Fantasy Academy of Lyrithna - Rebirth

[Arrt Saunders]

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The Isridil Forest
The Darkest Night
12.00 am

"How many will we need?"

"I am not sure."

The young sorcerer crossed their arms, huffing loudly. They wanted nothing more than to leave - to turn and run to the safety of the castle. The Isridil Forest was dark and cold, and the moonlight slithering through the canopy did not dare pierce the shadows which clung to the earth like cursed spirits. Beastly sounds, guttural and blood-thirsty, echoed in the grave silence. No student was allowed enter the Isridil Forest, especially at night.

They were crazy to have ventured into its heart.

When the sorcerer look at their companion, they were on their knees, whispering in a forgotten language.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

There was no reply. The chanting intensified - the bone-grinding, stomach-churning, teeth- chattering power, intertwined into the harsh fricatives and crude syllables, reverberated through the ground.

"What the fuck..."

"Do you not hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"The screams?"

The young sorcerer's blood ran cold: "Screaming? What screaming?"

"The screams of tortured souls? The lost and the found? Begging to be released from their hellish chains."

"I don't hear anything."

Then - slowly at first, building into a sinister crescendo - the screaming began.

Horrid, terrible voices rose into the air, the agonising sounds of pain, misery and suffering singing an eldritch symphony.

The young sorcerer screamed, covering their ears and backing away in fear.

"Soon," the kneeling figure cooed, "soon, you shall see the light of day once more."

Cast: erzulie ; AI10100 ; Shotgunpenguin ; CalamityQueller​

 

[erzulie]

scroll

citadelian

Mesalie.

location

botanical garden

outfit

「1」

interactions

n/a.

mentions

n/a

tags

n/a

The holy scriptures that she had studied once spoke of a place, a garden that could only be described as paradise. It was said that flora was plentiful, something clean and bright where time did not spoil the fruit or wither the flowers that grew from its soil. Time had no meaning in the garden, leaving it forever youthful and vibrant. Many had sought out such a paradise, traveling to vast deserts where water ran dry. They pushed on, dreaming of an oasis where their thirst would be quenched and mouth sweet with the taste of fruit.

There was no need for students of Lyrithna to take such an adventure. No, for them Eden was something that could be reached in mere minutes. The Botanical Garden was as close to the garden as once could get, in her opinion that is. Mesalie Douclau was the furthest thing from what was known as a Christian or Catholic in the human world. Standing amongst such unique and lively plant life, she couldn’t help but believe that it was holy in its own way.

Before her a large group of Cadaver Clematis stood entangled in their own trellis. Mesalie stood a safe distance away from the deep purple flowers despite the fact that she held no appeal to them. After all, she was alive and well. The vines were currently wrapping themselves around the body of a calf. From what she’d been told the thing had not lived long, its body was riddled with illness and defects as it was brought into the world. The exact meal that the Clematis targeted. The sound of her writing was loud in the area she was in.

The goal was to figure ways in which the plant could be used for magicians. Of course, it goes without saying that it would need to be adjusted to be used for living. It would take time, breeding and adjusting before the new discovery would come to light but Mesalie was on the right track. Her determination would not allow her to stop until she had the answers she needed.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[CalamityQueller]

CODE BY SEROBLISS

Nayla Al Abadi

The Autumnal Artist
Location: Lake of Lament
Mentions: -

They say that water has a healing nature to it. With the rise of the tides, the water came to meet you, grounding you, reminding you that you are here. With its fall, the tides sweep away your anxieties, engulfing them in a rush of foam and water. Nayla was one to agree with this sentiment after spending her days on the shores of the Lake of Lament. No matter the weather or the time of day, the lake remained a beautiful force of nature, a constant in her day. The artist would take every opportunity she got to see the lake and spend her time around it. Today this fact was no different.

Having awoken during the hazy morning hours, Nayla decided to spend her morning outside. Sparing no time, the girl grabbed her easel, canvas, palette, and paints and set off for the outdoors.

The sun had begun to peek beyond the horizon, golden rays slowly blanketing the scenery. The early morning dew made the sea of grass around her appear covered in diamonds, refracting the small bits of the light the sun had just begun to provide. The lake was a sight to behold on its own, lazy golden rays decorating its surface, a distorted mirror image of what she was seeing. She took a moment to just stare, taking in the scene she had beheld time and time again. Despite how often she came here, the lake never seemed to fade in its grandiosity to her.

