I'm going to give this until the end of the week. If there are still no applications I'll close it for lack of interest.
Inedible Member
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Bio
I like to RP!
You'll find that I tend to like running games, rather than playing in them.
You'll find that I tend to like running games, rather than playing in them.
Most Recent Posts
@Inedible What type of faceclaim do you want if any?
A photo would be nice, preferably of an actor/real person.
Apologies for the delay, but looks like there's a fair bit of interest. So!
A OOC Thread has been created to accept aplicaitons.
A OOC Thread has been created to accept aplicaitons.
Magic is real. This is something few in the modern age know, a guarded secret divided up between the few with the talent, resources, and drive to control the forces of reality itself.
Magic is power. Power wielded in many forms; alchemical recipes and cheap enchantments, ancient relics and sorcerer bloodlines. Those who know of it covet it, and those who have it are inevitably drawn into struggle with others.
Magic can be taught. There are very few formal education systems--magicians gain nothing from altruism--but some do exist.
The most prestigious and infamous of these establishments is the Scholomance, a college of magic said to be run by the Devil himself. Every three years thirteen students are tested and selected to attend, spirited away to the ancient castle high in the mountains. There they face a gauntlet of instructions and trials. Those with aptitude graduate at the most powerful magicians in the world.
And those who fail forfeit their souls.
Magic is power. Power wielded in many forms; alchemical recipes and cheap enchantments, ancient relics and sorcerer bloodlines. Those who know of it covet it, and those who have it are inevitably drawn into struggle with others.
Magic can be taught. There are very few formal education systems--magicians gain nothing from altruism--but some do exist.
The most prestigious and infamous of these establishments is the Scholomance, a college of magic said to be run by the Devil himself. Every three years thirteen students are tested and selected to attend, spirited away to the ancient castle high in the mountains. There they face a gauntlet of instructions and trials. Those with aptitude graduate at the most powerful magicians in the world.
And those who fail forfeit their souls.
It’s a modern magic school game!
Specifically a magic college game. Players take the role of students recruited to the Scholomance as they learn and undergo deadly trials as up-and-coming magicians, as well as struggle with their (sometimes literal) personal demons. The game will likely be darker in tone, more of a Magicians than a Harry Potter.
Some additional notes:
- 1) There will be a discord made once the game starts, please be able to join it.
- 2) Please be able to post at least once a week (though a little more would be ideal).
- 3) This is a small group RP, so if there's a lot of interest I'll pair down to 4-5 people total.
Name: What’s your character's name?
Gender: Male/Female/Non-binary/etc
Age: Most likely 18-19
Nationality: Where do you come from?
Physical Description: What does your character look like?
Place any photos here. Probably real people would be best.
Personality: What's your deal?
Background: What was your life like, pre-invitation?
Dana’s magic illuminates the cabin again as composures are regained and the passengers find their feet again. Little remains wholly intact in the wake of those few violent seconds of turbulence, and at least one chair has to be shoved aside to reach the cabin door. There’s another round of staccato gunfire as the girls emerge into the hall.
The hall itself runs through the center of the ship, rows of cabins on either side. Toward the fore of the vessel are stairways to the deck, now shut tight. Toward the aft the hallway widens out into a circular common area, more stairways leading down to both the lower decks and up to the control rooms.
It’s a quick matter to determine that Vanna’s instincts were correct. In the sphere of Dana’s light they can see tendrils of dark fog creeping along the floor, slowly rolling down the wooden corridor. The cloud-bank outside isn’t an occurrence of nature—it’s a cluster of Nox. A deadly fog that’s begun to leak into the Laurus, both strengthening their magic and poisoning the air around them.
The expanse of the hallway is darkened, marked only by a few dots of slowly dying light-bulbs. As the girls step further out of the cabin they see two cones of light heading their way, hurried footsteps attached to them. Two shapes appear shortly at the perimeter of Dana’s ring of light, soldiers in NOI inform wearing protective masks and carrying magitech rifles.
“There’s been an emergency.” The voice is distorted slightly through the filter. “You need to come—”
The request is cut off abruptly as one of the approaching flashlights and the man attached to it vanishes into the darkness behind. The other crewman turns to fire after, and the crack of his weapon sounds painfully loud down the hall.
The arc of lightning-like magic fired from the weapon finds its home in a monster. It looms up out of the dark, humanoid shaped but recognizable instantly as something alien. It must be somewhere around seven feet tall, its entire body made of inky black substance. Crimson lines trace across it in strange geometric patterns, glowingly with sinister energy in the darkness. Nox seems to roll off it as it moves, black smoke that blurs and shifts the void’s outline, and a throbbing crown of crimson light hovers above its head.
