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> Aventuren Academia, Where heroes are forged
This is a level 3 roleplay: highly developed and deep background/plot, 3-5+ paragraphs, excellent grammar/spelling
Takahata
Posted: 2017-08-15, 03:21 PM


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Welcome to the intersection of fantasy, our modern world, and roleplaying. :sweet: The setup for this roleplay largely influenced by games like Dungeons and Dragons, anime such as Little Witch Academia and Record of Lodoss War, and books like the Kingkiller Chronicles and the Legend of Drizzt.

In this fantasy world of elves and orcs and men, there is always a need for adventurers. Be they warriors brave enough to take up the sword, mages versed in the arcane, or healers blessed with the light of the gods, these noble people are the lifeline of a civilization thriving in a hostile world. Some famous heroes can trace their heroic lineage back for generations, having learned in their youth from the storied legends of their own time. Eventually, they too pass on their wisdom to the youth of a new generation.

Two hundred years ago, one such legendary hero created a haven for would-be adventurers. In the final years of his life, archwizard Dolor Sit’Amet founded Aventuren Academia. Present day, the thick stone walls of the fortress-like school are home to many high-profile adventurers who are deeply interlaced into the political and economic currents of the surrounding city-state kingdoms. It is considered a show of strength for a royal lineage to have sons and daughters who have graduated from Aventuren with honors and laurels. The strength of an ally like Aventuren could even sway the outcome of conflicts between neighboring Kingdoms. Additionally, the wealthiest of merchants achieved their success with more than a little help from a blade or spell honed in the courtyards of Aventuren.

The Academia is also responsible for many of the recent advancements in Magitech, such as the locomotive Magirail, and the enchanted communication charm KEITAI (Kinetic Enchantment Infused Thaumaturgical Auto-Invoker). Graduates of Aventuren’s primary program often continue their tenure at the Academia as researches, teachers, or students pursuing a higher mastery of their arts in the secondary program. Those who diverge from the academy after primary graduation often become leaders in mercenary companies, prolific explorers, court mages, and such. However, the path to Aventuren-sponsored ‘Adept’ status is quite arduous.

Work in Progress! Building more lore and set-up.

EDIT:: If you would like to join or have questions, please post in the thread in the 'roleplaying discussions' subforum!

This post has been edited by Takahata on 2017-08-22, 01:01 PM


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Takahata
Posted: 2017-08-15, 03:29 PM


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Gorg stared, completely awestruck, at the giant iron beast creeping forward. The face of the beast drew in to a point, and currently a magic circle was maintained in front of it, slowing it’s pace to bring it to a stop. Her long and broken iron body was trimmed in red painted wood, and was sectored every 15 meters or so. The locomotive groaned in protest as it was slowed by magical force, coming to a stop in front of the platform Gorg stood on. The orc picked up his leather traveling bag and glanced around the magirail station again. This was only the third time he had been to Gashna’s Garden, a large orcish city nestled in the foothills of a mountain range. It was the largest city had ever seen, yet his destination truly dwarfed it. Gorg watched the hustle of people departing from the train, and after a moment’s hesitation stepped up to the steward accepting tickets and greeting passengers. The well-dressed steward looked at Gorg doubtfully for a moment before tearing the ticket off and handing Gorg back the ticket stub. A dismissive gesture into the train from the man led Gorg into the belly of the beast.

Several minutes later, the illumination of several magic circles along the length of the train signaled it’s departure. As the locomotive gathered speed it crossed over more magic circles, triggering their inlaid spells and speeding it along the magirail.

***

The next morning, Gorg looked up at the massive stone walls surrounding The Academy. He was dazed by the size of the thing. The fieldsto ne wall stretched as far as he could see in either direction, curving to either side of the opened gates he stood before. He had known The Academy would be large, but… Gods, this was larger than his entire town. He sucked in a deep breath, and lifted his head. He strode forward with purpose, ignoring the stares of the other students. He struck an imposing figure, after all. Gorg was a full six-and-a-half feet tall, and weighed more than all but the largest human at a full seventy-five stone. His face was blunt and squat, his nose crooked from having been broken more times than he could remember. His hairline rose in a widow’s peak, and his coarse black hair was drawn back into a braid that fell to the bottom of his neck. The shirt he wore was simple, a dark blue nearly black, and of poor make. It was the cheapest he could purchase while conforming to The Academy’s requirements. It barely fit his barrel chest, and he had to rip the sleeves off to make it fit his muscled arms. A simple pair of black drawstring pants accompanied them.

Of course, what drew stares from those around him was not his garb, but the green tint of his skin. Orcs were a rare sight in “civilized” lands such as this. Gorg sneered and marched purposefully onward past the gates. The Academy sprawled out before him; it was labyrinthine. The place had spilled over its boundaries time and again as it grew over the last two centuries, new walls being built and additions to buildings connecting to old ones, new wings being added as more circles of study were accepted. Gorg had received a simplified map of The Academy with his admittance, and had committed to memory the path to his classes for the term. The orc made his way to the eastern side of the 3rd ring. It was the newest addition to the Academy, built about 50 years back. He looked up to the clock on the front of the three-story building. 6:40. Good. He was not late.

Gorg pulled open the decorated metal and glass doors. Past the entrance he stood in was an intersection. Two wings extended out to his right and left, and before him was a large, rectangular stairwell. He strode to the second floor, and made his way to classroom Seven.

Gorg was accustomed to a simpler way of living, and to his eyes the classroom was fanciful. Dark oak tables were spaced across the length of the room in groups of three, each about 8 feet long with three feet between them to form walkpaths. The tables were polished smooth and lacquered to serve as an immaculate writing and work surface, and before each of them were three sturdy-looking, solid wooden chairs. The far wall was mostly composed of windows, letting warm sunlight flood the room. Several unlit sconces were scattered about the room, and a lamp sat at the head of the classroom on a larger desk for the instructor.

A dozen students had already taken seats in the classroom, and they sat in small groups talking amongst themselves. A few looked up at his entry and eyed him suspiciously, but for the most Gorg was, thankfully, ignored.
The orc pulled back one of the chairs from the last row of tables, and seated himself. He slung his pack off his shoulder, and it made a dull thud as it hit the floor. The large bag was made of cured leather stitched together. It was a well-worn, and clearly built for travelling; it had seen much use. Gorg glanced out the windows, wondering how much time would pass before the "homeroom" class would begin. He assumed today would be an orientation of sorts. So far, Gorg had been rather intimidated by the sheer scope of this place; it would be nice to get some bearing and learn more about the school he would be studying at for the foreseeable future.

This post has been edited by Takahata on 2017-08-15, 03:30 PM


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Saint
Posted: 2017-08-18, 11:22 AM


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Sebastian woke up at the crack of dawn like he did every morning. He quickly dressed in his Aventuren school gym clothes and began his regular wake-up exercise routine. It started with some light calisthenics that slowly ramped up in intensity. Soon he was doing one handed pushups and weighted squats. He always ended his routine by passing balls of elemental energy back and forth between his hands. Today the crackle of electricity snapped and sparked in his fingers and he practiced dissipating and reigniting the lightning in his palms. By the end of the hour he was dripping with sweat and quickly stepped into the shower room of his hall.

Moments later he emerged immaculately groomed with his hair slicked back and his well defined abs exposed as he walked back down the hall to his dorm room where he hastily ate rations he keeps for quick breakfasts. They always consisted of dried proteins and dried fruits, as he wanted to be used to the diet of a traveling adventurer. He dressed just as quickly as he showered and ate and soon made his way to homeroom in his crisp Aventuren Honor's uniform.