Finally, she began the set-up for her little art station, her hub for the next few hours.

With the final touches of her set-up complete, she looked upon her canvas, a piece she had yet to complete. It depicted the shores of the Lake of Lament and the scenery beyond it. She planned to have it depict the scene during the different kinds of weather. At the moment, Nayla was working on an early morning scene of the lake, and right now, she needed to get to work on it. So she did. The girl spent her hours painting and painting, waiting only for something to wake her up from her trance.

 

[AI10100]

Zeke's tapping followed the rhythm of the clock ticking behind him as his eyes gazed upon the circle scrawled in front of him. The proper amount of ingredients had been laid out on all of its designated areas. Normally, creating golems for quick use was simple; however, creating golems for extended use was something a bit more complicated. It took longer and required more resources— but none he would not be able to procure. Especially for some mindless being brought forth to act as muscle.

With the final second upon him, Zeke stood from his seat and muttered the enchantment— letting the magic flow between himself and the heap of ingredients. It slowly melded into its proper form, rocks and dirt and gemstones swirling within the circle as it attached itself to one another, glued only by the magic Zeke was providing. The rocks formed a body, limbs, a head. Gemstones acted as its eyes and in between the knuckles of its rocks. Dirt merely being an added ingredient.

Within seconds, the transformation was complete. He waved his hand and the golem lumbered towards a mound of books and picked it up, gently yet effortlessly.

"Perfect. It doesn't seem like you have any deficiencies."

He claimed as he looked over the golem one last time before patting its arm. No reaction. He wondered if there could be any coincidences— that perhaps there would be a mote of a chance that there would be a miracle that he would be able to attain that he wished. But that was foolish.

That was a young boy's dream.

"Come now, we have things to do. The wicked never rest and scholars are nothing if not wicked."

He emerged from his room followed closely by the rock golem that had closed the door behind him. It wasn't a rare sight to see Ezekiel Farlan with one or two homonculi following him. Even as he walked, his mind continued to brew the next project. He had perused several Chemistry-aligned books and he had wished to test how various elements of the same family group would react to a tried and tested alchemical formula. Alchemy was something that was specific down to the very last milligram used. However, it was also built around heavy experimentation and trials and errors. He could never be satisfied with limiting himself.

He made the trek towards the library to return the books he had borrowed lest the librarian berate his ear off once again for bringing them back late.

alchemist

Zeke.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

━━━━━━━❦━━━━━━━

Nicholas Brier

Location: Dorm Room - Auditorium 103A (Applied Martial Magics)
Condition: Frazzled, sleep-deprived, emboldened
Mentions: AI10100

Nicholas was hardly what one would call a delinquent, those who knew of him could recount many a time where they were chastised by him for breaking the house rules. Any infraction, no matter how minor, was enough for him to bring the entire room down. Yet in this very moment you would be forgiven for thinking so as he burst out from his dorm room, the wooden door cracking loudly against the wall before closing itself behind the young adult as he sprinted down the halls of the building. "Oh no Professor Connors class, I got so caught up in my practice I forgot about it! He's going to kill me if I'm late!" Fellow house members shouted in surprise as he barreled past them, clutching his personal satchel against his chest as he muttered out apologies. With his hair sticking up at odd angles in places, his shirt un-tucked and a face screaming of sleep-deprivation, he was a far sight from how the second year usually presented himself.

His journey took him from the Alnus house across the academic campus, a run that while not particularly strenuous required him to pass through much of the common-area to get to his destination. That meant having to spit out the occasional apology as he narrowly avoided collisions with other students, grounds-keepers, and the occasional living object that was probably a students homework. One such occasion involved him cutting directly across one such student as well as the small animated rock-pile that was following him. "Sorry, late for class, sorry!" he shouted out as he passed.

Arriving at the auditorium and with a thin sheen of sweat on his face, Nicholas opened the ornate wooden door at the back of the classroom. Any hopes of arriving un-noticed were immediately dashed as he heard Professor Connors voice. "Mr Brier. So nice of you to finally join us." He cringed as the entire auditorium turned to look at him as the wooden door closed behind him, whatever the professor had been lecturing much less interesting than his arrival. "S-sorry professor. I lost track of time and then I-" He was silenced as the professor held his hand out, motioning for him to be silent.