The impact from the rifle spears through it’s chest, an arc of blue electricity rippling across the creature. It’s response is violent and near-instant: One long black arm rises, the pointed claws at its end driving into the remaining crewman’s chest with enough force to lift the man from his feet and pin him to the nearby wall. There’s a strangled cry that follows, along with a clatter as the soldier’s weapon falls from his hands to the carpeted floor.
Though the guard struggles, it seems unlikely the conflict will last much longer. The void’s other arm rises, preparing to deal a quick and fatal finish to its dangling prey.
The hall itself runs through the center of the ship, rows of cabins on either side. Toward the fore of the vessel are stairways to the deck, now shut tight. Toward the aft the hallway widens out into a circular common area, more stairways leading down to both the lower decks and up to the control rooms.
It’s a quick matter to determine that Vanna’s instincts were correct. In the sphere of Dana’s light they can see tendrils of dark fog creeping along the floor, slowly rolling down the wooden corridor. The cloud-bank outside isn’t an occurrence of nature—it’s a cluster of Nox. A deadly fog that’s begun to leak into the Laurus, both strengthening their magic and poisoning the air around them.
The expanse of the hallway is darkened, marked only by a few dots of slowly dying light-bulbs. As the girls step further out of the cabin they see two cones of light heading their way, hurried footsteps attached to them. Two shapes appear shortly at the perimeter of Dana’s ring of light, soldiers in NOI inform wearing protective masks and carrying magitech rifles.
“There’s been an emergency.” The voice is distorted slightly through the filter. “You need to come—”
The request is cut off abruptly as one of the approaching flashlights and the man attached to it vanishes into the darkness behind. The other crewman turns to fire after, and the crack of his weapon sounds painfully loud down the hall.
The arc of lightning-like magic fired from the weapon finds its home in a monster. It looms up out of the dark, humanoid shaped but recognizable instantly as something alien. It must be somewhere around seven feet tall, its entire body made of inky black substance. Crimson lines trace across it in strange geometric patterns, glowingly with sinister energy in the darkness. Nox seems to roll off it as it moves, black smoke that blurs and shifts the void’s outline, and a throbbing crown of crimson light hovers above its head.
The impact from the rifle spears through it’s chest, an arc of blue electricity rippling across the creature. It’s response is violent and near-instant: One long black arm rises, the pointed claws at its end driving into the remaining crewman’s chest with enough force to lift the man from his feet and pin him to the nearby wall. There’s a strangled cry that follows, along with a clatter as the soldier’s weapon falls from his hands to the carpeted floor.
Though the guard struggles, it seems unlikely the conflict will last much longer. The void’s other arm rises, preparing to deal a quick and fatal finish to its dangling prey.
Magic is real. This is something few in the modern age know, a guarded secret divided up between the few with the talent, resources, and drive to control the forces of reality itself.
Magic is power. Power wielded in many forms; alchemical recipes and cheap enchantments, ancient relics and sorcerer bloodlines. Those who know of it covet it, and those who have it are inevitably drawn into struggle with others.
Magic can be taught. There are very few formal education systems--magicians gain nothing from altruism--but some do exist.
The most prestigious and infamous of these establishments is the Scholomance, a college of magic said to be run by the Devil himself. Every three years thirteen students are tested and selected to attend, spirited away to the ancient castle high in the mountains. There they face a gauntlet of instructions and trials. Those with aptitude graduate at the most powerful magicians in the world.
And those who fail forfeit their souls.
Magic is power. Power wielded in many forms; alchemical recipes and cheap enchantments, ancient relics and sorcerer bloodlines. Those who know of it covet it, and those who have it are inevitably drawn into struggle with others.
Magic can be taught. There are very few formal education systems--magicians gain nothing from altruism--but some do exist.
The most prestigious and infamous of these establishments is the Scholomance, a college of magic said to be run by the Devil himself. Every three years thirteen students are tested and selected to attend, spirited away to the ancient castle high in the mountains. There they face a gauntlet of instructions and trials. Those with aptitude graduate at the most powerful magicians in the world.
And those who fail forfeit their souls.
The Game
It’s a modern magic school game!
