Avant

A Modern Magical Superhero Academy

I'm down.

The Mage Guild of Alsijan

Character Name: Brandon Argyle
Time of Day: Early Morning
Location: Dormitory hallways
Interacting with: @FurFox

It was not long after excising himself from that bothersome situation that someone else came to bother him. Of course Brandon hardly considered one person asking for direction to be anywhere near the bother that listening to Sylvanna snickering or that braggart boasting could ever be. Indeed, this was almost something of a relief. A normal problem to deal with involving a seemingly normal person. Granted, foreign races and species were still something of an oddity to such a sheltered Dwarf, but they weren't so strange he would balk at the mere sight of them. Would that things could be so simple every day, Brandon might appear to be as calm as a monk. Alas, he was sure his placidity would yet again be ruined in due time. Even now he could still hear the Sun Elf's caterwauling cackling all the way from the dormitory he was in such a hurry to leave behind.

"Ah yes, lost property." Brandon began, stroking his beard in thought. "If I recall correctly, I believe those are taken to one of the buildings nearby. It has a squarish, step-like roof, I think." When he arrived at the Guild, he had made a point of familiarizing himself with the relevant buildings around the campus. Although as much as having a wealth of facilities to call upon was a boon for students, he did feel it made it something of a pain to recall which one was which in a pinch. "I'm sure it had a sign to mark it as well. If you prefer, I could even lead you there. I'm not presently in the midst of any important task." In fact, this would make for the perfect detour to take him far away from the Sun Elf's lingering laughter. Ultimately he would have gone off somewhere anyway, but at least this gave him something to occupy his time, should the Moon Elf here accept his offer.

The Mage Guild of Alsijan

Character Name: Brandon Argyle
Time of Day: Early Morning
Location: Dormitory
Interacting with: @ShwiggityShwah @TaliPaendrag @Etranger @OrkytheOrc

Brandon was briefly surprised to find this moron could actually speak the Dwarven tongue. It was more than he expected from him, but it was not as though no human had ever spoken Dwarvish before. Naturally, in between learning Anyuki's name and observing how deeply uncomfortable she seemed, Marius made a point of retorting to him with some trivial attempt at psychology. He wasn't sure if it was a backhanded insult or a genuine attempt to analyse him, but he wasn't the least bit impressed. He would've fired on all cylinders if they had been alone, but given how Anyuki appeared apprehensive, he decided to temper his response.

"I would think one that understands the Dwarven tongue might understand that Dwarves don't waste good manners on those that go around breaking doors down in fits of paranoia." He remarked, dismissively yet calmly. "Especially those that cling to the illusion that they haven't done a thing to offend." It was at this point he began to hear the Elf's oncoming chorus. He now suddenly regretted uttering the words "Phoenix Dumb", if only for his own sake. "I think the Elf there would make great company for you, Phoenix. She's more on your level." As he finished speaking, the Orc reappeared in the room and made a fool of himself by blundering into a bookcase. "That Orc there would suit you too." He said, although as he said it, he felt bad for being so harsh on the Orc.

"Now, I think I had best take my leave. It's all too chaotic for my liking in here. Farewell, Anyuki." He said to the eponymous Enuri. "My apologies for disturbing you so." He then turned to leave for the door. Perhaps he would stop for a bite to eat before getting on with the day. Whatever he decided, he hoped to be mercifully free of fools and braggarts.

The Mage Guild of Alsijan

Character Name: Brandon Argyle
Time of Day: Early Morning
Location: Dormitory
Interacting with: @Etranger @ShwiggityShwah @TaliPaendrag

Brandon silently accepted Tiana's judgement. Truthfully, he felt this Guild was being far too lenient with its initiates, but it was not his place to tell them how to run their own affairs. It was not the Dwarven way to second guess their superiors. The blustering boar's smugness did not go unnoticed by Brandon. To think he would have the nerve to gloat about the fact that Tiana had chosen to show him mercy. He was not only a vandal, but also an egotistical braggart with delusion of grandeur. The fact that he had no appreciation for the mercy shown to him was perhaps the greatest slight against Brandon's honour. Would that this man were among the Dwarves, he would be tarred and feathered and paraded through the streets for the people's entertainment.

