[ PI ] The longer a spell takes to invoke , the more potent its effects . A single wizard has been casting a spell for hundreds of years . Today , he is finally done .

He had waited years for this, years of chanting, researching, spending his years deep in the heart of the dustiest and most isolated libraries on the planet. The room was bare, a simple stone square and a wooden door, the dust thick from years of being undisturbed, a tall figure in a cloak with a huge hood, obscuring all form in it's dark folds had been chanting now, the voice broken and cracked had been speaking in the same tone for decades. 
 
 In the centre of a chalk circle, the lines faded as time has gone by stood the figure, a dark crackling blue orb had appeared in front of it, the first light this room had seen for generations slowly bathed the walls in a soft glow. Hissing and snapping the wind began to pick up as the orb pulsed, becoming an oozing putty like shape as the ball turned into an amorphous blob and began churning and taking form. 
 
 The figures chanting became louder, the language unknown to anyone but the darkness in the hood singing them in an almost excited tone, the syllables cracked near the end, the voice used to the unstoppable roll of time finally silenced as a rectangular box the amorphous blob had formed dropped to the floor, disturbing the dust of aeons. 
 
 The figure stared for a while, the silence deafening after the seeming unending chant, it's one song, it's only song, it's whole world had finally ceased. There was nothing now but the darkness, the dust and the box. The figure knelt down and almost shaking with anticipation reached down and picked up it's prize. It's hood falling back. 
 
 Monstrously long ears sat a top a small rounded head, a soft pink nose sniffed deep against the item in it's hand as it's impossibly wide eyes filled with tears. 
 
 `` not for kids anymore...'' It whispered. `` Not... anymore.''
