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Introduction to Arcane & Metaphysical Theory 1000
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Atticus DArcstorm
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PostPosted: Sun Feb 26, 2017 10:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

"By way of discussion with Ms. Storm, it occurred to me that I might make mention to you that the world you see around you, where our classroom is now situated, the sky, the ocean, the mountains - are all the result of waking dreams. Not daydreams as we might usually think of them, but more substantively developed fantasies. They have all the same mutability as aspects in Dream developed from sleepers dreams, should one exercise conscious effort or," he glanced at Felicity when he added, "when your control slips towards your passions." He continued to speak, his voice audible by the entire class.

"It is said that power is only ever an articulation of it's wielder; no where else is this more true than in Dream, yet for a magic user the power that one has in Dream extends out to the world they walk when waking as well. Your passions here are your power, the power to change the land and what you see and hear and feel, and to change reality itself; in the waking world it differs slightly in that we are not only subject to the limitations of our own self-control, which is often subverted by fear and uncertainty to encourage us not to reach, not to change things, but we are also limited by the control of others. I am certain you all remember, to some degree at least, the idea of Consensus, which is what I refer to now." Now the fingers at his temples massaged slightly, he had skewed slightly off course and needed to bring everything back together.

"Often the control, Consensus, imposed by others results in wild talents forming what are called 'blocks'. These are essentially regulations that we place upon ourselves for our own well being; they limit what we can do while not conscious of the way we use magic, or perhaps even the fact that we're using it at all. Interestingly, they all manifest as something with which we have facility; it is easier to accept that we might be able to manipulate fire or water or ice, or that we have unnaturally good luck, or can influence the luck of others. Or perhaps there is one other person who we can communicate with as though we read each others thoughts. Because this puts us, some would say, at an advantage, we often don't question how far these abilities can be pushed and simply accept them as they are. However, these abilities are the key to breaking through these self imposed mental blocks; they are the tiny stream through solid rock, wearing slowly away at the channel which it flows through." With his free hand he gestured to the world around them before he concluded, a broad sweeping stroke, as he he were trying to encompass all of Dream in the gesture.

"What you, what we, can do here is a taste of what the world is like, can be like, when you have opened yourself fully to the arcane, when you have eroded the blocks which you set upon yourselves." His voice quieted some, but he maintained, "Some do this for power, not the power of being able to manipulate reality, but the power of subjugating others. This, to me, is desecration; to use a tool of ultimate freedom to deny others freedom is no less than evil, and worse than evil - the despair which leads to nihilism and Oblivion. And while I do not promote violence, nor must it be fought with violence, this," he paused, his voice had been growing ever softer, though still audible, in some way fraternally intimate perhaps, with the listeners, "but it must be fought."

His hand dropped from his face to his side and he took another deep breath, the remainder of his thoughts finishing in myriad ways within his mind's eye. 'We're exhausting ourselves, fighting alone; we need help. Please.'

Although it turned to a warm, dewy mist by the time it reached the students, somewhere above them, it had begun to rain.
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PostPosted: Tue Feb 28, 2017 8:57 pm    Post subject: Worse Than Evil Reply with quote

While Fliss and their instructor debated morals and ethics, something Layla genuinely had no interest in, Layla was fixated on the De-light she had caught.

It revealed to her a blonde performer, singing and dancing happily on stage. Once she finished her routine, the infinite audience before her erupted into applause, hollering its adoration upon her. Smiling, waving, blowing kisses to her fans, the performer bowed several times before making her way to the curtain to go back stage. The cheers from the audiences slowly faded, muffled as she let the curtain close behind her, revealing only an empty backstage room. No cheering ‘backstage pass’ fans. No supportive band mates. No loving friends or family. She turned around and quickly threw open the curtain hoping to see her adoring audience again, only to find the expansive space empty as if no one was ever there.

Layla released the dream, allowing the De-light to follow the others floating around her in their unseen current through the air. She understood what the Professor meant when he described them as ‘small fragments of dreams that exist only for a moment before the dreamer realizes that they dream’. She imagined the poor woman would jolt awake at the end, not being as lucky as Layla had been to easily cast it off. Although she had sympathy for the performer, Layla could not relate as well to her plight. She wished above all else to stay out of the spotlight.

Venturing out a little further, she caught another De-light. Within this one, a red headed woman appeared to be lost within a hallway with no windows. Several doors surrounded her, though each time she spun around to see behind her, there seemed to be more doors than before. Trying desperately to get out, the woman threw open one of the doors and was temporarily blinded by a white hot light that seared her skin as if she was standing next to the sun. Slamming the door closed, she turned and went to the door behind her. Quickly rushing to open it and find her freedom, she was instead greeted by a shadow filled darkness that seemed to engulf whatever was beyond the door, even rising into the air. Before she had a chance to close the door, the dense cloud of shadow began to leech into the hallway with her. Long ribbons of blackened violet began to reach out. As they grabbed her, wrapping around her arms, she opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She continued to scream in silence as she was pulled into the doorway of darkness.

In a similarly jarring manner as when she was interruptedly pulled from the first De-light, Layla found herself back in the field, just as their instructor began speaking to them. She continued to hold onto the speck in her dreamcatcher. “Oh, no,” she began whispering to it, “I’m not letting you go. You’re perfect.” The Professor instructed them to ‘find a dream that speaks to you’. This one spoke to her, but not because she related to the woman in the dream. She related to the shadows. Layla loved the darkness and everything that it symbolized: power, fear, mystery. It symbolized everything in her life, which was just the way she wanted it. Satisfied with her catch, she made her way back to the classroom while she listened to Professor D’Arcstorm continue his lesson.

As the humidity collected on her skin, she began to wonder just how far they could go in this plane of existence. Could she turn it as dark as she wanted, as dark as it was in the woman’s nightmare that she now held onto? Maybe she shouldn’t even try. What if that was what Professor D’Arcstorm referred to as ‘desecration’, a fate ‘worse than evil’?

On her way back to her desk, Layla had a scowl on her face. While it would have been in keeping with her previous demeanor, this time it was due to her quiet contemplation and confusion over this malleable environment. As she walked through the field, it may have been merely a trick of the light shining through the dew, but it almost seemed as though her shadow was a little darker than it should have been and lingered just a little too long along the blades of grass it covered.
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PostPosted: Tue Feb 28, 2017 10:27 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ammy listened to dialogue play on between Professor D'Arcstorm and Fliss as she sat on the log watching the waves lap on that beach. So the world here they were seeing was a construct from each consensus of their own minds. Fluid, changeable depending on what they went through. This had her struggle deep within as to why her eyes were drawn to beauty and the calm of sea and sand. She surmised, at a haphazard guess, that out of all of the student on the field trip, her own consensus would be tantamount to playing with Pandora's Box. Yet, she'd found the peaceful sand, the lapping waters and the De-Light of Ruby Spiritor, her daughter as she dreams.

The topic of ethics and dreams had her flinch some on the bone white drift wood. More than a few times she'd been on the wrong end of a power hungry mage or dictator wanting her to obey, sinking cold, psionic fingers to root around in her mind, twisting, warping and rearranging memories and turning dreams against her. That was a case she understood where ethics buried the meter on the moral meter heavily into the vile zone. Yet, she gazed at Ruby's De-Light snagged in the Dream Catcher. Was she, as a mother, being morally irresponsible to take privacy from her daughter by seeing that dream? A dream that gave her much heart ache but a better gauge to understand Ruby and why she was often sad during play times.

