Azereiah

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

...I kinda miss this place. Kinda. It was always too slow for me, but... I liked a lot of the characters, and I made some friends through it. RIP.

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

Some Months Later

---

6:00 AM, November 1st, 1210PW. 16 Degrees Fahrenheit. Overcast, Foggy.

---

"Welcome to the Institute. Keep your head down, keep your voice down, and keep your conflicts to the arenas, and you'll fit in just fine. Probably. Unless you do something enormously stupid." - The Headmaster

---

Once again, the Institute was woken up by various bedside alarms, violently vibrating beds, overhead lights switching on, and the like (dependent on what actually worked for any given student), just as it had been ever since the beginning of the new year. Normally, students saw the outdoor spaces nice and empty through their windows, and aside from the alarms and the sounds of their fellow students shifting about and getting ready for their day, the grounds were dead silent. The grounds were dead silent on this day as well, save for the quiet footsteps of one Professor Brovak outdoors, who was seen crossing through the path through the jungle-like dormitory commons to the north for the first time. A car-pulled wagon drove up the road on the east side of the dormitory quad, covered in an utterly enormous amount of crates and canvas sacks, all tied down with some impressive ropework. It wasn't moving any faster than the ancient professor was, as if the driver were trying to be seen by as many students as possible before finally passing the dormitories.

For the past several months, the school had been effectively ramping up to its usual "harder" schedule, and to signify the shift, there was to be some sort of event beyond the track and field. Whatever it was was a well-kept secret by the staff, though past years' events had included feasts, dances, a tournament amongst first year students, celebrations of esoteric and foreign holidays, talent shows, and the like. Whatever was planned though, it was definitely going to be interesting, if not outright dangerous in some way.

The Harvest Festival had gone off without a hitch just two weeks prior, and some of the more grumpy students and staff groaned and complained about the "back-to-back events" this month, despite having visibly had a very good time watching the Parade of Trolls dance their way across the Institute's grounds to scare away the winter cold, getting into fights with one another over petty rumors and romances, and getting absolutely plastered on the strongest harvest ales known to man. These curmudgeonly sorts would no doubt change their tunes once again when the event actually happened, but in the meantime, they would likely maintain their loud complaints for the weeks of preparation.

Perhaps more importantly than the celebrations, though, the academic year's first-quarter tests had recently ended. Nobody had received or would receive the grade they made on the test, and this was how the staff preferred it. In truth, the first-quarter test was just a formality, and all of the papers were given a quick glance for answers so utterly ridiculous that they had to be addressed, prior to being 'accidentally' lost during grading. By the entire school staff. In a bonfire. On their day off.

Today was also a day off for most of the staff, save for those working on the event's preparations. In place of classes, there was to be a field demonstration and a mock battle overseen by the Unoctocan Imperial Battlemage Corps, who were in turn only overseen by Administrator Boorkat Malkin (which was more than a fair arrangement, as it had become common knowledge that the only person at the Institute the Imperial Battlemages feared more than Professor Brovak was Malkin, for reasons unknown - the most ridiculous and popular theory being that they collectively had a shellfish allergy).

The clocks finally chimed in for students to go to and sit in the backs of their respective trucks, where they would be taken to the field. Breakfast would be served on-site in the form of Unoctocan military ration packs consisting of various canned pickled vegetables and canned pureed meats, with small pouches of instant coffee, some water, a disposable mini-stove, crackers, and a packet of gravy. Most of it tasted like cardboard, save for the vegetables, which tasted like brine. For many students, this would be the first time ever seeing the Imperial Battlemages. Two dozen men, women, and chimeras of indeterminate gender were seated at a different set of portable tables some twenty yards away from the students, and an extremely tall, hawkish woman seemed to lord over them. Their common uniform consisted of a blood red greatcoat and a matching garrison cap, with a steel cuirass. Most had taken off their cuirass and were using it as a sort of impromptu chair.

The tall woman was sporting a blood red greatcoat with white epaulettes with golden tassels, a white-gold cuirass beneath the open greatcoat, and a blood red kepi sat atop her short black hair. The front of her coat was covered in a dozen badges and medals of all sorts, and those familiar with the stories of the Empire's great heroes would recognize her as the younger sister of First General Cazel Uoyvvo, Clarissa Uoyvvo, most famous for holding the frontier town of Saraguss against a combined siege by deadlands Monsters and barbarian tribes for four months straight with only twenty soldiers at her disposal, without losing a single soldier or civilian life. Even Monsters and rural farmers had heard her name in passing, and she was known almost as well as her sister, the famed warrior-poet and commander of the Imperial Guard, or even the Kaiser himself, blessed be his name.

---

Months Prior - The First Classes

---

First Year Magic Theory - Beginner and Advanced - Combined Class

Brovak's classroom in the research building was less a classroom and more a large lecture hall, with rounded and terraced desks surrounding a single desk and an enormous blackboard at the front of the room. Everything in the room was coated with a thin layer of dust, and a number of cobwebs had taken up residence in the corners at the ceilings, and under the dark hardwood desks. The only thing that wasn't coated in dust were a series of patches on the ground leading from the entrance to the Professor's desk, pacing marks, and a rounded spot at the top of the teacher's desk where a coffee mug had taken roost every day for years.

When the students entered the room, they found that they were in mixed company - remedial, introductory, and advanced classes crammed into one room, and students filed into the rows between desks to take their seats. The instant that the first student began to retrieve their notebook from their bag, Brovak entered the room from a door in the back, sipped an enormous cup of coffee, and placed it perfectly on the dust-free patch of desk, and began pacing and tracing over what seemed to be years' worth, if not decades' worth, of footprints across the otherwise dust-coated floor.

Brovak didn't speak until all students were seated, and what felt like a harsh gaze out from beneath his goggles effectively silenced most idle conversation. When he did begin speaking, his voice was just as hollow and harsh as it had always been, save for the tiniest hint of life and enthusiasm tinting it a slightly lighter shade. And he spoke very, very quickly.

"Welcome to The Institute. Put your books and your notebooks and your pens away, you will not be needing them here. This is my Magical Theory class, and you will become well acquainted with it throughout your time as undergraduate students. Speak in turn only, or at designated break and conversation times, or I will be forced to Silence you for the remainder of the class period. Maintain orderly conduct at all times and refrain from engaging in petty conflict in my classroom or there will be trouble. If I instruct you to do something, I expect it to be done the way I instruct you to do it. I will not make any unreasonable requests, and I do not assign homework. I only demand that you make an effort to think on what you learn here. Those are my only rules. For all others, refer to the Institute Guidelines handbooks I am passing out... Now."

While all eyes were trained on the Professor or on one another, a small planner handbook appeared in front of each student on top of the lecture hall desks with no signs of magic usage or flashes or sounds, beyond what could only barely be visible to those with innate Vision talents.

"Read those in your spare time. Or don't - I don't particularly care for Institute guidelines, and I don't care if you follow them so long as you follow my rules. This class is not like your other classes. There is no book learning to be had. We will not be discussing the theories of long-dead philosophers, and I ask that you disregard all prior assumptions as to what magic is while we're together. What we will be doing is spending all of our time in two places - the Laboratories, and the Field, as those are the only places where one may develop an instinctual understanding of magic. For now, we will be entering the field, until I am confident that your class - be it remedial, introductory, or advanced first-year magic theory - is ready to enter the laboratories."

Brovak stopped pacing and took a long drag from his coffee cup. "All rise and gather your things. We're leaving, so follow me. Keep up, as I will not wait for stragglers."

And so he took his coffee cup, and walked steadily and forcefully to the classroom entrance. When the class had gathered behind him, he exited the room, and the crowd followed him down the staircase to the first floor of the Research Building, where upperclassmen were once more pushing about carts of experiment materials and blueprints of all kinds. And then they kept going. Outside, to the west, northwards, past the library, and eventually beyond the Athletics building to a small rocky ridge perhaps seven feet tall and thirty feet wide, a solid half mile from their starting point. Brovak jumped off the edge of the ridge, and indicated for the class to follow him.

Whether they jumped or climbed or walked around the ridge, he indicated a gap between a series of rocks, which moved and grew at his command. A large slab of stone fell to the ground, and he stood atop it. "Please stand on this stone. We still have a ways to go to our destination. And try not to vomit on one another on the way down - the laundry rooms are already overloaded as it is."

