HokumPocus

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

Mark quietly followed Berke’s suggestion and accompanied him in turning in their forms, confident in his speech abilities and eager to follow the directions of his superiors.

---

Mark’s body remained stiff as a board as soon as he slipped his tail through his chair. A written test! He stared at the sheets of paper in front of him as if they were wild animals to be dominated and trained. The vision-blocking magic surrounding him was bewildering and intensified all of his emotions in the way that a sensory deprivation tank does. He gazed harder at his test.

Mark answered the reading and writing portions mediocrely. He was well acquainted with the world of spelling and grammar due to being such an avid reader, and occasionally creating his own comics every now and then (a badly kept secret) so questions covering the basics found themselves conquered. Although anything more complex than that was incredibly confusing, he wasn’t about to admit defeat and leave a single question go unanswered. Thus, no matter how little he knew about a given subject Mark would find SOMEthing to fill in the blanks with. And how little he knew.

Mathematics was a completely foreign subject. He knew what numbers were, but anything beyond counting them one by one was on the same level as rocket science, magic, and rocket science magic. The science section was just as confusing, maybe even more so, as a diagram of the female body made Mark experience twelve different emotions simultaneously. He quietly drew a gun on the male body and continued.

The general magic knowledge portion of the exam was the liberation from the madness, since it contained questions that he was equipped to answer. His favorite superheroes oftentimes gave lengthy dramatic monologues over magic types and magic classifications, so Mark had the information engraved inside of his brain. Filtering that information from everything that was attached to it was another problem entirely, however and the end result were answers that were technically right but consisted of blocky paragraphs that relied heavily on examples. “FOUNDATION MAGIC IS WHAT SUPERHEROES LIKE THE STEAM STRIKER USE DUE TO THEM INVOLVING……. LIKE IN VOLUME 34 IN THE BEGINNING WHEN ALL THE UNOCTOCAN FIGHTERS USE FRIENDSHIP TO…… SORT OF LIKE THE CHARACTER….” It was possible that his answers weren’t all the most correct, but they were certainly the largest. His handwriting only added to the overwhelming effect that his responses gave off, consisting of exclusively capitalized letters that were surprisingly neat and written with extreme, unnecessary pressure. Writing is a window to the soul, they say.

The question “why are you here?” stood out from the others, and so did his answer.

“BE THE BEST SOLDIER. AND ASSIST IN UNLOCKING OTHER’S BEAST SPIRITS ALONG THE WAY.”

The second part was tacked on as he recalled the chimeras around him who were unwilling to embrace their monstrous characteristics and use them to their advantage. Coaching others was naturally implied from the start, but recent events made it seem like something that should be explicitly mentioned. With that question answered, it was time for the physical portion.

The one kilometer run was a positive activity for Mark, as it had been awhile since he had exercised. His above average endurance helped carry him through with no major problems. The long jump was a short affair thanks to a nice and agile frame. He did an average job at pulling the wagon, but once again maintained a steady and passionate attempt. It is important to mention that he was unleashing battle cries at various points throughout his challenges.

In the cafeteria he listened intently to what the upperclassmen had to say over the magic exams that would soon take place. They were entertained by his peculiar behavior and had taken various creative liberties throughout their accounts in order to rile him up as much as possible since it beat eating the same old pretentious soup and sandwich. Repeated cries of "WHAT HAPPENED AFTERWARDS" rang strongly inside the building.

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

Mark was competent when it came to reading other people. It was a vital part of his occupation, of course. He was completely and totally incompetent when it came to seeing the bigger picture, a conversation in this case. The results were predictable as he furrowed his eyebrows, chin in hand and listened to the chimera's apology. The boy's final words were aimed at Joseph, but Mark shot out a reply before he or the ever polite Berke could speak.

