Test Drive #1

[magicademymods]

Test Drive #1



The Airship There

By carriage or coach, spellwagon or ship, perhaps even on the wings of magic, the Sundered heed the call to gather at the Tenzin High Dock of Vulbaria. On this, the appointed day, a great passenger airship sits in the dock, the seals of the six Houses fluttering from flagpoles along her length and her wooden planks atremble as if it is eager to be off. At last, the gangplank descends, and the Hand of Diatu opens her doors to the Sundered so they can take their first step on the path towards protection and salvation.

Inside, you may choose from long comfortable couches, broad circular tables surrounded by straight-backed, cushioned chairs, or viewing seats at the glass front of the ship. Sundered who need special accommodations are quickly provided for, ensuring everyone travels in comfort. Trays drift through the air periodically, offering snacks and drinks to the passengers.

This may be the first chance you've had to truly relax since being swept to this strange world. Certainly it is the first chance you've had to meet your fellow Sundered. As the airship lifts gracefully off from the High Dock, your journey to Diatu begins. Excited? Nervous? Simply angry? Or perhaps searching among the crowd here for a familiar face or some sign of hope?

Rain, Rain...

Welcome to Diatu Magicademy. It's raining.

Seriously raining. One of those downpours that feels like a curtain has dropped on you, that soaks to the bone within a second of stepping into it. Obviously, this won't do, and a civic-minded cluster of Purifeul students has taken it upon themselves to solve this problem. No sooner do you step through the gates then you practically run into a giant and complex runic diagram being drawn out with long staffs by several students, all of them speaking seeming nonsense about derivatives, limits, and equations. Magic! In action right before your eyes!

And yet, just as their mathemagics wind towards the center of the diagram and they all make their final stroke -- one student slashes his line off on a weird tangent, speaking an equation that sounds nothing at all like what his fellows utter. The spell completes... weirdly, as the students look in horror at each other. The temperature abruptly drops seventy degrees, and a cold wind begins to blow.

Welcome to Diatu Magicademy. Please get out of the blizzard before you freeze.

Thaumaturgy 101

After some fifteen minutes of grumbling from Professor Loshakle, followed by half an hour of theory and basics, the grouchy old man finally gets to drawing a magical symbol on the board. "This is straight out of Fundamental Principles of Wizarding," he says, writing Sense Magic next to the symbol. "As is everything you'll learn here. I'll emphasize yet again, you MUST know the name of the spell and the proper gestures. You can't simply wave your wand in any old pattern and say any old words. That isn't how it works," he says, glaring around the class as if daring someone to question him.

But he gives no one the opportunity, instead producing a wand and making the gesture to trace the symbol he'd drawn in midair. "Sense Magic," he intones, and the air and his wand both shimmer.

"Now. You all try." Just like that. What the Professor doesn't mention is that this spell can produce some very interesting results if the symbol is off, or the timing...

Bala-inlota Practice

Bala-inlota is the main interaction the Magicademies have with each other -- the sport of wizards! Two teams take the field, with the goal of heaving a ball through their opponent's hoop. The rules primarily revolve around not inflicting lethal injury, because bala-inlota is a free-for-all at best, where each team relies on both physical and magical might to win the day.

You kind of wish someone had told you this BEFORE you got hauled onto the field so the coach could see if you've got what it takes.

Now half a dozen players are charging down the field at your ragtag group of semi-willing recruits, while another half-dozen are preparing spells that you've been absolutely assured aren't as nasty as the ones deployed in actual play. On your side: the ball, your wits, your physical ability, and maybe three classes's worth of magical education.

On the upside, magic is pretty good at healing.

Comments

[perfectenn]

"There is a prayer-based class later today." Tenn muses. Hm, given the wand's weight and balance, perhaps holding it like a conductor's baton would be good? Taking the end between his fingers, he checks the precision. (From the ruckus breaking out somewhere to the left of the classroom, it seems a clumsy drawing is its own undoing.)

"Have any of the other Curricula or focuses been familiar to you?"

[bearshermark]

Eleven nods, watching the ruckus with only a touch of concern, but the question brings to mind the other class he's been looking forward to.

"Forging," he says, eyes brightening and now thoroughly distracted from practicing. "I started to do a lot of it in my world, so I'm hoping to excel in those classes and learn how to make many different things."