He was spared the onset of a blistering rant by the fact Tiana did her best to bring order to the room. Had it not been for his respect for the hierarchy here, he would have given Marius a tongue lashing the likes of which were featured in bardic epics. Even as everyone said their names, he conjured up some fanciful appellation to describe himself with. Blatantly disruptive and self indulgent. He was the epitome of everything that offended proper society. As much as the bile was building up in his body, Brandon had not intended to pursue Marius at this point. There were better things to do in a day than chase around some dunderheaded dolt.

That was until he indirectly visited upon him yet another slight. The noisome Sun Elf Sylvanna came to pester him, determined to have him create a source of entertainment for her. He would never usually encourage her, but now he was quite irate, and she had proposed something that aligned with his interests. "Just this once, you barmy little bitty, I'm going to indulge you." He told her before heading off to intercept his newly found anathema. He found him bothering a diminutive student he had not laid eyes upon before. "Phoenix Dumb!" He barked at him. "Were you not aware it is the height of rudeness to refer to not even bother to learn someone's name properly? Let me give you an etiquette lesson, you troglodyte." He turned to Anyu as he finished. "Madame, would you grace me with the knowledge of your name?" He bowed slightly as he spoke. His intention was two fold. He could insult Phoenix Dumb at his leisure, and perhaps spare this small girl the indignity of having to converse in solitude with this obnoxious ogreling. Of note was the fact that the carpet was frosted and snowflakes seemed to have fallen about. Brandon paid it no heed for now, as he assumed it was just a byproduct of Phoenix Dumb's shenanigans.

The Mage Guild of Alsijan

Character Name: Brandon Argyle
Time of Day: Early Morning
Location: Dormitory
Interacting with: @Stitches @ShwiggityShwah

Coming here had been an eye-opening experience for Brandon, that was for sure. He had taken for granted how many small tasks he had done for him back home. Patricians often had many employed servants running too and fro making their lives easier, but here Brandon could only rely on himself to get around. It wasn't exactly difficult to lug around all the small bits and bobs he needed for the lessons, but it was certainly tedious. It gave him a sense of appreciation for what everyone did for him. As much as he hated to admit, Amelia was absolutely right. The patricians were all born with silver spoons in their mouths, and they were all found floundering when bereft of their wealth and prestige. He would have to remember when he got home not to let himself get too comfortable, lest he end up the same entitled lordling he had been before he had thought to come here.

He was on the way back from a lesson when he heard a ruckus from the direction of his dormitory. He was one of the last of a line of people to come running to see the source of the commotion. When he took in the scene at hand, he couldn't have been more floored. Someone had simply blown open the door to the dormitory. "By the six-segmented stone of Stanor..." Brandon muttered to himself as he looked upon the battered door in horror. He had never seen such utter vandalism back home, merely having heard gossip from the commons about the odd Dwarf who went mad and broke something. The casual attitude to one's surroundings demonstrated by these outlanders always shocked and astounded Brandon. The culprit was quickly ascertained by virtue of the victim of Tiana's motherly lecture. The ignoble ingrate had the gall to continue answering back to his superior even when the evidence of his wrongdoing lay plain before all.

Stomping into the room, Brandon leveled a steely gaze at Marius. "Madame, please tell me we're having this vexatious vagabond strung up by his pinky toes and pilloried before the population of the Guild?" He asked of Tiana. He had his doubts his punishment would be so severe, nor that they would indulge such a specific Dwarven method of punishment. He did at least hope that they were about to discuss some method of punishment, for such an act of brazen brigandry warranted a harsh correction.

The Mage Guild of Alsijan

Brandon Argyle

Brandon Argyle

”Magic demands responisibility…so put some thought into it, you lackadaisical layabout!”