The class descended into the hole atop the stone for longer than seemed reasonable, until the stuffy and hot feeling of their cramped tunnel gave way to the cooler, stagnant air of a deep cavern. A soft white glow formed above Brovak's head, illuminating the cavern and revealing rows upon rows of 'steps' of limestone, carved by centuries of trickling water. He took a seat, and indicated for the rest of the class to do the same.

"Right now, we are two kilometers beneath the Institute Library. In a few moments, I will extinguish our light, and we will listen to and feel the cavern and the earth. Think deeply on what you hear. When the light returns, we will discuss what we hear and feel in the bones of the land. As a warning, anybody who states that they hear nothing here will automatically fail this class. So if you're too closed-minded to listen to the earth, at least do the rest of us a favor and keep your mouth shut during the discussion."

Eventually, the class came to a close, having discussed the sounds and the feelings and warmth of the earth itself, how every vibration felt and heard was the effect of something ongoing above or around them, or of tectonic activity, or of the molten core dozens of kilometers beneath. An ongoing theme of the discussion, as driven by Brovak, was the raw power that every single vibration and sense of warmth below the earth represented, including even the weakest and most subtle feelings, and the feelings of breathing and heartbeats and heat from one another. How one vibration might be the shifting of a mole through its tunnels, how another might be the distant footsteps of Professor Malovroch in its office, how others still may be the cracking of stone hundreds of miles away in Flynenhael or the Rocky Gorge, and so on and so forth. After returning to the classroom just moments before the class was scheduled to end, Brovak issued a closing statement.

"Like I said before, no homework. Think on what you've felt today until our next class, and why I brought you there. It's important. We will be further exploring the field in search of what magic is at its core when we meet again, though I hope we will all be ready for Laboratory experimentation by the start of the next month. You're dismissed, and I'll see you all at your regular scheduled class dates later this week."

Introduction to Vision

Like the previous class with Professor Brovak, Introduction to Vision was also in the Research Building, in a lecture hall, and the new students only had to walk a short way up the hallway to reach it. Professor Vance was already in the room, finishing writing down various bits of class information on the enormous blackboard. Or rather, on the bottom half of the blackboard - her height did her no favors.

When the students had assembled in their seats, Professor Vance stood atop a small crate in the center of the room in front of her desk, hands clasped behind her back, and started the class.

"Welcome to the introductory Vision courses. I am Professor Emilya Vance, and I'll be your teacher this semester. You should all have received an Institute handbook from Professor Brovak. There's a list of class materials you'll need on page twelve, right after the Institute's rules list. You'll also need to check out the books I've listed on the blackboard at the Library, so I suggest writing them down in case you forget."

The list of class materials in the handbook mentioned that all items could be picked up at the Warehouse building next to the Administrative building for free in the school shop. They included a small hand-telescope, a magnifying glass, a compass, a barometer, a magnetometer, and something listed as a 'Kavensir Gauge'.

The books on the blackboard were The Complete Guide to Basic Sight, 12th Edition (Prewitt & Hakkar), The Mystery of Old Mordhaben by Alistair Haemlyn, and The Muses by Don Miguel Hozez (more commonly known as the crown prince of Airelosia).

After a couple minutes, the tiny professor gathered a stack of papers from atop her desk and handed them to the students in the front rows nearest the exit staircase. "Take one, pass it on."

They were blank, and some of the students started drawing or writing on the papers. When the sheets were fully passed around the room, Professor Vance spoke again. "Please don't damage or lose these worksheets. You'll need to bring them back to me at the beginning of our next class." The students who were scribbling on the papers stopped immediately.

"Before we begin the lecture: 'Why is Vision so important?', some of you may be asking. Well for one thing, if you don't explode or incinerate yourself practicing theoretical magic without sufficient Vision, you may find yourself trapped in a child's body until the day you die. It's not fun. And I'm one of the lucky idiots. "

For the remainder of the class, Professor Vance covered the very basics of what Vision could be described as, and how it had already impacted everyone's lives in the forms of prophetic dreams - including those who otherwise thought they had no Vision talent at all. It was described as being more than a feeling - more like actual eyesight, or scent, or touch than anything, but still difficult for most to tap into. Vision's ability to influence and magnify one's abilities as a mage were briefly touched on, and a more in-depth explanation as to how one's knowledge of the 'real world' made it easier to use was given. In other words, the more a mage knows about any given subject that they can verify, the more accurate their Vision will be.

In ancient times, Vision was described as being 'blurry', 'splotchy', like an incomplete portrait. Modern Seers and academics, however, describe it as being almost clear, save for occasional blank patches, and when they attempt to look too closely at what they see or try to look too far from their current time or location, the Vision falls apart and they are left with nothing but darkness. Over time, it has been accepted that blankness and blurriness represents a lack of knowledge on one's part. Incomplete knowledge manifests as blurs or as generic concepts in one's mind - one can attach a name to these formless things that they see, but they don't know enough to be able to fully identify its shape and characteristics. Completely missing knowledge is simply not there, save for patches of void, almost disturbingly empty and blank.

But even Seers and mages without advanced knowledge of the world can piece things together and see patterns in the world, which in turn allows them to fill in these blank spaces with something. The most talented Seers and mages are able to piece together seemingly unrelated knowledge like immediate air currents and archaeology to determine when a person they know will die, and so on and so forth.

Finally, nearing the end of the class, Professor Vance covered obscuration: the method by which Mages can disrupt one anothers' Vision with misdirections, obstacles, and lights through the use of Compromise. One's attempts at using Vision can be detected by another using Vision as well, and from that point forwards, it is easy to draw lines of magical energy across their Sight or tamper with the world in minor ways. What one Seer Sees can be Seen by another Seer in turn, and in combat, Vision often plays just as big of a role as actual fighting ability. It devolves into a strategy game that can only end in victory, defeat, stalemates, and more often than not, forfeiture.

And with that, the lecture on Vision ended. "When you pick up your materials, you'll need to read the first two chapters of The Complete Guide to Basic Sight and The Mystery of Old Mordhaben before your next class this week. As for the worksheets, when you're finished with your reading, use what you learned in your assigned reading to complete them before you return. You're dismissed."

Introduction to Compromise

Professor Thorne's class gathered outside of the door to his room in the upper Research Building, where they could hear two people in the midst of a heated discussion. With some strained listening with an ear pressed to the door, a younger student correctly identified them as professors Thorne and Brovak.

Eavesdropping

"After your conduct at the entrance exam, Thorne, you should consider yourself lucky that you still have this job. You know the rules just as well as I do."

"We're all mature, mm, some of us very mature, adults and young adults capable of making our own decisions and risking our lives. To deny one of the most essential pleasures of life is just ridiculous. Ridiculous!"

"Thorne, please. I don't want to have to teach this class as well as my own."

"You know what I think? I think you're just jealous. You haven't gotten laid in years!"

"And how do you know that exactly?"

"It's obvious! You're old, you're angry all the time, and you smell awful. You've gotta do something about that."

"Thorne, let's put it this way: behave yourself or Malkin will be the least of your worries. You are an embarrassment to mages everywhere as it is. Fix it, or I will."

"No promises."

A soft 'pop' could be heard inside the room, and Thorne marched up the lecture hall steps and swung the door inwards. He was of perfectly average height with an average, yet very athletic build, and very slightly red-brown reptilian eyes indicating his heritage as a late-generation Chimera. Aside from his eyes, he was very conventionally attractive by human standards, no doubt due to endless grooming and fiddling with magic, and he seemed to be somewhere in his early twenties. Anyone who had read his staff file would know he was, in fact, thirty-one.

"Alright, let's get started! Welcome to Compromise, yedda yedda, blah blah, I'm Professor Thorne, but the ladies can just call me Xander," he said with a wink. "What do you all know of magic?", he asked, and several students raised their hands. "You first, then you, then you, then you." His fingertip floated around the room as he called the students out in order of least attractive to most, as if he were saving the best for last.

Student one said, "Uh, it's based on Vision, Foundation, and Compromise...?"
Student two said, "It's a type of energy like light or electricity."
Student three said, "Well, mah mamaw used to use magic fer all the yardwork, so Ah know it's good 'fer plantin' potatoes n' fixin' fences n' killin' virehounds. Ah always fel' a lil' funneh afterwards tho'."
And finally, student four said, "It's extremely dangerous if used improperly."