[perfectenn]

"It's a difficult skill." There's a hint of a smile even as his gaze remains coolly focused on his work. "The works of master forgers endure for a long time. I've never tried it, but I look forward to watching the process. Step back a moment, please."

Tenn follows the order with a sharp, zig-zagging flick of the wand in the strokes of the sigil and a curt, "Sense magic."

And! Nothing happens. Tenn brings his free hand to his chin. "Hm. The third stroke was too short." This is not like painting kanji. Good to know.

[bearshermark]

Eleven is more than willing to get out of the way of unpredictable magic, and holds his breath the moment the words are spoken. He hopes nothing terrible happens.

Nothing at all seems to happen, though, and that's just as well. He checks himself over just to be sure, then looks over his partner. Nothing seems to be different, as far as he can see.

"You look practiced," he offers. "I'm sure you'll master it quickly."

He's a bit hesitant to try it himself, honestly. He's taken the caution about their innate magic as dangerous to heart, but it also follows that he'll never master anything if he never tries. Eleven studies the sigil and mimes the movements with his fingers rather than his wand. They're a bit unsteady.

"I might need to practice without a real wand."

[perfectenn]

"I'm not." He admits. "I simply copied the movements and tone of the professor exactly." A frown. "Almost."

This isn't like being on stage, where he can be a little off the mark and no one will notice. This is like being on camera, close up, where every little motion counts. He's going to have to be observant and very careful. (Tenn, also, gives Eleven a quick glance-over to make sure he's still the right color, same species, etc.)

"Would it help to draw it on paper first?"

[bearshermark]

"That could help," he says, shoulders easing.

He spots an unused desk with supplies on it and moves to sit. Eleven shuffles around a few leaflets of paper and writing tools.

"Care to practice with me?"

[perfectenn]

While Eleven finds and prepares a workstation, Tenn regards the professor demonstrating the movements to a wayward team. Yes, the second and third strokes are the same length. And he must begin and complete the incantation within the movements.

"That won't be necessary. I believe I have it now." Maintaining a sensible distance from his assigned partner and directing his practice at the wall for good measure, Tenn conducts the spell once again. "Sense magic."

And he does. Abruptly. All at once. Like the ocean suddenly roaring in his ears, except it's every spell being cast from every side now amplified to headache-inducing hypersensitivity. One too many fainting spells in the past have granted Tenn the reflex of grabbing the nearest chair and collapsing properly in it instead of on the floor.

[bearshermark]

"Hey!" Eleven bolts up out of his chair to his classmate's side. He doesn't remember the other boy's name. Were they introduced?

"Hey, are you all right?" He wishes he had his healing spells. As it stands, all he can do is hover and wonder whether or not he should try to jostle him. "Can you hear me? What happened?"

[perfectenn]

Tenn presses his face into his sleeve to block out the light and covers his ears. Reducing the stimuli to manageable levels, he can start to think through it. Right… he was warned something like this might happen. This is unstable magic. It’s not much different than the overwhelm of being on stage with the crowd, lights, and music blaring... and he's trying to hear someone beside him without the aid of a headset mic.

Taking a steadying breath and keeping his ears covered, Tenn raises his head to face his classmate, squinting at first, then straightening from his hunched posture with an unsettled frown. They just met when they were assigned; Tenn doesn’t even know his name yet, only that he’s another Sundered. There’s enough happening without burdening him with more worries.

His voice comes out at a higher volume, even as Tenn is careful to keep from shouting. "I’m fine. Everything is just… loud."

[bearshermark]

Grimacing, Eleven quiets. He doesn't know what to do, and cranes his head about for any sort of direction. No one is paying attention, though. Their classmates are busy with their own effects, and the professor is trying to calm some of the more extreme results. It certainly isn't quiet.

He looks back to his partner. "..Do you want to leave?"

[perfectenn]

"No." Honestly, if he left the room every time he experienced discomfort, where would he be in his life and career? And considering what could have happened, this is quite favorable over bringing down a blizzard or setting someone on fire.

More quietly, because the roar is subsiding, Tenn continues, "I wasn't expecting physical symptoms." Giving a look to the professor's back here. "I would have appreciated a warning." His hands come down slowly, his expression relaxing. "It's fading now."