” Rosalin said.
Chittins? Roses? That didn't make sense, but rumbling, that's something Dais thought he could hear. “We've still got time, though, right?”