Icarus, if asked later, would never say that he fell screeching from his perch. Certainly not at the stranger's seemingly-sudden arrival. That would have been horrendously embarrassing if it had happened. Far to much for him to handle if the possibility even crossed his mind.
Recovering from his totally purposeful descent to foot level, and a quick flap of wings later to restore him to his rocky perch, he appraised the strange person before him. He didn't seem hostile for the moment, but he also clearly wasn't human either. At least to his own understanding, that should have meant the boy there was another student, or otherwise related to the Academy. Not many people from Arcanis Mundus would come over just to hang out in the mountains. Then again he himself had just decided to hang out in the mountains, but that was different.
"I've not lived enough lives to see that come to pass, but I am assured that no matter what we suffer, my kind do always find happiness again, no matter how long the path it takes to return." Icarus chirruped, fluffing his wings up a bit, eyes tracing the stranger, "But who are you to wonder, offering such strange tales of foreign Counts?"
Golden week had started off mostly quietly, after the rather odd first day. Apparently having a fight in a random field was not part of the school's curriculum, to Icarus's great relief. That had been a little bit concerning towards the end there. A bit of seclusion was what he needed after exploring the town he'd be living in for the foreseeable future. Humans were interesting but they were also exhausting. Everything was so fast with them, they really didn't seem to understand how to just stop and smell the roses. They could smell the roses on the go thank you very much. He cackled at the thought, looking down from his stony perch to the town far down below. To be fair, humans also only really had the one chance to make life right. But that didn't mean he was used to this kind of always-on pace.
So here he was, perched on a little rock outcropping, sticking out of the rocks; surrounded by mostly-climbable mountain, watching a distant skyline as the little specks below wove back and forth with every care in the world. They'd been doing so all day, and he would know, he'd set out to find a nice spot at sunrise and they hadn't stopped skittering around even once. I really should pick up a hobby...would give me something interesting to do when I'm out here. A project would be nice... Just another hour, then I'll slip back into town...the long way, flying out here was nice this morning.
Running into @Apoalo as Kairo and maybe @13org as Faye
Wheels on tarmac, the great metal dragon finished its descent, slowing, slowing, down to a crawl, prowling now through crowded pathways to its lair. A beast of marvelous construction disgorged its passengers upon the ramp, and among them was one minor magi with business here in Satsumasendai. Well, Gus liked to think himself just a minor magi, even if he had the necessary talent to be a proper member of the Guild. And given the crew that had been put together, he was absolutely a no-name. Which might well be his best asset here. Between names like Louis, de Silva, and Ahmadi, a little Mallory would go completely unnoticed.
Right now, past customs and looking a little lost, he wasn't going quite so unnoticed. A check of his phone however very quickly gave him direction. Things had apparently been developing quickly while he'd been in the belly of the beast, to no one's surprise. The only reason they'd called this team in was because things had spiraled wildly out of control. He started walking, his first destination, the train station.
Honestly, though, it was probably a blessing they hadn't been earlier. The safehouse going up like that meant it wasn't quite so safe after all. Hopefully because this new place wasn't expected by the Guild, it also wouldn't be expected by the troublemakers. Hopefully that meant things would be quiet. Loud would be bad.
The train station was a short walk, which he was thankful for in as the sun was so close to setting. Onboard, things were quiet. And along the way, that simple fact stayed true.
Walking around Satsumasendai was certainly better than walking in New York last time he'd been there. Sure, not as idyllic and free of traffic as his own hometown, but it was still mostly calm and serene. Though, to be fair it was really only Gosling's surroundings that were serene. He himself tromped along exactly the way that might be expected of any random tourist, boots on concrete, tap tap tap. He checked his phone again. It was just a few more houses down. A car had driven away from the building just a second ago. A car had driven away just a second ago. Now that certainly had Gosling just a little bit on edge. Was that an ally or an enemy arriving here now? He tapped the power button on the phone, bringing it down to his side as he approached the door himself.