The professor was dressed smartly, a slim man of average height he wore a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt much like Nocholas's own. Unlike his however the teacher had tucked theirs in with a yellow tie and a black pair of half-glasses loosely balanced on their nose. A white and red robe hung loosely from their shoulders, drawn back to allow easy access to the arming sword present on their hip. He lacked any facial hair, although he more than made up for it with his hair pulled back in a tight ponytail of brown hair. Professor Connors was a skilled practitioner of martial magic, and he preferred a much more hands on style of teaching compared to his fellow professors.

"Well Mr Brier, since you see it fit to disrupt my class it is only fair that you volunteer yourself for today's demonstration." The other students in the auditorium let out a chorus of ooo's as Nicholas quickly made his way towards the large lecture area where the professor was waiting. After depositing his satchel out of harms way, he was surprised to see his rapier laid on the table, it's case already opened. "I took the liberty of retrieving your weapon for you when you failed to respond to attendance. As always, the rules are the same. The spar shall continue until one side forces the other to surrender, or if I deem it too dangerous." Connors turned to the assembled students, projecting his voice for those in the back "Today's lesson will be on cryomancy and it's ability to control the field of battle. Pay attention, as controlling the battlefield can be the difference between life and death."

Nicholas retrieved his rapier from the table, before with a quick chant and flick of his wrist Connors cleared it and the surrounding furniture from the area as it pushed itself against the walls. Truthfully Nicholas was grateful that he was chosen to be today's demonstration. After two days of trying to perfect his new maneuver he had feared that his body would lose the sensation before he could get a chance to use it. A small grin stretched itself across his face as he turned to face his professor from across the stage. He had yet to draw his sword, but after his first bout against the professor Nicholas knew that it was not arrogance. In their first bout Connors had trounced him with only a single arm, never even drawing his sword once during their duel.

"I am ready when you are Professor." Nicholas adopted a relaxed stance, his body turned so that his lead foot was forward and his sword raised defensively. The professor smiled before quickly hopping back, his mouth already starting an incantation as frost began to form on his fingertips. The fight was on, and Nicholas was eager to unveil his new trick.​

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⛧ c o d e d _ b y _ s p o o k i e ⛧

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Code credit: @spookie

 

[Arrt Saunders]

​

The Beginning - Academy of Lyrithna

Orpheus had only just returned to the Academy on the first day of the new academic year. The glasspoint connecting Lyrithna to the Fort Islands still shimmering behind him like disturbed water, and already his bed, his desk, and every other available space was covered with heavy, leather-bound tomes and vanilla-scented manuscripts. His cases were immediately forgotten, and he eagerly focused his attention on reestablishing his study before his first lectures - delighted that the old, congenial armchair that he’d nicked from the library hadn’t been ‘re-stolen.’

The Prefect Suite was located in the tallest tower of Lillium House, overlooking the expansive Lake of Lament. The heavy clouds that had dissolved away since dawn, glowing rays of sunlight illuminated the soft grasses that surrounded the Lake. From a quick glance, Orpheus could see someone painting by the wateredge. Orpheus, however, was rather oblivious to the lives of others at present - he was whistling merrily and relishing the coziness of his room, warmed by the crackling of his open fire.

As a Prefect, he had the luxury of a private space. He joked with his old roommates about how it was beneficial to everyone at Lillium that he was segregated in the tower. His first roommate - a thin, wiry sorcerer named Leonard Simons from beyond the Mirror - was aggressively not keen on Orpheus’ characteristic sprawl, so separating his organised mess was probably for the good of sorcerous kind. And although, his door was always open to any sorcerer during the day, he enjoyed the quietness of the evening where he could talk to himself and discuss new spells, new conjurations and new ideas that had bubbled to the forefront of his mind without interruption.

The Academy was a safe-haven for Orpheus, a secret sanctuary that he could escape to for the majority of the year. He could never fully escape every form of browbeating, but he generally wasn’t harassed as much at the Academy as he was at Fortuitous.

Smiling to himself, Orpheus was glad to be back, glad to be seeing his friends once again after a long and adventurous summer, and glad to be back in his educational element.

Checking his watch, he grabbed his satchel and began to pack away books for Professor Shields' class on conjuration.

He had a feeling the year was going to be good one.

