It was predicted. Foretold. Inevitable. Mortalkind was moving too slow. Especially now. Their knowledge of the world was fledgling at best, non-existent at worst. The portents predicted by the great designs had come through at last. The milestone was not reached. Even with the challenges Qael’Naath had enacted. The god sat in his middle island. The only island he had found that didn’t move an inch. Even though the blue sun was the center of his realm, this island refused to move for it. His eyes did not glimmer. The winds of magic were shrieking somewhere on Galbar. Uncontrolled power with no consciousness, no direction. Its ruler was meditating upon a flat stone amidst a great, emerald and topaz waterfall. With all his eyes closed. The colored mist flowed around him. Forming constructs. Spells that had no reason to exist in a realm that didn’t need them. The second the vapor moved away from the god, it crumbled out of existence again. The schemes and diagrams vanished. Qael, as he opened his eyes after his rumination noticed this. His own subconsciousness was shaping the mana in his close presence. In fact only now did he realize he was sitting on a rock marked with lines, geometry and strange symbols. But the second he rose up, it vanished again. None the less, he realized something important. Mortalkind was not the only one who could forge spells. For two millenia and three decades nearly he had sworn to never so directly aid mortals. He would be the teacher. Not anymore. All six of his eyes flicked with rainbow light. The shrieking entity in the sky calmed in a moments notice. Then the sky around it lit up with a million specks of light, as if a thousand stars flickered into existence and were extinguished again. In truth, the god of magic was working hard. Harder than ever. He felt his own power being consumed. After this, he would have to rest. None the less he pushed on. It was a great work not seen since the age of creation. The very power of divinity was working the world as if it was wet clay. A million spells, forged at the hands of a god, were flowing across Galbar. Settling in woodland regions, great wastes and mighty mountains. They were spells of ice, shadows, grass, air, cloth, bronze, iron and many more things. When he was finally done, trillions of new spells had been birthed. These were not the meek and meager things mortals created and that were only sustained by the god of magic’s constant attention. No these were well defined creations. Though they were made by a god, thus understood by a god. Making them dangerously undecipherable for any mortal. It was a challenge. One greater than the puzzleboxes. One that would cost lives, this time around. Qael watched as the golden flecks covered Galbar. To his own surprise, he felt remorse grow in his heart. Remorse. Such a mortal feeling. None the less he knew that he felt it. There was nothing more he could do though. There was wisdom to what Cadien had said. He couldn’t just give mortals so much power. They had to earn it. Learn from it. Now though, he at least gave them an almost tangible goal [hider=Summary]Qael ruminates on the shortcomings of mortal magic. As he does, the pure mana of his realm interacts with his subconscious. Spells momentarily form in his presence, only to fizzle out of existence immediately. They don’t matter, because spells don’t matter in his realm, where there is no-one to use them. None the less he notices this and realizes that he too can craft spells. So he sets forth to create trillions of new spells. They flow across Galbar and settle in their themed regions for mortals to find and study. But the god of magic feels remorse. Some will die while researching these spells and he knows this. None the less he cannot do more. Simply giving them the spells would be too dangerous. They had to learn and earn them.[/hider] [hider=MP&DP] [b]Qael’Naath Start:[/b] 2MP/5DP -3 DP + Enhanced >> Create Mysticism and god-forge spells [b]Qael’Naath Start:[/b] 2MP/2DP[/hider]