Today had been a bit of a stressful day for Icarus; not only was it his first day in this strange world, but he'd spent the whole day basically lost. Sure, the school was navigable enough, and finding the Griffin dorms had been easy enough, but the town itself was a new surprise around every corner, and so much of it made no sense. For example, there was some kind of store on one road with signage depicting a mermaid, but he still wasn't sure what deer from the stars had to do with that; and while an enticing aroma had emitted from the doors as he passed by, he hadn't gone in. It was busy. And he had no idea what they sold there anyway. He'd also passed by some weird place called a "Game Center", but as far as he could tell it was simply full of flashing lights and screens, and peeking his head in through the door his curiosity had been sorely disappointed at the lack of game to be found in the center. In fact they didn't seem to have any game, as far as sight and smell could tell him. Perhaps it was simply a poor season here on Seidoujima.
At some point in his trek through the market district, he had acquired a very odd traveling companion, a vase full of flowers. He'd ended up in the florist's after one of those metal chariots had screamed; not at him, he hadn't even seen the reason, but he'd been spooked and he'd darted into the shop in that instant. He'd gotten back his cool, eventually, desperately hiding in amongst the wallflowers. The flowers were nice in there, and somehow he'd been convinced to buy the bouquet of amaryllis and white roses. If nothing else they would bring a little life to the dormitory. Something personal. And if they wilted well they could maybe be repurposed as nest material. Which would also be a nice personal touch. Either way, they were going with him wherever he went until he made it back to the dorms.
Down another road he decided to walk, this time more cautious and aware that just because something wasn't alive didn't mean it couldn't speak
Today was just the sort of day for new inventions, really. For example, inventing whole new levels of being lost. The lush, open field had just been too tempting to resist, to be honest. It got him away from the streets at least, for a little while. And he couldn't exactly just fly off now that he had precious cargo that could not simply be so easily abandoned. On the other hand it meant he now no longer had the option of getting his bearings from a bird's eye view if necessary, though he had been avoiding that since arriving on this less-than-magical world. What was the point of going to human school in a very human world if not to experience it the way the humans themselves did, for the most part?
Looking down from his thoughts of the sky, he took note of some kind of event going on between a couple of girls who seemed to be somewhere around his age. One of them had a spear and a shield in hand, though they looked a little odd. He kept his distance from the situation, but found his eyes drawn to see what would happen next. Hopefully no one got hurt...
"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost
Vitals
Name: Gosling "Gus" Mallory Gender Male Age: 34 Sexual Orientation: Homosexual Birthmark Shape:The squared circle Location of Birthmark: Outside of his left thigh
Skillset
Mundane Skills:
Outdoorsman - Gus could very well survive indefinitely out in the wild; he's an experienced hunter, gatherer, homesteader, and mountaineer.
Weaponmaster - His magic sort of lends itself to this, so Gus has practiced with all sorts of melee weapons. Anything made out of metal, he can work with. Brass knuckles are just as good as a sword.
Immunity to Boredom - He grew up in rural Idaho. You cannot bore him. He will outlast your patience.
Excellent penmanship
Magical Abilities: Metallomancy. While most mages might consider it a mere subset of geomancy, the Mallory family has quietly molded it into a specialization all its own. Gosling has taken it to another level, mixing in combat principles usually employed by warrior mages instead of elementalists, treating his magical creations less like tools and more like an extension of himself. He might not have the talent or raw power of a more prestigious mage, but he's certainly up to the task in a fight. Of particular note is that his magic works better with the classical metals; mercury, tin, lead, iron, gold, silver, and copper.
Personage
Place of Birth: Magic Resort, Camas County, Idaho, USA Currently Residing: Mackay, Custer County, Idaho, USA Personality: Gosling is a bit of an odd duck. When you hear about a loner, a mountain man, an Idahoan, you likely wouldn't imagine the personable, presentable Gus. He claims it's because he cleans up nicely, can't look anything but your best when you're in good company after all. Can't be a bad neighbor either. He's smooth, talkative, and quite clearly the sort of person who would open with pleasantries before a fight. Because it would be rude not to. When not in a social situation, Gus is a quiet, introspective man, who looks for meaning in the world around him. That's the mountain man when he's up on his mountain after all. He enjoys those quiet moments, when the world seems to have something of its own to say, and he's willing to be the ears that listen. In one word, he's hospitable.
History/Bio: The Mallory Family, having set up base in Idaho, is one of those mage families that tends to be a few degrees removed from the politics of the Guild, due to both distance from the HQ in New York, and the simple isolation of relatively rural living. As a family they are lacking in prestige or fame, and much like Idaho are the sort of people who might normally be just a footnote in the history books. Well, who would have been a footnote before Gosling killed the golden goose of obscurity.