He was about half an hour early and spent the time reviewing a textbook on sword stances while practicing with electricity between his fingers in his off hand. He would draw a single arc of electricity from his thumb to his index finger, then from his index finger to his middle, and onward until it reached his pinky, and then he'd start the process over from his pinky until it reached his thumb. Then he'd switch hands and repeat. Sebastian was always trying to improve. He didn't have a wide breadth of magical abilities and he wasn't as hearty as some of the prospective knights in their midst, but he practiced his techniques to perfection and was always looking on ways to improve his form and new methods of using his attacks.

It was then, close to the time class would start, that Gorg came in. Sebastian paid him very little mind other than to think outloud, "I didn't know we were starting to let the monsters in too..."

Gorg might be used to the blunt racism, but either way Sebastian didn't really care. The monstrous races rarely did well at Aventuren. There was a reason their kind had been seen as nothing but monsters in the past, and all it took was a little stress or academic pressure to reveal their dull minds and quick tempers. At least this is what Sebastian had been raised to believe, and hadn't bothered questioning the notion. He continued his studies.

**********

Malsira rolled over and noticed that her clock showed that class was about to begin. She let out a disappointed moan before rolling over and almost falling asleep again. Then suddenly her eyes shot open and she launched herself into a sitting position. I CAN'T BE LATE ON THE FIRST DAY OF CLASSES!!!

She set about getting ready in a whirlwind of action. She quickly dressed in clothes that barely made the dress code and threw a hoodie over top that probably didn't. She grabbed her satchel, decorated with buttons and patches of cute adventurer boys, and packed it with books and a handful of spell components and rushed to the mess hall.

"Oh nooo they've already closed..." Malsira lamented, seeing the kitchen's lines empty and the servers absent. Her stomach growled but she'd just have to go hungry this morning if she was going to make class. She rushed down the hall, hoping to make it before the bell rang.


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Lapetus
Posted: 2017-08-21, 02:51 PM


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There were days where waking up felt like a chore, ones were you had to groggily force your body out of bed while every natural and holy instinct told you to cling to whatever comforts and warmth could be had and pretend that whatever stirred you was just part of some unpleasant dream that would get all the more pleasant if you just closed your eyes. Just five more minutes, you'd often times say, as your half aware mind tried to bargain out some half rational response as to why you could totally stay asleep. Eventually you'd (usually) come to your senses enough to drag yourself up with painful reluctance and groggily go through your morning rituals. These were good days.

This was not a good day for Axel. This was one of those bad days, the sort where one's short period in between the sleeping and waking worlds is without warning cut abruptly short by some sort of emergency that somehow or another snaps into the waker's mind. In this case he had been enjoying a way too short library slumber wrapped up in one of his library hammocks after an extended summer session when he'd been rudely awaken by one of the typically rude librarians. Well that wasn't quite enough to snap him out of his sleep though, he was used to them and was halfway through convincing them with his amazing slumbering oratory skills when he'd been kindly (exasperatedly) informed that today was the first day of classes.

With an assured scoff he assured them that Friday was the first day of classes, and so he could afford to sleep in today. Then he was quickly informed that today WAS Friday, and suddenly Axel could not have been more awake if he had drank all the coffee in the world and was electrocuted. With lightning fast panic he dug through his pile of books to find the ones he'd need for class, and then before anyone could even think of complaining about the mess he'd left behind he was rushing out of the library. Well that was a partial lie, he heard the complaints he'd just chosen to follow his trend of ignoring them.

Normally he wouldn't care so much, but that was directly responsible for why he cared so much now. You see in the past he'd taken classes to be...optional. This had not gone over well with the staff, who had informed him that should he skip or be tardy to any more of his classes then he'd have no need or right to show up to any future classes, nor should he bother remaining on campus. In short he'd be expelled, or at the very least be put through some some vague disciplinary measures that he'd managed to talk them down to. Either way he really wasn't game for that.

Currently though he was wearing a dingy and dirty mostly white shirt for the third day in a row, and not a damn thing over his thorax. Well the dress code for driders was pretty lax here, in so much that he was the only drider and they seemed to have no problems with whether he covered his spider butt or not (which was good because there was no place to get clothes for it) but he still felt uncomfortable not covering it up. Still he also liked sleeping without bottoms and so didn't have any on hands. More importantly though was a new shirt, and he knew just the shortcut to make it to the dorms.

Not that he actually knew what time it was or how late or not late he was. Still cutting through the magic practice range would save him a few minutes, and so he dashed through the field without much hesitation or thought. It was a simple enough area, with mock targets and craters abound around where Axel was running and further up the field a long patio where students fired from. Within the span of seven seconds he had to narrowly dodge an exploding fireball from some now freaked out student who had just been doing a bit of morning practice to calm her poor nerves. Honestly giving it some afterthought Axel was surprised it took as long as it did for this to happen. Not that the spells ended there, lightning, hailstorm, and even a variety of non-lethal battle spells aimed intentionally at Axel rained down on him.

Inelegantly dodging or enduring them he made his way to the other side of the field, his shirt now singed and having a few holes in it. Luckily most of the ones that hit were nonlethal bolts of pure magical energy, most of the more dangerous ones were accidentally fired as he rushed into view, and thus aimed somewhere else or hurriedly redirected as best as the practitioner could. Axel felt like he'd been punched a few times, but he didn't have time to reminiscence.

Rushing into the dorm he found himself a clean white shirt and his totally not a saddle backpack, which he hurriedly strapped on and was out the door. Shit, what was his first class again? Right, it was that one in that one building with the windows. It made sense to him. As soon as he entered the more dense areas he started to grow a bit frustrated with the flow of the crowd, and decided to just crawl atop the side of one of the building and walk along it rather than take the streets like a commoner. The boy was continually surprised by the depths of his own genius, and with a facile grace he leaped from the side of one building to land on another. Easy enough given his spider-ness.

Unfortunately the impact caused his saddle to jostle open and all of his books and notes fell. Hurriedly he reached out to them, to the point that he jumped forward to try and get them. More specifically he jumped off the building he was standing on, and as a result came plummeting to the ground. Luckily he wasn't too terribly high, just a few feet over the heads of most students, unfortunately he was a large but delicate flower that needed to be cradled in luxurious pillows, not plummeting onto the hard paved road.

Still, luckily for him, the last thing he saw before impacting with someone was a pair of covered, but imminently approaching boobs.
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ebacusta
Posted: 2017-08-22, 10:34 AM


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As usual, Aelina woke with a need for water and an insatiable urge to sing. She was feeling antsy, restless, caged in—she always felt this way when she returned to the city after visiting her family in the western seas. Somewhat sluggishly, she dragged herself from her bed to get a good look out her window. And for a moment, she was back on the magirail, watching her mother swim alongside the locomotive, still in the process of picking up speed. For a moment, she could still hear her mother’s song, carried to her ears by the wind, and feel her father’s loving embrace through that wind’s gentle caress…

…before it blew up the skirt of her dress and caused her to flash the others in her compartment. He was gone before she had a chance to retaliate. A smile tugged at her lips and then she was back staring at the sky from her dorm room window. The sun was still relatively low in the sky, so she figured she had enough time to make it to the lake for a proper swim before class started. Just in case though, she dressed for class and readied her book bag. She hesitated on the threshold, staring back at her guitar which sat propped in the corner. She wasn’t sure she’d have time to return it and she didn’t dare think for one minute she’d get away with bringing it to her morning class. Still…

Against her wishes, she left it there.