Professor Thorne's face steadily twisted into a greater smile with each answer, and at the last, he exclaimed, "Ding, ding, ding! You're right, you're all right, but you there, young man, you're the most right. Magic. Is. Dangerous. It can be absolutely disastrous if used improperly, like so:"

He turned to the first student who had answered, and simply said, "You are a pretty lady."
And so the student was. The student was visibly shocked by his sudden transformation, and when one of the girls sitting nearby passed him a mirror, he fainted. The poor boy wasn't suited to being forcibly crammed into a woman's body. Students nearby gathered around him, worriedly making sure he was still breathing and that he didn't have a heart attack or something.

"Give her some space, everyone, she'll wake up in a moment."

The student eventually came to his senses and sat back up, still thoroughly terrified and obviously in serious distress over his suddenly wearing the wrong body. Professor Thorne had made his point well, and the other students were worriedly whispering amongst themselves, taking notes, and pulling out their Foundation guidebooks to skim the pages.

"Y'know, that mens' jacket looks pretty good on the girls. Maybe I should file a suggestion to the dress code committee... Anywho! If you don't want something like that to happen, or worse, then listen up: When you use Compromise, you have to word your arguments and your intents very, very clearly, because if you're not careful, you might just get exactly what you asked for."

Thorne was still wearing his signature grin.

"Moving on... Everyone partner up! I've seen your test scores from the entrance exam, so I have faith you won't be able to do anything too serious to eachother. Everyone got a buddy? Good. Now, I'm giving each pair a large clay ball. What you do with it is up to you - but it's to be shared, and you're to both try to force it to do whatever you want through your own understanding of Compromise. I want you to work against eachother in shaping the clay until the end of class. I've already written down your homework inside your handbooks."

The Professor returned to his seat at his desk and turned to his earlier victim. "And you, young miss, should see me after class for some... extra credit."

He then leaned back in his chair, threw one foot over the other on top of his desk, and relaxed. His victim was still a girl, and nobody had figured out how to undo Thorne's bewitchment.

After some time of fighting against eachother over clay balls, the class ended, and Thorne was still relaxing. "Class is over."

The students swarmed around the room's door, including the boy who'd been gender swapped. He intended to go to the medical building immediately, and he refused to spend more time in a room with this professor than he absolutely had to. The door swung open outwards, revealing a very, very angry Professor Katarina Volkova, wearing gauntlets.

"Move along, please. And you, young man, come here," Volkova said as she gave the victim a quick lookover, and in an instant, he was back to his original male body. "You may go. I'll deal with him."

She stepped into the room and the door slammed shut behind her, followed by the sounds of broken bones and screams of pain.

Introduction to Foundation

When the class entered the Foundation classroom in the Research Building, Professor Hans Vance was standing in front of his desk, ready to meet his new students. The first thing students would notice about Professor Hans Vance was his size. He was utterly enormous, bulging with muscles that put the Kio-Farat fraternity to shame. The second thing students would notice that he was covered in bandoliers over his olive-green Institute greatcoat, and strapped to his belt, his harness, and to a strap slung over his shoulder were a truly monstrous array of weapons.

If anyone ever attacked the Institute, Professor Vance was ready for them.

"Welcome to Introductory Foundation. I'm Professor Hans Vance, or just Professor Hans, if you'd like. Please take a seat and we'll get started shortly."

As he spoke, the class obeyed, and once the students were seated, he spoke again: "Now, if you can use Compromise at all, raise your hands."

Most of the class raised their hands, save for a few who were definitely going to find themselves in Remedial Compromise at some point.

"Good, good. Now, I want you to all try to hurt me with Compromise. Don't hold back."

The students looked at one another, murmured to themselves, and eventually shrugged. If he was asking them to, he probably had a good reason. One by one, they cast spells in his direction - conjuring weapons and flinging them at him, blasting him with fireballs, attempting to freeze him in place, twisting his personal timeline, and the like. And not a single bit of magic hit him. Instead, it seemed as though the magic all simply faded into nothing when it came within a few feet of him. And all the students who had taken part looked very uncomfortable.

"That's enough. Now... Tell me what you felt when your magic didn't work."

"W-well, er, Professor V-Vance... Er, Professor Hans... It was... Bad. Like pouring water down a well."

"Good, good. Next?"

"It felt like someone was shouting 'No!' inside my head every time I tried to do anything. Like... I was a toddler caught stealing cookies by my mother."

"Gooood! Anyone else?"

"I... don't know what I felt. I guess I didn't feel anything, which is kinda freaky, because I can always feel what my magic is doing..."

"And perfect. Now, as you'll have all figured out, the common theme here is that it's intensely uncomfortable on a deep level to have your magic nullified by Foundation. My goals in this class are threefold. First, I want to teach you how to use Foundation as I did, to actively protect yourselves from all magical effects that you believe are undesirable. Second, I want to teach you how to fight through that instinctual terror when fighting against a Foundation user. And third, I want to teach you how to identify passive magical effects and enchantments, and how to actively apply Foundation to an enchanted object. So, who thinks they want to know all of those things?"

Most of the class raised their hands, save for a boy in the back who had fallen asleep. "You, in the corner. Can you knock on Falker's desk and wake him up?" The student nodded, then smacked their fist into the boy's desk, waking him sharply. Professor Vance stood up and walked to a rear door leading presumably to an office, and opened the door. "Mr. Falker, you want to stay in my class, right?"

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Alright. Please make sure you get to sleep at a reasonable time every night, then," Hans said, rummaging about in the back room. Eventually he returned with a large cup in his hands, and he walked up the back stairs of the lecture hall, down the aisle, and placed the cup on Falker's desk. "Drink. It'll help."

With that, Professor Hans returned to his desk. "Now... Like I was saying, everyone who wants to learn what I'm willing to teach, you will need to be on time every time. Bring your firearms with you, and keep them well cleaned, well oiled, and in top condition - it will help with your Foundation training. Because while Foundation is largely passive, it requires..."

He slammed his fist on his desk and suddenly shouted, "CONSTANT. VIGILANCE." Some of the students jumped in surprise or fell backwards in their chairs.

"...Like so. If that were a magical attack, everyone who was scared or surprised or jumped would have been toasted alive. You all understand, right?"

The remainder of the class was a preliminary lecture on how exactly Foundation worked. Foundation required passively using Vision (while most Mages can tell when other Mages are using Vision, almost all Mages who aren't actively attempting to be stealthy maintain low grade, passive Sight, and doing so won't draw any attention to yourself). Using Vision passively would allow one to over time begin to understand how the world is supposed to be, and thus nullify any Compromise attempting to change the space that one is occupying. Foundation was most powerful when applied to one's own body, rather than surrounding space. But Foundation, while it could nullify magical effects, couldn't nullify the aftereffects of magical effects. For instance, Foundation could stop a stream of magical fire, but it wouldn't be able to undo the sheer heat or any burns caused by said fire. And it certainly couldn't be used to resurrect someone whose heart had been stopped by nerve control magic.

Foundation, furthermore, had limits based on each person's own skill. Even Professor Vance, a master of Foundation, had his limits. So far, the only ones ever found to have virtually limitless Foundation potential were the Abyssal Fiends, like Professor Malovroch.

Near the end of class, Professor Vance demonstrated Foundation limits with two pitchers, one of which had a lid, and the other had water. He carved a small hole in the top of the pitcher's lid, then lifted the other pitcher.

"This water represents someone using Compromise. The lid here represents someone using Foundation. It's not a problem right now...", he said, pouring a very light stream of water onto the other pitcher's lid. The water pooled slightly on the lid, but all eventually went down through the hole in the lid, and fell into the pitcher.

"But everyone has their limit. What happens when someone's Compromise is simply too powerful?", he asked, and he tilted his pitcher of water further. Water pooled on top of the lid, and water continued leaking through into the bottom of the pitcher safely, but after a moment it overflowed and water streamed down the sides of the jug onto the floor.

"Your job is to raise that limit. Study the world, study Foundation theory here, and learn as much as you possibly can so you know how to say 'No!' to magical effects. Your job is to do... This," he continued, and he jabbed his knife into the lid of the pitcher on his desk once more, carving a much, much wider hole. He continued pouring, and eventually he just dumped his entire jug of water into the pitcher on the desk with no problem.

"Widen your defenses, raise your limits. Make that hole bigger, because you don't want anyone else's magic making a mess around you, right?"

He put down the pitcher, knelt down, and wiped up the water all over the floor with a towel he had prepared earlier, then wiped up the water that had spilled over his desk.