Gus grew up in the tiny little town of Magic Resort, Idaho, on the shores of the Magic Reservoir, in the Magic Valley. The region hadn't been called that when the Mallorys had arrived, as that title only came about after the 1910s, but the irony is not lost on anyone from the family. Life was simple and pastoral out there, even after his mother explained the truth of the world to him at the tender age of six. Magic was interesting, sure, but he still had quite a while before he could do anything with it, and he'd been playing wizards and knights with other kids before that anyway. Well, what few kids there were around. Which wasn't really enough to even fill a classroom.
Living a quiet life fit Gus quite well as a youth, even attaining his magic did little to change that. The thing that he did differently than his forebears, as he grew into that second life, was reach out. He wrote letters, and with the pen he spoke to people, people who were more connected in the Guild. He was quick-witted, and even though not much happened in his little hometown, he certainly had a lot to say to people on the other side of the country. He made friends.
As a young adult, Gus left Idaho, crossing the nation to see this world he had been born into. It was during these years of traveling that he became an agent of the Guild, having made his way to New York along the way and offered his services as needed. That offer had taken him some time to consider, but he had seen enough of the world by then to know the Guild had a point; extreme as it might be, the world wasn't ready for magic. The world could barely handle itself without magic.
Having gained the blessing of the Guild, and seen the world and what it might need in it, Gus returned to his home state, though not his hometown, seeking out a place where he might turn his unrefined art into a blade that could keep the world in balance. He ended up making a homestead to the north of Mackay, in the foothills of the Lost River Range; still reachable, still close to civilization, but remote enough for him to live alone and disappear into the mountains to train his magic. He might not have the great gift of power of certain people, but he could gain endurance, strength, and skill all his own, to protect a world he'd only seen a fraction of so far. And he would do it all in the shadow of Borah Peak.
"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost
Vitals
Name: Gosling "Gus" Mallory Gender Male Age: 34 Sexual Orientation: Homosexual Birthmark Shape:The squared circle Location of Birthmark: Outside of his left thigh
Skillset
Mundane Skills:
Outdoorsman - Gus could very well survive indefinitely out in the wild; he's an experienced hunter, gatherer, homesteader, and mountaineer.
Weaponmaster - His magic sort of lends itself to this, so Gus has practiced with all sorts of melee weapons. Anything made out of metal, he can work with. Brass knuckles are just as good as a sword.
Immunity to Boredom - He grew up in rural Idaho. You cannot bore him. He will outlast your patience.
Excellent penmanship
Magical Abilities: Metallomancy. While most mages might consider it a mere subset of geomancy, the Mallory family has quietly molded it into a specialization all its own. Gosling has taken it to another level, mixing in combat principles usually employed by warrior mages instead of elementalists, treating his magical creations less like tools and more like an extension of himself. He might not have the talent or raw power of a more prestigious mage, but he's certainly up to the task in a fight. Of particular note is that his magic works better with the classical metals; mercury, tin, lead, iron, gold, silver, and copper.
Personage
Place of Birth: Magic Resort, Camas County, Idaho, USA Currently Residing: Mackay, Custer County, Idaho, USA Personality: Gosling is a bit of an odd duck. When you hear about a loner, a mountain man, an Idahoan, you likely wouldn't imagine the personable, presentable Gus. He claims it's because he cleans up nicely, can't look anything but your best when you're in good company after all. Can't be a bad neighbor either. He's smooth, talkative, and quite clearly the sort of person who would open with pleasantries before a fight. Because it would be rude not to. When not in a social situation, Gus is a quiet, introspective man, who looks for meaning in the world around him. That's the mountain man when he's up on his mountain after all. He enjoys those quiet moments, when the world seems to have something of its own to say, and he's willing to be the ears that listen. In one word, he's hospitable.
History/Bio: The Mallory Family, having set up base in Idaho, is one of those mage families that tends to be a few degrees removed from the politics of the Guild, due to both distance from the HQ in New York, and the simple isolation of relatively rural living. As a family they are lacking in prestige or fame, and much like Idaho are the sort of people who might normally be just a footnote in the history books. Well, who would have been a footnote before Gosling killed the golden goose of obscurity.