*******

Riding the winds down the rocky cliff the school sat atop was always treacherous business when Aelina didn’t change into her sylph form. Though much lighter than you would expect, she was still heavier than wind in her material form. Plus, it was much harder to read the flow of the winds and bend them to her will in this form. But Aelina did it anyway. At one point, she lost the gust she was riding and fell a few feet, but fortunately, she caught another one before she struck anything.

She brought herself to a gentle stop at the base of the stairs she could have taken from the school grounds above and let out a little trill of excitement as she hastily stripped off her uniform, scrambled onto the rocks, and made a running dive into the glassy, blue waters of the Great Lake.

The Great Lake, the source of the river that wove through the city, was huge. At this time of morning before the sun had completely burned away the mist, the lake looked more sea than lake. Since the opposite bank was still hazy, it could easily masquerade as the horizon. And though the forests that crowded that bank were also beautiful to see in their vivid greens and steady browns, Aelina thought she preferred the lake this way. It reminded her of home, though the water didn’t shimmer turquoise and teal the way her homewaters did in the morning light. The water was a medium blue, clear enough to see things at shallow depth, but deep enough to be mysterious. And since its color seemed to change with the color of the sky, each time she came, it felt like she was coming somewhere new. Plus, though the water wasn’t warm like her homewaters, it wasn’t as cold as the north waters, so she had come to appreciate the Great Lake as somewhat exotic locale.

She stayed underwater as long as she could, reveling in the feeling of being beneath the water’s surface once again until she was finally forced to surface for air. If she were in her siren’s form, she could stay under as long as she liked. She briefly considered changing, but quickly shook the notion. If she changed, who knew how long it’d be before she’d be able to convince herself to leave the water again. So she swam and swam and swam, ignoring the way some of the lake’s other aquatic residents sometimes flicked their fins up at her in disgust. Though still in human form, she knew they could tell whatever she was wasn’t from an inland watersource. She also knew inlanders sometimes thought of outlanders as pretentious and condescending. But to her, inlanders had a tendency to be closeminded and rude. Outlanders couldn’t help that they felt caged in inland water sources after knowing the freedom of the open seas. Honestly, it amazed her that inlanders didn’t get tired of seeing the same old thing every day. No current to bring in new baubles to look at, no tide to reveal new places to sunbathe. In fact, it was adorably quaint!

Finally, she pulled herself from the water and lay on a rock to dry, calling a gentle breeze to help her dry faster as she sang the goodbye song her mother had sang to her just a few days previous. A few of the lake’s residents popped their heads up in wonder—ah, so that’s what she was! Still, most disappeared after verifying the source of the music. The only thing that could make this better would be listening to waves crashing against her rock as she sunbathed, rather than drowning out the pathetically quiet sound of the lake’s water lapping gently against the beach. Still, she’d take what she could get.

She wanted to keep singing and sunbathing, but the sun was unfortunately getting higher. If she didn’t get a move on, she’d be late! Hurriedly, she made her way over to the stairs and dressed, pulling her now slightly sandy uniform over her freshly dried undergarments. Then, she grabbed her bag and caught a breeze, letting the last notes of her song float gently away across the lake’s surface.

*******

Aelina made it to the classroom with a few minutes to spare. Her hair was tousled from her ride, but now quite a bit drier than it had been. Good. She glanced up the hall to see if her friends were coming, but she thought it was probably too late for their usual meet up. After another moment, she entered the classroom. Most people were already in the classroom, so she grabbed an empty seat and waited, taping out a melody on the table top with her fingers and whispering a spell to slow her rapidly beating heart. As she did so, a beast of a man—man?—entered. She had barely had time to take him in and register that she’d never seen him before when she heard a comment from her left.

“I didn’t know we were starting to let the monsters in too.” Sebastian.

He didn’t even seem to be looking at the newcomer anymore, already back to staring at his textbook, so it almost appeared that he hadn’t spoken at all. She glanced back at the newcomer and then turned her attention back to her desk. Someone else might have said something to welcome him or chide (slash agree with) Sebastian for his comment, but Aelina stayed silent, even keeping her usually expressive face completely impassive. She didn’t think the new guy would have any problem defending himself if he felt the need.


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Takahata
Posted: 2017-08-22, 03:45 PM


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Artana awoke to a single beam of sunlight stroking her face. Her eyes fluttered open after a moment’s hesitation, and she blinked. As her bleary vision adjusted to the waking world, she looked to her left and focused on the ornate timepiece resting beside her bed. The face of the clock glowed ever so softly with a pale light, an effect of the crystal it drew it’s magick from. Her father had gifted her the lavish item two tendays ago for her 17th birthday. The clock was a beautiful work of both magic and art, not one of those crude devices powered by clockworks or simple enchantments the base humans often used. After a moment’s time, she saw clearly enough to make out the hands of the device: 5:30.

Artana Faelan groaned softly. She rolled on to her side and tried to burrow deeper into her feather mattress. Try as she might, this was not a battle she would win. With each passing minute, the feeble morning light grew stronger, and she eventually sighed with resignation. She sat up, and absentmindedly brushed a golden curl behind her long elven ears. The noble heiress drew back the sheer curtains that hung from the posts of her bed, and rose. Today was the day.

***

Less than an hour later, Artana descended the stairs from her quarters. Her long blonde hair was not quite dry, collecting in thick wisps along her shoulders. She wore a blouse of dark blue, nearly black, and her skirt was just long enough to be not be considered inappropriate. Despite this, the house steward raised an eyebrow as Artana approached the smaller of the houses’ dining rooms.

“Good morning, My Lady.” He said with a bow. “I trust you slept well?” Artana walked past him with casual indifference, and spoke without turning to face the steward. “See that the carriage is prepared, Relann. I’ll not be late for my first day of the term.” With that, the young elf lass followed the scent of a freshly cooked breakfast. As she ate, her thoughts meandered through a web of possibilities. She refused to acknowledge the nervousness that had begun to settle in her stomach. Her father had fond memories of his time in the Academy, and the weight of expectation was ever-present on Artana’s shoulders. Her tutors had gone to great lengths to prepare her for this, but she had gone to greater lengths to frustrate their efforts. She found herself wishing she had paid just a little more attention to their prattling.

Artana checked again to be sure she had all the necessary items in her bag. Books for her classes today, a quill and sheets of pressed paper, a re-sealable pot of ink, a small flat container with shades of blush and lip paint, just in case, and her KEITAI. As she walked toward the front door of the manor, Relann cleared his throat. “Is my lady certain she would not wish to wear something… warmer?” he asked pointedly. “The season is fickle, and the weather may turn chill early this year.” Artana looked at him for the first time this morning, an angry fire dancing behind her blue eyes. The glare was enough to make the steward lower his eyes, and give a half-bow in apology. She said nothing more as she walked through the door to the waiting carriage beyond, the steward in tow behind her.

***

The carriage rolled smoothly through the cobbled streets of the Aurum district. Just as the sun woke and slowly climbed into the sky, the city woke and slowly came to life. Merchants were opening their shops for the day, and servants were already out to complete purchases and errands. Though Relann continued to remind Artana of her agenda for the day, the elf noble was only half-listening. She was watching the marble statues, fountains, and large brick structures of the noble Auram district roll past. Though the size of the city Traylin was impressive, it’s beauty was naught compared to the grandeur of her true home. Oh, how she missed the ornate grandhouses and towering spires!

After a momentary reflection, Artana reached into her bag and pulled out her KEITAI. The invention was relatively new, a product of genius break-throughs in two separate fields of magic brought together. It was a small and thin rectangular glass box, gilded with gold on the edges and inlaid with a border of silver leaves. The glass box was filled with enchanted water during the creation process before it was sealed; the particular enchantment had revolutionized communication magics. It tapped into the streams of magic woven around the world, called Nagare currents. This type of enchantment was called a kinetic enchantment; it could create a link between two points in a tapped stream that rendered distance nonexistent for immaterial things like sight and sound. The link was not a bridge, however, and anything with mass or most types of magic could not even touch it.