​

 

[Arrt Saunders]

​

The Beginning - Academy of Lyrithna

The early-morning sunlight began to slither in hazy rays through gaps in the curtains. Sitting beside the arrow-slit window, Ollie's eyes shifted around the bedroom which he called home for the last few years. It was just as he remembered: large yet comfortable, intricate paintings of moments from Citadelian history strewn along the walls, his side already relatively messy after just a few days. His roommate’s side immaculately clean.

He began to feel at ease for the first time in months - far far away from his extravagant family and the peanut-crunching crowd of the Citadel.

It was good to be back.

In the bathroom connected to his room, Ollie could still hear the shower running. He was glad that his roommate - Gladius Dumort - always took near-hour long showers. It afforded him occasions of solitude.

A few moments later, Gladius stepped out of the bathroom, a cloud of heavy steam following him. A towel was wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping. Ollie fought with Gladius in their early years to dry and change before coming back into the room, but it was futile. Any debate was nothing more than a whisper amongst a sea of thoughts. Ollie found it easier to evaporate the water with sorcery than to argue.

“You need a shower?” Gladius muttered, looking through his neatly organised wardrobe. “You'd want to be quick if you want to make it to class on time.”

Ollie cleared his throat and murmured quietly: “We still have plenty of time.”

Slipping a shirt on, Gladius cocked an eyebrow upwards. “And how was your summer?”

“Fine.”

Gladius rolled his eyes. “You got to give me more than that. I haven’t heard from you in months, dude. How’ve you been? Where were you?”

“Very busy.”

“Mhm - I’ve heard that before.”

D’aran watched Gladius out of the corner of his eye, pretending to focus on the window. Gladius stepped across the room quietly and suspiciously checked D’aran’s bedside locker.

“You okay, Glad?”

His roommate continued searching: “Me? Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing, nothing. Don't worry about it, Mister Secrets.”

Ollie huffed and stood up from the chair by the window. He made his way towards the bathroom, feeling the humidity stick to his skin as he approached. He took one last look over his shoulder as he closed the bathroom door.

“I left some of my mom's baking on your locker,” Ollie said.

There was no hiding the happiness in Gladius’ voice. “You fucking beauty! Thanks, dude - see you for Professor Caius' Advanced Martialism!”

D’aran grunted back, but smiled to himself.

It was good to be back.

 

[CalamityQueller]

CODE BY SEROBLISS

Nayla Al Abadi

The Autumnal Artist
Location: Lake of Lament to Greenhouse
Mention: erzulie

The artist worked until they hit a rough spot. She was working on the early morning scene and wanted to decorate the grass with various flora. The only problem was that they needed a reference. She had none on hand, so she would need to visit the greenhouse. Nayla was a bit frustrated, but art demanded sacrifice, so she would make her move.

With a sigh, Nayla dismantled her art set-up. She stretched her back after hours of sitting still, hearing the light cracks of her joints popping. Taking in a deep breath, she tucked her tools under her arm. Drawing the mental map within her mind, the artist began to make the trek to the greenhouse, enjoying the scenery of her walk. Passing over rushing water, and under canopies of trees, the walk was nothing short of pleasant, and Nayla took in every second of it.

Eventually, her walk ended with the sight of the greenhouse. It was a beautiful thing of glass and foliage. She never visited often, but perhaps she should. It took her a moment to notice that it wasn't plants alive within the little glass sanctuary, but there was another person inside, a student, no doubt. Some company didn't sound entirely unpleasant, so Nayla made her way to the entrance.

"Um, hello," She called out "I'm sorry to be a bother, but I was hoping to look at some of the plants here for my art. Would that be okay? I wouldn't want to intrude."

She gave a polite smile and a little wave, hoping she made a good first impression. It was always nice to meet new friends, a kindred soul. Besides, she grew up learning to make connections and meet new people. If all didn't end well, she could still manage to keep things civil, just like she knew.

 

[AI10100]

It was a relatively peaceful trek towards the library. Once he had deposited the books, Zeke made his way out. He checked the time as he moved, his golem ambling behind him. Unfortunately, this moment of oversight caused himself to be surprised when another student bumped into him. He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, showing mild annoyance before shaking his head. No use in getting angry now, especially since the student was already out of sight.

In any case, he supposed he should head over to the next class. Conjuration was a fascinating subject. It directly countered their views as alchemists due to its ability to create something out of nothing. For alchemists, this is impossible. They require the exact amount of items to create something— of course, they can turn materials into another but they still required an item to change. For the most part, conjuration wasn't something he could apply to his alchemic studies but there was no harm in studying other branches of magic. A scholar will never close themselves to opportunities to learn something even if it was not directly beneficial to their specialty.