Gus grew up in the tiny little town of Magic Resort, Idaho, on the shores of the Magic Reservoir, in the Magic Valley. The region hadn't been called that when the Mallorys had arrived, as that title only came about after the 1910s, but the irony is not lost on anyone from the family. Life was simple and pastoral out there, even after his mother explained the truth of the world to him at the tender age of six. Magic was interesting, sure, but he still had quite a while before he could do anything with it, and he'd been playing wizards and knights with other kids before that anyway. Well, what few kids there were around. Which wasn't really enough to even fill a classroom.
Living a quiet life fit Gus quite well as a youth, even attaining his magic did little to change that. The thing that he did differently than his forebears, as he grew into that second life, was reach out. He wrote letters, and with the pen he spoke to people, people who were more connected in the Guild. He was quick-witted, and even though not much happened in his little hometown, he certainly had a lot to say to people on the other side of the country. He made friends.
As a young adult, Gus left Idaho, crossing the nation to see this world he had been born into. It was during these years of traveling that he became an agent of the Guild, having made his way to New York along the way and offered his services as needed. That offer had taken him some time to consider, but he had seen enough of the world by then to know the Guild had a point; extreme as it might be, the world wasn't ready for magic. The world could barely handle itself without magic.
Having gained the blessing of the Guild, and seen the world and what it might need in it, Gus returned to his home state, though not his hometown, seeking out a place where he might turn his unrefined art into a blade that could keep the world in balance. He ended up making a homestead to the north of Mackay, in the foothills of the Lost River Range; still reachable, still close to civilization, but remote enough for him to live alone and disappear into the mountains to train his magic. He might not have the great gift of power of certain people, but he could gain endurance, strength, and skill all his own, to protect a world he'd only seen a fraction of so far. And he would do it all in the shadow of Borah Peak.
Personality: Definitionally, Icarus is a coward, a fool, and an idiot.
It might seem contradictory for an eternal firebird to be defined by cowardice, but then again Icarus isn't exactly your average phoenix. It's not like any sort of well thought-out cowardice, but he is just easily panicked. He's anxious about a lot of things all of the time, has a nasty habit of inventing new things to be anxious about, and this high-strung mentality leaves him prone to freaking out in response to unexpected stimulus. Or just that little extra push over the edge.
On the topic of freaking out, it's not just heart-pounding terror that Icarus wears on his sleeves. Really, it's all of his emotions. He tries quite desperately to emulate the cool, serene attitudes of his forebears, but lacking their experience all he has is a thin shell of serenity that cracks under the slightest pressure, almost exactly unlike a well-balanced egg. Anger, love, embarrassment, it all comes surging to the surface the moment any of his keys get pressed. And Icarus is basically a pipe organ in that regard.
Compounding all of his immaturity, or perhaps causing it, is another one of Icarus's contradictions: while patient, and more than willing to wait for results, he is consistently shortsighted. He doesn't really imagine the consequences of his actions beyond how they will affect him immediately, which is likely to give him some trouble making and keeping friends.
When his many flaws and foibles don't get in the way, Icarus could be charitably described as driven, determined, and ultimately he is willing to get down and dirty to get what he wants. And to be fair, it is his desire to soar above the clouds and do something outside the norm that brought him to Silver Gate to begin with.
Backstory: Some people define themselves by their hardships, the adversities they have faced, and Icarus is not one of those. Some by their accomplishments, having already carved their name into the world at a young age, or taken pride in some minor act that to them was magnificent, yet that is also not he. Some are just born with a silver spoon in their mouths, blessed by circumstance, and that might well describe Icarus. To be fair that might well describe most phoenixes, being born full of fiery passion; a species both powerful and impossibly long-lived. Most creatures are lying when they say they have all the time in the world for good fortune to pass their way, but phoenixes really do, and they're more than happy to remind you of it. It was this sort of blessed life that Icarus was born into. Sure, as a demon there is always the threat of stepping on the toes of the Arrows, who were always looking for any slip ups, but his family was full of the good sorts. Well, good sorts for demons. So they didn't have to worry too much about drawing the ire of their patient wardens. Nonetheless, Icarus lived in a world of relative comfort, perhaps not quite nobility, but certainly knowing that he was a Have in a world of Have-Nots. A phoenix surrounded by imps. Childhood, sweet and innocent, marked quite distinctly with something foul. So it was probably a bit of a surprise to everyone, Icarus included, when his traitorous beak decided the dinner table was the perfect place to say he wanted to go to a human school. He had only just been considering it—the idea had intrigued him in ways he could barely even put to words—it wasn't even really part of the conversation at hand, but it was out in the open in that moment. And quite suddenly he found himself the center of everyone's attention.