Artana lowered her finger onto the surface of the glass, and a small ripple travelled out from her contact across the surface of the softly glowing blue water. That was the second great genius of the KEITAI; the auto-invoker. The glass surface of the KEITAI was imbued with multiple magical artificing properties. One allowed it to transfer touch and other tactile feedback through its own material, causing the water beneath Artana’s fingertips to ripple as if she had touched it directly and not the glass above it. The second was truly astounding to the young Faelan heiress: it could trigger the invocation of an enchantment. Known as an auto-invoker, it contributed greatly to the creation of ‘Magitech’ that spread like wildfire across the world. Generally speaking, without the artificer’s effect of auto-invoking, a mage would need a passing knowledge of the enchantment on an item to trigger it. When tuned to a specific enchantment, an auto-invoker would allow even a peasant to utilize certain enchantments…

“Young miss…?” Relann said. From the tone of his voice, it was obvious he had said it several times. Artana shook her head, pulling herself out of her reverie. She had been absentmindedly spinning her KEITAI between her fingers as she contemplated its magical properties, causing shimmering waves of different colors to ripple across its softly glowing surfacing. That had been her own touch; Artana had worked for weeks to perfect this small, colorful enchantment of her own design. She was fiercely proud of this seemingly simple task; “stacking” enchantments was difficult enough, even more so when the enchantment was delivered through another substance.
With an inward sigh, she turned to face her steward, and the day ahead of her.

***

Artana strode through the gardened pathways meandering between the buildings of Aventura. Her mind was elsewhere, however. Thoughts of the coming week were racing through her. What kind of people would be in her homeroom? Would she be the only first year? She knew they would not have much time before the first Trial of the academic year. She had to reinforce the Faelan family's rightful place among the greatest of Elven houses, and even a first year's Trials would be noted by her father's rivals.

Artana was still several minutes from her class when a blur of motion above her caught her eye. She glanced up to see a rapidly closing form plummeting headfirst toward her. The elven lass had just enough time to make out the dark grey skin and spidery legs of a Drider before the creatures high velocity approach triggered a magical barrier. A bright violet orb bloomed around Artana, the intensity of the color centered on the impact of the Drider's face. Over the next several second, the color of the shield turned first from violet to blue, and then to red as its magical energy was drained in exchange for draining the velocity of the Drider. After a few moments that seemed to last minutes, the shield disappeared as quickly as it had come, and the Drider fell abruptly to the floor in front of Artana.

The heiress spared but a glance for the unfortunate fellow sprawled there before reaching a hand up to touch a small ruby earring dangling from her left ear. She cursed inwardly. This will take weeks to recharge...

"You should watch your step, spider-kisser," Artana Faelan said with all the propriety and venom one would expect from an inconvenienced noble. "You wouldn't want to break a leg."

She sidestepped him, and continued on her way.

***

Artana looked up at the number engraved above the door to her new homeroom. It was the numeral 7, but there was something obviously missing. A less-faded rectangular outline made it seem as if a plate of some kind that had long been present there had been removed. She hesitated only long enough to brush her hair behind a pointed ear before pushing through the door. What awaited her on the other side was a small, nearly empty classroom. A lone student was studying and idly spinning a small bit of lightning between his fingers. Artana noticed the sharp edges of the Aventura Academia Honor's uniform, and nodded approvingly before taking a seat near the middle of the classroom. A few minutes later, a barrel-chested orc walked through the door, and the Honor student smirked.

“I didn’t know we were starting to let the monsters in too," he said casually.

The massive orc walked , and for a moment Artana wondered if the orc had not heard the Honor student's quip. He slung his large bag down, and looked out the window as if he hadn't noticed anyone in the room at all. After a moment, the orc let loose a wide-mouthed yawn, revealing teeth sharper than Artana thought was natural. He then stretched in his chair and kicked his feet up, resting them on the desk. Artana's horror must have shown in her face, because the orc opened one eye, noticed her, and winked.

The elf recoiled slightly, disgust evident on her face.

This post has been edited by Takahata on 2017-08-23, 11:44 AM


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Saint
Posted: 2017-08-23, 12:51 PM


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A white scaled tail poked out from under Malsira's hoodie and wagged a little as she scurried to class. Just ahead of her a...spider-person...just fell from a building. And that finely dressed elf girl was about to be--!

"Oh," Malsira said as Artana's magical barrier popped into place. Malsira thought of a bug hitting the windshield of a magitech train and let out a short chuckle before clasping a hand over her mouth and looking a little embarrassed, especially when Artana just walked away and ignored the drider. They could be really hurt! And that girl doesn't even care!

She moved toward Axel's potentially mangled body with a concerned look on her face. Seeing that he was a male drider wearing just a white shirt, Malsira blushed a little. However, unlike most other humanoids that blush red, an ice draken's cheeks turn a dark shade of blue. The non-verbal sign was often misunderstood by other peoples. Others also might not realize that a bare arachnid abdomen could be something to blush at, but draken were on the scale of more monstrous humanoids and they often found the...non-traditional beauty in each other.

Malsira slowly extended a clawed hand to help Axel up. She absentmindedly rubbed the seam of her hoodie between the thumb and index fingers of her other hand as she did so, trying to work through the embarrassment of seeing a half-naked drider (even though that was, undoubtedly, how most driders must live anyways) and the social anxiety of talking to and helping another person.

"Are-are you okay...?" She asked, her voice trailing off at the end. "D-do you need help to your home room? Mine's in this building too."

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Was he lucky, or unlucky, honestly the spider couldn't even contemplate that as his body came to a jerky shock at it's collision with the field. All he could focus on was how wrong this scene was, it was supposed to have been a big breasted gal wearing some tight sweater with a piece of buttered toast in her mouth. During the collision he was supposed to have landed atop her, his face somehow winding up under her shirt or his hand groping a lump of flesh. After a few seconds he'd realized what had just happened, she'd slap him, and then the flag would be set for her to fall in love with him, some stupidly cliché development from another culture or something.

Not that the girl he did land on, or almost land on, had baabs big enough to stop his descent anyways, he realized as he triggered her protection spell. More than anything else he was just disappointed, managing to mutter “Too flat.” to himself as he stood...or sat? As he floated in this precarious position, his face smothered against the kinetic nullification field.

Then the effects wore off and down he went, with all the grace of a drunk duck. Naturally falling flat on his face sucked, but at least he'd managed to avoid serious pain. Still he was far from the athletic or masochistic sort and pain was pain, which was never a good thing. As the flat elf girl said something truly irksome he let out a pained groan instead of some witty or even intelligible retort. For a few moments he thought to just sit there and let his dull (and rather small) aches go away, the ground was hard but quite cool still.

Well having gotten away with only a few scrapes and scruffs was pretty lucky, all things considered, if he had fallen into miss flat chest he probably would have actually gotten hurt worse, or less importantly hurt her as well, this wasn't some childish pervy fantasy after all. Even he thought that he needed to toughen up a bit, but naturally he didn't say anything. Still it was pretty annoying the way she just walked over him, and what was with that spider kisser remark!? Sure he had totally (not) kissed other driders, but why did she have to put it like it was something bad!?

“Are-are you okay...?” A shaky voice asked him. Looking up Axel saw a blue-ish white draken offering him a hand. "D-do you need help to your home room? Mine's in this building too."