"Your homework for the week is to read the first chapter of Foundation of Magic, and write a short essay on the contents. Aim for one thousand words, but if you can make it small and summarize it well enough that your drunk uncle would understand it at a holiday dinner, that would be even better. You're dismissed."

Botanical Sciences

The Botanical Sciences class was held not in a classroom, but rather, in the garden between the Social Building and the Arts Building, shaded from the sunlight by the overhead canopy of foliage, flowers, and vines. The sun almost didn't reach the ground, which was coated in heavy yet soft grasses, and Groundskeeper Billy paced about, pruning plants, spraying aphid-bitten leaves with weak pesticides, and sweeping dead leaves into the darker shade where they would one day become soil. The old man had provided seats in the form of chopped log sections, with the tops magically smoothed into comfy chairs by carpentry students from the Arts Building.

When his students arrived in full, Groundskeeper Billy took a quick roll call and looked intensely at each student to remember their faces. And then he called them to a large rolling metal shelving unit he had prepared beforehand. On each shelf was a tray full of small plastic flower pots, separated into species and each tingling with just barely perceptible magical energy.

"Each of you, choose a flower and take it from the tray. You'll be taking care of them for the rest of the semester - I'd suggest putting them on your windowsill in your dorm rooms. If your flower is still alive by the time finals come around, I'll add an extra fifty points to your final grade, up to the maximum of 1,000. Think of it as extra credit. Don't worry, they're extremely durable. Just remember to water them every morning when you wake up and they should be fine... barring any complications, and there will be complications. You'll figure it out when it happens."

"Now, return to your seats and open your copies of The Manual for Field Herblore. Read the front page introduction, and tear that page out, then pass your pages forwards to me."

The front page's introduction was a rambling passage on how the book contained a detailed description of every plant species between Hasval, Mordbauvin, and Swazivan, and the tone of writing seemed very confident. When the students had done as Billy asked, he conjured a flame beneath the stack in hand and torched them all above one of the compost heaps, steadily shaking and tapping the pages as they burned until all of the scattered ash had joined the dark, wet dirt.

"If you ever see a textbook or field manual that says something like that in the future, tear it out, because it's flat-out wrong. Those flowers I gave each of you? I don't even know what most of them are, so it's your job to document what they do as they grow. Documenting each stage of their growth, and what their needs are, will earn you an additional one hundred and fifty points. If your flower dies this semester, document the exact circumstances under it died, and that will earn you fifty points as well."

"Now, please turn to page six hundred and twenty-one. Give it a quick skim."

Page 621

The page in question showed intensely detailed sketches of the common crystalline saw-grass found everywhere in Swazivan, southern Mordbauvin, and much of the Deadlands, along with its common names and its scientific name. Neopoa Volnus, or Bladegrass, Plainglass, Razorweed, and the like.

Neopoa Volnus is the most common member of the kingdom Xenoplantae, and as such, it is intensely magically active, and incorporates magical energy into its life cycle. Like all other members of Xenoplantae, Neopoa Volnus does not require sunlight, but rather, feeds off of the energy given off by all species of Monster. Notably, the only places where Neopoa Volnus is incapable of growing are the northern and southern ice caps, and only at the centers of these regions. There is more than enough energy present for this form of grass to appear anywhere else. Unlike other grasses, when Neopoa Volnus is malnourished, it still grows to full size, albeit more slowly, and merely fails at reproducing and spreading.

Neopoa Volnus's complex root system is, like its fruiting bodies, glasslike, and the entire plant may be harvested and used as a construction material or as a tool. Neopoa Volnus's most common use is by the nomads of Swazivan, who have historically harvested its fruiting bodies for use as arrowheads and spears.

Harvesting Neopoa Volnus is dangerous, however, as it routinely sheds its husk in the form of miniscule silicate particles to maintain its extraordinarily sharp edge. Typical gardening gloves are insufficient, and it is recommended that while handling Neopoa Volnus, one should wear gloves of woven, flexible metallic fibers, or chainmail. Fortunately for gardeners and groundskeepers alike, though, Neopoa Volnus doesn't typically produce any known allergens or toxins.

People have not yet succeeded in creating tools that come anywhere near the sharpness of this plant's bladelike fruiting bodies, though it is extremely brittle and delicate, to the point that windy areas are littered with the dead and snapped husks of Neopoa Volnus's fruiting bodies, dulled in death but still useful as hunting tools. These dead husks are commonly collected, melted down, and poured into moulds by the glassmakers of Swazivan.

Neopoa Volnus has two distinct subspecies - Neopoa Volnus Vulgaris, which is found outside of the Deadlands, and Neopoa Volnus Volnus, which is most commonly found inside or near the Deadlands. The two can be identified by the tint of their fruiting bodies. Neopoa Volnus Vulgaris's fruiting bodies are almost completely transparent and colorless, whereas Neopoa Volnus Volnus's fruiting bodies are tinted a faint shade of purple. Neopoa Volnus Volnus's color is the result of the potent neurotoxins coursing through the plant, which are steadily expelled in the form of gases.

In areas with sufficient density of Neopoa Volnus Volnus growth like the deepest reaches of the Deadlands, the atmosphere becomes deadly to all Human and Chimera life, and the slightest breath will cause irreversible damage to the nervous system, initially manifesting as a cardiac arrhythmia, and eventually progressing to delusions, hallucinations, and memory loss, followed by progressive paralysis, and finally death via asphyxiation when this paralysis reaches the diaphragm.

Despite the danger represented by Neopoa Volnus Volnus's neurotoxin in its gaseous form, it is only harmful if breathed in, and does not successfully transmit via direct contact with the bloodstream. Pureblooded Monsters are completely immune, and it has been suggested that this subspecies was bred by the Monsters of the Deadlands with area denial in mind.

While the students read the page, Groundskeeper Billy produced two blades of the grass in question, each the size of a grown man's forearm, two inches thin at the bases, and sharp enough to accidentally kill a man at the very tip. The bases of the grass were crunched and folded, forming a safe grip, and Groundskeeper Billy held them aloft like swords. He gave them a short wave, and despite their light weight, they did not flex at all.

"So, raise your hands if you have this plant in your back yard."

Billy raised the colorless blade, and roughly half of the students raised their hands. He then thrust the tip of the blade into the side of a nearby tree, and a soft crunching sound could be heard, followed by the tip of the plant falling out of the other side in pieces. He withdrew the remainder of the blade, with a soft grinding noise, pulling a series of long glass splinters with it, and the remainder of the blade snapped and fell off of the 'grip' with the next breeze.

"Now. Raise your hands if you have this plant in your back yard."

He held aloft the other blade, which seemed almost colorless, but under direct sunlight cast a very distinct pinkish shadow upon the ground. The same students started to slowly raise their hands, but after one lowered his hand, most of the rest went down. Only five students out of thirty were confident.

"That's bad. Very, very bad. For everyone with their hand raised, your homework assignment is to write a letter to your families, friends, or whoever else happens to be living at your old homes, telling them to kill this plant at all costs. Over time, Deadlands Bladegrass will crossbreed with Common Bladegrass if not carefully managed, and the last thing anybody wants is for the Deadlands to get even bigger. Thankfully, you can get rid of it by snapping the blades off at the base using a stick or some other long tool each time it gets taller than a few inches."

For the remainder of the class, Billy rambled on about the differences between the kingdoms of Plantae and Xenoplantae. Xenoplantae, the Monstrous equivalent of Plantae, differed from Plantae in that energy was almost never absorbed through sunlight, but rather through either converted heat or pure magical energy. Xenoplantae as a kingdom was extremely expansive and aggressive, and the tall, broad-headed mushroom trees that dotted the landscape alongside more 'normal' and common trees acted as area denial to any and all plants that require sunlight to survive. Plants grow happily above ground and in shallow regions of the ocean, but not commonly underground, whereas Xenoplants grow everywhere that magic-attuned animals live (be they Monster or non-Monster), including the deepest reaches of the earth where Abyssal Fiends and their prey dwell.

The lesson then ended fifteen minutes early, and Billy encouraged everyone who wanted to to explore the garden with him, where he told the students the names and homelands of any plant they asked about. Most of the questions were about the glowing fruit pods hanging from the vines - one of the few innately safe Deadlands plants, bred for bioluminescence by Monsters as an alternative to sunlight, and known most commonly as Chokelights for their parasitic nature and tendency to slow the growth of shroomtrees.

