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The Academy of Vendace Halls

To whom it may concern,


I, Head Master Vladimir Socratic, am pleased to notify you of your acceptance to The Academy of Vendace Halls. Before I enlighten you as to why you will be attending this school there are a few things that I’ll need to shed light on for your sake.

As you know The Academy of Vendace Halls is a school for the supreme. We only accept those who we believe can endure our academy. The enrolment of every student is not without reason; every student has their place and it is up to them to discover it. I hope you discover yours.

My school’s reputation subsists between non-existent to only an occult following. I need to state that whatever you have heard about in regards to my school is merely rumours. My students are sworn to secrecy the moment they step foot through my doors, thus any horrendous rumour you have heard is not true.

Due to your high achievements and excelled skills we have put forth your enrolment without denial. Over the years your skills and attributes have been observed very closely and it is to my great pleasure that I now enrol you into my academy. You sustain the capabilities to graduate and I hope you use them well enough to do so. As a student not only will you engage in customary learning but in addition activities/classes that will strengthen your core species, whatever that may be. Should you ‘carry on’ graduating, your abilities will be at their peak which can only be achieved through attendance of The Academy of Vendace Halls.
Semester 1 starts the 1st September. The delayed will not be tolerated.

Yours Sincerely,
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Head Master Vladimir Socratic.

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18 . 01 . 2013

‘Welcome to Hell’s Academy; where the definition if insanity is not being paranoid,’


The atmosphere was dense, clouds overcastted the blue, forbidding any rays of illumination to flicker through. A fusion of emotion penetrated the air. The assemblage of new students was large and even though the grand doors to the school had not yet been opened for them there already stood a chain of command; a hierarchy. Nobilities winced at the approach of the plebeians and as a result the scent of blood already infused the air.

Vendace Halls Living Arrangements


Vendace Halls Living Quarters

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Vendace Halls Dorm Allocations

Room One:
David Gerschmüch
Vincent Alexander Venetti


Room Two
Szayel Granz Harribel
Christopher James Sayian


Room Three
Seth Northey
Cynric Scrymgeour

Room One
Cecilia Wolkov
Antonette Tyson


Room Two
Rosalina Bell Forveus
Melody Aveline Faunt

None at the present moment.

The atmosphere was dense, clouds overcastted the blue, forbidding any rays of illumination to flicker through. A fusion of emotion penetrated the air. The assemblage of new students was large and even though the grand doors to the school had not yet been opened for them there already stood a chain of command; a hierarchy. Nobilities winced at the approach of the plebeians and as a result the scent of blood already infused the air.

A female, whose aura glowed a blinding white, leisurely made her way around the new comers – simply observing the species she was to interact with. Majority bestowed a face of disgust and repulsion at the sight of her; pure angels had that affect on others. The disgust stemmed from the fact that everything about this female dazzled with angelic purity; a quality most species cannot even begin to define. Rosalina Bell glued her eyes down to the earth as she moved with poise through the crowd back towards a rebellious looking male, situated on the sidelines, smoking. When one looked at him, it was not unusual for them to be somewhat puzzled as to which class he fell into; demon or angel. The atmosphere around him was fly, one could say cool, though he full of his own self-importance. Smugly aligned with the small wall, a cigarette in one hand and the other in his pocket, Christopher blew the recycled smoke up at the approach of Rosalina.

“Nervous?” he asked he as she reapproached him.

“There aren’t a lot of pure angels here,” she answered disregarding his question.

“There aren’t a lot of you left.”

“Yes the plebeians do outweigh the noble here. I do wish I hadn’t received acceptance to this academy.”

“Careful with that talk Rose,” he raised one eyebrow at the passing mass, “these...people... might have something to offer,” raising both eyebrows at a particular passing mass of hair and muscle he continued, “and some of them might take offence.”

Rose’s eyes followed the thing which she could only assume was some giant mixbreed as it walked towards the stairs, the doors dwarfing even its shoulders.
At the other side of the clearing, two beings appeared, one male, one female; the male stood tall and proud, a dark scrutinizing scowl on his features as he looked around at the lower classes of being. He held a particular aura, a dark and stern one – everything about him screamed dominance; something which gained the attention of other students as they stared at him with malice and hate in their eyes. Most didn’t recognise him – although, the second they heard his name, they would know exactly who they were dealing with.

To his right, the female stood – a blunt and bored expression on her face as her lips turned down into a small pout. Her body language was much the same, she leant most of her body weight on the hand which was placed on her waist, while her head was tilted slightly to the side – everything about her screamed that she simply didn’t want to be there.