“I'm like a literal prince you damn flattie!” Not the best comeback, it came off as a who cares type of thing. Being a prince wasn't really anything to be proud of in of in a merit based system, and even if it was did he even still counted as being a prince? Besides that made it seem like he was putting on airs about who is mother was, and the less he thought about that the better. “Bleh, that comeback sucked. Kind of glad that damn no tits didn't hear it.”

Without really saying anything he took Malsira's hand hand got himself upright, groaning and making a show out of it as he did. After he stood up he finally took a good look at the dragon girl. He'd never really seen a live Draken up close, though he'd had the privilege of raising a dead one once. It was for a class though so he didn't get to keep it or anything, but he found their scales to be fascinatingly smooth. That one was a different color though, it had bright green scales, but this one's blue tinted white ones were by far prettier. He kind of wish he had a coat or a pair of spider pants made out of them.

Still holding Malsira's hand he casually ran his thumb across it to get a feel for it's smoothness. These things probably had some resistances, and despite the pleasant coolness and smoothness that made them nice to run one's hand across they also seemed like they were pretty tough. Not that he'd gotten to test out the last subject he'd raised in battle. Such a shame. Actually now that he looked closer part of the not yet a corpse's face was a darker shade than the rest of her, what was the significance of that?

“Your body is amazing, this texture and color is irresistible. Despite being covered in scales you are still soft, and the way the light dances across you is beautiful. I wish I could make you mine, but...”

On a side note it had nothing to do with necromancy but her rubbing a Draken's scale was oddly addictive, something about the smoothness was strangely relaxing. It just seemed to make his problems melt away, he wanted to just rub up against it. Oh how conflicted he was, use the girl as a stuffed zombie pillow or make her into some awesome pair of pants, not that he would actually do either of those unless there was some accident outside of his control.

Slowly, scientifically, he brought his free hand up to Malsira's face and intended to gently inspect the discolored region with the tips of his fingers. There was a gust of wind that caused his silver white hair to annoyingly flutter. Staring into her eyes Axel wondered if he could do something with those too, they were often times useful as spell component. Oh, naturally only if Malsira died on her own, he'd have to convince her to donate her body to him or something (or steal it from her grave). Honestly he wasn't certain what the penalties for that here were, but he was pretty sure he couldn't get away with anything like that.

Then a flutter of one of his notes flying past him caught his attention, and he snapped out of his thought and turned to try and grab it. Hurriedly he picked up whatever notebooks and textbooks were on the ground, though they were being flipped open by the wind, and shoved them into his bag. “That's right, class!”

Several of his notes had flown off far farther than he was willing to chase them, and what few he could catch were quickly stuffed in as well. Watching precious pages of research flutter down the streets he offered the winds a dejected sigh. “This is why I need to be allowed to take skeletons with me in the general area. Buuut noooo, that would freak out all the 'normal students' and be inappropriate. Sure, it's ok for the golem artisans and conjurers to have their familiars around, but a skeleton is too much. I mean it's not like I'm asking for rotting and shambling zombies or anything, and they don't even smell if you treat them right.”

Then he turned to Malsira, having assumed that she was listening to what he was saying. “So you're heading to class too, we'd probably better hurry up.”
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Saint
Posted: 2017-08-24, 01:54 PM


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“I'm like a literal prince you damn flattie!” The Drider said, and Malsira was taken aback for a second, was he talking to me???

“Bleh, that comeback sucked. Kind of glad that damn no tits didn't hear it.”

Malsira sighed, he was still yelling at that elven girl. She know that her breasts weren't very large, but in her defense they also served no evolutionary purpose. It was often wondered why Draken even had breasts, since they didn't have functioning mammary glands. Malsira's thoughts on the matter were that it probably traced back to some weird, human, male wizard creating an entire dragon race because he had a serious dragon kink. Honestly, no one knew the origins of the Draken, but many assumed either that they were create by some archwizard through an ancient and unknown arcane ritual, or that some people just really wanted to fuck a dragon and the Draken were the offspring of some crazy humans that managed to get laid by a dragon and survived. Malsira had written a fanfiction once of her personal favorite adventurer, Amber Rose, the Crimson Blade. In the five part narrative, Malsira had detailed how Amber Rose scaled a mountainside to bed an ancient ice dragon to produce an offspring strong enough to survive the coming winter and take up Rose's mantle of protecting the north.

Malsira had too much time on her hands.

Well...claws. Regardless, the following conversation played right into the adventurer smut she'd grown so fond of. The drider ran his thumb over her hand and Malsira realized no one had really touched her that much before. Her bluish blush wasn't going anywhere, and her whole face almost turned purple when Axel said the follow.

“Your body is amazing, this texture and color is irresistible. Despite being covered in scales you are still soft, and the way the light dances across you is beautiful. I wish I could make you mine, but...”

It was then that Axel slowly started to move his hand toward's Malsira's face. Her pure embarrassment and...well...excitement at those proclamations and the drider's actions as his hair fluttered perfectly in the wind caused her to let out a short sigh that consisted of cold enough breath that condensated with the air. When she got so flustered like this, her breath started to freeze as she absentmindedly tensed her throat.

She didn't say anything in response and reflexively started to close her eyes and even start to lean into Axel's hand. It was kind of a weird fantasy, but Malsira had always wanted someone to stroke her scales. Some Draken found it degrading, like they were some exotic dragon to have as a pet, but Malsira always saw it as just a sweet, intimate action. In her head she imagined locking lips with Axel, and what a perfect little romance this could be. After all, he was a prince! The Spider Prince, she thought, already naming their own slash-fic in her head. She second guess the title for a second and wondered if the word spider was derogatory to Driders. What's it matter, dumby, shut up and hope he makes ME the spider kisser.

All her pent up teenage desires culminated in this one perfect moment and she could swear a spot light fell on them. The world around them became a blur and all the stories she's read and written were finally going to play out. She'd found her prince charm--

And that's when one of Axel's noted came flying through the air and collided with Malsira's face. All of her heightened emotions quickly flushed from her body. The air around them had been blurred due to the vapor she had been breathing in her excitement, but immediately began to clear as she inhaled a warm breath.

“That's right, class!” Axel said as he grabbed his notes right from Malsira's snout without even seeming to noticed that his papers had hit her right in the face. “This is why I need to be allowed to take skeletons with me in the general area. Buuut noooo, that would freak out all the 'normal students' and be inappropriate. Sure, it's ok for the golem artisans and conjurers to have their familiars around, but a skeleton is too much. I mean it's not like I'm asking for rotting and shambling zombies or anything, and they don't even smell if you treat them right.”

Malsira's mouth turned up into a half-snarl and one of her eyes started to twitch. Was all that....was it all unintentional? And...I guess he's a necromancer. I didn't know they condoned that school of magic at Aventuren. She was very confused and just kind of left there standing in complete confused and strange, unrequited desire that she felt may have been entirely misplaced now.

Axel turned his gaze back to her and said, “So you're heading to class too, we'd probably better hurry up.”

Shaking her head slightly to wipe away the snarl and the twitch, Malsira hesitantly replied, "Uh-um...Yeah, you're right. L-let's get going..."

Never had she experienced such emotional highs and lows, and especially within seconds of each other. She knew that coming to this school and growing into an adult would cause some kind of angst and that people talked about the heartbreak that teenagers go through, but she didn't think she'd live that all within the first hour of the first day of the first year of her schooling here. She let out a heavy sigh and walked with Axel to class.

"The name's Malsira, bee tee dub." She shoved her hands deep in her hoodie pockets and gave Axel a glance. "It's, uh, nice to meet you." I think...?