"DO NOT HESITATE IN COMBAT, SOLDIER. AS A CHIMERA, YOUR SOUL POSSESSES FEROCIOUSNESS AND FERVOR THAT A PLAIN HUMAN COULD NEVER OBTAIN NATURALLY. A TRUE MAN NEVER GIVES IN OR SUBMITS TO OTHERS, TWO THINGS THAT YOU HAVE DONE MULTIPLE TIIIIIMESSSSS!"

The word "times" was stretched masculinely like a flexed muscle, meant to be the killing blow of his sentence that would cause his listener to reflect and adapt like a warrior would. When a fish bites into a hook, a fisherman reels it in! Unless the fish in question has an equally potent amount of charisma, in which case the attempt was useless and has an effect similar to planting dynamite in a pond and then stabbing the body of water with a knife because it wasn't enough. "THE STRENGTH TO PERSERVERE LIES WITHIN YOU. NEVER SURRENDER!" The last bit was taken from a comic book, but his listeners were likely unaware of that.

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

---

The words coming out of Berke’s mouth were similar to a canister of gasoline, flaring the flames of passion within Mark. The only thing saving his ears from audial destruction was the introduction of a new distraction in the form of the sheep chimera that Mark had set his sights on moments ago. Mark shook his new roommate’s hand with unnecessary force; although Berke’s physical strength probably overrode it and kept the student from viewing another red flag. He responded Berke’s question with a solid “YES” and quickly jogged over to the center of commotion.

The sheep was being toyed around with by a human bigger than him, an act that made Mark remember the events of the previous combat scenario. The other student’s sarcasm was obvious enough to where even he would have understood it, but in order to have done that Mark would have to have seen the situation as a conversation in the first place. In a flash, the silver whistle that hung on his neck was now on his lips. He let out an uncharacteristically small tweet in order to catch the chimera’s attention but avoid activating his powers. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, SOLDIER! DO NOT ADMIT DEFEAT SO EASILY AGAINST YOUR HUMAN ADVERSARIES! USE YOUR BEAST SPIRIT AND -CRUSH- HIM!” The bundle of wooly weakness in front of him would require extensive work if he were to ever become a true soldier, Mark reasoned. Of course, this undertaking would be facilitated now that he wasn’t the only person dedicated to the soldier way of life, as his new friend Berke was obviously just as passionate and enthusiastic as he was, obviously. Obviously.

~ Cystra City - The Art of Sound ~

Best of luck in your personal life m8 👁👄👁, if you ever decide on rebooting this rp you already know who to call

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

---

Mark's hand rested on his chin, with his thumb and index finger shooting out to form an L shape. It was a habit subconsciously picked up from comics, and acted as an idle pose during periods of intense thought. One of the only occasions in which he displayed competence was during battle analysis, but so far he had learned nothing. He was already familiar with the Breckenridge lineage to an unhealthy degree from their many, many newspaper appearances and no one else had used magic. Just caution and words. And that sheep chimera who gave in so easily! He was frustrated from the lack of intel, but fired up beyond belief seeing that his fellow classmates obviously needed a coach like him to help them maximize their strength.

The announcements and their ringing intercepted his speeding train of thought and found themselves flattened by the thought process of a stubborn dog who loves the sound of alarms. After finally loosening his muscles he stood up and followed, awkwardly attempting to lower the formality in his walk now that he saw the casual way others followed the professors. "VERY WELL THEN, I WILL ADAPT."

As soon as his brain registered the sight of the athletic compound Mark's tail transformed into a brown blur. All of the equipment he could ever dream of was in front of him, and even a few that he couldn't dream of were scattered around as well. He fixated on the standard pieces of equipment that made frequent appearances during training montages. The bench press in the distance looked exactly like the one Unoctoman used before his big fight with against the Deadland Daemon. Mark clenched his right fist and closed his eyes as he remembered what he said to his trainee, moments before risking his life for the good of the people: "I am the Octoman and I Octocan".

