The Last Circulataur

For any one living in the land of Kort, magic: its ownership, blessing and manipulation of it was everything! Without it you were nothing, less than nothing actually and eventually one would be banished for lack of it. Shimanus Drayant, son of respected Bone Mender, Gunther Draynt was one, I'm afraid which was sorely lacking. Others of the village, his good friends, were in quite the similar circumstances, only they happened to be the villages most skilled hunters and therefore retained and added value; the law however, was still the law. Something else Shimanus possesed was an added detriment, not a value as had his friends. His appearance, you see, was not generally accepted, even amongst a populace surrounded by odd flora and fauna and magic users of many varieties. Shimanus you see, was a well, a Circulataur. The last actually. He was a half-man, half-bike. A wheeled creature that balanced, moved and existed by true, untainted, very powerfull magic. Yet, by never exhibiting a talent worthy of note by the elders; and with the glory and history of the Circulataurs long forgotten banishment was his fate. Soon, on the very night the Peace Keepers would come for him he would be swept away and told the truth of his lineage. There after began a most fabulous journey of education and guideance, shock and wonderment, fear and valore, battles and survival, friends and evil. Thus began something that would change the world; and change it it did.