A glance back to the classroom indicated that it was perhaps time she ventured back. She took a small measured breath and stood, the weight of her daughters dream still heavy and making her strides leaden. What would the world be like for herself as she was yet without sound? Had she taken so much for granted that she'd not given her daughters deafness enough weight to correct or attempt to fix? Had she become someone that her daughter may no longer look up to?

As she considered these ramifications, her faculties ensnared by a deeper synopsis of her relationship with her daughter, her mood drifted into a cooling state of despair. The sunny beach she was returning from was turning shades of deep reds and golds as the sun in just that dreamscape portion seemed to darken and set. As Ammy walked, by her side, where paw prints were left in the sand, a set of armored boot prints were now walking by here as air began to darken and thicken just slightly next to the Lupe. An occurrence easily seen through with the naked eye or thought of as a trick, something that if blinked, would clear, but something was walking with Ammy.
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PostPosted: Sun Mar 05, 2017 1:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

If there was one thing that Bastion seemed designed for, it was to be a stumbling, bumbling, affable source of paradox - in the contradictory sense, not the magical sense. He'd noted the tension rising on Felicity's face as the field trip had progressed, but as soon as the wonders of the Dreamscape unveiled themselves to the senses of the students, he'd been rapt. No effort or attempt was made for pencils, pens, or papers; his eyes had been on the scenery as they'd descended from the clouds, only had they returned to Professor D'Arcstorm as the classroom had again settled into a somewhat more natural environment, except for the De-lights of course.

Like Felicity, he had lagged behind the rest of his classmates, but unlike her it had nothing to do with moral reservation. Although he hadn't reached for the implements of his art, he had been keeping a keen on on everything and everyone, trying hard to memorize what he could; he ached to sketch them now, but the only way to do so would result in him passing up the opportunity to explore this strange place. He'd paused again in proceeding in his exploration as he heard Atticus address the class. While hearing the professor but not listening, he began to experiment with the 'mutability' of the realm by manipulating the tether that rode his wrist. As the professor talked, his tether began to writhe and shift as though it had a mind of it's own, the the dreamcatcher which was in it's line snaked into the air like the head of a cobra and wove back and forth; it ceased as soon as it had begun, and changed into something more resembling a lasso - still with the dreamcatcher element intact.

Finally the professor stopped talking, and not hearing an admonishment to stay within the bounds of the classroom, he finally ventured outside and began the task of examining the dream fragments, the De-lights.

The first De-light that he 'caught', though not the first he paid attention to by far, was of a mother cuddling with her two children as she told them stories; the children seemed to be similar in age, and both had their mothers characteristics at least - dark hair and blue eyes. The three of them continued to cuddle, until a new character entered the scene - tall, blonde hair, and the same blue eyes as the rest of them, and the lines around his eyes and mouth - though slight - were wrinkles which could only be caused by perpetual good humor. 'A family,' he thought, 'Whatever, good for them.' There was something familiar about the man though, he was sure he'd seen him somewhere before. Around the campus, perhaps.

He suddenly felt like Peter Pan peering in windows, and full of jealousy and self pity. He bid the dreamcatcher release the De-light - failing to notice the benign pulse of light that travelled the length of his tether when he did so. He looked elsewhere, and found another.

A red headed woman sat on the lap of a seated statue which was shaped to resemble a medieval knight. Her arms were looped around it's neck, and her head lay against his chest. Suddenly the statues fingers flexed, and though his face was shrouded in some sort of pseudo dream induced darkness, Bastion was sure the thing - the man - had yawned. The woman, whoever she was, seemed to jump in his arms, looking up into the veiled face with a smile that managed excitement despite the fact she was obviously half asleep. Tiredly the woman looked up into it's - his - face, and asked if he were coming to bed yet. The statue seemed to nod and it rose to it's feet - the woman still in it's arms as she relaxed back into sleep against his chest. As the statue-man took a step forward, his face moved into the light and... the Dreamer must have woken. The image wavered and vanished, leaving only the remnant energy of the De-light caught in the dreamcatcher, which Bastion again released and moved on.

There were thousands more De-lights flitting about in the air, some floating, some moving as though they had a mind of their own. He'd find one that spoke to him enough to return to the professor with it, of that he was sure.
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 10, 2017 3:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Despite her reservations still, Fliss accepted the professor's explanation with a slow nod, trying to clear her expression. She was well aware that she had disrupted his plan for the lesson, and was trying not to be embarrassed by the fact that her disruption had caused him to draw attention to her objections.

Turning away, she drew in a slow breath, the way her father had taught her, closing her eyes as she reached for the happy memory Johnny had shown her how to harness to calm her emotions and get herself back on a rational track. She barely felt the dewy rain falling on her as she concentrated, listening to the sound of her own breath as she slowly detached her mind from what she was feeling, wrapping those emotions up and letting them go. It had taken weeks of hard work to learn how to do this, and she was more than a little ashamed of herself for working up to the point where she needed it in front of so many people. Her father would be proud of her for doing it, though, in spite of her embarrassment at her lack of control. As her mood calmed, the itchiness in her palms faded, and she felt the familiar relief flood through her veins at the acknowledgement that she was not about to set fire to anyone or anything.

As she opened her eyes, she was startled to find a De-light right in front of her, a dancing light that flickered invitingly. In spite of herself, she tilted her head, her curiosity reaching out to it, and was granted a glimpse of what it held inside. It was one of her own dreams, a dream she had woken from not so very long ago, and the contents were more than enough to make her giggle and blush. She reached out with her bracelet to catch it, not particularly wanting to risk anyone else seeing what that one held inside it. Plus, it was her own dream. There was no violation of privacy there.

Hugging the glowing sphere to her chest, she returned to her seat, biting her lip as she bit down deeply embarrassed giggles at the knowledge of what that dream had contained. Either the homework this week was going to be horrendously embarrassing for her, or she was about to embarrass herself in front of the whole class. Either way, supreme humiliation was on the horizon, and for once, she didn't really care.
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Atticus DArcstorm
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 17, 2017 10:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Atticus ventured to the edge of the classroom, hand again rising to the side of his face. He didn't use his mundane senses to perceive his students, and he didn't need to – not here. The sight and sound of them was as near to him as he willed it to be, his subtle manipulation of the Dreamworld imperceptible to the senses of others, as it only effected himself; it was important that the students bear in mind that the world around them was fluid to their will. If they felt the iron rigidity that he imposed upon the chaos of Dream to maintain it in a state that gave them the sense of normalcy with which they now experienced it, it might feel that much less mutable to them.

The tethers which connected all the students pulsed with a myriad of colours as their dreamcatchers snared errant De-lights, with the intensity of the pulse's light having a corresponding intensity to the intensity of the De-lights which the students experienced. Atticus was aware of every pulse, through every tether, from every student. Some things he deliberately waited to explain, having a firm belief that there must be an imposition of law in the form of linear learning; to explain to them the dual nature of the tethers would detract from what they focused on now, and there was nothing sinister in it. The chaotic energy of Dream threw off energy in the same way that a fire throws heat and light, with the notable exception of it being a far more inexhaustible energy; like a fire, though, the whether the light was used to see, or the heat used to cook, would not determine if the energy itself was emitted and transformed into something else, continuing on in it's endless cycle.