The last stop was just as exciting. Mark's passion extended to literature, and the sight of so many books in one place was mind-blowing. His attempts at maintaining a straight and stiff posture were once again toppled by the visible excitement transmitted by his tail. Afterwards, it waned as he realized that he was unsure of who to select as a roommate. The effect of being a social person who had spent his entire life with the same group of people resulted in a strange moment of weakness. He couldn't remember a time when he ever experienced this and the whole wave of emotion felt like a child trying alcohol. Necessary bitterness? Awareness of a discomfort that would happen often later? It was interrupted by his first official friend, Berke.

Berke's visible feelings of uncertainty registered in Mark's mind, and the urge to use his power-enhanced dynamic coaching system rose. While his powers only affected their target's abilities, a combination of feeling stronger and the placebo effect from Mark's speeches would beef up his target's confidence and security immensely. Not even Mark was aware that half of his powers weren't real. His own worries were quashed as soon as the need to guide another person was created. "I WILL ACCEPT YOUR REQUEST WITH MUCH EXCITEMENT, BERKE. MAY WE GROW FROM EACHOTHER." His hand shot up to salute a fellow warrior before immediately stopping and transforming into a handshake. He would have to act "casual" from time to time and even engage in acts of "friendship" in order to create new bonds. Berke was perfect to start off with, since Mark had already created a superhero persona for him. As Mark's calloused hand extended to reach his new roommate, he fantasized about Berke the Berserk launching a vehicle at another vehicle and somehow exploding an entire city. Poor Berke.

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

---

Mark's invitation was directed at only one person, but his voice had the reach and impact of a shotgun blast and sure enough, others heard. A sheep chimera rejected his offer and insulted him, before scurrying off to another table. Mark wasn't oblivious to the ever-present discrimination going on in the world, but was still shocked that another chimera would speak like that. His coaching instincts immediately locked their sights onto all one hundred pounds of wiry insecurity and Mark immediately knew that the chimera needed to be exposed to the soldier way of life if he ever wanted to truly live. He had the contrarian tendency to see chimeras as real life superhumans, and the sight of another of his kind rejecting himself had suppressed any emotions that would have come from being insulted. This mindset was also an effective distraction from the words of the girl who patted his head, as they carried unfortunate implications about the public view of military affairs that he would rather try to ignore than extrapolate.

Another person reacted to Mark's outburst, also fueled by the second-hand embarrassment that the dog coach emanated effortlessly. Mark, having finished licking his plate clean, was surprised at seeing someone go along with his plans so quickly. Everyone that foolishly followed Mark's ideas required interrogating, insisting and motivation beforehand, and now a large soldier was in front of him, eager to continue.

"SALUTATIONS BERKE, MY NAME IS MARK STEEL. ARE YOU -ALSO- A FOLLOWER OF THE SOLDIER WAY OF LIFE?"

The second half of his sentence was a verbal pit trap, disguising itself by blending in with his introduction. Saying no was a bad idea, as it invited Mark to attempt converting his conversational partner. Saying yes was something no being had ever done before, and no one really had the urge to find out the result. Berke was saved from his doomed fate as a fight began to develop in the cafeteria grounds. Mark ignored the actual context and began to treat it as a sparring match, watching in total silence.

The fight was initiated by a girl who took offense to Bawen's statement and decided to roughen him up a bit. Mark, rather than support the girl who was defending him, stared at Bawen with the sort of determination that a teacher would have towards a student. The sheep chimera's manhood was on the line and so he knew better to interrupt anything, and opted to instead observe their fighting techniques. Fighting was what sharpened men's spirits and displayed their passions. The rush of adrenaline when spectating or engaging in any form of combat made Mark's heart race more than anything else ever in the world. If a man couldn't fight, then how could he ever hope to be something as glorious as a soldier? His tail and ears tensed as the boy made no attempt to defend himself from his opponent. Mark paid plenty of attention to her as well, impressed by the fighting spirit the girls in the academy were capable of.