Oh, they did try to dissuade him, which only seemed to deepen his interest. When an old phoenix tells a little fletchling that they know exactly what it's like to feel young, rebellious, and heartbreakingly reckless, there's no way to really say they haven't. They've gone through that part of life time and time again after all. Oh he'd never fit in amongst such fragile, very mortal creatures. They'd never understand, the gulf was just too big. At least imps understood what it meant to be a demon. "But what if I could understand what it means to be human?" Which is exactly the sort of thing that gets met with chortles and guffaws coming from a 14-year-old speaking to a room full of adults who had been teenagers quite a few times themselves.
Incensed, inflamed, and with his pride just a wee bit pricked by those around him, Icarus returned to roost that night prepared to show up everyone. The humans were so short-lived, so very inventive, they fought for every inch of life they could get. And that buzzed around in his head. Perhaps what drove him most was that laughter though. That also buzzed around in there, playing on loop.
Encouragement, he couldn't have that. Help wouldn't just come his way. But to get what he wanted he did have something to help him. He had a lot of pride, and it burned to be shut down like that. He had to at least take the chance. Phoenixes could take chances when no one else could after all. With abandon, Icarus pursued the idea, he got his hands on books, and he read. He prepared, painstakingly. If he was going to convince anyone, even just his parents, to let him go, he couldn't just go anywhere. He needed to perfect his studies, because if he wanted to go, to soothe that ache in his pride, he had to not just show determination to get somewhere, it had to be a place with prestige. Someplace special. And between Alladore and Silver Gate, he chose the latter. "Chose" is perhaps a strong word for drawing a name out of a hat, but at the last minute he just hadn't been able to make that choice, and left it to chance. And that was a choice all its own.
Passing the exam was pretty easy compared to facing Mother, Father, and the Arrows, but Mother and Father knew very well that their little fletchling had worked hard in the time between first saying those words and the day he really asked to leave. And the Arrows, while every demon's childhood boogeyman, maybe they weren't as scary and cruel as the bedtime stories made them out to be. He made it, away from home and towards the beacon of magic on earth. Silver Gate Academy.
END: C 40 STR: E 25 >DEX: D 15 >AGI: D 25 >INT: B 87 WIL: D 40 CHR: E 25 SPT: F 5 >LCK: D 35
-Equipment- Weapons: Gear: A smooth ash wand, lacquered to a dark finish, about 12 inches long; you might not need a wand to do magic, but he finds it helps him with gestures. And you do still need implements to work magecraft on. Other:
Independent:
Phoenix: Every time you die you will be reincarnated as an egg, and restart your life over again. Each time you die and restart, your magical energy grows more quickly as you age. The more life cycles you have lived, the more powerful you can become. While you can live well beyond 200 years without dying and restarting your life, you will still suffer from the effects of old age.
Phoenix Plumes: As a phoenix you have access to Plumes, which are a representation of your power. They can be spent to give yourself a boost of magical power for a short time, and they restore every day. You currently have 1. (This can be improved with use of your phoenix magic).
Demon: Your physiology as a demon means you don't suffer from wounding unless it's of a holy nature, or exorcising nature. As long as you have magical energy you can stay in near top physical condition.
Phoenix Magic: You have access to unique Phoenix Magic, thus opening you to their Spellbooks. These spells require the user to be a Phoenix. You also naturally have an affinity towards Fire spells, where their Difficulty is one rank lower when you try to cast them.
Phoenix Regeneration: You regenerate at a rapid pace, many times more quickly than even vampires, and even more efficiently for that speed. Your physiology also has a regenerative property where simply sharing your magical energy (if you know a spell that does it) can heal others.
Startled Bird: When you are startled, or attacked from an unseen position, your AGI will increase by 50% for one post. This only activates if you are not aware of the attacker, or the attacker is able to use stealth skills.
Personality: Definitionally, Icarus is a coward, a fool, and an idiot.
It might seem contradictory for an eternal firebird to be defined by cowardice, but then again Icarus isn't exactly your average phoenix. It's not like any sort of well thought-out cowardice, but he is just easily panicked. He's anxious about a lot of things all of the time, has a nasty habit of inventing new things to be anxious about, and this high-strung mentality leaves him prone to freaking out in response to unexpected stimulus. Or just that little extra push over the edge.