Political Science and Economics

On Wednesday, just before Lunch, students walked the halls, chatting away with their social groups as usual, and Professor Gnome Chompi's class waited in the hallway outside of the Political Science and Economics room's locked door. Fifteen minutes after class was supposed to have begun, the door was still locked, and an impatient student got up and left. After twenty minutes, more had left, and several students had gotten up and knocked at the door.

At the third knock, the door latches clicked, and the door opened to reveal a tiny, ancient professor with an unusually large head, wearing a button-down shirt, a bowtie, and a fitted brown tweed blazer. The professor looked over his round bifocals up at the students and motioned for them to come with him into the class. It was not a lecture hall like many other classes, and in fact, completely lacked chairs of any sort. The room had a blackboard with a stool under it, upon which Professor Chompi immediately sat, and he surveyed the class as they decided amongst themselves on standing or seating arrangements before coming to an arrangement featuring separations by clique, with the standing students taking up lines along the side walls and the back wall, with a free path between the door and each cluster of students.

Professor Chompi then leapt from his stool and approached one student - a small human girl in glasses, carrying a heavy bag, armed with a notebook and a pen - and he whispered something in her ear before returning to his stool. "Miss, I am willing to offer you U250 for your copy of The Mystery of Old Mordhaben. If you look at the inside of the rear cover, you will find this is a very, very generous offer, and I suggest that you take it."

She reached into her bag and pulled the book out, and as he suggested, checked the rear cover. "The Minimum Suggested Retail Price of that book should be roughly U50, and you need the money, don't you?"

Professor Chompi's gaze roamed across the class, many of whom were either not paying attention, gossiping about how and why the class was starting so late, what the Professor could possibly have been doing before the class started, or looking at eachother, at Chompi himself, and the girl he was addressing. After a few seconds, the girl stood up and brought her book to him, and he handed over a comically large wad of Unoctocan bank notes bound in a rubber band, which she greedily stuffed into her jacket pocket.

"Now that that's out of the way... I noticed that not everyone is here. Why isn't my class full?"

Murmurs, annoyed looks, and the like. "And more importantly, why didn't you think to knock more and get my attention?", Chompi asked, his face twisted into a slight frown like the inbetween point between apathy and disappointment.

"Alright, alright, no matter - let's get started with the lecture. Some of you might have been wondering why the Political Science class and the Economics class are one and the same. It's simple, really - politics are just an aftereffect of economics, and are in a way the trade of promises and desires, similar to the trade of money for a book or food. Every political system is like this, from the Unoctocan Empire to Airelosia to Flynenhael. The core difference is who is trading what promises to whom. In the Unoctocan Empire, people are buying promises of security and glory. In Airelosia, people are buying hope. In Flynenhael, people are buying a sense of community."

The lecture continued on for the remainder of the two hour class, with Professor Chompi standing atop his stool, scribbling words all over the blackboard and drawing lines between them all. The more intuitive students would get it immediately, whereas the others would take some time to understand exactly what he was talking about half the time, if they ever understood it at all.

At some point, he shifted from speaking about politics to describing different forms of trades, and what students could expect to learn from his class that would personally benefit them in an immediate and concrete way. Money, food, shelter, friendships, entertainment, and even their future. Of particular note, he covered the simplest explanations of why banking was a double-edged sword, and yet an almost unavoidable one for most people in the Unoctocan Empire, with the alternative being a greater risk of loss to robbery.

"Banks make money by the millions, and they do so by investing it in the forms of loans. When you take out a loan, what happens? The simplest explanation is that you are given access to a sum of resources, and you are expected to pay it back - with interest, and a contract. Failing to pay back the banks in the Unoctocan Empire will result in being unable to take out loans in the future, and depending on the circumstances, potentially imprisonment and asset forfeiture, and you will work off the remaining value of the loan with hard labor."

"The Banks are not your friends. They are a tool by which people purchase security for their money in exchange for lower risk of total financial loss (as one cannot steal your life's savings if they're stored on pen and paper with a bank), and they are a tool for those already with money to make even more money by trading that implied security for the value of your labor. Normally this is a good deal, and it's one that I suggest you take while in the Unoctocan Empire, because it means that you can leave your money in one place and have access to it anywhere within the borders of the Empire, as well as in many locations outside of it. But banks are known to make mistakes from time to time, which is a risk when placing your trust in any group run by people."

"You all should remember the fall of Mort-Ross Investments two years ago, when their CEO, Manny Farkwell, made tens of millions of Unocs by changing the company's standards for giving loans to excessively high risk customers. The bank ultimately found themselves in possession of the homes and belongings of thousands of Unoctocan citizens, which Manny Farkwell wrote off as a net gain, and was given millions of Unocs worth of bonuses over the course of several years. By the time an Imperial Investigation was initiated, he had left the country with that money. The bank, after the investigation's conclusion, was shut down and its assets sold, and its customers lost the vast majority of their wealth. Where did the bank's remaining money go? Nobody knows exactly. It's in too many places to even begin to track it down, but where it isn't is in its past clients' pockets."

"But this case was only one out of hundreds of banks in the Empire. There have been scams committed by some, but the vast majority have maintained their integrity, and even with so many people losing everything they had, in the Unoctocan Empire, banking isn't an option - it's something that everybody has to do. Even the Emperor. Especially the Emperor. Because the alternative is..."

Professor Gnome retrieved a stack of papers and passed them to each group of students. They were all newspaper clippings from sources all across the world, translated to Unoctocan Common, replete with pictures. "Distribute those as you see fit, please."

He sat upon his stool once more and waited. The newspaper clippings each detailed an incident of highway robbery, burglary, frontier town invasions, and either requests for donations or a detailed report of the movement of economic refugees.

"The alternative is even more unpleasant and far, far more common. Banking is the most common transaction you will find in the Unoctocan Empire, as well as the most necessary form of transaction."

"I suppose the takeaway for our first lecture is a question you should all ask yourselves before making any sort of trade: Is it worth it? Think on that before giving or taking money, or even before voting for a representative. Is what's being promised worth what you're losing? That's all for today. You're dismissed."

---

The next week, Professor Chompi opened his doors long before the class arrived, and upon arrival, the first thing he did was hand the girl her book, and ask her if selling her academic success for a modest sum of already-wasted money was worth it. It wasn't.

---

The Lessons Since

---

Eleven weeks have gone by since the opening of the semester.

Magic Theory with Brovak: Standing on the rooftop, exploring Old Mordhaben's post office, smelling everything in the Cafeteria, literally eating dirt and licking dust off of desks, throwing water balloons at the Administrator, discussing the commonalities between these things. The later classes consisted of trips to the Laboratories, where Brovak took a laissez-faire approach. Students were free to do anything they wanted so long as, 1: it was a magical experiment, and 2: it could be cleaned up before the end of the two hour class. There were injuries, and Brovak ignored them in favor of letting his students take eachother to the medical building. When students asked what they were even supposed to be learning, Brovak always simply answered, "Figure it out yourselves. That's what it means to be a Mage."

Vision with Emilya: Emilya was, in most students' eyes, either vastly better or vastly worse as a teacher than Brovak, depending on who was asked. Her style was in direct opposition to his, and she followed after most of the classical schoolhouse teaching styles. Over the past three months, her classes have gone over all of the content of The Complete Guide to Basic Sight and The Mystery of Old Mordhaben. The Muses was next. The class covered basic rules on how Vision worked, and Emilya personally ensured that every single student in her class was capable of at least seeing a blurry image of what was directly behind them. Using The Mystery of Old Mordhaben as a guide, during the most recent weeks, Professor Emilya has consistently led the class on a psychic field trip through the history of the ruins miles away from the Institute. Though the meat of the course was different every day, every lesson began with Professor Vance drilling her students on detection of magical energy and identifying the shape of any given magic, via a solid fifteen minutes of writing numbers on the blackboard using otherwise imperceptible lines of undifferentiated magical energy. Many found it absolutely exhausting.

Compromise with Xander: Professor Thorne's misconduct continued, and so did the after-class beatings by various staff members. A leaked memo got out that Professor Thorne was to be disciplined by any staff member in the vicinity if he were caught engaged in any sort of sexual misconduct with a student. Despite this, Professor Thorne proved why he was still there: He was an exceptional teacher of Compromise. There was very little book learning outside of their homework, which mostly consisted of reading chapters from a compiled book of legends and epic poems about mages long dead. The Dragon and his Feast (in which a nameless young mage was captured by an enormous Monster lizard, and died as he killed the Dragon from within to save his village) was the most recent story in the nameless textbook. While the lessons wandered some, and Professor Thorne seemed distracted from time to time, the one thing he never faltered on was safety. If any student accidentally caused something to happen that wasn't 100% intentional (and somehow, Thorne always knew), punishment was swift, painful, and temporary.

