Steal My Character: Panor Amic

Indianapolis 500 English 101 Panoramic Mountain ;)


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Thanks to David for this submission. Clearly, his idea of a race, class and background differs a bit from the expected but this was a fun one to write nonetheless!

Panor was an Amic of the In’Dia tribe. He knew only his mountain home, the small village of Napolis. It was a harsh life of isolation, foraging, hunting and survival.

Words between kin were few and even fewer between strangers. It was a lonely life for one such as Panor for he was fascinated with words. He felt deep into his soul that they had power that he had yet not tapped.

Napolis rarely got visitors, so it was with some surprise and a bit of trepidation that Panor and other leaders from their home went to the edge of town to greet the robed stranger who they had been watching slowly make his way up the mountain pass from the valley of Engle’Ish below.

He introduced himself as Whanoe, The One and proceeded to speak the most eloquent version of common that Panor had ever heard. Words of such variety and sentences of such elegant and artful construction flowed from him as if it was music from a songbird.

After pleasantries were exchanged (which was mostly just grunts from the townsfolk), Whanoe’s gaze fixed on Panor.

“Hello my young friend.”

Panor bowed, “Sir, it is an honor to meet one with such mastery of syllables and vowels. I am humbled by your ability to mesmerize with only your words.”

“Well, elegant and eloquent conversation is not dead in this place of whispering winds and frosted windows after all!”

Whanoe The One put his hand on Napol’s forehead and started speaking a language Napol had never heard before. He was mesmerized by the strange words spewing forth. As quickly as the man started his intrusion into Napol’s mind and soul, he stopped.

“You and I must talk more. We have much to discuss. I suspect, you have gifts related to words that you are not yet aware of. Words can communicate, as well as construct!” With a wink he uttered something under his breath and a tiny butterfly made of fire appeared and flew out of his hand.” He winked and they walked on together.

Over the coming months, Panor would learn the wizarding art of Gram’Ar - the magic of words. He went on to leave his small village and become a wizard, determined to teach others what Whanoe the One had taught him.

 

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