It was a lesson he longed to give, but it's relevance would have seemed questionable at the moment: the necessity of the creation of Dreamfire, of having to explain it was the only fire capable of working Worldstone. Literally a lesson for another time. But he couldn't help but be aware of it as the class progressed, as each pulse of light made it's way along the tether.
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 17, 2017 10:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

In Dream, no matter how mundane a person was in the outside world, inside they were a power. Some of the students who were with him now were powers in their own right already in the waking world, and others were on their way there, in some fashion or another. He thought he had lost the ability to be filled with wonder; he hoped that his students, upon realizing their ability here, would feel it in his stead.

“Very well, I see each of you have encountered at least a couple of De-lights with which you find interest. We're ready for the next phase of our project here – making your will manifest in the plane. Each of you choose something from within one of the De-lights you've caught. It can be anything at all, but something tangible is the best place to start; trying to fabricate something like an emotion, to manifest here, is difficult, complex. Fashioning something like a table, a book, even an entire room or a building, or an entire land,” he gestured with his free hand to the world around them, around the spot where the classroom had touched down in Dream. “Is relatively easy. Even fashioning a simulacrum of a creature, or a person – that's simulacrum of a person,” he added again, “Is relatively easy because it's relatively easy to manipulate the five senses rather than directly manipulate higher emotional function.” He began to turn in a circle, taking in all of the students as he spoke, no matter their location.

“I want each of you to focus,” his voice took on an almost droning, hypnotic quality, done intentionally to help induce a meditative state. “Focus on one thing in each of your De-lights. Can you see it? What colour or colours is it? Is it shiny, or flat, or something else? Can you hear it? If it's not making a noise, could it? What would it sound like? Don't rush, breathe, think, focus.” He came to the end of his near mantra, and started again, slightly different.
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Atticus DArcstorm
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 17, 2017 10:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

“What does it feel like? Is it rough? Smooth? Is it dry, rough, sharp, soft, or wet? Reach out with your mind, don't say the answer out loud. Feel it in your mind. Now, what about smell? Is it new or musty, fresh or old? Perhaps sharp, or simply sterile? Perceive it with all your senses, go slowly, time doesn't matter here, there's no rush. Now, I want each of you to focus,” he began again, going over his entire mantra again a second time, and then a third, each succession becoming more hypnotic, encouraging the students to delve deeper into their De-light.

“Feel each of your senses taking in the thing you've chosen, and when you've absorbed as much of it as you can manage, when it fills you so much that you know it as well as you know yourself, pause,” he took a breath, and paused as well in his speech. “Then exhale, exhale through all of your senses, let your eyes and ears project into Dream the shape of your focus, let your sense of touch give it texture – reach out and mold the thing as it takes form, if you must; the very air around us here is modelling clay of the mind. Even if it should be sterile and have no smell, instead let your exhalation breath your focus into existence.” The entirety of the last message was as a whisper to each student, sounding as though he were close to them, quietly encouraging each of them in turn – though he never left the spot he stood.

“Though I may strive to teach you to know thyself, I will never teach you to doubt thyself. I know you are capable, each of you, even if you stumble, you will succeed.” His voice was soft, but firm, and sounded just within earshot of each student. “Now, we will begin with,” he paused, but only for a moment, before the first student was called upon, “Yes, you're more than ready; go ahead, feel it manifest, show us what you've focused on.” The idea of 'us' was subjective, as he was the only one not deeply focusing on a De-light, at least until some of the students completed the task.


((OOC: Just a note to everyone, there's no one in particular I was thinking of when I had him indicate someone to begin – it will simply indicate whoever actually posts first. ))
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 18, 2017 4:00 am    Post subject: Limbo and Dreams Reply with quote

Andu blinks, and gives his head a small shake, his attention returning to the class and what is passing for the here and now as the last of the De-lights he has chosen settles about his wrist. He takes a moment to review what his ears had heard, but his mind had been too busy to do more than "save" for when attention could be spared for it. Nodding, he turns his attention to the still free De-lights, and carefully snags one that is hovering nearby.

Peering into it, listening and experiencing the dream with in, he smiles, and then nods to the Professor with a...is that a SMIRK on Andu's face?!? Surely not! The possible smirk fades to be replaced by a look of intense concentration as Andu closes his eyes and holds out one massive hand.

Slowly, starting with the base that rests on his hand a figure builds. A long curved spine with three branches protruding from it at different levels forms first. From the top of each branch forms a shelf made up alternating clear and translucent blue squares form. From two of the corners on each of the top most and lower most shelf form a small verticle pole upon which forms a shelf like the larger ones, but much smaller, each having only 4 squares total upon them. after a quick glance and nod, Andu closes his eyes once again in concentration, and small figurines start to form on many of the squares. It would take a while at the pace he has set, but soon the entire 3d chess set is complete, and Andu looks up to the Professor with a raised eyebrow... and maybe that IS a bit of a smirk he has going on.
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PostPosted: Tue Mar 28, 2017 3:40 pm    Post subject: The Wooden Door Reply with quote

As Layla made her way back towards the classroom area, she thought about the Professor’s instructions to focus on something tangible in the dream. She thought that was a little awkward, given that her focus of the dream was darkness, and that probably wouldn’t be able to be created in their setting very well. There was the redheaded woman, but Layla really had no interest in her. But, there was one other thing of note in the dream. Just as she got to the row where her seat was, she paused and looked around, making sure she’d have enough room. She took a few steps back and closed her eyes, beginning to concentrate on the door that the woman opened to the darkness.

From inside its thick wooden frame, the door was a good six feet tall and a few feet wide, though it seemed slightly wider than the standard doors she had become accustomed to using. Despite it being inside a hallway, Layla could have sworn it had been exposed to the elements for decades. She was unsure of what type of wood it was, especially considering its coloring seemed like it had been long lost to the sun, giving it an almost gray hue, but it did not have many striations or knots on it. It was just a simple, solid, wooden door.

Taking a small step, Layla leaned in a little closer to inspect it up close. Some of the jagged wooden fibers were warping out slightly, giving a rough texture to the door. She held up her hand, feeling encouraged to touch the door in order to get a better to build on its creation, but thought better of it, not wanting to get some imaginary splinter stuck in her hand. She’d be feeling the pain of that for a long time, assuming that if you get a splinter in a dream, you get the pain in real life.

Layla focused back on the assignment. After letting her hand fall back down to her side, she leaned forward with her eyes still closed, continuing to visualize the door in the dream. After inhaling deeply, she did not smell much on the old worn door, except for a faint scent of staleness that reminded her of opening a door to a room or closet that hadn’t been opened in years.

‘Can you hear it? If it’s not making a noise, could it? What would it sound like?’

When the red-haired woman opened the door in the dream, it didn’t make a sound. But, by looking at it, it definitely appeared to Layla to be one of those eerily loud creaking doors, where every fiber seemed to bend, break, and crack as it swung on its groaning, rusty hinges. Even its door knob seemed like it would cause a grating sound as it turned on its spindle. The dark, almost blackened knob contrasted against the gray wood. Only the light hints of copper tones on its faded engraved designs revealed it must be bronze. The engraved designs carried over onto its matching plate. She smiled to herself, only now noticing the small skeleton key hole hidden in the scrolling designs.

