Plural Shaman Novels & Stories

The shaman said. He brought out a clabbash from the tote bag he was hanging on his shoulders. He held the calabash in his hand and started to pour purple powder on the floor in a circular pattern. After he had completely drawn a circle using the purple power, he kept the clabbash on the floor outside the circle and then he removed his shoes.

After everything that happened with his mother, after the betrayal that shattered half his faith in the supernatural, it made sense. Shamans were reminders to him. Reminders of power misused, of manipulation dressed in sacred robes. “Well, let’s try other options first,” I offered gently. “The detectives and wolf hunters are still working on it, right?” “Yes,” Azrik replied, though his tone carried the same weight as the bags under his eyes. Draven exhaled sharply. “Look, there are good shamans out there. Ones that don’t play politics, it could save us weeks of pointless digging.”

Venturing to the shamans, I discovered them seated in a mystical circle, hands intertwined, engaged in an enigmatic ritual that resonated with an otherworldly aura. Returning to Athena's confinement, I awaited the stroke of midnight. The shamans later joined me. My head soldier stood by my side, a silent guardian in the impending mystical events. “We will need to be alone,” the shaman insisted. I gave a sign to my soldier to stand aside, emphasizing the solemnity of the moment. “Alone,” the man repeated, catching my stern gaze. I maintained a fierce expression, a silent command that spoke volumes. After a hesitant pause, he mumbled, “No problem, you can stay.”

“When the Worm King brings Nekromel to the Home of Fate, the Joy of Old will reign once again. Do you see?” Both Cheng and the shaman looked at me blankly. As expected. “Fate. In my world, another word for fairy is fay. And the plural of fay is fate.” And the plural of bullshit is? Cheng and the shaman looked at each other, I think each wanting some kind of reassurance.

I didn't expect that centaur woman to be a second-order healing shaman priest, the two male centaurs were also fourth-order warriors, but they still didn't have any effect, after all, the human side's level and numbers were crushing. The so-called shaman priest is the orc's proprietary spell casting unit, divided into healing, enhancement, elemental three categories, corresponding to the human priest, paladin and mage.

There were many places in the northeast called Dead Man's Gullys, and they were mostly eerie places that one could not leave once one entered. Those places were often the dens of shamans. The northeastern branch of the Mystics was a very special faction that practiced alongside animals. While practitioners and immortals ascended, shamans could also transform and reach stages of reincarnation. So, Chad asked, "The Corpse Herb belonged to the Python family?" Hiss… Suddenly, a human-sized snake head poked out from behind Doug, startling Chad and causing him to move away quickly. "Lord Fifth, calm down. He's just guessing. Don't take it so seriously!"

The shaman paused, letting her words sink in. "Whom it happens to," she continued. "That can change." Laura stared, perplexed. "The same applies to your wedding," the shaman said. "It's bound to happen, but people's actions decide whom it happens to, not the universe." Laura's skepticism lingered. "How can I trust everything you've said is true?" she asked, wary of potential deceit. The world was full of con artists, and this woman might just be a professional one. The shaman's enigmatic smile deepened. "2864 4327. I see two dead and seven injured."

Julian's POV I had seen Mom talking to the tall creepy man yesterday. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I could read the low tones of, reverent, “shaman Mhalak's" that fell from her lip. According to my studies, shamans were beings with a great attachment to the spiritual realm and were even said to liaise with the moon goddess! It was honestly cool but the man's aura rubbed the wrong way. The shaman scanned the room, his gaze lingering on me for a moment too long. "Isadora," he said, his voice smooth and oily. "I trust everything is prepared?"

It has been known that The Powder Regulation of Shamans depends on the age, the younger the talent shows the higher, if you do not get your power by the age of sixteen, it means that you are a Shaman without power. "It must be one of them. I wonder what will happen if we put them together. It will be interesting." Wu Xi seemed to be talking to herself in a whisper with a meaningful smile. "Come on, there's preparatory work to do." She had vanished as spoke, followed by the flying cat.

Sasha replied, referring to a type of encyclopedia. “He picked a bad time to have his thing,” Temujin grumbled, sounding torn. “How can we leave him behind?” “Simple. Just say goodbye to him.” “What?” “Most village shamans are chūnins from the south,” Sasha explained. “Brown Slayers. It’s because northerners value reason and science so much that they sometimes forget the spiritual side of things. Shamans from the south remind us about that spirituality. And as you might have heard, brown Slayers have the talent of zoopathy, the ability to speak with land animals.”