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diatuooc2021-07-23 03:56 pm
magicademymods) wrote in diatuooc2021-07-23 03:56 pm
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Test Drive Reloaded! #1
Welcome to Diatu (I Like Swords)
The Arrival Hall is all aflurry with activity! No one had expected so many Sundered to suddenly pop up, the staff find themselves desperately scrambling to keep up with the influx, and a bunch of new arrivals find themselves hanging out in the Hall lobby, waiting to be seen, sent home if possible, or counseled and prepared for student life if not. Rumors run like wildfire: some people believe they've been kidnapped by aliens, a worryingly persistent suggestion that this is a setup for a murder-tournament keeps circulating, and one or two nutcases insist that a dragon tinkered with the rules of magic and now they have to study at a magic school to survive. Pie stocks are grievously low, and thought Headmaster Birony herself appeared and began violating the rules of space and time to summon pies from the future, a second Headmaster Birony with an eyepatch, several war scars, and a wild hairdo appeared and promptly yelled at the first Headmaster for stealing her pies. A pie fight erupted. Pie stocks are even more grievously low now.
Still, here's your chance to talk to your fellow arrivals. Or aggressively attack the nearest target in an outrage (they set up a target dummy and labeled it VENT AGGRESSION HERE, and are trusting you guys on the honor system). Staff don't have time to talk, but they promise they'll get to you soon!
A Day In The Life
The sun is bright, the air is warm, a cool breeze blows across Anastara, clouds keep drifting directly through the island and engulfing people... it's summer on Ascelion, and the day is ripe for learning. Or as ripe as Diatu Magicademy ever can be -- though no one would trade the character and charm of the lively campus for some stodgy, regimented school more interested in forcing students into the mold than encouraging them to be their best, sometimes conditions in the Magicademy are a little inconvenient.
A toilet in Kedrigan Hall keeps clamping onto the butts of those who attempt to use it. Thus far, half a dozen students have been freed from its clutches by their friends, while reports of singed buttocks have increased twofold. (Yes, only twofold. Think about that for a minute.) Staff are on the lookout for a prankster rather than a commode, so as of yet the treacherous toilet has gone unpunished...
Not far away, a group of cleaning golems has occupied the promenade as part of an ongoing strike. As they possess only rudimentary intelligence, they believe this involves seizing objects from anyone who passes nearby and hurling them at a set of bowling pins. Meliandre Tomekin, Head of Groundskeeping, has set up shop across the Promenade; any student who wanders too close gets a big block of ice shoved into their hands, along with instructions to hold it still while she shows those reprobates what-for...
In the Great Hall proper, school clubs and activities have, as was inevitable, escalated competition for new students to yet another level which only isn't a war crime because it isn't part of a treaty yet: they've conscripted geese. Horrible geese, to be precise, who dispense flyers for various clubs with less subtlety than a nuclear holocaust. Some of them fight for dominance, others have teamed up to pin down innocent students and stuff leaflets down their throat, and one has a wand and is somehow casting Discovery spells?!
A Forgery!
"I tried a mass-Forging technique," the older student says, showing off the briefcase full of identical wands and a sign that says 'FOR $ALE CHEAP'. "Some of them are exactly what I intended, they self-correct runes, but the rest, well.. . I don't know, I can't tell, and I'm not really interested in finding out one by one, so... you buying?"
All sales final. No refunds. Caveat emptor. As for what the wands do, well... there's a reason he answered with an ellipsis when asked. On the other hand, maybe the effect isn't too terrible? Maybe it's even beneficial! Maybe the wand shoots out rainbows and muffins! Or maybe it just animates and strikes you vigorously about the head and shoulders...
Three Dragon War
Someone, we're not naming names, canons, or the color of eyes and the dragon to which they belong that forms said person's obsession, may or may not be indirectly responsible for the latest game craze sweeping Anastara: Three Dragon War, a collectible card game that features players as dragons, deploying spells, creatures, and Sundered against each other to destroy each and avoid the machinations of the Third Dragon. The awesome thing about the game is that the Third Dragon comes in all different forms: classic bundled-with-the-starter-pack Ire, super-rare Anastara Diatu, suspiciously-rare Cam Birony, ultra-common Large Eagull, and more. The concept of an outside force adding randomness to the battle and being manipulated in turn by cards means Three Dragon War is the hottest card game that's come along since the last card game that was the hottest that had come along came along.
Face-to-face, you find yourself in a duel over these cards and the magical images they summon. Can this untested deck come through if you believe in it? Or are statistics and probability actual things that actually happen? Dragon Battle! Jiao Long Fu!
There's One in Every Test Drive
Not every magical disaster is caused by some wayward student you don't know. Many of them are caused by you instead. To wit: you're on the spot in one of the magical labs, being called on to demonstrate a technique more advanced than others you've mastered so far. Failure is expected, and the wards should prevent any injury to others from a miscast spell. But will the sparks of your magic just sputter out and die? Or will you inadvertently mispronounce, misform, misshape, or miscalculate in a way that brings chaos to you and your lab partner?
(You could also manage to succeed in casting the spell, but that isn't very fun.)
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He stuck out his other hand. "I'm Ronstadt."
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"Not sure how they'd go over in the States, though. Back home. Nice tae meet you, Rondstadt. Roisin Murphy, but I usually go by Rosh."