---

Nicknames: Lordling
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Appearance: Blonde of hair and brown of eye, and standing at a height of 4’9, Brandon is often characterized by his austere gaze and upright posture. He is bulky and muscular like many of his Dwarven brethren. He is almost always exceptionally well kempt, making a point of grooming even at the worst of times. His wardrobe is mostly made up of finery befitting a patrician, although Brandon is practical enough to know some situations call for equally practical outfits.

Personality: A stern and formal young man, Brandon has often been described as acting well beyond his age. Mostly out of instruction, Brandon acts the role of a Dwarven gentleman, polite and dignified in manner and dedicated to the rules and traditions of society. He can come across a touch snobbish, if only because he has been taught not to indulge in activities that are beneath him or anything that would bring his family into disrepute. He personally considers reputation highly important. He would not choose to associate with those that have made a poor name for themselves, and he considers anyone of high regard to be worth a chance if nothing else.

For all his aristocratic tendencies, Brandon is hardly incapable of getting past his upbringing. Brandon is fond of humour, and has been known to laugh so loud his bellowing shakes the room. He is not easily amused, preferring to hear jokes of sufficient wit rather than tasteless jests, and will turn his nose up at anything that doesn’t suit him. He is also quick to anger, and will make his opinion heard if overtly offended. The steely gaze he adopts when angered has been known to make grown men back away and drive young serving girls to tears. A blistering tirade awaits anyone that commits one of any of the acts he considers to be the highest of sins, and entailed in those tirades is a selection of some of the most colourful curses he has conjured up to date. Backing out of or being abjectly derelict in one’s duty is perhaps that which he hates the most, and woe befall anyone that fails to support a team he is a part of.

Biography: Anyone taking a cursory glance at the Argyle family would likely assume they were some form of nobility. While they may act the part, the Argyles have no hereditary privileges in their society, and are simply a type of gentry in their home republic. Their claim to fame is having had multiple members of the family serve as Councillors at various points of history, and even having held the position of First Councillor once. As something of a political dynasty, members of the Argyle family are often obsessed with maintaining their prestige and pursuing their own political careers.

Brandon was raised to this role by his father, who was groomed for it by his father before him and so forth. He was often called a “lordling” by common folk due to the way him and his family play at being high lords and ladies as found in other societies. As a young boy, Brandon didn’t question any of it. Certainly their society was one where every adult voted and Councillors only served at the pleasure of their voters, but as father always said, they were of a higher pedigree than most, and so it was only fitting they lead the way for the commons.

He would go on with an unquestioning subservience to his plotted course in life until he met a lady named Amelia Lannon while attending “Luca Blanc’s Academy of Higher Learning”. She too was a “lordling”, but she did not act the part a lick. She was considered a shrewish and deviant girl by her peers, constantly questioning their norms and being an enormous social gadfly. She nettled Brandon much as she did others, questioning is unwavering devotion to his family and his stuck up demeanour in general. She received a great many hostile rebukes from Brandon, but the more she pestered him, the more he wondered about the truth in her words. It was true that he had simply carried on without thinking very hard about what he was doing with his life, choosing to put faith in the wisdom of his father and forefathers. The more he thought about it, the more he questioned the wisdom of all this petty politicking personally.

Making up his mind to at least try getting beyond his entrenched lifestyle, Brandon brought up the idea of joining the Mage Guild of Alsijan. His father immediately balked at the idea. The plan had been for him to learn from prestigious Dwarven tutors. It was uncommon for a Dwarf, let alone an Argyle, to sully himself by learning from one of those alien schools of uncertain merit. He wouldn’t hear a word of it at first, but Brandon dug his heels in and insisted, claiming that broadening his horizons would help him serve Dwarven society better, perhaps by virtue of being better able to protect it against pervasive foreign influence. He didn’t have any intention of going there to help entrench xenophobia in the republics, of course, but his father enjoyed the rhetoric, and was eventually won over to the idea. Now Brandon considers himself free to learn from the Guild and decide for himself where he will be heading in life.