She reached out to touch it and was startled to feel something smooth and cold on her fingertips. While recoiling her hand quickly, her eyes shot open, looking down to see the antique bronze knob. Much to her amazement, the door from the dream was standing in its frame a little more than a foot from her, next to one of the classroom desks. Staring at it up and down, she walked around it cautiously. The back was a mirror image.

Layla looked around to her peers and the instructor, half proud of her creation, and half embarrassed that others might have seen her do it.
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PostPosted: Wed Mar 29, 2017 9:36 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

To say Fliss was amazed was a bit of an understatement. She sat there, clutching her little De-light, trying not to burn with embarrassment over trying to make something real from it, and watched in absolute fascination as first Andu, and then Layla, did just that. And listened to the way her mind worked with each of them.

A chess set needed at least one other person to play, so Andu's chosen dream was clearly a social one. Perhaps a little competitive, but filled with the complex ins and outs of a game that required a good grasp on strategy and logic. Maybe the kind of dream you have when you're trying to work out what happens next in the real world while you sleep.

Layla's door, though ... Fliss stared at it. For a start, it was huge. And it reminded her of the doors she sometimes saw in her nightmares; doors she didn't dare to open for fear of what was on the other side. But she could just be projecting her thoughts there. Just because she found Layla a little creepy, it didn't mean there was anything sinister about her chosen dream, or the object she chose to manifest from it. It might just be a door, with nothing unpleasant on the other side at all.

Biting her lip, Fliss looked down at the De-light in her hand, trying to focus her mind. The last thing she wanted to do was manifest a fully naked clone of her boyfriend in the classroom, but there wasn't a lot else to work with in there. Unless ...

Smiling in relief as a way out presented itself to her, she concentrated fiercely, holding out one hand, palm up, as she closed her eyes. The shape formed in her mind; she knew exactly what it looked like, exactly what it felt like, how heavy, how textured, how big. Here in Dream, she didn't need to fear that it would be a replica made of flame. Here, it would be as real as she could make it.

And there it was. She opened her eyes, her bright smile reflecting her delight at finding a fully formed feather on her palm. Long and white, the quill was sharp, the pointed end coated in down that became straighter and harder along the length of the feather. It wasn't curved, as most people would expect from a bird's feather, but then, this feather didn't come from a bird. This feather came from Lucas, one of his primaries, and she sincerely hoped he never found out about this entire experience.
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PostPosted: Wed Mar 29, 2017 8:24 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ammy had rejoined the class, the voice of Proffessor D'Arcstorm a whisper in her ears as it was with the other students, instructing, explaining and encouraging the next step of the lesson during the field trip. The slightly dense field of air dogging her steps and hovering behind her, soft thumps of booted feet as it followed her on to the classroom floor. She missed the sound of the thumps as her golden eyes drank in the 3D chess set of Andu, enjoying the details of each piece and the three tiered board. Layla's door begged for Ammy to open it and go inside to explore the unknown, take up the old mantle of the weapon she once was, throw caution and parenthood to the wind and revel in glory of hot young blood and adrenaline. The feather Fliss held drew curiosity from Ammy as if she were the fabled cat in the story about curiosity and demise. Ammy took her turn and hoped that fashioning something simple from a child wouldn't be looked down upon as naive.

Ammy closed her eyes and took a slow centering breath. Her minds eye settled on the frozen scene before her, decisions being made and discarded on what to bring from the dream until she had her answer. The strongest thing that stood out to her senses the most besides her daughter was the blanket. How could she not recall it?

Five days of walking 5 months pregnant, through stores with Fleety to find the right hue of dark orchid purple to go with the deep pink in a yarn weight that was warm but soft like my own fur to comfort Ruby on cold days. The feel of the yarn kept me company through the long nights of discomfort when Jake, Mabel and Ruby wouldn't settle down for a week in my belly and all I could do was lay around and crochet that blanket for my sweet little daughter to come. The first day seeing such warm, living colors swaddling my human child for warmth while her siblings fought to be cool with their natural born fur. A blanket that had mamma's weight and smell to it, the right kind of weight that let her know mother held you and feeling of softness like fur. The whispery rustle of it as it moved over wood floor or carpet, the little crinkle cracks as it made tiny pops of static electricity. The smell of my daughter on it no matter how many times it was washed and the well frayed and fringed look it was now getting from being her princess cape.

As Ammy recalled, dialed in and relieved memories from her senses just by the sight of that blanket, the orchid purple and deep pink striped yarn blanket was soon draping over her shoulders, neck and outstretched forearms that she held out as if holding the blanket. Her muzzle twitched a bit as her eyes remained closed.

The smell of mud, grass, weeds and endless days of sand and beach mingled among the smells of Ruby and the blanket. The scent of bird feathers with a light, almost ticklish yet sneezy like haze to it floated over her nose. The smell of cinnamon candy, clove soda, and a hint of stolen perfume from her own closet tied things together in her minds eye and she looked in that De Light from the blanket, a gift from mother to daughter to the very worn and well loved stuffed toy dog Ruby held. So well loved that it was a solid shade of gray no longer a two tone husky that was once named Tin-Tin. A gift from her eldest daughter to her youngest daughter, the scents on the toy bring sharply to mind Myrlene. Her eldest child, wild, strong, stubborn like her mother, proud and successful. Always dogged by chaos as well, the stalwart companion of the little winged hellion was Tin-Tin. Any adventure she was on, the poor thing was drug through, dropped, tossed, rolled in or lost once, maybe twice but always recovered. A decent weight for a stuffed animal, enough to let a child feel they owned a real puppy but never enough to grow too tired from carrying but more than enough to sock a sibling in the muzzle if annoyed. The curly tail was extra curly, having thirty extra stitches to sew it back on after a mishap with a pretend pirate raid while someone was trying to hide mamma's fabric scissors. Tin-Tin had been washed so many times little of the original faux fur was left, and yet the smell of fire, ash, metal and leather oil pervaded. The little thing had seen it all in the family, from happy days to dark nights. Myrlene believed nothing could harm the person who held Tin-Tin. Tin-Tin the Brave, last seen with her grandson Calcifer Spiritor. That was the sand and the ocean she smelled, she remembered that day. He had dropped it in the water the day ...

In her held out hands, a very worn out, well loved on Siberian Husky stuffed toy about two feet long and bare of most fur, very gray from a hard life of being loved on, appeared. It's scratched up clear blue eyes gazed into eternity in a forever look of friendship and happiness. It's tail curled unnaturally tight as the the seams from repair showed quite well with the fur mostly rubbed away. Behind her though, that slightly thickened air began to solidify behind her into something towering and darkly armored.

... the Ebony Knight ambushed us during our family vacation and took Calcifer as a shield and hostage, to force me to watch the cruel Champion of Chaos to just walk away while I could do nothing. The sun couldn't shine at all on that black armor, it just seemed to be soaked in like a black hole letting nothing out that struck that surface. The air around the being was winter in the middle of a sunny summer beach. Glowering violet eyes that felt like a wall slamming into me thrown by a tornado. His voice echoing and rattling from the armor like a bag of bricks shoved into a washing machine. Armor that was smooth but burned hot then cold to the touch when I came to blows with him and the tail he had, tipped with that ceremonial dagger shaped like a silver scorpion stinger that filled the body with ice cold venom. I got too close to him and gagged on the stench of the rotting lich king he had defeated and unceremoniously took up residence in the tainted dead city. A palpable, spine crawling hum and pressure to the air whenever he gazed or walked me way. The white hot pain of his thorn like lance picking apart muscle and bone of my shoulder the day we met again ...