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Nachenys couldn't believe he'd overslept. Well, technically, he could since it had happened. But it was like some pretty sweet irony that he, who had been too excited about the first day of class last night to sleep the first couple hours he'd tried to, had finally managed to fall into such a deep sleep half on the floor that he'd slept through both his alarms. Instead, he'd been awakened by his pissed off older sister when she'd kicked the door open and it'd slammed against the wall. Her yelling his name was an unnecessary, but equally terrifying thing to hear two seconds after being frightened half to death by a loud BOOM!

"Nachenys, why in frigidia are your still asleep? We're supposed to be leaving right now!"

"Whazzamatterwitoo?" he mumbled, trying to calm his racing heart and untangle himself from his sheets.

"No, what's the matter with you? We're gonna be late to school! Look at the time!!" He'd been about to argue until she'd shoved the metal element based clock prototype he'd made last year into his face. It took a second for his eyes to focus and less than a second for what he saw there to shock him about a hundred times more than Cicera's attack on his door.

He cursed and bolted up, leaving a trail of sheets behind him as he raced for his closet. It was fortunate that Neide had cleaned his uniform the previous day and neatly laid it out for him. Neide was the matronly, but no-nonsense woman his parents paid to keep the house clean, food on the table, and a sharp eye on him and his sister. Well, mostly him to be honest. But he'd accepted the challenge enthusiastically, as had Neide. And it turned out, she made a formidable opponent. They had bonded in her attempts to keep him in line. He spelled his camo into place as he hopped into his pants, mumbled the words to color his hair as he cleaned his teeth and gargled, and buttoned his shirt as he tracked down his book bag and raced down the stairs.

"Neide, have you seen my—" he started, frantically searching every available flat surface on his way to the front door.

"On the letter table," she replied from the other room. He hurried to the front door and sighed in relief as he saw the thin block of glass resting next to a box of his mother's correspondence paper. She'd had it delivered to the Emsryn city estate so she could pick it up on her next visit, but he'd needed some paper to take notes and had ripped the package open already. Neide blew a gasket when she found out he'd used that expensive paper for "scribbles." He tested the box. Resealed. Hmph.

"Paper is meant to be used, Neide!" he called as he grabbed the KEITAI and sprinted out the door. He barely caught Neide's threat of porridge for every meal if he even thought about touching that correspondence paper again. Cicera was already waiting and made a face as he tumbled into the carriage a mess of limbs, school bags, and articles of uniform he hadn't managed to put on yet.

"At least put your shoes on before you leave the house, Nys," she said.

But he merely looked up from where he was pulling on his socks and threw her a lopsided grin. "But where would the fun be in that, sis?" She merely made a noise of exasperation and turned to look out the window, shaking her head.

*******

In his hurry to finish dressing in the carriage, Nachenys had forgotten to address his bedhead. His hair, currently a brilliant shade of raspberry, stuck out at angles too odd and swooped towards the left side of his face too exuberantly to be intentional. He'd only remembered when he'd caught sight of his reflection in the entrance of his homeroom building. Stupid Cicera had almost definitely known that this was not the cool sort of bedhead that impressed girls, and yet she'd let him get out of the carriage as though everything were completely normal.

Tch. Her revenge for him waking up late he supposed, but he was gonna get her back for it later. He didn't have time to stand in front of the glass to fix it, but ran a hand through it several times, hoping for a more intentional just-woke-up-this-way look. There were still a few stragglers hurrying to class, so he didn't feel too stressed, but still being late on the first day of class was a good way to get on the homeroom teacher's bad side. He rounded the corner of the hall of his new homeroom and stopped short.

A drider and draken locked in an almost intimate embraced. Impressive. Class hadn't even started yet and already the game was afoot. He wouldn't have put the two of them together—though, if he were honest, he probably wouldn't have put the drider together with anyone—but who was he to judge? It was an interesting choice nonetheless. Unfortunately, before he had a chance to ruin the moment himself, it was ruined by flying papers. Some of the papers were flying toward him and for a split second, he considered letting them fly by, but bent to grab them as they fluttered past his leg.

"Save it for behind the mess well, you two," he said as he approached, grinning devilishly. The mess well was, of course, what the students called the popular make out spot tucked under this building's east wing stairwell. So called because almost all students who ducked into its shadows emerged looking far messier than they had when they'd entered. He saw the sign for his homeroom up ahead and strode forward confidently. Without pausing in his stride, he held out the slightly crumpled notes he'd grabbed. If the drider couldn't keep up to take the papers, Nachenys figured he probably didn't need them anyway and it'd be fine if he released them into the wind again. Behind him, he heard the girl introduce herself. He wondered who'd his classmates'd be this year.

He paused only briefly to double check this was the correct room. Excitement pooled in the pit of his stomach. Then, he breezed into the room as though he owned it and cast his eyes around the room. He caught sight of Aeli first and an empty seat next to her with his name on it.

"Lucky," he singsonged as he slid into the empty seat. "Same homeroom this year, Aeli. What are the odds?" She cut him a glance for the nickname, but smiled and bobbed her head once enthusiastically. "And looks like we've got some interesting classmates." His eyes flicked to the others he hadn't sized up yet: the elven beauty seated in the middle who wasn't bothering to hide the disgust on her face, the crisply attired student studying a table away, the enormous orc whose relaxed body language seemed to be the source of the elf female's ire. Or maybe it was his general orc-ness. Nachenys smirked.

Suddenly, the air in front of him came to life as Aelina spoke to him in midair. Her words glittered like gold in front of him: Nys, your hair. The smirk disappeared, replaced by a scowl. Stupid Cicera.


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“I know, right.” Axel responded to Malsira's simple courtesy with a grin. “Actually I guess I'm the lucky one for meeting you though. So hey...”

He gave himself a pause, realizing that the next thing he said had to be very carefully worded. In drider culture, and in fact with most necromantic cultures, it was not terribly uncommon for people to sign over the rights to their bodies to someone after death. In fact it was often times seen as being distasteful if you didn't repurpose the body into something either useful or tastefully decorative, in a sort of 'use all the parts of the buffalo way.' Axel even had, back when he was at home, a set of pens graciously left to him by an old and cherished tutor made from his fingers.

Now like with most things involving necromancy the backwards and honestly often times barbaric communities made a point of vilifying because death was bad, oohh. True necromantic cultures tended to be more outwardly centered around death, but that was hardly an obsession so much as not getting so strangely skittish around it. Axel actually found it more disturbing that people wanted to bury their dead in the ground or worse, straight up burn them. Who seriously wants to set a cherished loved one on fire?

The POINT being that it was not terribly unusual for a person to idly ask for a part of their body, or for compliments to be started 'oh you'd make an excellent' followed by what they wanted. Now granted this was usually something far more intimate, like what you'd ask a family member, lover or long cherished friend, but Malsira had really pretty scales and Axel was a former prince so tact was that. While it would have still been a bit forward for him to ask her for her body after just meeting her if they were in the drider culture up here it was seen as some sort of dark threat due to their damn cultural bias.

So he had to be VERY careful with his wording and sales pitch.

“Obviously I can't take you right now, but I've been enraptured by your beauty. There's something I really need to take care of first, but someday when your body is ready would you mind if I made you mine?”

Yes, that was perfectly worded. There was absolutely no way that could be interpreted as anything other than 'please be my pants!' said politely as possible. Contained within was nothing outwardly offensive and now all he had to do was get her to sign and affidavit and then die at some point and he'd have his gorgeous pair of draken leather pants and probably a pretty powerful skeleton with some potent spell components. Well that was probably going to be a fair deal down the line, honestly sometimes he kind of wished he could just kill people to get his zombies but that was something of a major taboo amongst legitimate necromancers ...and also murder. Besides he just barely didn't need leather pants that badly.

