[ 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 .

There are many, still, who utilize the ephemeral and formless words of Magick. Men who wield it as a weapon; a trade; an artform. All spells take time to cast, and the simpler the spell, the swifter the cast. For over 200 years, Wizards have taken a Pilgrimage to the City on the Edge, speaking of seeing visions of the Future, speaking of Demons. There are now over 1,324 Wizards taking part in the Waiting. 
 Every Wizard is the same. They wake one morning and proclaim a need to get to the Edge. They travel there with all haste and upon stepping withing the city borders... They begin chanting slowly, every word of their spell coming slower than the one before it. Soon their skin takes on a hardness, and not even the strongest of steel siege or weaponry can break through to the Wizard beneath. After a hundred years their stoniness blurs their features, many of them are forgotten. 
 And then came the first strike on our world from below, from the Demons who dwell beneath. And on that day of Demons, every Wizard awoke. Every Wizard but one. 
 
 ( First thing I've written in a long time >. > )