Behind Ammy now stood the Ebony Knight in full, unnerving detail. Clad in black armor from head to toe that soaked up light, reflected nothing and held metal work long lost to the ancients before man lived. A long, feline tail flowed behind the Knight, armored in jointed masterwork marvel, tipped by an ornate silver scorpion stinger that dripped a viscous liquid of amber color. Violet eyes burned with intense intelligence and malice at it looked down from it's 7 foot height upon the diminutive 5'7" height of Ammy. A long, wickedly sharp, thorn like lance was held fast in one hand that seemed to tug on the mythical and wondrous if it got too close. The Ebony Knight said not a word as it shot a gauntleted hand forward and wrapped fingers around Ammy's neck lifting her off the ground. Ammy opened her eyes in a moment of startled panic, the stuffed toy and blanket fell to the ground as she twisted like a snake, grabbing onto the armored fore arm in pain as she felt the hot burn from the arm to face the person holding her. She saw the Ebony Knight, her eyes went wide in fear and surprise. The Ebony Knight tightened his grip on her neck making her grunt and choke. She gave his check plate a few kicks as she pulled her mind under control from the panic like a tug of war game.

You cannot be here. I see you. I feel you. But you cannot be here. I know the real you. The real you is not here. Not now, not ever. No longer more will you be either. You're dead, shadow. Dead. Dead. You will hold no more power over me or my dreams. Come, face who you really are ...

The Ebony Knight squeezed harder, creaking of bones being heard from her neck. Ammy forced in a breath and shoved a burned hand out to touch the face plate of the Ebony Knight's helmet. Her eyes half closed from the pain and mostly from her trying to focus on something in her mind.

Before her was her alchemy laboratory in the Alchemist's Fire. Shelves arranged neatly and with care, showing a categorical masterpiece any one suffering OCD would kill for. Among the vials, bottles, potions and canisters of reagents was a space cleared. Sat squarely between vials of Dragon's Bane, Wolf's Bane and Eldrich Nettle sat a cube of clear crystal. 2 feet by 2 feet by 2 feet cubed, it sat and captured the light perfectly, refracting it into rainbows in her workshop, save where light struck the suspended severed head within. Delicate bone structures would say it was a Lupinossai of a desert species, used to hot weather and prone to losing weight often from consumption by magic or disease. The skin was dark grey, gaunt, frail as if the person had once been a promising youth but had thrown away life and vitality for something powerful and draining. A lifeless grimace of acceptance or perhaps a sneer of unanticipated defeat was slit along the muzzle showing white, young teeth. Black hair, long, showed leaching of stress in the white that flowed from the crest of the head to the still black tips of the hair strands. Long, delicate canine ears, notched and scarred from a life of being bullied all framed the staring, lifeless amethyst eyes that seemed to look into the soul and mock it for every flaw it had. This is the Ebony Knight she knew, the pathetic thing that had reached too far, done too much and had brought the doom of her upon him as she held his head free from his body as it toppled from the 200 foot balcony with her only remaining arm. He took her arm, she took his head. Fair trade.

Ammy's hand, seared onto that visor, flipped it up to reveal the suspended head in that cube of crystal, proving that the death of the Ebony Knight was the reality that she remembered. The Ebony Knight crumbled to dark, iron sand, dropping her and the crystal cube to the floor to join the blanket and the stuffed dog toy. Ammy gasped for air and rubbed her throat as her blistered hands began to slowly heal. She didn't look up at anyone. How could she? How should face anyone eye to eye flat on butt, with a child's blanket, a kids toy and the dead eyes of a grizzly war trophy she'd only told her wife and husband about staring at them all. Perhaps it was time she got rid of the head.
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2017 8:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Atticus altered Dream again, just slightly, to ensure his voice was audible to all within the 'class', as it were.

"What each of you have now accomplished, has a certain symmetry with the use of magic in the physical, or 'real' world." He had resumed lecture mode. "The main differences are that, here you're granted a much broader range of 'perceived power'," he was throwing a lot of emphasis around on some of the terms he used. He was aware of it. "The 'us' that exists in the physical world have much more limited scopes of powers compared to what we have here. In Dream anything is possible, limited only by imagination, whereas in the real world our magic or our ability to learn magic can be restricted by our faith, our belief, sometimes our genetics or physiology. Moreover, these traits in the people on whom we try to work magic can also determine the potency of it's effects."

"The most important thing to keep in mind, however, are the similarities between what we've done here, and working magic in the physical world. You have used knowledge, faith, and will to change the nature of reality - even if only in a localized field. This is the essence of what we try to accomplish with the arcane, which by definition will appear mysterious to those who do not practice the Craft."

"Though we've only yet begun to explore the world of Dream, we have arrived at the end of today's class. In the few remaining classes we have left, we will be further examining the schools and spheres of magical thought, and which will hopefully end with experimenting with creating rudimentary spells in class. For now, though, due to the apprehension which accompanied this field trip on behalf of some of the faculty concerns, the homework I ask is something that will help both of us learn. Write a paper on how this field trip could have been made better; highlight what the high and low points of it were for you. As always, any additional feedback is also welcome."

“Before I forget, and before we leave,” he reached into a pocket and pulled forth a small vial which radiated vibrant swirling pastels onto his skin – both hand and face. “This is Dreamfire, and it is exceptionally rare. Like heat from a fire already burning, it can be freely harvested from dreams in a raw form that once refined is the only substance capable of working Worldstone. The former,” he held the vial aloft a little more visibly, “Holds within itself the illimitable potential of pure energy, at once every type of energy that exists, and every type of energy that does not. It is the yang to the yin of Worldstone, which is itself a penultimate expression of matter in the same way that almost every culture and world holds one substance to be purer, stronger, and more durable than any other.” How many of them had noticed the occasional pulse of energy from the dreamcatchers in their tethers after harnessing one of the De-lights? “With this excursion I should have just more than enough to craft the badges which, like diplomas, will mark your graduation from this class. Perhaps if there is excess, it may find it's way into the hands of a particularly rewarding student.”

If any cast a glance his way to glean who he might be referring to, they would look a long time. Too many of his pupils had too many rewarding qualities. Choosing one that was particularly rewarding beyond the others would be challenging.

One of his students suddenly had his attention.
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2017 8:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

All the Dreams he looked at appealed to him, but not like what he was thinking about. Using Dreams to conjure something appealed to him, too, but not if it had to be something from one of the dream shards – not when he had anything at all that he could create here. It was like the ultimate sketch pad, one that could take a thought or an image directly from the mind and manifest it into 3 dimensional moving artwork. He was sure it was only artwork, and that it wasn't real. Fairly sure, at least, but that was a huge digression.

The thing he'd been thinking about had been in his dreams – well, dreams and reality. It was something he'd spied in the air above the marketplace, and sometimes hovering elsewhere in the city. It was like a suit of armour, black in a way that seemed to drink in the light rather than just refuse to reflect it. Not all black, there was some white filigree in places, most notably in the center of it's chest where he was almost sure there was some kind of flower characterized. The armor was huge as well, near seven feet tall he was sure – though that kind of detail was always imperfect and existed only in his mind. He'd never been close enough to the one that existed in real life to be able to determine it's size.