"Save it for behind the mess well, you two,"

Wait did he know that guy? This was Axel's first thought, but he'd interrupted the moment perfectly. Axel couldn't shake the feeling that the man with the fabulous bed head was someone he'd seen before, but he couldn't quite place it. Well whatever. Actually as he watched the stranger walk away he noticed some crumpled up papers which Nachenys casually threw into the air, papers which Axel kind of thought (hoped) were some of those notes he'd lost. As they were picked back up by the wind Axel managed to snag on page while stepping on another, a third flew past him though and got away.

Inspecting the two he got he did a small fist pump as he read one. “Yes! I kind of want to hug that guy.”

With his pages back in tow he'd head into the classroom, assuming there were no more mishaps. Entering he found all the convenient seats for him taken, by which he meant seats on the outer edge of the perimeter. Given his large spider body he usually got complaints if he wasn't sitting in the back row, and he wondered if the teacher would just let him make a hammock and chill in the back of the class. It was like a 70-30 chance of him saying no or yes on that one.

“Whelp this is me. Let me know about your body later, ok.”

Not wanting to stand around he started trying to make his way to an open desk, which basically meant crawling over people and on top of other desks. When he finally made it to the desk he obviously couldn't sit in the chair, and the surrounding desks didn't leave him enough room to just sit on the floor, so with an exasperated grunt he crawled up on the desk itself and sat down on it. Sure nobody behind him could see and it wasn't too terribly comfortable, but it was really the only thing he could do until he worked something out with the teacher.
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Posted: 2017-08-26, 04:46 PM


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“Obviously I can't take you right now, but I've been enraptured by your beauty. There's something I really need to take care of first, but someday when your body is ready would you mind if I made you mine?”

Malsira blushed again, but she tried to hold on to her senses this time. Fool me once and all that. She started to fumble her way through a response, "I-I-I-umm--" But she was cut off by another student passing by, "Save it for behind the mess well, you two"

Malsira dug her hands deep into her hoodie pockets again. What's a mess well...? Since she was a first year, she didn't know what that meant, but it sounded...gross. Axel continued on and Malsira followed. The Drider commented on the papers he snagged out of the air and then said, “Whelp this is me. Let me know about your body later, ok.” as they arrived at room marked seven.

Malsira looked at the number on the wall with a bit of disappointment, she would be sharing the room with Axel and she had wanted some time to digest what just happened. She slowly peaked her head in and scanned for a spot. Let's see, the guy that mentioned the mess well was sitting next to a girl she hadn't seen before, then there was...ugh that mean elf chick, Axel had climbed over people to sit at his own table--scratch that on his own table, then there was a very well dressed human who, well, it looked like he was just trying way too hard, and finally...a giant orc. Out of all the people there, Malsira decided to sit next to Gorg. Somehow...he seemed the most inviting?

Sebastian rolled his eyes and sighed, all the savages had to end up in my class...


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Posted: 2017-08-26, 06:52 PM


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The sound of a chair being pulled out caught Gorg's attention. He slightly opened one eye and turned to right to see a pale Draken girl timidly seating herself next to him. Without changing posture, he extended his right arm to her just as she finished sitting, and grinned widely. "Gorg Lightblinder," he rumbled in a deep, gravelly voice. After a moment's hesistation, she took his hand. Just as he clasped her much smaller hand in a solid handshake, the door of the classroom banged open, and a bulky man in a white robe strode into the hall.


The bald-headed man seemed as if he would rather be anywhere but facing a classroom of students. The red stripe travelling down either side of his robe indicated he was an accomplished healer, and the scowl on his face indicated he did not want to discuss it. As he approached the large desk at the front of the room, the man pulled a leather messenger bag from over his shoulders and set it down on the desk before sitting heavily into the cushioned chair. He propped an elbow up on the desk, and buried his face into his hand.

A suffocating silence fell over the room as he sat there, completely motionless. After several minutes, Gorg was almost convinced the man had stopped breathing before a groan escaped from the teacher, and the man looked up at the class. His eyes looked around the room, evaluating the students before sliding off of them to the next. Notably, however, the healer pointedly ignored the presence of the drider in the back of the classrom. He absentmindedly scratched at the scruff of a beard that was just beginning to bloom on his cheeks, and raised a finger to point at Sebastian.

"Alitar boy!" he said, snapping his fingers. "I would use a second-level white magic spell to completely erase all traces of a hangover. What spell is it?" After a moment's pause, he smirked and added "I imagine you're familiar with it."

This post has been edited by Takahata on 2017-08-26, 06:52 PM


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Saint
Posted: 2017-08-26, 07:01 PM


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Sebastian watched as their teacher arrived, and was pretty sure he recognized him. He had a reputation around campus after all...

Eventually, the man sprung a quick question at Sebastian and the boy clenched his fist, dispelling the little static he'd been playing with. He was familiar with many forms of magic, but he had never had the talent for healing. He'd memorized many spell types and practices. He wracked his brain and knew of one spell that should help with a hangover, he just wasn't sure if it was the one the teacher was looking for.

"Panacea," Sebastion said simply. "It's a minor healing spell that can also help heal minor ailments like nausea and poison."


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Posted: 2017-08-26, 07:08 PM


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The white mage gave a half-nod to Sebastian, as if it was granted that he would have answered correctly, and turned to face the drider in the back of the classroom.

"And why would I not have cast Panacea on myself already, Necromancer?" he spat venomously.


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Axel, who at this point had been pulling stuff out from his bag and reorganizing and cataloging things after this morning's little spill, was genuinely surprised that he was being called on. While recent events had forced him to delve into strange magic outside of his usual specialty his interest in the so called healing arts was actually pretty nonexistent. Putting aside its diametric opposition to his craft of choice anything other than a few cherry picked curse removal spells were completely useless to him. This was a stupid question, one that was wasting his precious time.

“Probably because you are a no talent hack using an outdated and primitive magic.” He said with no small amount of contempt for the man or his craft, not even bothering looking up from his notes on homunculus and soul transfers. It was his latest project to try and dodge his little curse but he was having trouble with a few aspects of the homunculus working as a suitable vessel instead of exploding, plus he was still unsure whether his curse was bound to his body or something deeper. He'd have to stop by the alchemist workshops later, the information in the library was woefully inadequate because of how stupidly secretive alchemist were.

Anyways he was already being forced to attend these inane classes, now they had to waste his time by expecting him to participate? Oh! It was a pretty much a long shot given that this guy couldn't even cure his own hangover but it might be worth asking. “How good at you at curse removal by the way? If you're any good at all I've actually got something I need you to look at, well not that your...'spellcraft' would be able to do much about it anyways.”
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“Probably because you are a no talent hack using an outdated and primitive magic.”

The middle-aged mage nodded his head at the Drider's retort, his chin still resting in his palm with his elbow propped up on the table. He looked quite bored, actually, as he stifled a yawn. "The Fourth Law of White magic states that White Magic cannot cure a wound or ailment inflicted by one's self," he corrected. The teacher wasn't sure that Silkweaver had even heard him, though; the drider surely showed no reaction to the comment.

After a moment, the drider seemed to realize something, and looked up from his notes. “How good at you at curse removal by the way? If you're any good at all I've actually got something I need you to look at..." The teacher nodded again, seemingly to himself, and rose from his seat at the front of the class. The rest of the drider's worst were lost to him as the scraping noise of opening a drawer drowned them out. The mage set an inkwell down onto the surface of the table and removed the lid.