She shook his hand firmly, and smiled. "So, first time fer weirdness, or is this not yer first rodeo?"
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"Well, I was born in Ireland, but aye, moved there when I was 15. Down St. Louis way. Never been tae LA m'self, but d'ye like it?" She liked her adopted town, as it were, but Rosh did dream of seeing the rest of the U.S. someday. There was so much variety in her adopted country!
"I was tryin' tae just make pies an' run a shop, but uh. I got me own issues that probably made me a magnet fer weirdness. Uh." Well, she'd already told one person, and here Ronstadt is claiming he's got powers. "I'm...kinda a prison fer a demon. Heh."
hope you don't mind that I threadstalked a bit for this
Whatever is inside Rosh must have stirred at mention of it, because Ronstadt suddenly grunts, tensing as though he ate something that isn't agreeing with him. Even through whatever is keeping the demon at bay, he's clocking some serious power. And he knows without knowing, the way he always does.
"A King of Solomon," he says, breathless, as the feeling passes. "That's what it is, isn't it? ... The demon."
not at all, his powers would probably tell him anyway so all good! XD
"Great President of Hell, but aye. Goetic demonology." She does know that much, even if the bracelets marked with Solomon's seals weren't a dead giveaway, too.
Her explanation subsides into grumbling--nothing directed at Ronstadt himself, only inwardly--she's probably cussing the demon out, to judge by her disgruntled expression.
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"Sorry if I freaked you out... it's what I was actually starting to mention. This power I have? I call it my Craydar. Kicks in when I'm near anything magic and dangerous, makes me feel like I got heavy duty Listerine in my blood. And I can see things, too: magical stuff that anyone without magic can't. My friend from home, Hattie? She calls it 'Side B'. That President of yours set it off but good. ... Are you, y'know. ... Okay? All things considered."
He'd thought having a random disembodied Rastafarian voice rent-free in his head was weird, but this was something far beyond. Ronstadt had the feeling Hattie would have told him to run away, pies or no pies, but he wasn't afraid. Instead, he was a little relieved that someone else here had something they were dealing with on top of it all, too.
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Though she shrugged at Ronstadt's next question. "Much as I can be, with him takin' up me mental real estate. There's a certain amount he can an' can't do, an' I got a load of protections regardin' him, besides. Ain't perfect, but until I c'n evict him, what can't be cured has gotta be endured, am I right?"
Rosh would never say she enjoyed having a demon possessing her, but she could consider a few things that might be worse. Not that she'd want to voice them for fear of invoking them, however.
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"But I know what you mean. For about four months, I had no idea what was going on with me: I just had that awful feeling, and this terrible ringing sound in my head like an out of tune bass guitar. I went from clinic to clinic trying to get diagnosed, but everyone - even a shaman! - sent me packin'. I didn't realize what it was 'til I got to L.A. and finally started seein' things. Once that happened, it kinda died down for the most part, and it only really hits me hard when there's something big around."
That, however, made him realize something, and he tilted his head, still holding the salve pie. "Those protections ... they're really powerful for me to have not picked up on him the minute we were in the same building. I know I don't have to tell you this, but ... you're lucky to have 'em. Whoever made them for you is really good."
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She did look a bit mollified when he mentioned his own problems. Rosh shook her head. "Can't think any o' that was particularly comfortin', even in light o' me own troubles. 'Least this place ought tae help with it all, I'd think, aye?"
Well, assuming they ever got to class and all.
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He was a little too disturbed by that particular train of thought to loop back around to his own story and his hopes for the Magicademy. Forcibly possessed, tattooed ... if all of that had been done against Roisin's will, Ronstadt hoped whoever had done it never showed their face in Anastara, or they'd have ... well ... something coming to them. Whatever nastiness he could learn to be capable of. Maybe they'd just met, but he was a modern man with some pretty strong opinions on consent.
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Really, he'd have to stand in line, Ronstadt would. Roisin would like to slowly roast the man who'd claimed to be her father. She'd figured out by now that it was highly unlikely that he had been, nowadays, but she had no way to pursue that. Especially not in the Tenscore Kingdoms. But if she ever made it back to her Earth, well!
"Still, ain't like ye had anythin' ta do with it, so..." She shrugged.
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"That's ... B.S.," he said with a guilty look around the hall. "I didn't, no, but ... I'm sorry it happened, for whatever that's worth. I don't know much magic yet, just how to sense it in a really, really annoying way. But once I start learning, I'll share whatever I got. You know. In case it helps."
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"Aye, an' I appreciate it. Ye never know what ye might learn with yer House that I might not learn in mine, aye?"
Not that Rosh was entirely certain that mathematics might do any good against an ancient demon, but she did know that doing nothing would likely leave her down in a hole.
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He rolls his eyes a little in self-mockery. At least the man knows his limits.
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Which, Rosh supposed, meant that she belonged there. The math wasn't too daunting. At least to start. Once she saw something higher than fractions, she might scream.
"Eh, they've gotta cut us some slack. We jus' got here, after all. If they 'spect us tae know everythin'...they better think again, right?"
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He rolled his eyes, blushing. It was embarrassing, having to back out of a really awesome conversation because your ass hurt, but ... well. He'd embarrassed himself worse, before. Almost worse. He wasn't sure he wanted to try and quantify it on a scale.