Suddenly the black knight was in the Dream with them, manifested accidentally, equally by Bastion's attention to his daydreaming, and his inattention to the class coming to an end.

At a height that was only challenged by the Minotaur, and just barely, the Knight cut an imposing figure. It's armor was highly glossy – a corruption of it's true self, and the way it was seen through the eyes of Kincaid. The white flower which adorned it's chest, a rose, seemed to pulsate with a light from within. Most eye catching of all was it's left arm which ended not with a hand, but with an armored talon – a gauntlet of razor sharp blades. It's head raised and regarded Kincaid and the rest of the class with an stare, and to look into the veiled pits of it's eyes was to look into the heavens and see endless dead space in which the stars, the galaxies, and the cosmos float.
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2017 8:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The presence of the Knight was not lost on the High Mage, who reacted almost instantly.

Class dismissed.”

He wasn't taking any chances. All the tethers connecting all of the students to Dream seemed to stretch, and elongate, and snap – though the latter sensation didn't accurately depict what happened. The cords were cut, yes, but after the students had been returned to the waking world of the classroom. For the students, it would have been nothing more traumatic than snapping fully awake from a daydream, only to realize that the clocks on the walls had changed – and that class was done for the day.

The only difference from how class usually ended was the fact that the professor wasn't there. Atticus, to any that noticed, hadn't been tethered either. What no one could have known, however, was his reason for not wearing a tether. He wasn't in Dream in the same way that the students were, as he had to travel there in his physical body. For some time now, Atticus could no longer enter Dream as his students could. Atticus could no longer dream.

((OOC: As the late John Geyssen used to say, 'Alrighty then'. So, that was long overdue. Apologies. Profuse, profuse apologies. Just a couple notes on time line. At the end of this class, all the students will find themselves safely deposited in the class room – they're not moving, nor have they ever moved. More the class has moved around them.

I wasn't sure if I should put this in character, or OOC, but I think it fits better here: the next actual 'class', will take place after the protests that took place on campus (yes, that long ago is when the field trip started).
Basically in the intervening time the students would have/will have (complicated tense shifts anyone?) been contacted by the school telling them that classes are on hiatus or what have you. Likewise, students also would be contacted when classes resume.

For the record, I believe there are only two 'lectures' left, and the field trip was always going to be the most difficult part for me to handle, so it should all be downhill from here. Any questions, comments, or concerns – fire me off a PM, and in the meantime feel free to respond as you would in character in the thread.
Alright, I'm sure I'm forgetting something here – but since I'm forgetting it, I'll just leave it out and call it good since this is long overdue. Take care everyone, much love!))
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PostPosted: Fri May 19, 2017 10:38 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jerking awake after their extended daydream, Fliss automatically clutched for the dream, which didn't seem to have come with her. The dreamcatcher had, obviously, but she was quick to remove it, leaving the delicate piece on her desk as she packed her bag to head out. As fascinating as the field trip had been, it had left her uneasy. She needed to talk it out with someone.
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PostPosted: Sat May 20, 2017 11:29 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Waking from the Dream World had Ammy in slightly fuddled mind pickled in the potent fear of the Ebony Knight spiked with the bitter sweet victory again. Rubbing at her golden eyes a few times, she noticed she was back in the class room, bereft of blanket, plush dog toy and the hideous war trophy she hoped the rest of the class would not remember. Her fingers trailed to the dream catcher that was on her desk that came back with her, her mind at work on whether to take it or leave it. She saw some of the other students regaining senses and noticed Fliss leaving.

Ammy took her own Dream Catcher and put it in her satchel right next to her Barrington Codex. Perhaps it may come in handy should the goddess ever find herself adrift in the Dream World again. Or perhaps it would hang beside a transparent cube as a reminder that she'd won a fight twice. Ammy stood quietly and left the classroom not wanting to add any jarring stimulus to those coming out of the Dream themselves. She had a lot to think on as well.
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PostPosted: Sun May 21, 2017 9:53 pm    Post subject: The Ultimate Darkness Reply with quote

Layla’s head fell forwards slightly and her eyes shot open. She immediately lifted her arm to see if she still wore the armband tether, then rubbed her wrist in its absence. Only because she was facing forwards, she noticed the instructor was missing. She didn’t really care since he seemed like if he got left behind anywhere, he’d probably be able to fend for himself.

After looking around the room to make sure everyone else had returned safely, she sat for a moment, trying to remember the last addition to their Dream world. She had only briefly seen it before the professor abruptly dismissed class, but it was enough to draw her attention. She had thought she had found the ultimate darkness in her De-Light, but the black knight seemed to be even darker as its armor absorbed all the light around it. She had noticed the white rose emblem on its chest only because she thought it was a shame to disgrace the darkness with its light contrast.

Her thoughts then turned to who made the form; the pathetic little artist in the back of the class that she sometimes caught staring at her. Wondering what kind of De-light he had found to warrant such a creation and why he would care about such a thing, she began to wonder if he was a little more dark than she gave him credit for. She glanced at him briefly, developing an idea.

Layla stood up and began gathering her supplies. Ignoring the homework assignment from their teacher, she was more focused on the assignment The Company had given her. She would have to fight in a cage match, unless she could find someone to take her place. Her only concern was that it would be a fight to the death and, as a result, something she’d much rather delegate to someone else. As she threw her worn leather knapsack over her shoulder, she glanced at the boy once more. She smiled at him, then turned and proceeded to leave.

As she made her way out of the classroom, there was a slight disturbance at her feet. It would have easily gone unnoticed unless someone was actually looking for it. It almost seemed as though her shadow was a little darker than it should have been and lingered just a little too long over the linoleum flooring it covered. It would have made her life so much simpler if the darkness from her De-light had merely followed her out from the Dream world. Unfortunately for her, that was far from the case.
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 25, 2017 10:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Just after last class, while Atticus was still in Dream...

He had remained behind, and much to his consternation - if not surprise - so had the Knight. It advanced on Atticus, who threw an arm up in a defensive gesture as gleaming wards written in arcane language on the very air wrapped themselves around the black clad figure, seeking to immobilize it. No words had been spoken, the gesture had been immediate and reflexive. As they wrapped around the ebon clad form, they transformed from words to bands of glowing energy.

"What are you doing here," it was more than half rhetorical of the Artificer to ask, and simply implied that of all places, the being had no place there. "If you needed my council, you were to wait within my Sanctum. We don't need you here, scaring the students." He stared long at the armored figure before demanding an answer from the otherwise silent juggernaut. "Well?"

"The boy summoned us," the Knight began to answer.

"Then it was because you allowed yourself to be seen. You strayed from your posting in the lake of the glen." The wizard's posture relaxed somewhat. "I realize your difficulty," though the words could have been consoling, Atticus's tone was more chastising as though he spoke to a faulty piece of equipment. "You don't know what you are - and neither do I. That makes you dangerous, perhaps." He tilted his head as he observed the Knight, "I'm no longer certain your component parts will ever blend together; part him, part her, and technology and magic binding it - you - all together into some kind of Frankenstein. I still cannot decipher how the bond holds."