On the topic of freaking out, it's not just heart-pounding terror that Icarus wears on his sleeves. Really, it's all of his emotions. He tries quite desperately to emulate the cool, serene attitudes of his forebears, but lacking their experience all he has is a thin shell of serenity that cracks under the slightest pressure, almost exactly unlike a well-balanced egg. Anger, love, embarrassment, it all comes surging to the surface the moment any of his keys get pressed. And Icarus is basically a pipe organ in that regard.
Compounding all of his immaturity, or perhaps causing it, is another one of Icarus's contradictions: while patient, and more than willing to wait for results, he is consistently shortsighted. He doesn't really imagine the consequences of his actions beyond how they will affect him immediately, which is likely to give him some trouble making and keeping friends.
When his many flaws and foibles don't get in the way, Icarus could be charitably described as driven, determined, and ultimately he is willing to get down and dirty to get what he wants. And to be fair, it is his desire to soar above the clouds and do something outside the norm that brought him to Silver Gate to begin with.
Backstory: Some people define themselves by their hardships, the adversities they have faced, and Icarus is not one of those. Some by their accomplishments, having already carved their name into the world at a young age, or taken pride in some minor act that to them was magnificent, yet that is also not he. Some are just born with a silver spoon in their mouths, blessed by circumstance, and that might well describe Icarus. To be fair that might well describe most phoenixes, being born full of fiery passion; a species both powerful and impossibly long-lived. Most creatures are lying when they say they have all the time in the world for good fortune to pass their way, but phoenixes really do, and they're more than happy to remind you of it. It was this sort of blessed life that Icarus was born into. Sure, as a demon there is always the threat of stepping on the toes of the Arrows, who were always looking for any slip ups, but his family was full of the good sorts. Well, good sorts for demons. So they didn't have to worry too much about drawing the ire of their patient wardens. Nonetheless, Icarus lived in a world of relative comfort, perhaps not quite nobility, but certainly knowing that he was a Have in a world of Have-Nots. A phoenix surrounded by imps. Childhood, sweet and innocent, marked quite distinctly with something foul. So it was probably a bit of a surprise to everyone, Icarus included, when his traitorous beak decided the dinner table was the perfect place to say he wanted to go to a human school. He had only just been considering it—the idea had intrigued him in ways he could barely even put to words—it wasn't even really part of the conversation at hand, but it was out in the open in that moment. And quite suddenly he found himself the center of everyone's attention.
Oh, they did try to dissuade him, which only seemed to deepen his interest. When an old phoenix tells a little fletchling that they know exactly what it's like to feel young, rebellious, and heartbreakingly reckless, there's no way to really say they haven't. They've gone through that part of life time and time again after all. Oh he'd never fit in amongst such fragile, very mortal creatures. They'd never understand, the gulf was just too big. At least imps understood what it meant to be a demon. "But what if I could understand what it means to be human?" Which is exactly the sort of thing that gets met with chortles and guffaws coming from a 14-year-old speaking to a room full of adults who had been teenagers quite a few times themselves.
Incensed, inflamed, and with his pride just a wee bit pricked by those around him, Icarus returned to roost that night prepared to show up everyone. The humans were so short-lived, so very inventive, they fought for every inch of life they could get. And that buzzed around in his head. Perhaps what drove him most was that laughter though. That also buzzed around in there, playing on loop.
Encouragement, he couldn't have that. Help wouldn't just come his way. But to get what he wanted he did have something to help him. He had a lot of pride, and it burned to be shut down like that. He had to at least take the chance. Phoenixes could take chances when no one else could after all. With abandon, Icarus pursued the idea, he got his hands on books, and he read. He prepared, painstakingly. If he was going to convince anyone, even just his parents, to let him go, he couldn't just go anywhere. He needed to perfect his studies, because if he wanted to go, to soothe that ache in his pride, he had to not just show determination to get somewhere, it had to be a place with prestige. Someplace special. And between Alladore and Silver Gate, he chose the latter. "Chose" is perhaps a strong word for drawing a name out of a hat, but at the last minute he just hadn't been able to make that choice, and left it to chance. And that was a choice all its own.
