I was imagining it'd still continue in the actual RP, personally. I think that's fine.
Next round tomorrow!
Next round tomorrow!
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Yeah, it would presumably only be known to faculty and anybody that was around or heard of it directly from Ciara or Iraleth. Though funny enough, I think Chunji is the only player character that doesn't know at the moment, lol.
And on the front of the fight, we'll see! It depends on how much players wanna do that requires being honed in on and how much can be skimmed over as, "They did some things and stuff, and now it's time for THE THUNDERDOME!"
@Estylwen
For Timber, it'd be noted that the material requirements would be non-poisonous plants, wooden planks or sticks, or a pouch full of seeds, for casting. Either that, or channeling sufficient 'kindness' emotional and 'growth' conceptual essence mixed together while performing the casting motion and uttering the spell name - the motion in this case being to slam your palm upon the ground while either wielding the materials or channeling and expelling the required essence.
If preferable, I'll try to remember to include details like this in future spell learning that characters undertake!
For Timber, it'd be noted that the material requirements would be non-poisonous plants, wooden planks or sticks, or a pouch full of seeds, for casting. Either that, or channeling sufficient 'kindness' emotional and 'growth' conceptual essence mixed together while performing the casting motion and uttering the spell name - the motion in this case being to slam your palm upon the ground while either wielding the materials or channeling and expelling the required essence.
If preferable, I'll try to remember to include details like this in future spell learning that characters undertake!
Fair warning that, with the FFXIV expansion dropping tomorrow, I'll probably be a bit less active for the weekend. But I'll still try to post when it's my turn!
@AThousandCurses
"Mmm? Well, let me see..."
As Chunji inquired at the reception desk, the dreary dark-ringed eyes of the receptionist scanned over files on the clinic's Adapa. He traced a line across with his finger, muttering, "Steeler, Steeler... Wund... ah, here we are," he would conclude, nodding and turning his attention back to Chunji.
"Chloe Steeler is still under observation - her wounds have healed, but campus security swung by for questioning. Even if that weren't the case, though, she's been asked to stay under close watch for the next hour to scan for any potential permanent damage to her prime essence as a result of her injuries. As for Davil Wund, it appears he's been approved for visitation, though with instructions to stay bedridden for the rest of the day."
Leaning forward in his seat, the receptionist would clasp his hands together and lean against them, head tilting to rest as he spoke dozily, asking, "Would you like to see Mr. Wund, then?"
Just then, an orcish individual would exit through the door in front to Chunji's left, dressed in a dark blue uniform with a matching cap and cape. His posture was iron and his gaze was ice, staring towards Chunji a moment with a look betraying suspicion. With a grunt and a tip of his hat, he'd withdraw a cigar from his breast pocket, a lighter from his pants' pocket, and light it, inhaling deeply while maintaining eye contact. After another moment savoring the devil's smoke, he'd exhale and briefly lift up the side of his cape to reveal a baton and a winged badge dangling around his belt, then begin walking towards the front entrance.
"Stay out of trouble. It's day two, and our logbook is already a novella," he would state as he pushed open the clinic doors and walked out, the trail of syrup-scented cigar smoke lingering behind.
"Y-You can't smoke in the... clinic... sir..." The receptionist would give up before continuing to speak, realizing that the man had already left by the time he'd worked up the courage to speak. With a frown, he'd turn back towards Chunji, turning the clinic's Adapa towards him.
"The previously mentioned campus security, Sir Lazris Toil. The head, at least, when mannekin won't satisfy. I'm afraid that even though it appears his questioning has concluded, Steeler will remain under isolated observation for a while."
The receptionist's hand would gesture towards the clinic's terminal now pointed towards Chunji. "But we can still allow you to see Wund, if you would like? Just sign in here, by placing your Adapa against the clinic's, as proof that you were here visiting at this time. Just walk through this door, and he'll be the last door on your right," the receptionist would gesture, pointing to the door that Lazris had walked out of.