Foundation with Hans: Each class has started with firearms maintenance. Half the class field strips their arms and cleans them while the other half maintains vigilance, and the two halves switch once cleaning is done. Afterwards, the lectures and practical lessons began. Professor Hans was still a relatively classical teacher like his sister Emilya, but he did take some liberties, and there was significantly less book work. Each class, he covered the earliest basics of various scientific subjects, from basic chemistry, to astronomy, to archaeology, to numerology, to psychology, and so on and so forth. The reasoning was that even cursory knowledge in every major field would massively increase survivability against magical effects that work off of the same knowledge. Even though Foundation acted like a brick wall in the face of magic, Hans made it very clear that out of the three branches of magic, Foundation required by far the most education to work to its greatest potential. Specializing in any one field of Foundation for protection was ill advised, because while one could specialize in Compromise and do well, one would only very rarely be able to choose their opponent, and thus needed to be prepared for anything.

Botany with Billy: Groundskeeper Billy continued checking his students' notes on their flowers' growth (or, in the case of one student, its death), always nodding sagely and placing copies of their reports in an ever thickening, ancient binder. The classes continued to be outdoors, near his gardening shed and his home between the Arts and Social buildings, and when it rained or snowed, Billy insisted that his class sit through it so they might better understand their plants. As it turned out, their books were weatherproof, but their clothes were not. But despite the weather and the cold and the wet, the lessons continued nicely, and students learned about dozens of the most common xenoplants, as well as the most useful and common wilderness plants. The Botanical Sciences class was less about gardening and more about merely surviving the wilderness, with a hint of chemistry and alchemy lessons on the side. In all, Billy's classes were the most useful to students because they focused strongly on plants that would cause problems for civilian families. Most of the students at one point or another had remembered something in their home towns that Billy had mentioned, and had sent letters home describing the plants that needed to be destroyed.

Poli-sci and Economics with Gnome: Professor Chompi proved time and time again that he was both a long-winded financial advisor, and almost completely unhinged. But he knew what he was talking about, and after the incredibly boring first three lessons (and their accompanying, extremely unpleasant homework regarding mathematical formulae used in the Unoctocan financial world), he eventually started playing 'games' with his class. Virtual trade wars and haggling lessons, so to speak. In Airelosia, Mordbauvin, Hasval, Swazivan, Unoctocus, Northern Flynenhael, Central Flynenhael, and Southern Flynenhael (or rather, in all regions they were likely to visit at any point), small town merchants all had their own unique bartering cultures, and Professor Chompi exposed his students to how any given shopkeeper would do things. In the Unoctocan Empire, haggling was kept to a minimum, and performed very quickly, on one's feet, as both the buyer and seller had better things to do. In Airelosia, haggling was harsh, aggressive, and involved more than a few threats, but typically resulted in both parties leaving more satisfied than they would have under the Unoctocan system. And in Flynenhael, haggling was expected, and often took place over a cup of tea and snacks, coupled with long-winded storytelling and desperately trying to get the upper hand by making one's opponent like one more than the opposite. The students typically preferred the Unoctocan method, because it was simple and it was the closest to simply handing over money. But many greatly enjoyed the Flynenhaeli method, and a small handful loved the Airelosian method. Chompi's classes, overall, were focused heavily on ensuring that students understood the Unoctocan political system (bills to laws, elections, passing of the throne, etc.), and on ensuring that students were satisfied with every decision they ever made, be it political, social, or financial.

---

@Avant @Etranger @Rekaigan @HokumPocus @Taytay @Jay Kalton @Kaesus @ghastlyInc @Illiren @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @liferusher

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

Roll call! New post is going up tonight, we're skipping forward a few months. Flitter had a storyline planned, but we're dropping it for now. Sorry this took so stupidly long, had real world shit come up.

@Avant @Etranger @Rekaigan @HokumPocus @Taytay @Jay Kalton @Kaesus @ghastlyInc @Illiren @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @liferusher

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@Write

I'm no longer in the RP. No need to @mention me in every Survival post.

~The Last Star~

Gonna keep an eye on this. Seems interesting but I'd like to see more of a player ensemble build up before I come up with any concrete character ideas.

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

@ghastlyInc

Looks good. Accepted, drop Mori in the chartab with Bawen.

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

Minor edit: added a character I missed to the list. Louis is with Hans Vance, at Door Four.

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

The Magic Exam

---

12:00 PM, August 7th, 1210PW. 58 Degrees Fahrenheit. Sunlight leaking through heavy cloud cover.

---

Presenting, the Valkenhaut C1! Why's its nose so short? It's simple: We moved the engine to the back to free up space for the rest of the car. Feel the freedom of parking your C1 in spaces too small for your A19, or any of our competitors' products! We streamlined the C1's shape too, so your fuel efficiency will be THROUGH THE ROOF! Go to your local Valkenhaut outlet now, and support the Empire with your purchase! _{MSRP 400U, one year warranty guaranteed upon purchase.} - Valkenhaut Advertisement on all Imperial newspapers and radio channels, Summer 1210.

---

Lunch passed uneventfully, at least compared to the previous day's breakfast. Many of the staff members in the lunchroom were visibly relieved - dealing with cafeteria squabbles in the middle of placement exams would've thrown off their entire rhythm and left the students unfocused. And focus was absolutely necessary for the next steps.

A short, swarthy man with a dirty blonde buzz cut and an Institute logo emblazoned upon his uniform stepped into the room from the front entrance and approached the staff tables in the Unoctocan quarter, where he whispered something to Administrator Malkin. The gigantic lobster nodded to him, then nodded to Professor Volkova, opting not to speak through his mouthful of rice and fish. Volkova had the announcement papers anyway, and she quickly shoveled her salad down her throat, staring at a clock on the wall. The instant the second hand struck 11:59:30, she picked up her megaphone, stood up, and made her way to the entrance. At precisely 12:00:00, she reached the front of the cafeteria and made her announcement.

"All new students, please make your way to the street outside the cafeteria. The Magic exams are starting now."

---

The crowd gathered in front of Laboratory Building 2, and Professor Brovak opened the door on the western side of the building leading into a long, tall hallway with blast doors along the left side of the hallway. Each blast door had a number on it and a clipboard hanging on a nail with a list of timeslots. The clipboards showed that every one of the laboratories had had space reserved for the exams. At the middle of the entrance hall, Brovak stopped and turned around to speak to the crowd, text floating above his head as he spoke. Those with innate Vision talent would notice that he had nothing to do with the text - rather, it was conjured by Administrator Malkin.

"The Magic test will be twofold. You will first demonstrate your current magic skill to your assigned professor in the main rooms of each laboratory. Afterwards, you will be directed into the testing chambers deeper within, where you will use your magic along with any other skills you may possess in combat. You will be evaluated for the potency of your magic, your potential for learning magic, and your creativity in using your magic. Professors, take your students, please."

The shuffled shuffled about some and went to their respective laboratory doors, and Volkova raised her megaphone, along with a list of students and their assigned rooms and professors for testing. There were still roughly three dozen new students taking the tests, and it took a short time for her to make her way through the list. Floating text appeared above her head as she spoke, and students wandered over to their doors as they were called out. She went in alphabetical order, or at least as close to it as possible with the cultural name variations.

Assigned Doors

"Bayamaar, Berke. Door One, with Professor Emilya Vance."
"Belladonna, Jesse. Door Four, with Professor Hans Vance."
"Bitter-Tooth, Honehe. Door Two, with Administrator Malkin."
"Breckenridge, Alexander. Door Three, with Professor Xander Thorne."
"Coridell, Bawen. Door Six, with Professor Robert Brovak."
"Frysa, Mycona. Door Five, with Professor Zayid Leere."
"Katann, Ohon. Door Four, with Professor Hans Vance."
"Kishimoto, Rikka. Door Two, with Administrator Boorkat Malkin."
"L'ilisht? ...Am I saying that right? Door Six, with Professor Robert Brovak."
"Martin, Louis. Door Four, with Professor Hans Vance."
"Milit, Joseph. Door One, with Professor Emilya Vance."
"Mortimer, Mallory. Door Five, with Professor Zayid Leere."
"Murdoc, Lucannus. Door Three, with Professor Xander Thorne."
"Naugna, Jhin. Door Three, with Professor Xander Thorne."
"Oharra, Yrhen. Door Four, with Professor Hans Vance."
"Steel, Mark. Door One, with Professor Emilya Vance."
"Steiner, Elyse. Door Five, with Professor Zayid Leere."
"Voll, Magnhild. Door Six, with Professor Robert Brovak."
"Mionrashk ar Wahaca. Door Two, with Administrator Boorkat Malkin."