Passing the exam was pretty easy compared to facing Mother, Father, and the Arrows, but Mother and Father knew very well that their little fletchling had worked hard in the time between first saying those words and the day he really asked to leave. And the Arrows, while every demon's childhood boogeyman, maybe they weren't as scary and cruel as the bedtime stories made them out to be. He made it, away from home and towards the beacon of magic on earth. Silver Gate Academy.
END: C 40 STR: E 25 >DEX: D 15 >AGI: D 25 INT: C 75 WIL: D 35 CHR: E 25 SPT: F 5 >LCK: D 35
-Equipment- Weapons: Gear: A smooth ash wand, lacquered to a dark finish, about 12 inches long; you might not need a wand to do magic, but he finds it helps him with gestures. And you do still need implements to work magecraft on. Other:
Independent:
Phoenix: Every time you die you will be reincarnated as an egg, and restart your life over again. Each time you die and restart, your magical energy grows more quickly as you age. The more life cycles you have lived, the more powerful you can become. While you can live well beyond 200 years without dying and restarting your life, you will still suffer from the effects of old age.
Phoenix Plumes: As a phoenix you have access to Plumes, which are a representation of your power. They can be spent to give yourself a boost of magical power for a short time, and they restore every day. You currently have 1. (This can be improved with use of your phoenix magic).
Demon: Your physiology as a demon means you don't suffer from wounding unless it's of a holy nature, or exorcising nature. As long as you have magical energy you can stay in near top physical condition.
Phoenix Magic: You have access to unique Phoenix Magic, thus opening you to their Spellbooks. These spells require the user to be a Phoenix. You also naturally have an affinity towards Fire spells, where their Difficulty is one rank lower when you try to cast them.
Startled Bird: When you are startled, or attacked from an unseen position, your AGI will increase by 50% for one post. This only activates if you are not aware of the attacker, or the attacker is able to use stealth skills.
Catching up to techs so I'm not going to always be 2 behind (because to be fair I'm going to fall behind the moment we hit that first breakthrough) - Primitive techs - Copper - Animal Husbandry/Irrigation
Day 2, Week 25, Cycle 1 Reality convulsed, shivering in the aftermath of the storms, that had lashed those dreary shores.
Another people stood on the island's ground, brought from somewhere old to somewhere new. Those first few seconds would be definitional to them in this new world. And in that first moment, most of them knew only silence, their jaws futilely trying to remember what they were doing, or even to speak a word. "...the principle of..." spoke the wisest Rudyar, reaching for the words she had been saying but moments before. She had been saying something, something vitally important, something that she could never forget and that she was sure her people would never forget, and yet...and yet she could not remember now what she was saying, or who she was saying it to. Yet the others had all lost the words on their tongues in that instant that crossed worlds. But in the minds of all those around, having forgotten whence they had come, those were the first words they had ever heard. And some part of them longed to celebrate that. All who had heard those words turned to their source, a wordless cheer rising through the crowd. Others, further away, only understanding that cheering was going on, simply joined in.
It did not take long after their arrival for the Rudyars to break off into smaller crowds, groups that could all speak together, and watch the other small groupings as well. A murmur was gathering, an undercurrent beneath everything else. As each Rudyar looked around at the world around them, ideas came to their minds. Concepts that they could explain, and with each explanation more words entered the circles. Some even felt the call of concepts that they could not put to words, things they just knew without understanding what it meant until another next to them said a word, a word that they could use, knowledge being pieced together in scattered ways.
One particular crowd, having set up higher up on the mild slope they had arrived on, suddenly made a proclamation that drew the attention of others. "Listen!" came the call to order, from the largest of seven, with a fine beard of black, "Listen! Before light becomes dark, we must have two things! Two things! Food! And! Dens!"
Now wasn't that a revolutionary idea?
The treeline to the north was of immediate importance to the Rudyar, many trees had fallen in the aftermath of the storm, and the ground was littered with sticks of every size. Some industrious few grabbed what they could and headed back south along the tiny stream, to where they had first appeared. They knew deep down that, even if the wood would be important, even if the woods might be absolutely vital, they could not live under their boughs. The open grasslands suited them much better. A minute did not go by between the gatherers here someone did not pass some comment on the flavor of a leaf or a berry they had found, or one tried again by another curious soul, to see if they also liked it.
