From somewhere along the edge of the foreset near Thamasa, a great cry of
angst echoed throught the woods and across the oceans.
  "Aaaaah!  Fritz, what have you done to me?  And I thought you loved me!"
  Between her sobs and bawls, Porom didn't even notice the whining of her
brother.
  "Sister!  My arm!  I landed on my arm!  It's cut!  Owww!"
  "Oh, Fritz  My love!  Oh, boo hoo!"
  "Sister!  Ouch!  Help me!"
  Through blurred tears, Porom finally brought herself to look at her brother,
whimpering and pouting over a scratch on his elbow.
  *Sniff!*  As Porom desperately tried to forget her beloved (and Palom wailed
incessantly), she prepared to cast a Cure spell to heal her ailing brother.
She chanted the words and went through the motions, but all she got was a
single misguided spark from her fingertips which fizzled out as it drifted to
the ground.
  ".....?"
  "What's wrong, Sister?  Why didn't it work?  My arm still HURTS!"
  "... I... I don't know.  Usually if i try to cast a Cure I'll at least get
an Ice3 or or an Imp or something... thanks to this damn amulet.  It must be
something with this new world; magic just doesn't seem to work."
  Palom, still in "agony" but determined to test his sister's theory, started
to aim a hefty Fire3 spell at a nearby tree.  The spell proved to be as much
of a dramatic failure as his sister's, but his spark did succeed in lighting a
corner of his cloak aflame.
  The thought that he could no longer perform magic struck Palom just as Porom
finished putting out hte fire on his cloak.
  "We have to get back.  NOW!!!"
  Porom slapped Palom on the back of the head.
  "We don't even know where we are.  We can't just 'go back' - especially if
we don't have any magic.  Now, let's try and find a town or something."
  While the two walked along the edge of the forest,  Palom set himself to
thinking:  If he couldn't be an all-powerful mage - then he'd be... a ninja!
Great!  He'd be a powerful ninja, an unstoppable fighter!  No problem.