"I can," the Knight returned, without moving. The two sat staring at one another in silence for some time. Their alien miens were too far removed, collectively, from humanity for it to be called awkward. It simply was what it was. For a long time, the wizard did not question the Knights claim, he simply regarded him with a mixture of skepticism and scorn.

"Elaborate, then." Atticus quietly demanded after a long silence.

"Love," the word left the Knights lips unhindered, a simple statement of fact. The bands of energy around him seemed to bend back on themselves, as space itself warped where they had landed on his body. He stepped forward. Atticus posture did not change, not even a dilation of pupils to signal alarm. Nor did the look of skepticism vanish. "I will return to the Glen, or if circumstances permit, the Docks. I await further summons, thus."

"Love," Atticus sighed to himself as a silvery white portal opened with a swipe of the Knights left hand. "After all this time? After all you've seen?" Atticus speaking on the subject of love was odd enough, and as alien a topic for lecture as any he could think of choosing for himself. The Knight hesitated and looked back for a moment.

"Always." The Knight nodded tersely and stepped into the portal, it closing behind him.

Atticus stood alone in Dream, surveying the spot of the Knights departure, before once again glancing around the grounds where the classroom had stood. He remained there a long time, considering the Knight, considering his students, considering himself. Emotion was still difficult for him, in many ways alien to him. It was easy enough to see the connection and influence of emotion on the articulation of power, as evidenced by his students participation in Dream. Could one emotion in particular weigh so heavily upon the scales, though? What were the limits, if any, to the way such a thing may modify power?

He was proud of all of his students, in different ways. Most of them chose to stretch their abilities and truly test their limits unhindered in Dream - and due to the way he designed the scenario, there was nothing wrong with them doing that. Let it inspire them back in the waking world, inspire and awaken them, to the limits or limitlessness of their powers. There was one however, Ms. Storm, in which he could not help but take particular interest. Her conviction to do no harm, or anything that might be construed as harm, was in some ways typical of someone of her talents. Pyromancers generally tended towards always erring on the side of safety, or being borderline or complete sociopaths; the latter he would not teach, and would have felt obligated to monitor more closely. The notion of a pyromantic abjurer, however, left him intrigued. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen, and pity the aggressor, who turned her conviction to do no harm on it's head, and invoked her unfettered wrath. Her native determination would make her a formidable foe.

He couldn't tell how long he tarried, but he felt somehow it was too long. A blue rent in space and time opened to the safety of his Sanctum on Horizon, and he stepped through. The preparations for the next class were long ago made, but he preferred to have ample time to go over them anyway.

((Lectures incoming shortly - more shortly than the time between my last post and this one, ie, within the next week <3))
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 29, 2017 11:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Horizon Amphitheater. Mage Hall. Academy of Bristle Crios.

It had been some time since their last class, the regular curriculum having been interrupted by protests on campus and throughout the rest of the city as well. At the request of the administration, Atticus had had to attend seminars on cultural empathy and sensitivity training, the results of which were likely to be subtle at best. An errant remark he'd made, loosely worded, had sparked controversy among the alumni, casting him in an unfavorable light. The hiatus of all classes had given him ample time to reflect, but he preferred shorter periods of introspection punctuated by extended periods of external focus. Now in the brief period before class started, Atticus was afforded yet another brief flash of introspection as he realized how his time away from teaching allowed him a more objective view of what he'd been doing. Not only that, but how that new objectivity would change his teaching method.

Before the students began arriving, he began loading notes onto the transparent boards. Questions, lists, diagrams, and definitions covered three entire boards – and would immediately be transcribed into any Codex's opened during the class, as was noted in the top right of the central board. He would offer a smile, his version of one at least, to students as they entered, but otherwise keep about his work until the notations were all loaded onto the boards.

Transparent Boards wrote:

The last subdivision of Arcane Arts we will be studying: that which draws from and manipulates the unliving, (not to be confused with undead – the unliving pertains to that which was never alive) primordial energies, and that which draws from and manipulates the living (in this rare case, the 'living' also includes the undead). The former is routinely thought of as 'Sorcery', the latter as 'Mysticism'.

What is Sorcery?

Sorcery – A Way of Looking at the World?

Schools of Sorcery:
Aeromancy – Air & Wind
Cryomancy – Ice & Cold
Divination – Determining Past or Future Events
Electromancy – Electricity & Magnetism
Enchantment – Imbuing Objects with Arcane Energy
Geomancy – Earth & Rock
Hyrdomancy – Water
Pyromancy - Fire
Spectramancy - Light
Summoning – Transporting via Arcane Energy
Transmutation – Changing Matter

What is the 'best' School of Sorcery? How many schools can I learn?

What is Mysticism?

Mysticism – A Way of Looking at the Self?

Mystic Spheres:
Animism – Talk With & Mimic Animals & Plants
Alteration – Shapechanging
Channelling – Adjusting the Physical State
Healing – Restoring Health & Energy
Meditation – Adjusting the Mental State
Mentalism – Power of Telepathy
Necromancy – Cause Arcane injury, Commanding & Creating Undead
Sensitivity – Aura Perception
Spiritualism – Communicating with, Creating Spirits

What is the 'best' Mystic Sphere to focus on?

The Curious Case for Wood
Wood – Dead or Unalive?
What about Hybrid Magic?

Combining Sorcery & Mysticism

Spellcraft & Design: What Are the Factors?
Invocation Time – How Long Does it Take to Cast?
Range – How Distant Do I Need to Effect?
Duration – How Long Must I Maintain the Spell?
Area – What Amount of Space Must the Spell Effect?
Effect – How Intense is the Effect?

Notice to Students – This Material Will Be Covered During the Final Two Lectures.



The last line was underlined just as the last student sat down (barring any latecomers), and he stepped in front of the lectern and leaned back against it just slightly. Atticus cleared his throat.

“Homework assignments given during our last class will be forgiven if you haven't completed them, or will count as bonus credit if you have.” He took a moment to scan the students, gauging their reactions, before continuing. “I have a fair degree of certainty that this will be the portion of the class you were likely looking forward to the most. Students, welcome back to A&M Theory.” A slight smirk betrayed him as he considered, briefly, the implications of his phrasing. What part of the class might they assume he was talking about, if they hadn't read the boards? Why, the end, of course.
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PostPosted: Fri Jun 30, 2017 9:55 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

After a good long break, thanks to various disturbances and her parents flipping out over deaths on campus happening nowhere near her at the time, Fliss was back, feeling a lot less confrontational about Professor D'Arcstorm and his methods.

And then she saw the boards. And the smile. Good gods, the smile ...

Sitting down heavily, she opened up her Codex to let it transcribe everything itself and pulled her notebook out. The very first line she wrote was ... Cultural empathy and sensitivity training has sent the prof round the bend. Warning! Warning! Then she closed her notebook and got comfortable, actually reading what was up on the boards.

Well now ... this actually sounded like it might be more fun. Had they finally reached the practical application part of Theory?
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 12:34 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

“Just like the rest of what you've studied here, it's important to note that the definitions you'll learn here are only a frame work – by their very nature, they change according to the practitioner's subjectivity.” The class had settled down faster than he anticipated, either eager to learn, or eager for the bell and the end of term in general. 'No matter,' he thought. He had never considered that he might have been in some way obsessed about his teaching before, had not considered it until his counselling. He was put off by the notion that the class itself was subject, but when the counselor had drawn the parallel between the subjectivity of his students to the class to the subjectivity of Arcanists and their spellcraft, there was little he could say to argue. He was resigned to teach the class according to his own, he hoped objective, point of view, and let the rest fall to the students for their interpretation.

