The ancient form of magic performed by telling stories, weaving oaths and such became more advanced as a generation of self-taught youths discovered the Plane of Astral Semantics.
Their bodies in the Primate Material Plane held in trances, these wizards battled and became enamored in the silver-lit ether of their parallel universe. In anger they would carefully compose monsters and storms, then blast them in a ball of light to the rim, where it would bounce before settling as if on a roulette wheel.
The real motivation for the majority of them, of course, was loneliness. They rang out their arcane pulses into the boundless mist always with the hope that they would swiftly be returned by someone would be neither bored nor enslaved by it, neither disdainful nor slain. Somebody, in short, who could respond.
Meanwhile, their corporeal bodies grew dusty and thin.
