The continent of Liuwrend is full of talented sorcerers, each blessed by the gods. Just like the many mortals that make up this vast world they too are fickle beings with their own agendas. They constantly meddle in the affairs of those that interest them, and take steps to defeat their enemies, even going so far as to kill their own to further their plans. What will they do, then, when they discover a living sorcerer that has been blessed by a long thought dead god, and what price must this mortal pay for unwillingly being thrust into a conflict much larger than himself?
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With an opportunity in front of him Magnus started dragging his way along the wall to the rest of the glass cabinets. He placed his right hand on each as he moved along, a purple luminescence shimmering through the fur; a brand of three hooked circles interlocked. The shine of the enchantments on the glass in cadence with Magnus’ own mark, and as quickly as the runes appeared they disappeared with cracks forming where it had once been scribed. With each enchantment destroyed, Magnus walked a little taller, gaining strength with each step. He was little more than halfway through when the golem found his prey and stalked towards him. This time, though, Magnus was ready and stood his ground.