If the idea of an unresponsive combatant and a female one weren't life-changing enough, the idea of several more interrupting the fight and even using magic certainly sealed the deal in demonstrating just how different the institution was to home. It made it a bit tougher to judge everyone's abilities too. If poor Berke had said anything to the dog it would have been like talking to a brick wall.

As the conflict waned and the participants resorted to talking Mark's excitement began to soften his senses and gently return them to normal. His clenched jaw and tightened body settled down afterwards in unison. Predictably, the majority of what was said flew over his head, with the exception of one of the institute's professors lecturing the others on magic. Magic was banned, but if someone used it on you it gave you permission to use it also? Mark's brain broke up professor Brovak's words into smaller chunks in order to properly take in the information. A voice in his head told him to avoid violence in order to follow the rules as closely as possible, while another desperately wanted to fight everyone. Tough times were ahead.

Sonic - The New Generation

Bloodedge the minion was taking a walk around the Neo-Edo castle when he heard a really big explosion.

"meh, *listens to music*" said bloodedge said bloodedge

he wanted to help his friend sonic because he cares about him but not in a gay way (shut up kevin)

just then an ominous figure materialized from the trees around the castle.

"Who are you" said bloodedge drawing his sword named bloodedge

Greetings Stranger,

* * * * * * * *

I’m not surprised to see your kind here. Many adventurers have traveled this way since the recent troubles had passed. No doubt you’ve heard about the tragedy that befell the community here at the Guild. Some say that the Guildfall, bane of role players, is slowly enveloping the community once again. I don’t know if I believe that, but I have noticed from time to time that posts or players will mysteriously disappear. They disappear without word and without notice, hidden by the leaders of our community. Maybe it’s nothing. But rumors and sideways glances seems to trail in their wake. You see, shortly before Guildfall had occurred similar disappearances were common as well and strange rumor began to ravage even the most common parts of the guild. But until more evidence is uncovered I’ll remain here within this community and so should you. You’ll find interesting role play ideas across all the various topics categories here on the Guild and a few of mine or ones that I participate in as well. However, I would make sure you save your own information before the shadow that fell over the Guild before the fall once again consumes us all. But if you’re still alive before then, I’ll be more than happy to accommodate any role playing needs you may have if I can.

* * * * * * * *

You should talk to some of the others, too. Guildmod has sent you a PM package to add with your new arrival and there are any number of veterans who are more than qualified to answer your questions. Maybe they can tell you more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"ok" said bloodedge

Sonic - The New Generation

Name: Bloodedge the Minion

Powers: it says it right their u butthead!

THeme song: That one song that goes "oh ah ah ah" u know the one and also snow halation

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

---

Mark was in the process of brutalizing his meal when he felt a hand being laid on his head. He wheeled around, and reacted in the way that only someone who sleeps with their uniform on could.

"SOLDIER, IS THIS A DECLARATION OF WAR?!?, VERY WELL TH-"

He interpreted the action as an invitation to spar, but let out a solid "WHAT" as soon as he registered the hand belonging to a girl. First it was girls being officials, and now one of them wanted to fight him? Mark narrowed his eyes while trying to accept this, but it felt like the mental version of placing the circle peg in the square hole. When it came to reading people outside of coaching magic, he had the book upside down. Another student now began to laugh at unfolding scene in the background.

When he thought about the things girls did his mind struggled to fetch anything other than a blank image. Thinking even harder, he recalled that a lot of the newspapers that he would read often advertised machinery, with a well-dressed woman standing near it and smiling. Did girls do that as a pasttime? Was that her true goal?

Mark was out of his seat now, with no effort taken into wiping the trails of fruit juice and blood from his face. He addressed the calm girl in front of him now with confusion, pointing a finger at her face with vigor.