“We're going to jump around a little bit in the syllabus now, so while that-” he gestured to the notes on the transparent boards, “Provides a basic outline for what we'll be doing, the actual practical work is going to be done a bit more out of order. First, as you can see reading down through our to-do list, there are two main categories of magic listed: Sorcery & Mysticism. Both of which have already been loosely defined up there, along with their subcategories. Before we go any further, I'll field any generic questions you have about what's in your notes, but I'd prefer to keep the elaborations brief, if possible. The notes should provide us with a more than level playing field, as it were.”

“Feel free to read into the term 'playing field',” he was moving back behind the lectern now, “Because we're going to play a game. The rules are simple, and I'm familiar enough with all of you to know that you're all more than capable of playing. Simply put, you must either define – through explaining the phenomena seen or encountered – a spell that you've seen, heard of, or read about. You don't have to list a 'name', you can call it anything you wish – many casters 'customize' their spells by giving them names, but many have quite common core components. A magic missile is a magic missile is a magic missile, whether made of fire, light, or water. The other option, and this is my preference,” he paused for a moment, not for drama, though it did seem to heighten for a moment. “Is that you cast a spell yourself, preferably something which we can discern in some way; don't try to claim you've cast a Divination charm and then proceed to simply make something up.” His tone was very dry, with a vague hint of amusement.
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 12:35 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

“After the spell is named, explained, or cast, tell the class whether it is Sorcery, or Mysticism. In addition, bonus marks will be awarded if you can name a subcategory to which the spell might belong. There are no wrong answers, and no penalty for a wrong guess, though I would ask you not to be completely silly in your assertions. I would also suggest that students comment on each others examples as well, which is to say, if you think the spell in question might be the opposite of what the person who gave the example claimed, feel free to state why, and how it might better fit in another category.”

“Consider this to be the end of class homework, at the beginning of the class. For those of you who were worried,” he smirked again. He couldn't help it. He knew students longed for the end of classes. “I will drone on and give brief additional notes on the various schools and spheres listed on the board now. Nothing in depth, just something to fill the moments while you prepare your examples. Don't worry about interrupting me, simply stand and I'll pause in giving notes to let you give your examples. I may, on occasion, play Devil's Advocate as well in some cases, and try to make you consider more 'outside the box' thinking in how you define you magics.”

((Greetings everyone! I only waited this time to make sure people saw it was being posted to again, and to give anyone that wanted to do an entrance time enough to do so. I'm going to try to lay down some brief notes for the class every other day or three, while giving you/ the students time to throw something out there. Don't wait for Atticus to intro anyone, or worry that he's being interrupted – like a good AI, he'll pause in his efforts while the students take the stage. If you plan on your character casting a spell themselves, which I encourage everyone to do if it's an option, feel free to assume that the classroom environment has been optimized to support whatever spells you wish to cast, in a fashion that will not be harmful to the other students; ie, fire spells aren't going to ignite the books, no one will drown in a water summoning spell, etc. That being said, have fun with it, go wild, don't -try- to burn the place down, or injure others characters. :p))
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 7:57 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ah, well, this part was easy. Even though she didn't consider what she did as particularly spell-casty, Fliss was definitely at home with this. She waited for the inevitable pause, raising her hand to volunteer herself as the first demonstrator. Getting to her feet, she shucked off her clothes - for reasons that would become only too clear in just a few moments - revealing that, like her father, she wore a skin-tight bodysuit beneath.

"Nobody panic, I've got this under control," she promised, and quite simply combusted.

Every inch of her set light, from the tips of her hair to her ankles, though she thoughtfully left her feet free from flames to avoid damaging the floor. Through the flickering brightness, her features were still discernible; she had become, to all intents and purposes, just a fire person of some kind. She held the flame for about a minute, fluctuating the heat and intensity just to show off, really, before absorbing the fire back into herself. The body-suit was untouched, proof that even if she'd been wearing her uniform, she wouldn't have been nude after going to flame. This was her innate skill, her born power, and even though she hated it at times, Fliss was beginning to learn why her father enjoyed being what they were so much.

"So ... pretty obviously, it's Sorcery, and even more obviously, Pyromancy," she said with a grin. "It doesn't really have a name - I guess The Human Torch is already taken, so feel free to name it if you like." She shrugged, biting her lip. "And ... I'm gonna get dressed again now."

Blushing, she pulled her clothes back on haphazardly, throwing herself back into her seat to hide her face behind her hair. One moment of confidence, and now she just wanted everyone to forget she was there.
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PostPosted: Sat Jul 29, 2017 10:11 pm    Post subject: Burning Hatred Reply with quote

Layla perked up a bit when the professor said they would be playing a game but, by the time he started describing it, her enthusiasm waned. ‘That doesn’t sound like a game,’ she thought to herself, ‘Sounds more like work.’ She decided she would put in minimal effort. ‘I’m here for surveillance, not to be on the Honor Role, unlike some people,’ she thought while glaring at Fliss, who had proceeded to perform her ability.

Of course Miss Goody-Two-Shoes would want to show off first. Look at her, a teen with fire, how impressive,’ Layla silently sniped to herself while rolling her eyes. She was impressed, though she wouldn’t admit it. Her jealousy had taken over. ‘She’s got it all - awesome powers, and a sickeningly sweet Goody-Two-Shoes boyfriend. All that at like, sixteen,’ she thought while trying to remember what it said was her age on the public census records.

Once Fliss extinguished her flames, Layla’s burning hatred quickly fizzled, too. ‘Oh, man,’ she thought while panic set in, ‘What am I going to do? I can’t do a spell or magic or anything else like that. I’m pretty sure drinking someone’s blood wouldn’t count as a power…’ But she did have one vampiric ability that might work. It wasn’t too showy, since she hated people knowing too much about her, but it might suffice.

After waiting to be called upon, Layla stood up and said to the professor, “I would like to demonstrate the ability to shapechange.” Allowing herself to grow agitated by Fliss’s demonstration once again, Layla welled her hands into fists at her sides. Slowly opening her hands as she brought them up for show, it became clear that her fingernails had grown thicker, longer, and more curved, becoming long talons similar to those of a bird of prey. She quickly glared at Kincaid, revealing amber eyes with reptilian vertical pupillary slits. Since their last encounter did not go as she had planned, she wanted to make sure he didn’t try to tell on her, at least not again.

With a blink, her eyes reverted to their normal cold blue. She loosened her stance and her shoulders, trying to ease her aggression. As she did, her nails returned to normal. She was grateful she had fed earlier that day. Not only did it give her extra energy for her little performance, but it had also caused her skin to have a healthy light tan complexion, which would have been impossible since she never saw the sun. She hoped if anyone suspected anything of her superhuman nature, they would at least rule out vampire.

Layla cleared her throat and looked to Atticus. “Since the ability to shapechange involves the manipulation of the living…” She reminded herself that the professor did say that, in this case, ‘living’ also included the undead, “it would be considered Mysticism and, more specifically, Alteration.” At her conclusion, she promptly slumped back down into her seat.
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