Specifically a magic college game. Players take the role of students recruited to the Scholomance as they learn and undergo deadly trials as up-and-coming diabolists, as well as struggle with their (sometimes literal) personal demons. The game will likely be dark in tone, more of a Magicians than a Harry Potter.
This is currently a check to gauge interest, with a proper thread forthcoming if there is enough.
Further Reading
The rattling of the ship oscillates between a low hum and a noticeable turbulence as the conversation continues on, beginning to build once again after several minutes more. The tremors soon become great heaves, the whole cabin and everything in it jostled violently back and forth for a span of hair raising seconds before things become still once more.
But they don’t remain so for long.
Outside the window the foggy gray landscape is suddenly obscured, like a curtain has been shuttered abruptly closed over the viewport. It seems are first like a wall of darkness—until the void opens to reveal an enormous, blood red eye. It dominates the entire window frame, one glowing red pupil that casts the entire cabin in a scarlet spotlight. It darts back and forth, scanning, and then vanishes out of frame as the dark shape its attached to heaves further upwards.
The entire vessel shudders again with the movement, listing sharply to the side. From somewhere above, likely the deck, comes a cacophony of noise; shattering glass and groaning metal.
Things happen very fast after that. The cabin seems to become weightless as the ship drops, careening downward and sideways. The sky becomes visible from the window again, clouds rushing and tumbling past as gravity throws the five occupants of the room left, then right, sending them scattering around the room as the airship plummets.
And then with a final shudder it stops.
The howl of wind subsides, and the controlled hum of the ship returns as the vessel regains control over its own momentum. In the cabin’s window open sky can be glimpsed for just a second before the viewport is obscured again by inky black clouds.
Yet before the five girls have much time to even catch their breath a new problem arises. The cabin lights, tube-shaped bulbs set along the walls, begin to buzz and flicker erratically. From outside comes the sound of slamming doors, heavy footfalls, and garbled voices. From immediately outside comes the sharp, electrical crack of magitech weaponry. Once, twice, then silence.
The dying hum of electricity fills the air.
The lights give one final flicker before the cabin goes dark.
But they don’t remain so for long.
Outside the window the foggy gray landscape is suddenly obscured, like a curtain has been shuttered abruptly closed over the viewport. It seems are first like a wall of darkness—until the void opens to reveal an enormous, blood red eye. It dominates the entire window frame, one glowing red pupil that casts the entire cabin in a scarlet spotlight. It darts back and forth, scanning, and then vanishes out of frame as the dark shape its attached to heaves further upwards.
The entire vessel shudders again with the movement, listing sharply to the side. From somewhere above, likely the deck, comes a cacophony of noise; shattering glass and groaning metal.
Things happen very fast after that. The cabin seems to become weightless as the ship drops, careening downward and sideways. The sky becomes visible from the window again, clouds rushing and tumbling past as gravity throws the five occupants of the room left, then right, sending them scattering around the room as the airship plummets.
And then with a final shudder it stops.
The howl of wind subsides, and the controlled hum of the ship returns as the vessel regains control over its own momentum. In the cabin’s window open sky can be glimpsed for just a second before the viewport is obscured again by inky black clouds.
Yet before the five girls have much time to even catch their breath a new problem arises. The cabin lights, tube-shaped bulbs set along the walls, begin to buzz and flicker erratically. From outside comes the sound of slamming doors, heavy footfalls, and garbled voices. From immediately outside comes the sharp, electrical crack of magitech weaponry. Once, twice, then silence.
The dying hum of electricity fills the air.
The lights give one final flicker before the cabin goes dark.
Victoria’s eyes had drifted to the window, focusing on the glass while the girls spoke. Penny’s voice draws her back, her head slowly tilting toward the short girl when she asks her question.
“How many?” It takes for a second of thought before she recalls, “I’m told somewhere near fifty students this year. There’s a little over a hundred in total.” Not a large number. Said out loud, it gives some clarity as to just how rare and important the five girls in the room may be.
Another tremor passes through the vessel, this one larger and longer than the last. It’s violent enough to shake the table, and the former threat of spilled drinks will become a reality unless quick action is taken. Victoria reaches to plant her fingers over her own saucer, ensuring it remains firmly planted on the table until the shuddering stops.
When it does, she raises several fingers to touch her left ear, brushing back pale strands of hair to reveal a small earpiece tucked there. Her eyes return to the window, lingering several seconds before the woman rises quietly to her feet.
“Excuse me.” She requests. She gives no explanation, nor any instruction. Instead she takes a few smooth steps to the cabin door, slipping outside and leaving the five girls to themselves.