"Yes, I know something of curses," he replied, gingerly dipping two fingers into the surface of the ink. The white mage raised his fingers stained with black ink into the air, and traced a single vertical line. As he did so, the ink suspended itself in the air as if he was writing on invisible parchment. It took him only a moment to make 14 more marks, completing the Sigil of Silence. As the magical rune was finished, it began to glow white and disappeared. It reappeared in front of Axel Silkweaver and seemed to pass through him before vanishing.

"Now then," the mage continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As he spoke, he reached into the same drawer and pulled out a small stoppered phial filled with a softly glowing blue liquid. "My name is Sergei Wildstone. I am an Aventerus sanctioned Adept at White Magics, a second year in the Secondary program specializing in restorative White Magics, and your homeroom instructor." Sergei quaffed the potion in one gulp, and gave a contended sigh. "Each of you currently capable of speaking should stand and introduce yourselves to your classmates."


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Saint
Posted: 2017-08-27, 07:58 AM


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Sebastian watched in shock when Axel addressed Mr. Wildstone with not only such casual speech, but down right disrespectful insinuations that their teacher was far from up to snuff. I guess he does kiss spiders with that mouth... Sebastian thought. It was then that Mr. Wildstone so casually cast a silence spell upon the drider and Sebastian tried to hide his smirk as best as possible. He recognized Axel, he was pretty sure he was a third year student as well. However, Sebastian couldn't remember a single time that he'd seen Axel actually IN class, only burying himself in books in the library. Sebastian also remembered how much of a nuisance it was when Axel took up his own corners of the library...

"Each of you currently capable of speaking should stand and introduce yourselves to your classmates."

With movements you might find from military knights, Sebastian rose from his seat. As if standing at attention he kept his arms to his side and his eyes staring forward. He'd been through this before, and offered what he deemed to be a succinct response. It's not like he wanted to make friends with so many low born people in this class.

"Sebastian Alitar, aspiring Mageknight, third year honors student," he supplied. Name, field of study, and year of school. He always felt the need to add that he was an honors student, to show that he was about the chaff. All it really meant was that he maintained a high grade average, participated in enough extra curriculars, and aided in student body activities. Last year he was named class representative, and saw no reason that should change this year either. He just hoped it would be a class worth representing.


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Lapetus
Posted: 2017-08-28, 07:02 AM


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Ironically Axel found himself asking a question, since the more he actually thought about it the less the explanation provided to him made sense. Not that the drider had a lick of interest in the white arts, as they were commonly called. His grudge against them was born from more than mild disinterest, one might even say that his ignorance was very much purposeful and born primarily out of his pride as a necromancer. According to records found in his old family library, an ancient source to be sure, necromancy had started out as flesh magic. Molding bone, flesh and sinew to one's command to restore the body. It was far from pretty or painless but it healed all the same.

This practice was vilified to the point of criminalization by various nobles and churches, who deemed the art dark and foul in nature while coincidentally providing services of 'white magic' to the commoners for a modest fee. Soon flesh magic became some sinister social taboo, and what few still practiced it on the surface were shunned as witches and heretics if not outright hunted down. The secrecy in which it was practiced probably lead to its eventual development into necromancy, which then evolved further and further as time progressed. White magic on the other hand was a field that saw very little development by comparison, and while it's political supremacy did waver in the face of other more sophisticated spell casting such as alchemy it was still considered the official healing magic, a thing that irked necromancers everywhere.

Thus it was an outdated and primitive magic and anyone stupid enough to practice it was a hack, which made his answer an entirely correct one he might add. But that didn't explain why white magic couldn't heal such a simple affliction just because he'd done it to himself. Could he not simply expel toxins or revitalize damaged tissue? It could be an issue of concentration, like how a surgeon couldn't be expected to operate on themselves, or was it some problem with equivalent exchange?

Every mage everywhere probably knew about the Pyromancer's dilemma, a hypothetical in which one assumes that a pyromancer is lost in a blizzard with no fuel source and must use his own magic to stay alive. Ultimately he is unable to since the energy required to generate enough heat to warm him is equivalent to that required for thermoregulation.

In other words one could not use magic to produce more energy than was present to use. Without some outside source person couldn't use magic to restore the body's overall energy, since they'd just be sacrificing magical energy to restore metabolic energy. Actually they'd wind up going minus due to energy loss... still though that was a woefully inadequate answer considering that healing was not about the amount of energy but rather proper function of the body. There was a limit to how nonsensical a primitive school of magic could be, right? Hell this only raised the question of why didn't he just go get a potion from some alchemist.

Not that his question had been answered, or asked really, since as Axel was explaining why it made absolutely no sense in great detail that such an ineffectual magic should still be in use anywhere he eventually came to realize that he couldn't hear the sound of his own voice. Which caused him to be quite a bit surprised, then angry, and then kind of give what looked like a grunt as he rolled his eyes and went back to organizing his notes.

Got it, white magic is stupid. Now how to keep that damn humonculis from exploding, the janitors down in the alchemist workshop were actually getting pretty pissed at him...
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ebacusta
Posted: 2017-08-28, 12:33 PM


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Aelina could hardly keep from rolling her eyes at the drider's dismissive response. Of course necros thought that white magic was old fashioned. As though their way of doing things was the only way. Given a choice, any sane person would have chosen white magic over dark—life over death. Strictly speaking, the healing magic found in white magic had remain largely unchanged for centuries, but the fields around it—fields like feel-good magic and enhancement magic—that could also be considered a form of healing magic had flourished in the interim. There was now a host of ways to address any ailments or illnesses that might arise. Even for something as minor as a hangover.

And for that matter, in her humble opinion, the best way to treat a hangover was to treat the underlying cause of all its symptoms: dehydration. Even if she were healing a friend's hangover, she still wouldn't have opted for Panacea. As a minor cure-all type spell, Panacea didn't target specific areas so much as do a blanket heal on all problems. It worked by increasing the circulation of blood in the body to speed up the body's natural healing process. In other words, if you cast it without addressing the dehyrdration problem first, you'd just end up exacerbating your hangover symptoms and risk doing far more harm than good. Though it was true that white magic couldn't be used to heal self-inflicted wounds, after a good hydrate spell, a simple restituo would have you feeling good as new. But, of course, a necro wouldn't get that at all.

***

Beside her, Nachenys could barely keep from laughing. Aelina was annoyed by the drider's response and it was written all over her face. He thought about nudging her to speak up instead, but he was pretty sure she'd never go for that. Nachenys expected the teacher to lose it, but when he casually walked around the desk and cast the silence spell instead, the raspberry-haired boy's mouth quirked in surprazment, or what less interesting folk would have called "surprise and amazement." He liked this teacher! A true challenge!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some of Aelina's irritation melt away. A quick glance confirmed what he knew to be true: she liked this teacher too. Then came the part of class Nachenys never looked forward to. Class introductions. After Sebastian's...eager and...militaristic introduction, Nachenys decided it was his turn. With an easy swagger, he stood.

"Nachenys Emsryn, induction studies, also a third year student." He thought about adding he was an honors student just to tease Sebastian, but decided not to because though he could have been, he was not for reasons he didn't care to fix. At least not where people could see. And plus, he didn't want to get on Mr. Wildstone's bad side just yet.

Then he gestured at Aelina next to him. "This is Aeli. She's a—"

Aelina shot up, elbowing Nachenys hard in the side as she did. He buckled slightly as he let out a soft "oof." Technically, she could speak. She wasn't sure if the teacher knew that or not, but regardless, she chose not to. Immediately the air in the front of the classroom sparkled gold as her self-introduction spelled itself out at the front of the classroom: Aelina Vent Monsior. Second year. Studies: sound magic. And don't call me Aeli.


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