Here's the scene: a small inn on the outskirts of town. Two men sit at the bar, emptied mugs all around them. They've had more than enough to drink, but think themselves sober enough to discuss the proper technique of conjuring an elemental. The less inebriated of the two insists that the fingers are an integral part of the summoning, that their placement and position aids with the channeling of magic. He is, of course, correct. The second man is a lackluster sorcerer, one who doesn't grasp the nuanced nature of the gesture; he believes the wrists are where the real work lies.
And that's where I come in. Unable to ignore their conversation from my seat at a nearby table, I felt it necessary to correct the sorcerer, noting that there is quite a difference in how we wizards handle the Weave, as opposed to the instinctual magic of which he was supposedly capable. He did not take kindly to that one bit, nor the part where I called him an uneducated ignoramus, and so he tossed me through the window.
I've had decent success with (1) a negroni sbagliato....with prosecco in it! And (2) a deep purple the young people are calling 'black cherry.' You're welcome to borrow it if you like, I'm told it goes well with nearly every outfit :)
Although I'm told the fear of our Great Resurrector is accomplished through bloody intergalactic warfare and obscure ritual and the like. Oh well!
I'm starting to think you've never met an angry drunk, a self-important sorcerer who knows nothing about proper gestural spellcasting technique, or someone who is a little of both.
I've been a lot of things in my life, but I'm always her sister. It's just me and her now, she's my only tie in this whole world. I've never been a very sister to her. Not in ways that matter when you're the one affected by it but I try.
He might have ended up with a shard of glass or two in him upon landing in the street.
But that's better than a concussion from having a trash can telekinetically thrown at your head, or the embarrassment of being knocked unconscious while your clothes have been rendered invisible.
[Okay, so maybe there was a quick demonstration of proper gestural technique that riled the sorcerer up enough to toss Gale through a window. Must have slipped his mind due to all the defenestration.]
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