Magic and her Rules

The world of Ziemia is one of magic. This means magical beings, spells, buildings, the works. Allow your imagination to run wild.

However, magic has a set of rules that it adheres to. Like all energy, it is a matter of transforming one type of energy into another. In most small cases, it just takes energy from the individual. For example:

Guile shivered as the brisk wind tugged at the tails of his coat. Muttering something obscene under his breath, he bundles some twigs and underbrush together in a small pile. Focusing his thoughts for a second, a few of the dried leaves burst into flames long enough to catch the rest. With a grin, Guile landed heavily on the dirt. His body had the mild buzz that comes with a brisk walk, the light feeling of energy being burnt in exchange for the gift of warmth...

Naturally, the larger or more complex the task, the more energy it takes.

Brink grinned as his small hands held the rock. His mother, Aleeta, ruffled his boyish brown hair. "You can do it, just focus on the pebble and image an apple. You'll be ok!"
He looked up at her with a smile, "Ok mum." Glaring at the rock, he put all of his thoughts into the last apple he ate. The crisp flavour, the sound as he bit into it... Slowly at first, then faster and faster, little particles of light came out of his hands and circled around the stone, surrounding it in a ball of flowing yellow. Brink couldn't help but giggle a little as the energy rushed out, leaving him dizzy and out of breath. Closing his eyes before the spinning world for a second, he opened them again to find the stone he was holding had changed...
Biting into his new apple, the taste of dirt made him spit it out.
With a laugh, his mother picked him up and reassuringly kissed him on the nose. "Don't worry, honey. You'll get the hang of it eventually!"

Sometimes, though, spells are simply too big for the caster, with disastrous consequences:

Adamia focused on her book, her arms spread-eagle in an attempt to control the orb of water in front of her. As her tutor walked in, he gasped.
"Adamia!!! Stop, now, please!!!
She smiled wide - the look of someone crazed with new power. Sending the water cascading around her in a whirlwind, manic giggling escaped her lips. Reaching higher and higher, the cyclone grew.

Adamia could feel her limbs weakening, her knees shaking, her mind becoming foggy. She couldn't stop now, not while he was there...

Suddenly, the water dropped from the air. The cyclone was gone in a split second. At the center of prior storm lay a figure, unconscious, drenched in water and sweat. Rushing to her side, the tutor quickly checked her pulse. One beat slowly pushed it's way through her arteries. With all his might, the teacher focused on the stupid student, placing his hands upon her heart. Light enveloped where they touched the skin, and he suddenly collapsed with exhaustion, panting heavily.

Another beat wound its way through her system. Then another.
"She's alive" he thought to himself, as he fell suddenly asleep to the cost of restarting the silly girl's heart.

And sometimes, it's just too much to handle. Magic can, and will, take it's cost from the caster (or victim), and will deliver as much as they can pay. If they cannot pay in full, the spell wont complete.

The haggard man stood over his altar, blood weeping from the cuts in his hands. Willing everything in his body to the task, he focused on a single man. Tears of pain ran down his face, over the scars his father gave him when he was a child, one down each side of his jaw. "The bastard deserves to pay," he screamed in his mind, willing magic to stop his father's heart. He knew the price, the ultimate price one could pay.

Pain stabbed through his chest, his tunic became soaked in an instant with red. With a cry, the man fell to his knees. His hair began to fall from his head. Screaming, he plunged the knife at his side deep into his chest, sealing his deal with fate, magic, and the grand balance. With a sigh, the pain left. Light drifted from his body into the the ground of Ziemia. One the other end of the country, in a damp shack, a man fell dead in front of the woman he had dragged home by the hair. His heart ceased beating.

The balance was restored.



Casters in the realm rely on a couple of main-stream tactics to pay their dues. One is to cast in a group, sharing the cost out over a number of individuals.

History of the Realm; 4th Volume. 'Defence of the Glowing City'. Page 788:

In the Grand Citadel is a grand room. On a floor of solid marble, there is a huge carving of a pentagram. At each of the star's points, a bearded man stands, rocking from side to side, murmuring. Their task is simple: to keep the city's streets safe from violence and bloodshed. Their energies keep the ADMINS working, fighting for the City and her Laws. Never do these men rest. Only upon death may they leave the circle, only to be replaced with a new and hard spirited individual that has trained all their life for the task. These men, tasked with the safety of the realm, have their lives leaked from them second by second for the remainder of their lifetimes, with the magical prayers of the citizens being the only force to keep them standing for longer than a minute.


Many magicians also carry trinkets with them - jewels such as rubies or sapphires in necklaces or rings - that they instill the life-force of sacrifices such as hunted animals into. These pendants will slowly regenerate power, but magical energy leaked from the person will be reimbursed at a steady rate from the trinket. This is NOT ENOUGH TO PREVENT THE BALANCE. They cannot gift enough energy fast enough to change the balance's orders.

Brink sat in the center of his room. Around him, on the floorboards, there was a chalked in pentagram, with the runes of The Five at each point.
Cutting a huge gash in his arm, Brink centered his energy on the single thought..

"HEAL"

His right hand instantly buzzed with energy, adrenaline kicked up into his system with the pain. All of a sudden, like a volcano erupting, green sparks began pouring out of his fingers to the wound on his left arm. Placing his fingers into the wound, he groaned with pain. The little sparks knitted the tissue back together, pushing his fingers out as the tissue was replaced and repaired.

His body began to ache all over. He was getting tired and he was only half healed.

Touching the large stone hanging from his neck, there was an instant warmth as energy flowed into the center of his chest. It began replacing his body's energies, the ache of exhaustion lessened...

Two minutes later, the wound was healed. Brink was barely able to sit upright. Twenty minutes later, he stood up, right as rain.

"Time to visit the butcher's, eh?" he asked of his ruby necklace, heading to the door.