The male folded his arms over his chest, his gaze flickering to his companion before scanning the crowd again,

‘For the love of all that is evil, Melody, try to make at least, decent acquaintances in this place,’ he stated in a cold, emotionless tone. A small smirk befell her features,

‘What are you saying – I’m a bad judge of character?’ she queried, sounding hurt, yet amused – she was obviously mocking him; his gaze shifted back to her as he sent a slight glare her way,

‘What I’m saying is, I wouldn’t put it past you to befriend a Screamer or some other waste of existence,’ he muttered; her brow furrowed into a look of confusion,

‘What’s a screamer?’ she asked, her gaze shifting to the ground – as if she was going to find the answer to her question down there,

‘Exactly,’

At the sound of the grand doors unbolting, silence befell the newcomers and after an extended amount of time, Head Master Socratic emerged dressed in his cleric uniform. He gazed apathetically at his new students, holding their gaze, securitizing them.

“Welcome to my Academy of Vendace Halls,” his words were formal with a voice of authority, “you have all been accepted to attend my school for individual reasons. My staff and I do sustain a sense of thrill and are all eager to see how you endure your time here. It is inevitable that in the coming weeks you will start to create enemies and I suppose friendships too. You will begin a particularized schedule in which you must attend. You will also start to explore ways to fill your days and evenings – with the less tangible part of your education here - the student experience. Aside from the outstanding education you will receive at Vendace Halls, I can tell you from personal experience that for Vendace Hall’s graduates, it is overwhelmingly the student experience that stays with us and you for that matter, the longest,” Socratic chuckled at this, it seemed to amuse him.

“There are literally hundreds of groups on campus, and endless opportunities to assist in your graduation. I encourage you to get involved. Dreams are born and are challenged; some survive and grow; others die. You will certainly see me walking around campus and dropping in to unexpected places like the residence dining halls. I wish you all the best for a stimulating and rewarding, challenging four years on this campus, which will be the start of what I hope will be a lifelong experience as members of the Vendace Hall’s family.”

As he finished his speech he held the stillness for a moment before turning on his heel and re-entering the school. The students stood in silence as they observe the grand doors open up to them in an almost intimidating fashion.

“The beginning of the end,” Christopher mocked the cold voice of the head master as he nudged Rosalina’s side, “it’s saying ‘walk into your impending doom’.”

“Agreed that Socratics words were evidently mocking the fact that half of these students will not be graduating,” Rosalina answered indirectly.

“Don’t worry Rose, I got your back covered,” Christopher replied smugly as he stepped aside in order to let her pass him, indicating with his hand for her to be the forerunner. She showed reluctance, breathing in deeply with her eyes closed and holding the air for a second before exhaling. “Perhaps,” she held her head high as she elegantly moved past him, “but who has your back Chris?”

Instinctively he glanced all-round, catching the eyes of a hunched black clad individual, glaring back. This personage gave the impression that he was verging to charge at Chris. Chris scowled, his entrance to the school being delayed. He shuffled sideways so as to avoid a group of noble looking initiates but the glare of the hunchback didn’t waver from his eyes. He sighed deeply clenching his right hand as the hairs on his arms uplifted, charging with ambient static, prepared for the hunchbacks charge,

“Chris?” the tiny voice of Rosalina, oddly loud in his ears, “could I maybe see the school for the first time without the screaming?”

His watch detached from the hunchback’s, little by little as he twisted to face Rosalina’s pleading expression, so she was nervous after all.

The two Demons watched the interaction between the – they weren’t quite sure what he was – and the hunchback with interest. Vincent sighed before passing him briefly, not bothering to look at the mere waste of existence, as he saw it anyway. Melody followed close behind, quickly pausing to look at the boy who had just stopped the hunchback right in its tracks; there was no denying it, the kid was powerful, she only wondered to what length his power extended to. Vincent had mastered the element of Fire and wasn’t far off Air; Melody was still having trouble mastering. As fast as she had captured it, she broke eye contact with the boy and continued on, down the hall, after her friend.

Vincent looked down at the elegant looking blonde as he passed her; there was no denying it, one had to simply look at her and know she was an Angel – a Pure Angel at that; they were hard to come by these days. His dark eyes moved from her to straight in front of him once more as he quickened his pace and placed his hands in his pockets – he wasn’t in the mood for social activity, especially if it meant having to get blood on his new suit.

‘Hurry up, Melody,’ he stated firmly, ordering her to come into line with him, which she silently obliged, breaking into a jog to catch up to him.