As he headed towards the classroom, he spotted a familiar face among the gaggle of students. Orpheus. Zeke found his presence to be rather annoying yet comforting at the same time. He certainly had the smarts to keep up with Zeke's experimentation but the energy often was tiring to keep up with. Still, he was an invaluable research partner, and considering his status in the Academy, it was well worth keeping friendly relations with him.

"Orpheus."

He called out once the man was closer. Zeke was never one for raising his voice above what was needed in interactions.

"Have you only just returned? I don't think I've seen you in the past month since I've been here."

He fell into step with him as they headed into Conjuration Class, knowing they had enough time to get to the room without being classified as 'late'.

Zeke had never preferred to stay in his family house for an elongated period of time. It isn't like he hated his family— far from it really. However, there was much research to be done and the Academy spared no expense in aiding its students in growing to their fullest potential. Zeke had full intentions to take advantage of such freedom.

Arrt Saunders

alchemist

Zeke.

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[Arrt Saunders]

​

The Beginning - Academy of Lyrithna

The long and winding corridors of the Academy were bustling with life and vivacious energy as the morning sunlight fell through the colourful stained-glass windows. The sound of laughter and the sharing of stories filled the air with lightness and a comforting sense of homeliness, even as the dolorous sounding of the academic knell rang off across the colleges of Lyrithna. Ignoring the forlorn ringing that echoed intrusively through the corridors, Orpheus happily attached the Prefect pin to the fold of his jacket as he passed gatherings of students engaged in long-needed catch-ups. The Prefect pin was a small brooch emblazoned with a judicial scale surrounded by pink-and-orange phoenix feathers, a symbol of Lilium House he was justly proud of.

It was hard not to be swept up in the atmosphere during the first day of term. The warm feeling that seemed to bleed from the old stone walls of the Academy, weathered and beaten by the ages, seemed to encouraged the gregariousness of the next generation of sorcerers. On his way through the corridors to the Hall of Conjuration, Orpheus joined in joyfully - but briefly - and conversed with familiar faces from Lilium and further afield. It wasn't long however before he was called upon by a relatively quiet, and easily recognisable, voice.

He glanced over his shoulder towards the sound. Barely audible above the peanut-crunching crowd. But, that was no surprise.

"Zeke," Orpheus called back much louder and with much more of a smile. Stopping for a moment to let the serious-looking alchemist match his step, Orpheus reached out and pulled Zeke into a big hug. "I only arrived this morning. Spent the summer with my family back on the Fort Islands, as I haven't seen them in months. It was so good to be around them again. How've you been, how was your summer?"

Orpheus released Zeke as quickly as he embraced him, knowing full-well that even he might not get away with such gestures. It was then that Orpheus noticed the crowd part slightly in Zeke's wake. Lumbering slowly behind them, making its way through the gaggle of students without any acknowledgement of the side-eyes and curious glances and nods of appreciation, was a gem-encrusted golem of dirt and clay. Orpheus immediately recognised it as Zeke's handiwork, and he considered the alchemical design a little more life-like than some of Zeke's previous iterations.

"I take it from the skill and craftsmanship of this little fellow that the a few months of quiet study did you good?"

Orpheus gently patting the golem's dusty crown. Although he was uncertain of what kind of response he expected to get from a golem.

AI10100

​

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

━━━━━━━❦━━━━━━━

Nicholas Brier

Location: Dorm Room - Auditorium 267 (Martial Magics Association Meeting)
Condition: Refreshed, Enthusiastic
Collaborated with: Arrt Saunders
Mentions: Arrt Saunders
​

Nicholas was more than confident in his dueling skills, growing up practically having a sword in hand made sure of that. But as it turns out confidence quickly gets thrown out of the window when faced with an insurmountable amount of control, experience, and expertise. As he made his way back towards the stands trying to blink away the dull pain in the back of his head Professor Connor spoke. “Now class, can anyone tell me why Mr. Brier was unable to win our duel?”

The class was silent, save for the hushed murmurs between classmates as they all waited for someone else to answer. Sensing that none of his fellow students would put themselves forward to answer, Nicholas sighed as he raised his hand. “Mr. Brier. Although I would prefer that someone else answer, perhaps it’s best if we hear from the man himself. Now Mr. Brier, why is it that you were unable to best me in our little bout?” The answer was obvious to any who had paid attention to the fight, although that didn’t make it any less embarrassing when he was the one who had fallen right into his professor's trap.