---

Once the sorting was complete, each professor introduced theirself to their six assigned students, then unlocked their respective laboratories' blast doors and stepped inside. The rooms were sparse, with no equipment or furniture of any sort save for a table on the right side of the room from the entrance, a second, heavier blast door directly across from the room's entrance, and a noisily shaking cube covered in a black sheet in the far corner on the left. Along the lefthand wall, to the left of the covered cube, were a series of Unoctocan military species-universal Gaaspazeten-G2 gas masks - heavy hoods of rubber infused black cloth that draped over the wearer's head, with a pair of huge 'windows' acting as eyeports. A hose hung down from a space roughly four inches below the space between the eyeports, with a ring of slightly more rigid material covered in clamps at the bottom and three securing straps at different positions along the 'neck' area for adjusting the hood to the head. A grey canister with a pair of clothing clips mounted to its side hung at the bottom of the foot-long hose. The canisters were labeled with the volume of air they could safely filter corresponding to roughly 1200 breaths for an average size human, or roughly an hour under minor exertion.

The aluminum tables in each room were populated with a stack of blocks of different colors, sheens, and compositions, along with many bottles of differently colored gases. The blocks and bottles were each labeled with their respective element, and those versed in chemistry would recognize every element from hydrogen to xenon in sequence. The other known elements were too rare and expensive to bother stocking each laboratory with each, though a number of "common" non-elemental materials were also present, like wood, water, and the like. On the bottom shelf of each table were a series of clearly magical artifacts of different types - one stone tablet reeking of foul energy, one gearbox that continued spinning without a visible power source, a bowl of slime that squished around in circles as though it were alive, a book with very little obvious trace of magic, a salad fork with no obvious oddities, and a pen sitting in an inkwell atop a piece of paper. The professors each gave their students roughly the same speech (with some variations), to the tune of:

"Step forward one by one and demonstrate what magic you already know. Even if you do not know how to harness your magic, we will assess your magical potential based on the energy your minds put out. Don't bother trying to impress me: save your strength for what lies beyond the other door. You are free to use any of the materials on the table in case your talents require other objects."

---

Once the students had shown off their magic (or lack thereof) and the professors had jotted down their performance in their clipboards, the professors spoke again, this time saying something to the tune of:

"Alright. Now that that's done, on to the combat test. Inside that room, you will have to defeat one of the most dangerous breeds of Monster in the Deadlands. Does it sound bad? It should. These creatures are responsible for the vast majority of deaths on Deadlands exploration expeditions, and it's important that everyone know roughly what kind of threat wildlife can pose to research teams, frontier towns, nomad tribes, or anything else that regularly encounters them."

With that, the professors ripped the black sheets off of the cages in the corner, revealing a much smaller creature than many students would expect bouncing about the thinly wired cage wildly. It didn't seem very dangerous at first glance, but those who knew anything about the Deadlands knew otherwise. The creature was vaguely insectoid, two feet long and brown-carapaced, with four compound eyes each sitting atop a foot-long eyestalk, a short and round jawless mouth, and six large, segmented legs tipped in tiny, hair-coated feet, the rear pair of which were significantly larger than its four forelimbs. The bodies were not segmented in the same way as normal insects, though, and their 'head' sections seemed to blend into their upper torsos perfectly, which explained the need for eyestalks over fixed mount eyes. Every so often, they would flip open the back of their carapace to reveal a set of buzzing wings as they tried to fly upwards and escape their cage. Outside of the buzzing sound of their wings and the rattling of the cages, the creatures were completely silent, and their eyestalks flailed about wildly, staring directly at each person in the room in turn from behind the wire mesh.

"This Monster is called the Ashhopper. These Monsters live in the dense mushroom jungles of the Deadlands, where they live on a steady diet of slime mold, and an intermittent diet of ash and charcoal after forest fires. They are relatively harmless to us, but they are still the number one killer of explorers and researchers for one reason: They steal and eat the gas mask cartridges that Humans and Chimeras need to survive in the Deadlands. The pure carbon in a filter cartridge is a great enough meal that a small Ashhopper can grow in size several inches and push other, smaller Ashhoppers out of their territory."

With a press of a button, the second sets of blast doors opened to reveal the inner experiment chamber, which had been flooded with exotic plantlife, almost all of which looked particularly dangerous to the touch, either by merit of looking toxic, or by merit of looking extraordinarily sharp. Glasslike tufts of crystalline, blueish-purple transparent "grass" sprouted from clumps of earth surrounding the bases of the trunks of shroom trees of a strange, twisting breed that no students save for those who had been to the Deadlands had ever seen. A few gigantic 'flowers' with bulbous, spongelike, and sickly yellow-green-white 'heads' surrounded by bright red leaves wilting and creeping along the ground 'coughed', spewing a puff of spores upwards into the air inside the room. Overall, the room smelled faintly of almonds, dirt, and decaying plants, with a tiny hint of the smell of rotting flesh emanating from the spongy plants. The room's main lights were off, but the bioluminescent parasitic vines creeping along the trunks of the treelike fungi lit the area in faint shades of pink and purple. Hiding places were everywhere. It looked almost exactly like the few photographs of the Deadlands that had made it back to the Empire, save for it very much not being black and white.

"During the test, you will put on one of the Gaaspazeten-G2 masks on the wall -- I'll check the seal for you -- and you'll enter the test chamber. Your job is to kill any Ashhoppers in the room. If you fail the test, you'll know the instant your throat starts burning and you start to lose consciousness. It's not lethal like it is in the Deadlands, but it's definitely not fun, and the gas used will even effect Monsters to keep things nice and fair. I recommend that you try to win before your filter expires. You there, you're up first. Put your hood on and step inside."

@FlitterFaux@Avant@Etranger@Rekaigan@hagroden@HokumPocus@pkken@Queentze@Jay Kalton@ghastlyInc@liferusher@Illiren@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

GM's Note:

I'd prefer it if y'all pinged me on Discord to work out a chatplay collab for the combat aspect of the magic test. That'd make getting through this thing a lot easier and faster than just bouncing back and forth in the IC for days. ;)

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

Dorm Assignments

---

1:00 PM, August 6th, 1210PW. 51 Degrees Fahrenheit. Overcast.

---

'Terraphage' purpose identified! New laws have recently been passed restricting the formation of new industrial zones near the Deadlands for the safety of Unoctocan citizens. Furthermore, Deadlands expeditions will no longer use fuel operated machinery, lest they prompt Terraphage response. - The Parliamentary Watch

---

Some time passed. Boorkat Malkin and some of the other staff members kept things running as smoothly as possible while some students stayed in the dorm quad for lunch, and Professor Volkova accompanied those who decided to have lunch at the cafeteria building. Either way, it seemed to them that the students had begun to choose their roommates with some measure of success. After a while, students handed in their papers, while others were given roommate recommendations. And eventually, the staff came to some decisions regarding roommate and dorm room assignments. Not all of the students had finished choosing their roommates, but the staff still took that into consideration with their pairings.

Volkova tapped Magnhilde and Rikka on the shoulders, flashed them a quick smile, and gathered their papers. "Congratulations, you two. You're officially staying together. You will be staying in Room Q1-221. When you're finished eating, the Kio-Farat boys will help you get your dormitory room set up. Just talk to the R.A. - her office is in the southern common room in building Q1, on the west side of the quad," she said, then she turned around to give other students in the cafeteria their room assignments.

Back in the dorm quad common area, it had started raining, though the Groundskeeper's magic was somehow keeping everything from staying wet for any more than a split second and the warmth of the plants kept it from being terribly unpleasant. Boorkat stayed quiet, instead opting to let his granddaughter handle the dormitory assignments. The young third generation lobster chimera quickly dashed about, taking up peoples' papers. Those who hadn't yet signed their papers but seemed to be getting along exceptionally well were put together just as those who had signed their papers were. All others were assigned at random.