"I DID NOT COME HERE TO BUY MACHINERY SOLDIER, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I ALSO DO NOT POSSESS THE FORMAL CLOTHING NEEDED TO STAND AROUND IT EITHER, IF -THAT'S- WHAT YOU ARE ASKING." Mark then continued his speech. "PATTING OTHERS ON THE HEAD IS A DISPLAY OF SHAMEFUL AND INAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR, BUT I WILL DISMISS IT TODAY DUE TO YOUR IGNORANCE IN THE SOLDIER WAY OF LIFE." He saluted and sat down again, the tone of his voice shifting from loud to loud-but-less-loud-and-more-friendly.

"IF YOU EXCUSE ME SOLDIER, I WILL CONTINUE TO ENERGIZE MY BODY. YOU ARE WELCOME TO JOIN AS A FELLOW STUDENT."

Mark began to vigorously lick his tray clean, wondering just how radically different this place was from his home. Everybody was so strange when compared to him, he thought.

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

---

Two of the four officials spoke to Mark after being more or less forced to recognize his, persistent presence. One of them had a small amount of laughs at his expense, but Mark and subtlety mixed together like fine wine and motor oil, so the behavior went ignored. After registering the different components inside of their brief sentences as "advice" and "praise", the dopamine receptors of his human-esque brain began to fire off at full speed, adding a third exploding zeppelin to the earlier analogy. The young boy's milk chocolate tail ambushed the rest of his stiff body via hyperspeed wagging, acting less like an extension of his human parts and more like an angry weasel trying to escape his pants. He turned to the enormous man first, exposing his flaw of not knowing what an indoor voice was. This was inevitable, and if you would've tried to fill him in on the concept he would have probably cocked his head and informed you that both of you were outside. After addressing his first superior he turned to his second and did the same.

"SIR YES SIR."

"THANK YOU SIR, MY TIME IN FACT WILL BE -VERY- PRODUCTIVE, AND I HOPE TO RECEIVE -MANY- REWARDS."

The idea of a woman in such a high position of power was an anomaly to the orphaned, propaganda-chugging Mark. His brain couldn't fetch a respectful feminine equivalent to 'sir', so sir was chosen. His tail continued to wag, his head simultaneously generating images of standard army awards and the absolutely lewd and shameless act of being patted on the head.

---

Mark had eaten in the same cafeteria his entire life, so the sight of such a familiar area calmed him as much as anything could, which is to say, not much. This effect was immediately discarded as soon as the room's contents sunk in. It seemingly had every food imaginable, along with whatever unimaginable horrors awaited in the southeast quadrant. He feverishly stacked a metal tray high with raw meat and fruit, alternating between the two while excitedly smelling everything in the room. Of course, he let nearby humans serve themselves first out of courtesy, but not without gulping down the pavlovian drooling caused by the trays surrounding him. At home Mark would regularly eat dog food in order to connect with his ancestors and enhance his core strength, but the absence of such a delicacy caused a small sag in his ears.

The cafeteria's activity levels were in full swing, and it seemed like most had already acquainted themselves with one person or another. Back at the orphanage, Mark knew everybody down to the color of their underwear, making the change of scenery disorienting. Of the many, many, many unnecessary things he had packed into his XXL army inspired backpack for children was an absolutely unsalvageable book on making friends. Mark considered studying the ways of friendship before telling himself that reading in the cafeteria was absolutely harmful to the school environment. Luckily, there was an empty grouping of seats in the southeast quadrant, most likely due to humans not wanting to associate themselves with chimera food.

Mark set forth on his journey of a thousand less than one mile and propped his body up like a pianist tied to a pole. He began wolfing down every giblet of raw meat and every chunk of fruit as if it were a matter of life and death. Any stray berry that tried to escape his bare hands was quickly met by Mark nearly slamming his head onto the table in an attempt to suck it up. Eating out of a bowl was an advanced soldier strategy in Mark's point of view, as it let you abandon appendages and tools in favor of direct and violent consumption. Attempting to do this with a tray predictably resulted in a very messy ending. The seats near him remained spotless and empty as he continued his soldier's duty.