‘Welcome to Hell’s Academy,’ she murmured with a smirk, ‘where the definition of insanity is not being paranoid,’

Alaskan grimaced, her thin lips forming a frown as she gazed at the student body around her. She smiled as she heard the murmur from the girl Melody. "Never take on what you can't handle." Her breath whispered out as she knelt to redo her shoe laces. Black shorts and shirt hugged her curves as she followed the procession inward, looking for someone to follow and tag along with. Her mind flickered over the topic of the other student types and grinned at the fewer attendance of pure angels. "Serves them right, those snobs always had it coming." Her feet slowly carried her in the giant doors.

Seth just milled about with the rest of the kids, not catching anyone's eye, waiting for the headmaster dude to open the damn doors. Meanwhile, his obvious disdain and disgust for a section of the student population rivaled that of the nobles, but directed at just about everyone, nobles included. These were the poshest set of bastards he had ever seen in his fucking life. He just wanted to take the nearest douchebag and punch a hole in his face, especially the noble-looking guys.

Except something told him that would be suicide. He didn't know exactly what these people were, but he knew they were dangerous. He couldn't push these kids around with his powers. For once in his life, he felt powerless. And it made him angry. For now, however, he expressed that anger by using his graphic imagination to paint pretty pictures of him kicking ass around the school. It occurred to him that one of his fellow classmates might have some kind of mind-reading super powers or whatever, but he ignored it. They could take a running jump of a cliff for all he cared.

He was told that people here were 'special', and that, compared to them, Seth would be almost ordinary. Well, he didn't feel ordinary. He felt like he was sticking out like a sore thumb. Not having gotten his uniform yet, he is dressed in his jeans and hoodie, his shirt a tribute to some metal band or other. He was torn between wanting to be invisible and wanting to flaunt his modest outfit, a problem he often had. For now, he just hunched a bit and waited in silence, focusing on keeping a handle on his frustration.

He tapped his foot impatiently as the headmaster made his sarcastic speech. Come on, come on, come on, lemme in already ya shitstick, Seth thought, swearing repeatedly in his head at the magnanimous dean. If he ever even took notice of the various powerful, strange, and/or arrogant bystanders around him, he certainly didn't show it.

Finally, the doors ground open, but as soon as they did the noble-looking guys went first. Again, anger flared in Seth's breast. He stepped forward, bumping rudely into the person in front of him, eager to finally get out of the open and find someplace without so many snobbish classholes. In his anger, he didn't bother to really give the person in question a look, and thus, it could have been anyone. If only Seth had been better informed. He might have known not to be so careless.

Szayel stood next to a rather impatiant looking boy, smirking with his eyes closed. The head master seemed pleasant enough, but one should never believe appearances in this place. As the student were being led in, specifically those of noble blood, he was roughly bumped out of the way by a young man wearing casual clothes instead of the uniform, it wasn't really unusual but most baught their uniforms when they recieved the acceptance letter. Instead of letting it go, like a smart person would have done after seeing the male's size, he snidely said "Someone was raised by wolves." His charm kicked in however and made his voice sound sweeter and more teasing than he wanted it to.

Sighing, he pulled out his Kama Sutra book he began reading, the cover "Kama Sutra: For hours of intense pleasure" earned him quite a few looks of disgust, embarrassment, and others longing. He had just finished reading a poem by Shakespear that few knew about, the name was in old english so it escaped him but the actual text was translated, when he placed it back into bis satchel and started his way inside.

Alaskan's eyes flicked back towards the two boys toughing it out with one another. A grin bled onto her face as she watched, her fingers drilling on her own skin as she faded off into the edge of the doors.
"What to do, what to do." She was unsure about the rules thus far but it seemed too far away for her to really care. "Nah, totally worth the effort." She took up her position, making herself comfortable with a sneer at the nearest noble to give her a wrong look. Her fingers drummed along her skin, waiting for the intriguing boy to slip by. Noble obviously from his uniform, he seemed both to captivate some around him and repel others. "Perfect." Alaskan whistled.