In the end, the dormitory assignments were as follows:

L'ilisht, Arkan Higaeyt - Q4-121

Mark Steel, Berke Bayamaar - Q1-224

Bawen Coridell, Honehe Bitter-Tooth - Q2-107

Magnhild Voll, Rikka Kishimoto - Q1-221

Jhin Naugna, Lucannus Murdoc - Q2-108

Mallory Mortimer, Jesse Belladonna - Q2-210

Matt Dorn, Ohon Katann - Q2-310

Alexander Breckenridge, Joseph Milit - Q1-114

Louis Martin, Elyse Steiner val Hattan - Q2-218

Yrhen Oharra - Q3-414

Mionrask ar Wahaca, Deegon Bigknifestabby - Q3-212

Mycona Frisa - Q3-172

Boorkat's granddaughter translated for the humongous lobsterman again, giving the students their assigned rooms and some quick directions to their dormitory buildings. "You're free to speak to the Resident Assistant in your dormitory building to get your key and move your furniture in at any time between now and 18:00. You have a little under five hours to get yourselves situated, after which point you will be provided with only the very barest furnishings until you figure out how to move everything else in yourself. Have fun, don't get yourselves into too much trouble."

Some of the listed roommates were missing.

---

Later That Day

---

1:30-6:00 PM, August 6th, 1210PW.

---

Over the course of the day, various groups of students moved into their dorms. There were quite a lot more than had been in the group at the opening ceremony, and overall the campus seemed much, much more lively than it had been only a few short hours ago. Where there had been only the occasional old scholars shuffling around before, now far more younger people had come out of the woodwork, including the Kio-Farat Fraternity - large, musclebound humans (and one bonobo-esque second generation chimera), who helped assemble furniture brought over by truck from the Warehouse, organized furniture choices, and teleported peoples' belongings and furnishings directly into their rooms.

When students entered their dormitories for the first time, depending on whether they picked up furniture before or afterward, they encountered a sparse room perhaps 8'x10' with a thin blue carpet, off-white walls, a large curtained window with a small balcony, and a tiled area directly to the right of the entrance containing a magically enhanced icebox, a sink, and a gas-heated range, all in rich mahogany. On either side of the room lay two doors, which opened into mirrored opposites of bedrooms, which were much smaller with only barely enough space for a bed, a small desk, and a dresser, though there was also a tiny coat closet on the side towards the dormitory hallways. At the back of each bedroom was also a tiny bathroom with a toilet, a small sink on a pedestal, a mirror-cabinet, and a circular shower pan afixed with a pipe framework holding up the showerhead and curtains. The room looked like it would get very wet very quickly if one weren't careful.

Students were able to bring in their own furniture, or choose from a series of different styles, depending on their needs. Beds ranged from classical human style beds to stone slabs to boxes of sand to small circular cushions. Couches and lounge chairs had similar differences, though many had their back rest elevated above a gap meant for tails. Essentially, every biological need was covered, and within a matter of hours, every room had what it needed, though the rooms lacked any sort of entertainment. If someone wanted a radio, they would've had to have brought it themself. Otherwise, the library and athletics compounds would be their best bets for entertainment - as well as New Mordhaben, the small college town just a couple miles down the road leading southwest through the forest and across the railroad tracks. Finally, special needs students had their dormitories modified (often magically) to meet their needs.

At the end of the move-ins, the loudspeakers and information boards around the school provided the new students with vital information: They would be taking their entrance exams at 7:00 AM the next morning, and would be woken up an hour prior to that.

The missing roommates still hadn't arrived.

The Written Exam

---

6:00 AM, August 7th, 1210PW. 44 Degrees Fahrenheit. Still dark, slightly windy.

---

The next morning, after moving in and meeting roommates, students were woken up - loudly - by the school loudspeakers. Rikka's special accommodations involved her bed violently shaking and a notice teleporting onto an info board next to her bed, just like the other students with hearing difficulties had. The school loudspeakers and the written notices honked five times (the written notice quite literally had 'HONK' written across the top repeatedly as the result of a speech-to-text artifact being built into an automatic printer), followed by instructions:

New students are to report to the cafeteria for breakfast and placement examinations in 30 minutes. I repeat, new students are to report to the cafeteria for breakfast and placement examinations in 30 minutes. Other students may disregard this message.

---

At the cafeteria, staff were lined up and getting trays of food for themselves. Many of them were just as sleepy as several of the new students were, though a handful looked no worse for the wear: primarily the military professors and some of the more 'unnatural' ones. The school apparently had gotten a new shipment of Guavl - a type of stimulant beverage similar to extremely potent coffee, though with a more 'woody' flavor - and a pungent odor. A handful of upperclassmen who had never had it before took a single sip and their pupils visibly dilated, and the woodlike and acrid scent of the drink flooded the cafeteria.

The day's breakfast "special" was a bright red omelette made with Hakakos (a type of enormous flightless bird) eggs, diced whip vines, and stoneflower petals, and it had the taste of very lightly fermented flame-roasted beef, courtesy of the unique enzymes present in the stoneflower. The dish was packed with more protein than some students would have in a week at home, and the chefs in the Unoctocan quarter made sure that everyone knew it. Imported tropical fruits from southern Swazivan were served with the omelette as a side.

---

After breakfast, Professor Volkova (once again) gathered the new students together - this time making absolutely certain that everyone joined them immediately. "The placement exams are starting shortly. Follow me," she said, and the group made its way to the Social Building. Downstairs, in the basement, there was a large and warmly lit room packed with desks, each of which was pre-prepared with a pencil, a booklet, and an answer sheet. The desks themselves had visual barriers etched with complex runes along the edges of the outside, presumably to block both vision and Vision. Trying to see through them or around them while inside their area effect was futile as the result of a harsh glow that filled one's sight if one looked away. More observant students would notice that the runes etched along the edges of these screens were identical to the runes lining every single dormitory bedroom's door frame, and they would also notice that the screens were attached to wires that dove down into ports in the well-trodden purple-carpeted floor.

"Take a seat, and do not lift your pencils until instructed. You will have thirty minutes per section of the test. Follow directions to the best of your abilities."

When the students had all been seated, and Volkova had led Louis to a separate desk containing a braille booklet and a microphone inside a noise-dampening screen (which she pointed out), she spoke up again: "You may begin."

The written test covered basic reading and writing skills in the first section, followed by mathematics, followed by general science skills, and finally, followed by general magical knowledge (mostly regarding Foundation, Vision, and Compromise). A fifth portion was given five minutes, and was in the form of one question: "Why are you here?"

The Physical Exam

---

9:10 AM, August 7th, 1210PW. 54 Degrees Fahrenheit. Clear skies, slightly windy.

---

After the written exam, the group was led to the Field behind the Athletics Compound. They hadn't seen it during the tour, but it wasn't surprising that it would be present. Like the indoor court, the field included a series of adjustable goals of varying shapes and sizes, and was covered in astroturf. A concrete track with lightly banked turns made its way around the field, with some very rudimentary aluminum and concrete stadium stands equipped with adjustable seating for multiple body types standing on the north and south sides of the field.

Two young third-generation Chimeras were waiting for them: an avian Chimera with wings in place of arms and white, blue, and black feathers, and a wolflike Chimera with strawberry blonde hair kept in a long braid. They were professors Fiona Shenfield and Alison Jakar.

The physical exams were fairly simple and fairly short. Students were given a number of tasks to complete in the form of a kilometer run (completed as quickly as possible), a long jump, a test involving pulling a heavily laden wagon, and a flight test for those who were able to take part. The tests were individually rated, and the professors jotted down the results in their notepads. All in all, the tests took another couple hours, and the students made their way to lunch alongside the professors.

Thankfully, the cafeteria wasn't quite as smelly anymore, though they were still serving Guavl. The lunch special was a type of Swazivani sandwich made with Sunloaf cheese and roasted spikeweed, with a slightly toasty and mildly fungal flavor, served with a side of barley-based pasta swimming in a creamy and spicy white sauce. More cultured students would note the presence of ground cricket in the sauce.

The magic exams (first technical, then practical) were coming in fifty minutes, and upperclassmen were bombarding those new students who would listen with stories about how horrifying the magic placement exams were. Not all of the stories were made up.

@HokumPocus@liferusher@Rekaigan@ghastlyInc@Avant@Jay Kalton@Etranger@Illiren@hagroden@pkken

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Dropping out of this. My style of characters aren't a very good fit for this kind of constantly over-the-top setting.