“How many?” It takes for a second of thought before she recalls, “I’m told somewhere near fifty students this year. There’s a little over a hundred in total.” Not a large number. Said out loud, it gives some clarity as to just how rare and important the five girls in the room may be.
Another tremor passes through the vessel, this one larger and longer than the last. It’s violent enough to shake the table, and the former threat of spilled drinks will become a reality unless quick action is taken. Victoria reaches to plant her fingers over her own saucer, ensuring it remains firmly planted on the table until the shuddering stops.
When it does, she raises several fingers to touch her left ear, brushing back pale strands of hair to reveal a small earpiece tucked there. Her eyes return to the window, lingering several seconds before the woman rises quietly to her feet.
“Excuse me.” She requests. She gives no explanation, nor any instruction. Instead she takes a few smooth steps to the cabin door, slipping outside and leaving the five girls to themselves.
The pattering of rain against the nearby window provides a dull underscore for each introduction, as does the quiet rumble of the ship in flight. In the foggy atmosphere outside can be seen the occasion streak of lightning, thin and luminescent white lines that creep their way through the sky. The interior of the cabin, however, is warm and inviting, shielded from the elements just on the other side of the polished glass.
Victoria’s gaze traces across each of the five girls as they introduce themselves, lingering as long as each speaks before moving on to the next. For Vanna she really is like a mirror, immaculate poise and nigh-unreadable expression.
Penny may be able to take some solace in the fact that, embarrassing as he introduction may be, the Ars Magi doesn’t bat an eye when the girl plants her head into the table. Instead, she takes a long sip from her tiny saucer of tea while Dana tends to the wound. It’s a small bruise, something well within her capability.
After a moment of consideration, the woman address Nicole: “I’m afraid you might find Palmyra not as fashion-forward as Hasta.” Victoria’s cup clinks against the tables surface as she sets it down once again. “Most of the city is dedicated to serving the academies in some way—but I’m sure you’ll find enough boutiques to make due.”
A low rumble passes through the ship, one brief shudder that rattles plates through the ornate silverware set laid across the small table. A brief turbulence.
“Diana and Lennox...” She muses, “It’s rare to find noble candidates.” It’s a numbers game, after all. No bloodline has proven to produce consistently magic compatible candidates, and the nobility is the smallest part of the population—the smallest pool to draw from. “You’ll find most of your peers at the Officers Academy.” She refers to Nova Lux’s sister school, the adjoined military academy.
“We’ll be arriving in the next hour or two. It’ll be a day or two before you’ll a have time to explore the city proper. You’ll need to settle in first, and your tests need to be run.” This may come as a surprise considering all five candidates have already faced a barrage of poking, prodding, and measuring just to get to this point. It seems they have only more to look forward to in the coming days.
A short pause and the woman tilts her head to address Dana. “How long have you been able to use your magic?” Perhaps, like Vanna, she’s impressed by how naturally the cheerful girl channels her power. It’s hard to tell, given her expression seems never to change.
Victoria’s gaze traces across each of the five girls as they introduce themselves, lingering as long as each speaks before moving on to the next. For Vanna she really is like a mirror, immaculate poise and nigh-unreadable expression.
Penny may be able to take some solace in the fact that, embarrassing as he introduction may be, the Ars Magi doesn’t bat an eye when the girl plants her head into the table. Instead, she takes a long sip from her tiny saucer of tea while Dana tends to the wound. It’s a small bruise, something well within her capability.
After a moment of consideration, the woman address Nicole: “I’m afraid you might find Palmyra not as fashion-forward as Hasta.” Victoria’s cup clinks against the tables surface as she sets it down once again. “Most of the city is dedicated to serving the academies in some way—but I’m sure you’ll find enough boutiques to make due.”
A low rumble passes through the ship, one brief shudder that rattles plates through the ornate silverware set laid across the small table. A brief turbulence.
“Diana and Lennox...” She muses, “It’s rare to find noble candidates.” It’s a numbers game, after all. No bloodline has proven to produce consistently magic compatible candidates, and the nobility is the smallest part of the population—the smallest pool to draw from. “You’ll find most of your peers at the Officers Academy.” She refers to Nova Lux’s sister school, the adjoined military academy.
“We’ll be arriving in the next hour or two. It’ll be a day or two before you’ll a have time to explore the city proper. You’ll need to settle in first, and your tests need to be run.” This may come as a surprise considering all five candidates have already faced a barrage of poking, prodding, and measuring just to get to this point. It seems they have only more to look forward to in the coming days.