Anne stood in the back to herself and observed those around her. Everyone seemed to be anxious, or if not, overconfident. The different vibes she could feel from each different person were so varied. The most eclectic group of talent was gathered, and it was amazed to her. She smiled happily as her hazel eyes refocused their attention back towards the headmaster as he revealed himself to give his introductory speech. The headmasters welcome was enveloped in eloquent speech, but the dark undertones sent chills through her spine. She itched to learn and to improve, but how well would she actually do here? How did this one man even dream of creating such a school and what was the history behind this Academy? How had he watched all of these individuals and what were the criteria to even be a candidate to enter this school? There were so many questions left unanswered. Anne reminded herself not to underestimate even the weakest of students. Each one had the potential to be a future graduate. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind and slipped quietly through the students. It was easier for her because of her petite physique, but other seemed to have a hard time. The bigger ones pushed with force, and others quietly stepped aside. Anne couldn't help but frown upon those nobles who pushed through with a sense of arrogance. These were the kind of people she didn't want to be associated with. Sighing, she shook her head and promised herself to belittle no one.

His pack mentality has caused him to arrive at the same time as a good portion of the other students that had been accepted here. This meant that he had been there, and had been standing around for a while before the speech started, from who he presumed, was the 'headmaster'. Fiddling with the lip ring in his mouth, he stood slouched back and with his hands in his pockets. He stood a bit taller then the average person, and he slouched in order to disguise the fact that he was a little larger than normal. Wearing only a t-shirt, it was hard to hide the muscles that had built up in his limbs from the years of running, and due to the transformation.

Nothing but his eyes moved as the man began to speak, in order to keep his nonchalant appearance. Rolling his shoulders a little at the word 'enemy' he felt his inner beast stir a little, and exhaled deeply in order to try and relax himself. Easy, boy... he thought to himself. Nothing good would come of him shifting now, in the middle of this giant group of people... students. All but the last line the man spoke, the vague one, that hinted at a bit of danger, had faded into nothingness in the middle of the growling that had been going on in his head. It quieted a little now, as he saw that the man was still talking. Nodding a little at the last line, he let out another breath and shook his head some. It was about time. His beast may have pulled him towards people, but he didn't like being in giant groups for long periods of time. It brought out his wild side a little more than he would like.

As the man turned and left, he watched as the crowd of people started to take off into the building. Letting the crowd disperse a little, he started his own way forward, moving on the balls of his feet. He didn't shove his way through, but he didn't dart too lithely. It was a nice combination, both forward and obvious in his movement, as well as making sure he didn't run anyone over blatantly. His blue-green eyes flicked between the ground and his path as he headed towards the doors.

Cynric Scrymgeour



Cynric made his way through the grounds and waited with the group in front of the largest doors he had seen in his life. He had diliberately trotted behind the mass of new students in hopes of not being noticed. Illusions were not hard to maintain, but he was always quite paranoid of slipping up and letting a tentacle show. There were those that did not mind his true appearance, but throughout his life he had more often been persecuted for it. Let's face it: having an octopus for a head does not land you the hottest dates or shoe you in with the cooler kids. Illithids were so rare they didn't even figure on the nobility food chain, which meant he would be at the dangling end. "No matter", he thought, the point of even being there was to develop his powers enough hiearchy would not matter anymore. He had managed, one time, to settle the score with a group of boys pestering him in middle school. Blasted one into a stupor, pushed another to dementia and sucked on the last's brain. It was easy enough with mundane humans, but at Vendace Halls he felt it would be different. Everyone here was "special", not just himself, which complicated things. Who in the crowd knew about him? Who could see through the veil? Who would he have to beat and who would beat him?

"I suggest you get involved in student groups.", the Headmaster said. Cyrnic sighed. There goes his plans for soloing through the Academy. Who knew though, perhaps he would find someone to share his pain with in the halls. The mass started moving and the students flooded the school. Some brawled, other scowled... No one had a very endearing demeanor and there was no clarity about who to trust, who to approach or who to befriend. Telepathy was going to come in handy around here, he would have to hone the skill first.

"Here we go..."

As the newcomers made their way through the colossal sized doors one couldn’t help notice the hostility that existed amongst each person. This hostility rendered it strenuous for an individual to acquaint with whom to trust and converse with. The foyer in which the students entered was a majestic, almost imposing one. Well-designed in demeanour, the foyer upheld the essence of the Victorian era. The walls were smartly plastered with portraits of characters unknown – their eyes familiar and appearing to judge you. These stares enhanced the discomfort and apprehension that saturated the air.

Rosalina moved along slowly, at the side of Chris, permitting others to surpass them. Though not impressed by Chris’ encounter with the hunchback so shortly after their arrival, she was satisfied with the fact that Chris was capable of overpowering the other effortlessly.

“Is anything hurting Chris?” Rosalina asked sweetly.

“No,” Chris answered bluntly, “I’m alright. Who are all these portraits of?”