Others slunk through the trees and the grasslands like they had spent their whole lives doing so, crude knives of stone in their hand, shaped almost on the move. For this first day of days they avoided the larger game, but rodents, lepus, any creature they could reach and get their claws on was prey. They needed something more than just knives and a newly-formed hunting party if they wanted to take on the striders or krollans that seemed to rule the river itself. Some of them understood what they might need, but also knew they needed more than just rocks to get there. Nonetheless, the Rudyars would eat tonight, and perhaps tomorrow, they would take down one of those birds.
Day 6, Week 25, Cycle 1 Home. What a nebulous concept, thought up by the wisest Rudyar, claws sunk into the earth as she dug. Was this home? They were building homes, certainly, half-dug into the earth and roofed with whatever materials were quick at hand. They had been doing this for days now, at first all squished into whatever shelter they could scrounge up, now getting more comfortable in what space they could spare. She had been one of the first to suggest setting aside one home to keep their food, after lining the floors with some of the flat, smooth stone that could be found down in the riverbeds. It wasn't perfect, but it kept the food dry and kept the worst of the pests from eating it and leaving once they'd had their fill. Some of the 'pests' were tasty too, they all had discovered, once they were caught. "Perhaps put the pests to use?" she muttered aloud, some half-remembered dream of an idea coming to her. "Ya need more sun if you're thinking stuff like that, quiet one" immediately came a response from outside, even as the speaker continued on their way.
Day 1, Week 27, Cycle 1 It had taken more time than the hunters would have liked, but sturdy wood had been needed for shelters first and foremost, and it was only now that they could spare anything to hunt down the larger prey, when smaller prey was plenty safe and plentiful still. But word was traveling fast around the stacks of hovels and the sunning-logs that had been brought back from the forest. They had appeared here at the very tail end of the hot months, and it would be getting cold soon. But with the lack of wood, they had had plenty of time to prepare the heads for their tools. And prepare they had. Some of them carried a couple of short spears each, but the burlier individuals going out today had axes they'd shaped from the biggest and most promising stones they could find.
The strider never saw it coming, really. The first spear thunked satisfyingly into its thigh, and its cry of terror set the rest of its herd into a rapid retreat, leaving their comrade to face whatever monstrous predator had appeared. They were allowed to escape today, as the Rudyars only wanted the one bird today. Stumbling along, uselessly flapping its wings and simply trying to run itself, the strider didn't really stand a chance. Another cry as one of the tiny reptiles slashed at its leg with its stone arm. On the ground, flapping, trying to push them away... Another cut, this time through its neck...
Day 3, Week 29, Cycle 1 Intuition, that little voice in the back of your head, the thing that occasionally (well, very rarely) poked into a Rudyar's head and told them speaking wasn't the right idea here, was paying off.
The hunters had learned that to hunt without speaking was the only way to succeed, at least until after they had downed their prey. Then the congratulations and the salutations could begin in earnest. And once they were back home, their speech was more earnest, even less restrained than the norm. And after a month of that hard work, running through the woods and even dragging back and splitting so many of the sunning logs, to ensure that ever more good sunning spots were available, they had decided that the only reasonable payment was that they would enjoy the best spots for themselves. So atop the slight incline of the grassland, they stacked up their thrones of sticks and logs, which they would ascend every morn, to look down on the littler Rudyars from.
Others had concluded very simply that to live was to speak, and so they spent their days gathering, or now watching the little plants grow in the small fields being tested to the east, where some of the island's vegetables and a few cereals that looked promising, or working together to dig and line the foundation for more storage.
It was a scarce few who had ideas, who stayed quiet as they tried them out. Sometimes it was just that something had clicked in their head, and now they were breeding little beetles in a hole, feeding them with grains and seeing just how many little larvae they could have. The little pests could be useful it seemed, after all. They would happily eat the worst parts of the grain and grow up to be eaten themselves. And they were far tastier than grain.
Others had more radical ideas, and they didn't necessarily turn out. But they all knew it in their bones...
They had to beat the cold, somehow.
The Rudyars appear, start building housing, hunting, and storing food. Social hierarchy is very loose at the moment, with the only real cohesion being in the hunters, who have decided that they get the best sunning spots. Someone just started the process of actual animal husbandry, on a much smaller scale than our other animal tamers. And some idiot is about to invent Pottery. Because why would we invent fermentation right now? I don't see any possible reason.
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