A short pause and the woman tilts her head to address Dana. “How long have you been able to use your magic?” Perhaps, like Vanna, she’s impressed by how naturally the cheerful girl channels her power. It’s hard to tell, given her expression seems never to change.
At some point in their lives each Nova Lux candidate learned they had the gift of magic, the ability to manipulate one of the natural elements. Perhaps it was learned at a young age, or perhaps only recently. Regardless, it wasn't long long before the Novus Orbim Imperium knew as well.
It was determined in short order through a variety of tests that their varying talents were notable. While others may be capable of magic, their bodies in particular were an ideal conduit for the raw magic that suffuses the earth. Accordingly the arrangements were made shortly after, parents informed, travel plans made. There was at least a month worth of waiting, time to say goodbyes and get things in order.
And then it was time to go.
𝙰𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝙻𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚞𝚜
𝙸𝚗 𝙵𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝
𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟷𝟽 𝙰𝚅
𝟻:𝟺𝟽 𝙿𝙼
Dana Noel, Penny Grenoble, Nicole Cognoscenti, Diana Khay Vanna, Astrelle Lennox
For some it may be the first time traveling aboard an airship. The ship itself is the Laurus, a mid-sized transport vessel. It bears some passing similarity to the seafaring vessels of old, though its hull is made of sleek silver metal and its deck enclosed in shimmering glassing windows. Magitech engines extend from it like wings, dull orange contrails left in their wake. Like many pieces of magical technology it occupies a strange space between new and old, but has become the main source of traversal between Sanctum Cities.
It also happens to be relatively safe. Not just in that the technology works, but also in that Nox doesn't tend to gather in the upper atmosphere in quite as large quantities as on the ground. This means exposure to that toxic substance is minimal and that it's relatively rare that Voids will manifest and rip the whole thing to shreds.
This particular trip has not exactly been expedient. Nova Lux is located in the military city of Palmyra and a single airship has been dispatched to carry the new candidates to their final destination. It departs from Sisica, traveling on to Norba, Hasta and Valentia afterward. Each finds a small passenger cabin waiting for them, a cramped but neatly decorated space to place their belongings and wait. The cabins have adequate space for a single passenger, enough to fit a small couch and compartments for storing one or two cases of luggage, more like a train cabin than an airplane. They seem to be among a very small number of non-military passengers, the bulk of the crew made up of blue and gold unformed Imperium soldiers.
All five passengers are left to pass the time alone until shortly after the penultimate stop in Potentia. It's only after the last passenger boards that each girl receives a knock at their door, and a request to join their host in one of the larger cabins. For the girls from the western side of the world this is likely a welcome reprieve, their flight having now stretched on for near a dozen hours now.
Once escorted they find said host is a young woman perhaps somewhere in her twenties. Her eyes are a pale red, her hair long and pale blonde, body clad in the neat military uniform of the Imperium. Her hands are folded in her lap, her expression placid as each girl is escorted into the cabin. Seating has been arranged around a small table, as well as a small selection of teas, sandwiches, and tiny snacks. A window at the side of the room grants a view of the dimming sky and wispy gray clouds outside. Rain has begun to pelt at the glass, a steady splatter of droplets as the ship soars through a cloud bank.
"Hello." The woman's voice is quiet, her eyes passing slowly across the assembled candidates. "My name is Victoria Glass, with the Wings of Justice. I am your escort to Palmyra." A short gesture is made toward the table. "Please make yourselves comfortable."
Most will be familiar with the Wings of Justice. They serve as a sort of special forces of the NOI, directly performing the Imperator's bidding. Serving as a Wing or a member of the Imperial Guard is one of the highest honors an Ars Magi can aspire for, as far as the public knows.
"I thought you might want to meet your future classmates." She continues after a minute more, giving enough time for those willing to acquire drinks or food. She herself collects a small saucer of tea, holding it gingerly in her lap. "If you would," She continues, "Introduce yourselves. I can also answer any questions you may have."
For some this may be the first time seeing an Ars Magi in the flesh. Most have caught only glances of magical girls from a distance, or consumed their exploits through Imperium propaganda. Vanna and Estrelle are the notable exceptions; Estrelle has been in enough important places to have sighted them, and House Diana have their own Magi bodyguards that Vanna has been in the of care at some point in her life. Vanna in particular finds the woman has a familiar stolidity--something that must be drilled in through years of training and experience.
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