CANDLE GLOW
An artificial light dissolved the darkness.
Owyn shook his head, trying desperately to break his concentration. Blinking rapidly, he let his eyes adjust to the strange artificial light.
"I'm okay. Let's get going."
Clearing his mind of distracting thoughts, Owyn waited for the spell to coalesce in his mind. At first there was darkness, but slowly a flame guttered into being behind his eyelids, grew brighter until he could clearly make out the details of an underground passage. Instinctively he knew he would have no need of a torch while exploring caverns as long as he cast the spell.
DESPAIR THY EYES
He felt his eyes twitch as a scene began unfolding before him. A battlefield. As he concentrated he somehow knew he was not looking out of his own eyes, but instead out of an enemy's eyes! Centered in his view was himself, staff held on high and body blazing light as he called down great power. A flash lashed down out of the skies and then... darkness and confusion. He...no, the enemy...was blind!
GIFT OF SUNG
Sung -- Giver of Life, God of Healing, Bearer of Drusala's Staff. Next only to Ishap, he was the most revered of Midkemia's gods and the magical traditions passed down by him were among the easiest to master. Foremost was his gift, a spell that allowed a magician to sustain the life of a companion, to cradle him at death's door until the injured was able to heal naturally.
INVITATION
Recalling the cantrip as easily as recalling his way home, Owyn smiled. Although many young magicians had formulated comic variations on the theme, Invitation was often referred less reverently to as A Kick In the Rump. Designed in the misty past by a mischievous spellcaster, it forced its unfortunate victims to suddenly stumble forward from an unseen kick.
DRAGON'S BREATH
Gorath watched in amazement.
Thick clouds of fog were rolling out of Owyn's mouth, as though some terrible fire was burning away inside his stomach and the smoke was rushing from his mouth in a horrified panic to leave his body. In less than a minute, the area was completely covered with a dense fog.
SCENT OF SARIG
Owyn muttered the incantation.
Knowing that the effects would be invisible to all but himself, Owyn explained as he finished the spell. "Until it wears off, I will be able to...sense...whether a chest has been trapped."
STARDUSK
Overhead, the stars flared.
Owyn swept his hand in a wide arc over his head, light growing around them like a shimmering dust. Blinking rapidly, he let his eyes adjust to the strange artificial light.
"A small loan from above," Owyn said in explanation. "Let's get moving."
UNION
Patrus felt a shifting in his mind.
It was as though his brain had suddenly turned itself around, and the thoughts in his head were scrambling to return order to the chaos and achieve some sense of equilibrium. At last, images began to form, and finally...words and letters, though these were not the same thoughts he was accustomed to thinking. They were moredhel!
NIGHTFINGERS (Failed Casting)
Owyn was unable to steal the [Item].
"As long as he's holding it, I can't tell what's animate and whats inanimate," he hissed in frustration. "The spell only works if the item isn't in immediate contact with living flesh. I might still be able to steal something from his pack..."
FAILED CASTING
Owyn blundered.
Hoping all was not lost, he tried to complete the rest of the incantation but realized too late that it was beyond all hope.
"Fouled it up," he snapped bitterly. "Complete waste of time."