“I failed to account for the sudden change to the battlefield.” He paused, searching for the right combination of words that wouldn’t result in him unintentionally calling himself an idiot. “While I was focused on getting within your casting range I failed to notice that you were positioning me into an unfavorable position. And, in my zeal to strike a blow you took advantage and used the battlefield to your advantage.” Content with his answer Nicholas took his seat, pleased with the nods and affirmative rumblings of the other students.

“Well put, Mr. Brier. Although it was a bit too wordy for my taste, you've grasped why you failed.” Nicholas felt a twinge irritation briefly flare before the professor continued. “Today's lesson was about controlling the field of battle. You sought to get within my casting range to limit my offensive capabilities. However, by leveraging the advantages of cryomancy I was able to use your strategy against you.” In other words, he conjured a sheet of ice beneath Nicholas’s feet while he was charging in, resulting in his feet slipping from underneath him and his head cracking against the floor painfully. A quick pair of icy cuffs to restrain his wrists was all it took for their duel to end in the professor's favor.

“Now today we will be covering in depth how controlling one’s battlefield can be the difference between life and death. Please open your texts to page one hundred and forty seven for the rest of today's lecture.” With the rhythmic pulsing slowly subsiding in his skull, Nicholas turned to the requested page as Professor Connors launched into both theoretical and practical uses of terrain in history, both magical and in non-magical conflicts.

—

Nicholas let out a relieved sigh as he stepped out of his shower, the grime and sweat from the day being washed away in the heavenly rain of heat and water. After his embarrassing lesson at the hands of Professor Connors, the young adult had returned to his private dorm in order to unwind and reflect on his poor performance. “Really I should have seen it coming. He even told the entire class that the lesson was on controlling the battlefield.” He said to no one as he picked out a fresh set of clothes. “But I was so focused on getting in and preventing him from getting distance that I didn’t even notice his trap. Guess that’s one more thing that I have to look out for.”

Fortunately his schedule worked out in a way that Professor Connor’s class was the only one he had for the day. Which meant that he had more than enough time to get back to his dorm room, clean up, and catch the end of lunch at the dining hall before he was expected at today's meeting. The Martial Magics Association, or the MMA as it was often shortened to, was held in one of the campus's many auditoriums. Due to the nature of the group, large open spaces were required in order to accommodate it. Because of the built-in safety features of such buildings, and the presence of experienced members of the teaching staff, very few incidents ever occur from one of their meetings.

Popping a toffy into his mouth, Nicholas entered into the large auditorium. Training mats had already been laid on the ground, a circle etched in chalk marking the bounds of the duels drawn on each one. The professor for today's meeting, Professor Finch, was already giving the daily lecture on the rules of the group. Eyes roaming the area, he eventually settled on the familiar visage of Diran Oleander. The senior had been a member of the association for longer than Nicholas had, although the two rarely faced off against one another due to the difference in seniority between them.

Approaching his senior, Nicholas raised his hand as he called out “Oleander, great to see you back. I hope you’ve been keeping up with your studies since we’ve last met.”

Ollie rolled his left shoulder backwards, the sore muscles tight around the joint as small clicks dinned quietly beneath the skin. He had almost forgotten how rigorous and demanding Professor Caius' lectures on Advanced Martialism were immediately after the summer break, when potential Custodians were deemed too dull from spoiled living and lack of discipline. The series of blows to his shoulder and back from intense sparring had left purple marks to blossom, which were merely dulling under the influence of the resident ameliorators.

Glancing around the auditorium, Ollie took in the martialist gathered under the ever-watchful and scrutinising eye of Professor Finch, his thin-framed spectacles perched treacherous on a pointed, beak-like nose. Ollie's attention was quickly drawn towards a younger martialist making his way eagerly in his direction.

Although he recognised the face, the confident walk, and the sword at his hip, Ollie could not remember his name.

"Fuck," Ollie muttered under his breath as the martialist came closer, turning his head towards Gladius by side. "Glad, what's his name?"

"What?" Gladius replied louder than Ollie would have liked.

"What's his fucking name, dumbass?"

"Who?"

Ollie gave Gladius a stern look, eyes wide and filled with dragonfire.