Affinities: Abjuration and Evocation
Craft: Artifice
Magic: Brandon has already received a degree of tutelage in the school of Abjuration. It is of course a well respected school of magic among Dwarves, and the Argyles could never resist the idea of being associated with something respectable. Brandon has a talent for barriers, having demonstrated himself to be something of an iron wall when standing tall against hostile spells.

His dabbling in Evocation is a more recent phenomenon after opening his mind, and as such is decidedly amateurish. Putting together what he could from clandestine meetings with private tutors and what books he could find, Brandon has shown some affinity for manipulating the element of Earth. Until he receives some in depth formal instruction, Brandon’s skill with Evocation will remain little more than the ability to toss around a few rocks.

Skills: Trained to be a powerful melee combatant, Brandon is well versed in the art of cleaving through his enemies using a greatsword that would give trouble even to the larger races of the world. He has also proven a crack shot with a crossbow, although he deeply prefers to get up close and personal. As a member of the upper crust of his republic, Brandon has literate and has consumed a great deal of literary work on topics ranging from magical theory to Dwarven lore and history.

The Mage Guild of Alsijan

@TaliPaendrag Hello, I would like to audition for the role of group Dwarf.

Brandon Argyle

Brandon Argyle

”Magic demands responisibility…so put some thought into it, you lackadaisical layabout!”

---

Nicknames: Lordling
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Appearance: Blonde of hair and brown of eye, and standing at a height of 4’9, Brandon is often characterized by his austere gaze and upright posture. He is bulky and muscular like many of his Dwarven brethren. He is almost always exceptionally well kempt, making a point of grooming even at the worst of times. His wardrobe is mostly made up of finery befitting a patrician, although Brandon is practical enough to know some situations call for equally practical outfits.

Personality: A stern and formal young man, Brandon has often been described as acting well beyond his age. Mostly out of instruction, Brandon acts the role of a Dwarven gentleman, polite and dignified in manner and dedicated to the rules and traditions of society. He can come across a touch snobbish, if only because he has been taught not to indulge in activities that are beneath him or anything that would bring his family into disrepute. He personally considers reputation highly important. He would not choose to associate with those that have made a poor name for themselves, and he considers anyone of high regard to be worth a chance if nothing else.

For all his aristocratic tendencies, Brandon is hardly incapable of getting past his upbringing. Brandon is fond of humour, and has been known to laugh so loud his bellowing shakes the room. He is not easily amused, preferring to hear jokes of sufficient wit rather than tasteless jests, and will turn his nose up at anything that doesn’t suit him. He is also quick to anger, and will make his opinion heard if overtly offended. The steely gaze he adopts when angered has been known to make grown men back away and drive young serving girls to tears. A blistering tirade awaits anyone that commits one of any of the acts he considers to be the highest of sins, and entailed in those tirades is a selection of some of the most colourful curses he has conjured up to date. Backing out of or being abjectly derelict in one’s duty is perhaps that which he hates the most, and woe befall anyone that fails to support a team he is a part of.

Biography: Anyone taking a cursory glance at the Argyle family would likely assume they were some form of nobility. While they may act the part, the Argyles have no hereditary privileges in their society, and are simply a type of gentry in their home republic. Their claim to fame is having had multiple members of the family serve as Councillors at various points of history, and even having held the position of First Councillor once. As something of a political dynasty, members of the Argyle family are often obsessed with maintaining their prestige and pursuing their own political careers.

Brandon was raised to this role by his father, who was groomed for it by his father before him and so forth. He was often called a “lordling” by common folk due to the way him and his family play at being high lords and ladies as found in other societies. As a young boy, Brandon didn’t question any of it. Certainly their society was one where every adult voted and Councillors only served at the pleasure of their voters, but as father always said, they were of a higher pedigree than most, and so it was only fitting they lead the way for the commons.

