No takers on fixing that spoilery bit? Nobody?
On the Issue of Magic Potential: Remember that I'm drawing a fairly distinct line here between things I'm writing down, events the ROB is recording for the reader, and communication from inside the 'verse to the readers. "Never amount to anything" was how I wrote it down in my journal file- it wasn't what I was told.
Proginoskes: Yes, you are.
It was a *good* shower.
**********
The doctor used a lot of medical technobabble, but what it boils down to is that I'm a squib- an F-rank mage, in Mid-Childan terms. I have a linker core, but it's smaller and weaker than the minimum cutoff for a D-rank mage- too small, in fact, to actually cast any spells. I can operate civilian magitech (specifically, nothing more demanding than home or office equipment), and that's it.
She then proceeded to explain that the size of one's linker core was determined by genetics, age, and magical training. Apparently, the way to maximize your magical potential was to start training someplace around six years old, and continue doing so for the next fifteen years or so. Once you leave puberty, the size of your core is basically fixed.
Essentially, what she told me was that if I'd pulled a Nanoha, I might be an A-rank mage right now.
I left the infirmary in a funk, moping my way back towards my temporary quarters. Can't rightly say what happened on the way back- all my mindwidth was turned inward, save for the minimum necessary to keep moving without running into things.
My thought process started at I got dumped into a fictional universe full of magic, and I can't use any of it. How fair is that? It didn't take long for it to go through life isn't fair- deal with it and I could probably get a job doing non-magey things and live quite comfortably, detour past if all else fails, I could always go back to Earth, and arrive at an ultimate destination of SCREW THAT NOISE I'M GETTING MAGIC SOMEHOW.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
On the Issue of Magic Potential: Remember that I'm drawing a fairly distinct line here between things I'm writing down, events the ROB is recording for the reader, and communication from inside the 'verse to the readers. "Never amount to anything" was how I wrote it down in my journal file- it wasn't what I was told.
Proginoskes: Yes, you are.
It was a *good* shower.
**********
The doctor used a lot of medical technobabble, but what it boils down to is that I'm a squib- an F-rank mage, in Mid-Childan terms. I have a linker core, but it's smaller and weaker than the minimum cutoff for a D-rank mage- too small, in fact, to actually cast any spells. I can operate civilian magitech (specifically, nothing more demanding than home or office equipment), and that's it.
She then proceeded to explain that the size of one's linker core was determined by genetics, age, and magical training. Apparently, the way to maximize your magical potential was to start training someplace around six years old, and continue doing so for the next fifteen years or so. Once you leave puberty, the size of your core is basically fixed.
Essentially, what she told me was that if I'd pulled a Nanoha, I might be an A-rank mage right now.
I left the infirmary in a funk, moping my way back towards my temporary quarters. Can't rightly say what happened on the way back- all my mindwidth was turned inward, save for the minimum necessary to keep moving without running into things.
My thought process started at I got dumped into a fictional universe full of magic, and I can't use any of it. How fair is that? It didn't take long for it to go through life isn't fair- deal with it and I could probably get a job doing non-magey things and live quite comfortably, detour past if all else fails, I could always go back to Earth, and arrive at an ultimate destination of SCREW THAT NOISE I'M GETTING MAGIC SOMEHOW.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.