The land of Airithrin is a horrible place, a land of reeking fumes and geysers of flame, lakes of lava and the strange life forms that emerge when elementals breed with mundane creatures
The flower commonly known as "Blood Petal," Haemorosa is a member of the Necrofoenae family - a family of plants that exhibit a disturbing affinity for the dead.
-Court Herbologist Gertrard di Vini, from his tome "dyFoenis Terrae Modae" - On the Plants of New Terra
At that moment the drizzle eased, and Ledoik could see as plain as day a blight upon the fields near the edge of the forest. Like a rock dropped into a pond, a wave of lighter shades of green emanated from the blights centre. Growing from the forest, where it was darkest, the field got lighter and lighter the further away it was from the blight. It was clear enough. The commander barked words, organising the archers, the few catapults they had and the giant rockslings to this side of the battlements. He motioned them to aim towards the blight, the dark patch near the fields edge
Regional insult for someone considered stubborn, or gullible.
For those familiar with cantrips, you know they are minor acts of magic that have hardly any noticable effect on the world. For example a cantrip to make your food taste better won't heal you any more, or be any more nourishing, just won't make it so hard to get it down. A light cantrip certainly won't be able to blind or even distract anybody, but you might be able flash it to signal someone looking at the right spot.
What if children's nusery ryhmes were a form of cantrip? Like the "Rain, Rain, go away, come again another day." One child singing it wouldn't do more than spare her house a couple raindrops, but what if the whole village got together and was chanting in unison? Each one doing just a bit might actually be able to divert a whole storm...