He would go on with an unquestioning subservience to his plotted course in life until he met a lady named Amelia Lannon while attending “Luca Blanc’s Academy of Higher Learning”. She too was a “lordling”, but she did not act the part a lick. She was considered a shrewish and deviant girl by her peers, constantly questioning their norms and being an enormous social gadfly. She nettled Brandon much as she did others, questioning is unwavering devotion to his family and his stuck up demeanour in general. She received a great many hostile rebukes from Brandon, but the more she pestered him, the more he wondered about the truth in her words. It was true that he had simply carried on without thinking very hard about what he was doing with his life, choosing to put faith in the wisdom of his father and forefathers. The more he thought about it, the more he questioned the wisdom of all this petty politicking personally.

Making up his mind to at least try getting beyond his entrenched lifestyle, Brandon brought up the idea of joining the Mage Guild of Alsijan. His father immediately balked at the idea. The plan had been for him to learn from prestigious Dwarven tutors. It was uncommon for a Dwarf, let alone an Argyle, to sully himself by learning from one of those alien schools of uncertain merit. He wouldn’t hear a word of it at first, but Brandon dug his heels in and insisted, claiming that broadening his horizons would help him serve Dwarven society better, perhaps by virtue of being better able to protect it against pervasive foreign influence. He didn’t have any intention of going there to help entrench xenophobia in the republics, of course, but his father enjoyed the rhetoric, and was eventually won over to the idea. Now Brandon considers himself free to learn from the Guild and decide for himself where he will be heading in life.

Affinities: Abjuration and Evocation
Craft: Artifice
Magic: Brandon has already received a degree of tutelage in the school of Abjuration. It is of course a well respected school of magic among Dwarves, and the Argyles could never resist the idea of being associated with something respectable. Brandon has a talent for barriers, having demonstrated himself to be something of an iron wall when standing tall against hostile spells.

His dabbling in Evocation is a more recent phenomenon after opening his mind, and as such is decidedly amateurish. Putting together what he could from clandestine meetings with private tutors and what books he could find, Brandon has shown some affinity for manipulating the element of Earth. Until he receives some in depth formal instruction, Brandon’s skill with Evocation will remain little more than the ability to toss around a few rocks.

Skills: Trained to be a powerful melee combatant, Brandon is well versed in the art of cleaving through his enemies using a greatsword that would give trouble even to the larger races of the world. He has also proven a crack shot with a crossbow, although he deeply prefers to get up close and personal. As a member of the upper crust of his republic, Brandon has literate and has consumed a great deal of literary work on topics ranging from magical theory to Dwarven lore and history.

Persona in Wonderland: A Persona RP.

Their battle was made mercifully short by the fact that there were just so many of their own. Hector had the worst feeling that there were hordes of these creatures just waiting to get in their way. It would be just his luck to find himself having to wade through miles of nettlesome shadow creatures just to get where he needed to go. As the conflict died down, it became apparent that one of their number was missing. Hector had no idea who it was they were concerned about. They had so many people, it was hard to keep track of which ones were still around, and there seemed to be a whole new bunch of them on hand for some reason. He was briefly concerned that they were so quick to write off whoever it was that had gone missing, but he did have to agree that there was little point in chasing him to parts unknown, especially when they were supposed to be doing something important.

Soon enough the rabbit found the magic macguffin they were supposed to use. Hector really couldn't care what it was as long as it got them where they needed to go. Following the others, he was distinctly unmoved by the new locale they found themselves in. Wonder and whimsy had never held his attention much, and this world had irked him enough he couldn't care less how breathtaking the environment might have been. They were here to talk to a caterpillar, or more likely a horrifying creature masquerading as a caterpillar for some unfathomable reason, and that was what Hector chose to focus on. They found their quarry eventually, and he launched into a long winded explanation. They were informed he was here to explain things to them, so Hector supposed this was to be expected. As far as he understood it, it all seemed to boil down to them needing to kill a bunch of things before they could proceed. No doubt said things were all hidden behind wave after wave of trivial, tedious underlings before providing them a long and aggravating showdown personally. Sometimes Hector hated to be proven right.