"Oh," Gladius whispered, flicking his eyes towards the approaching swordsman. "It's Nicholas, isn't it?"

Ollie didn't have a choice.

"Nicholas. Welcome back. Hope that blade is still sharp."

Nicholas felt a small grin begin to form as his senior greeted him. It was a small surprise given how rarely the two had interacted as martialists, but a pleasant one nonetheless. “Of course. Let alone my father, my brothers would never let me hear the end of it if It wasn’t.” During his time off from the academy, Nicholas had moved back in with his father along with his brothers. Far from the break most would expect, his days were filled with practice and lectures on topics that would be covered in his second year.

“Maybe one of these days the two of us can have a spar. I’ve always wanted to see how much stronger my seniors are.” Their conversation would have to wait for another day however, as another student waved Nicholas over from one of the open rings. “Looks like I have to go, Jackson can get pretty impatient. Talk to you guys later.” He gave a nod to the two seniors before jogging over to the open ring.

“I hope you’re ready Nicholas. I’ve been practicing my pyromancy over the break.” Jackson was a fellow second year in the association, his penchant for pyromancy combined with his ginger hair resulted in more than a few jabs between the two adults.

“Always ready. May the best sorcerer win.” The duo waited until the eyes of Professor Finch were upon them, and with a blow of his whistle the two began their duel.

Ollie shook his head apathetically, barely able to respond in the short timeframe where Nicholas had entered and exited a mostly one-sided conversation in his own energetic and chaotic way. Not that Ollie had much to say. He recognised Nicholas from the previous year or so, but not much more beyond mere recognition. Ollie knew very little about him - just a brief recollection of skill. He had hardly remembered his name.

“Yup. That was Nicholas,,” Gladius laughed, watching the swordsman dashed away to the open ring. “He’s still a whirlwind anyway, with or without that blade in his hands.”

“He’ll get himself killed.”

“Nicholas? Don’t be ridiculous, Ollie. He’s better than you are with a sword.”

“What?”

“I said he’s better than you,” Gladius smirked.

A quick gust of air hit Gladius’ jaw, knocking his head backwards as Ollie’s open palm forcefully pushed in his direction. Gladius spat out a curse, drawing the aquiline attention of Finch, who kept one eye of the spritely swordsman as magical fire began to flare and one eye on the senior martialists.

Ollie gave him an apologetic gesture for the distraction.

“I don’t think I deserved that, dickhead,” Gladius said, running his fingers through his hair to restore his characteristically messy - yet purposefully messy - look.

“You did. You know I haven’t fought with a blade in years anyway.”

“So, you think you’re a better fighter than him in general, Ol? Or are you scared he might actually embarrass you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Glad.”

“Prove me wrong, then. He asked to spar.”

“Piss off.”

“Professor,” Gladius suddenly roared, “Ollie said he wants to tag-in for whoever hits the mat first!”

[/font]

━━━━━━━❦━━━━━━━

⛧ c o d e d _ b y _ s p o o k i e ⛧

 

[AI10100]

The moment Orpheus turned towards him, Zeke had already prepared himself for the imminent hug. And there it was. It was something he had to get used to when he became friends with Orpheus. It wasn't particularly uncomfortable but Zeke still stepped a bit to the side and smoothed out his clothing once he was released.

"Spending family is good for social and mental health."

Zeke said with a nod of his head. He, himself, had headed home for a month to spend time with his family— even if it was mostly spent in silence and the occasional question about each other's research.

"Much the same as always. I've succeeded in a few experiments that stumped me during the previous year."

His creation seemed to have pulled the attention of a few other students. It was not a rare sight for Zeke to be dragging some homonculus with him to act as his helping hand for the day.

"Indeed. Though the form itself was easy to construct, the fluidity of movement was difficult to recreate given that it has no joints to work with."

He hadn't paid much attention to that detail in his previous experiments. The flights of his birds were mostly from magic and not actually due to the wings— emulating the flapping was easy enough but anyone with a keen eye could spot that it was mostly for show.

"Mannerisms is a whole other problem. For now, I've inserted commands to mimic and learn, but we will have to see if it actually retains it."

As he said that, the golem responded to Orpheus's touch by reaching out to pat his head, mimicking the man's actions. It let its hand stay on Orpheus's head and Zeke hummed, not ordering it to do anything. It seemed that Zeke, himself, was unsure of how the golem would continue to act.

Arrt Saunders

alchemist

Zeke.

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