“I recognize a few, there’s Archangel Raphael,” she pointed to a high photograph, “other’s I’m not so sure.”

“And there eyes appear to be gawking at us why?” he inquired hoarsely, evidently the portraits stares bothered him.

She glanced at him with a face of confusion, “they’re bewitched Christopher,” she retorted with a rather condescending tone.

“Why?” he questioned.

“Chris, do you not recognize the eyes? They ‘all’ belong to Head Master Socratic,” she gazed up at a portrait as she strolled along, “I presume it’s to intimidate and daunt the students.”

“Giving the impression that ‘he’s always watching’,” he raised an eyebrow.

“Now you’re catching on,” she beamed at him.

“Well I hope there isn’t one in my bathroom. That’ll put me off.”

“I wonder if they’re enchanted so that he can see through the portraits eyes whenever he sees fit,” Rosalina cooed.

“Don’t say that!”

She expressed amusement through a small chuckle before the thunderous sound of the doors smashed shut behind them. Startling her, she released a small high yelp at the noise and grasped a hold of Chris’ arm, resulting in the impede of his tracks. It was his turn to laugh. Upon her spring onto him, Chris noticed the sudden halt of those around him and as he twisted his neck to gaze behind him - the doors stood closed; bolted shut. It was nerve-racking, ‘either graduate or breathe your last breath – walking out isn’t an option,’ he thought to himself. Chris shifted his glance down at Rosalina, who still held his arm, wishing she hadn’t been forced by her father to attend the school. He decided it best to keep his comment to himself.

Rosalina sustained no curiosity on the entrance to the school; rather she was looking up towards the covering of the school; the ceiling. Chris followed her gaze up and became aware of what held her attention - higher than the student’s heads hovered a massive orb, glowing white. The arrival of the orb acquired the curiosity of the other students and in addition, their eyes trailed to the orb.

“What is it?” Chris inquired.

“It’s a distribution sphere,” Rosalina answered with incredulity, “I didn’t know they could get that big.”

At her words the sphere began to revolve, increasing in velocity. Speed escalating, its illumination seemed to emit additional orbs that began to float in the air all around the students. As they floated about the miniature orbs seemed to shift in form, all the while the massive orb continuing to revolve and emit more orbs. One baby sphere appeared to develop wings, whilst another evolved a tail; all baby spheres transforming into varies animals. At closer inspection all the animals seemed to materialize from paper.
One particular orb caught Rosalina’s attention, it had wings and soon developed a long neck – it was transforming into a swan. It became apparent to her that the glowing swan was beginning to soar en route for her.

“Why is it doing the ‘I am coming for you’ fly?” Chris indirectly asked Rosalina; apparently he was aware of the approaching swan.

Rosalina finally let go of Chris arm, scowling at him, “don’t look at mine, look for yours.”

Upon its arrival in front of her the paper swan elegantly alighted itself on her outstretched arm, raised its wings and lowered its head in an unmistakeable bow. It rippled and shook and with a small ruffling sound it shrivelled into a gilded scroll.

Chris, still scanning the orbs had been half observing this, he chuckled “mine will be way cooler than a swan Rose, I bet it’s a lion or some-“ Rosalina winced a little when a soft whistle and the thud that followed ended Chris’ sentence.

As the smirking Chris had been scanning the room, his orb had been scanning him, waiting. As soon as it saw him laugh it was time for check mate. Sprouting weighty wings, a short pointed beak and dark talons, a crow dived at Chris, bursting momentum. In recognition to Chris, his powers of observation served him, however being a foot and a half in front of his face, there wasn’t a lot of time for reactions. It struck him dead in the eye, and cursing, Chris was knocked off his feet. Writhing on the floor, hands over his eye, with a rather proud paper crow perched on his chest.

Rosalina peering down in mild amusement, “what was that about being cooler than a swan, Chris?”

“Give me your hand Rose,” panted Chris.

Taking one footstep behind her, “I’m not helping you up,” she said credulously.

“Angels be damned!” he shouted, “my eye! Heal my damned eye!”

Already reading her scroll, she heaved a sigh. Removing her left hand, she waved it at Chris - for a moment it glowed a golden white and as if nothing had happened it was back, holding the scroll straight.

“A school full of the most powerful magic and brightest minds, and not a soul can fathom how to simply make a scroll stay flat until you want it furled, or vice versa. Dreadful.”

“Yeah,” muttered Chris, “won’t someone think of the children,” clutching his crow by the neck and rubbing his eye with the other. He rose to his feet, “those dam aristocratic problems,” he mocked.