Ancient Magic by Markal

Terragen • Space • posted on May 17, 2007

Open full image in new tab Zoom on image

Hover over top left image to zoom.
Click anywhere to exit.

Members remain the original copyright holder in all their materials here at Renderosity. Use of any of their material inconsistent with the terms and conditions set forth is prohibited and is considered an infringement of the copyrights of the respective holders unless specially stated otherwise.

Description

TG 9.43, LunarCell moons, PSP7 level adjustments.. Prose by mommabobbijo Magic, as ancient as the earth on which we live, runs in a continuous cycle. Broken into quarters, each about three months long. Sometimes we are drawn into those cycles with no conscious exercise of freewill, but rather a debt owed by our souls to the creators, older than time itself. The last full moon of Autumn, Her silvery face aglow, Shines so bright that her brilliant light creates a blue halo. Perfect lighting for maic mysteries, held far from human sight, But there are those few among us, called by fey sent music in the night. They abandon their beds and their loved ones to follow the wild call, Passing blindly through the moonlit fenlands, which they notice not at all. These paths that they trace through the moonlight, lie unseen in the light of the day, But their souls recognize the music and their hearts remember the way. The ley lines marked out by magic, are a road map older than time, They lead to a place in a circle of stones, whispered at in nursery rhymes. They hasten on toward the circle, to join the worshipers there, Their feet follow ancient patterns traced by the magic rhythms in the air. Throughout the night they dance there, safe in that circle of stone, When at last they slow to a stop, the night is almost gone. They turn and leave so silently, fading softly into the night, They must return to their beds, and be sleeping by the first touch of the light. They wake in the morning exhausted, with swollen aching feet. Haunted all day by the whisper, of a music Oh! so sweet. But as they drift off to sleep each evening, dreams severing conscious thought, Those ancient stones send out a command, to return to that magic sacred spot. It grows stronger and clearer nightly, until the mind dare not resist, And three months hence in the still of the night, They'll slip off once again in the mist. The ritual is so ancient that no one remembers it's start, But the call in the night repays a debt, owed by an ancestors heart.

Comments (35)

)

Patapon

6:40PM | Thu, 17 May 2007

How do you manage to light up these precise areas let me always stoned. With a so unpredictable software like Terragen... Anyway, a greatissimo image, as usual.

)