When prompted to ask questions, Hector seized the opportunity to ask one of his own. "Are you aware that this world of yours is similar to one described in a popular novel in our world? If so, do you have any idea why?" It was the painfully large elephant in the room, so Hector felt they may as well address it with the one person that would appear to have all the information in this world. Hector wasn't truly expecting a satisfactory answer, whether the caterpillar had one to give or not, but it needed to be said. He wasn't even sure if it would be better to hear that the similarities were coincidental, or that there was some weird special reason for everything, considering the implications that might have for them all. All he could do was await an answer.

@The Jest

The Skies of Elysia: Airships, Aliens, and Adventure (Closed)

As the descending visage of the Infestor bore down on Garamm, her entire countenance changed. Before, it had simply been a matter of toying around with her opponents. Reavers were not known for their love of the blade, thus there was little for her to appreciate in them. All she had been doing was letting off a little steam while she awaited the end of this invasion. The best she had expected was to put something together from all the metal left behind after the invaders had perished. But now, staring down at them all was a horrid beast that threatened to release its vile spores across the entire population, seeking to change those that lived here into techno-organic abominations in their own image, no doubt...techno-organic abominations that did not appreciate the superiority of a good, bladed weapon over their plasma toys.

There could be no greater sin than to wipe out a planet full of people who, while not fully appreciative of the sword, at least possessed the capacity to create them with love and passion. All they were to the Reavers was a backup weapon in case their sordid guns couldn't do the job properly. This would not do. Garamm placed her ship on auto-pilot, charting a course to manage some basic maneuvers in the vicinity of the Cerberus Gate. The intent was to let her focus on her plan of attack while not remaining so still she would be a sitting duck. She needed her full concentration to begin her grand bombardment, after all. Reaching out with her power, one by one the Reaver gunships harassing the Gate would find themselves ensnared and flung outwards towards the Infestor, each one detonating upon impact, gradually building into a vast panoply of explosions covering the surface of the large ship. Every last gunship she could reach out to would find itself sailing through the air to assault that which they sought to protect, and especially so for any ship bold enough to fire upon Garamm herself. She would keep going until she either ran out of ships to throw or came under too intense pressure to continue. Whatever it took to destroy that eyesore, Garamm would do it. The Reavers would pay for their lack of appreciation for the blade, or Garamm would die making them bleed for it.

Persona in Wonderland: A Persona RP.

Hector rolled his eyes as they stumbled into the midst of a pack of caricatures. It just wouldn't do for them to just get on with the fighting. No, they had to sit here and listen to them grandstand for attention. Hector was tempted to encourage the others to start an attack before they finished speaking. It didn't seem like this lot had any intention of negotiating, so it only made sense to get this over with. The decision was made for him, as one of the creatures decided to take them on personally. Hector left nonchalantly when instructed, completely ambivalent as to whether the mouse fought them or they did. They did have a specific goal in mind after all, and it was more important to reach it than dither with random fights.

It appeared random fights were the watchword of the world, unfortunately, as they ended up encountering something else to waste their time on. As far as Hector was concerned, these bland opponents were a mercy compared to having to endure the tedious-sounding flippantry of those other enemies. While the others began to panic over the effectiveness of their weapons, Hector distinctly recalled the male version of the rabbit informing them that the "Chronovokers" were the keystone to their powers in this world. He couldn't blame anyone for forgetting, seeing as they had been so overloaded with information as of late it was a wonder he had managed to recall this himself. Calmly, Hector opened the watch and attempted to focus.

Wordlessly, Hector called forth his own spiritual manifestation. An almost demonic figure erupted from the depths of his consciousness, and with but a thought, one of the tongued beasts burst into flame. All this majesty and spectacle, and all Hector could care for was that he was finally getting results. "That's all that matters, ultimately." He heard like a whisper from behind him. He absolutely had to agree. All that was left was to see that everything barring their path met a similar fate.