@ERode
As Otis made his way into the campus town, a fabric store would indeed present itself. A building seemingly made of solidified velvet and denim almost seemed to announce itself, with its pretentious array of blues and purples upon its walls, and the three sentient flying carpets that circled its rooftop like vultures. A wolf mascot danced outside with a striking red scarf, trailing the air with its movements and briefly leaving behind runes in the air that would spell out statements such as, "Hrunting for your heart," or, "There's always a suit for you," before silently cheering and breakdancing. People seemed to mostly pass by the store regardless, attracting very few eyes to its presence. Was such a pretentious and loud store even here yesterday, in the plaza of the campus town? The neon sign that blinked and shone with attention-seeking intent, reading 'Clothier de Hrunting' would certainly be hard to forget.
Regardless, were Otis to enter, he would hear the jingle of a bell above him followed by what sounded like three women singing in harmony, "Clothiiiiing, Deer Huntinggggg~," trailing off from a speaker hooked up to the ceiling. The scent of overpowering perfume radiated through the shop, which consisted of many fine tapestries and display pieces all throughout. A goblin would peek his head out from behind a checkout desk on the other side, stretching to catch sight of Otis from over some cloaks and robes, his red sunglasses reflecting off of the sunlight peering in through the nearby windows.
"Oi, oi! Day finding you well, sport?"
The goblin would waddle out towards the Strigidae, dressed in a sleeveless trench coat that dragged along the floor, jean shorts, and yellow crocs. He'd look up at Otis with an iconic customer service smile reflecting off of his flame-patterned sunglasses, hands clasped together as he looked briefly to his left and right. "Anything I can help you with today?"
@Estylwen
As Ciara flipped to the page, she would briefly see references to the 'Shadow Hunt', a bloody time in the mid to late sixth century in which lycanthropy - a branch of Umbralism dedicated to the marriage and fusion between mortals and beasts from Kazaar's realm - was deemed heretical after repeated mass murders from werewolves and other such man-beast creatures forged through rituals. It was noted as the first point in history in which a branch of Umbralism was completely and utterly condemned even by fellow Umbralists, with all public information on the rituals of its practice purged, all practitioners and scholars of its use put to death without trial. The main character in this book appeared to be one of the hunters called to exterminate the practice of lycanthropy, but found himself conflicted upon falling in love with a werewolf girl struggling with her own murderous tendencies at the end of her life.
Regardless, Michael would see no problem with any of that, instead fully willing to move on to the more important subject of Ciara's book search.
"Primal, huh? Well, ya can't learn anythin' too crazy in a day regarding an entire quarter of magic's history," Michael would muse, scratching his head from overtop his hood. "But if ya want a few basics, I've got my recommendations. I ain't too good at magic, myself, but I think I've been around long enough to know what might help a beginner out."
He'd lead Ciara over to the back of the library's ground floor, though on the opposite side of Gulliver. Michael would gesture towards a sign that dangled in this quarter of the library that read 'Primal', then shrugged, muttering, "Somethin' about how primal magic always 'blooms in the northeast', or somethin', I dunno. They insisted that all primal studies and stories be compiled in the northeast corner as a result; still in alphabetical order, of course."
The hooded janitor would trot towards the 'T' section of the primal quarter, withdrawing a book titled, 'Tanglous', and handed it over to the shadow mage. Much of its color seemed faded from age, but it was a green paperback with a tree crudely carved on the front. "Here we have Tanglous, written by the Vaalin pixies of the fourth century. It details all kinds of stuff about the manipulation of vines and minor movement of trees... y'know, basic tree-hugging fey shit. Despicable little fuckers that'd decorate the trees with your guts over an unripe apple, but their stuff doesn't sound so threatening at first glance."
He'd point at the book, gesturing for it to be flipped. "Last chapter details the spell that has since been translated into the common tongue as 'Timber', in which you channel... I dunno, the belief of pixie dust or friendship or somethin' and you can summon a quickling tree - a tree that lives its entire life in six seconds, and only reaches about eight feet tall before tumbling over and crumbling into dust."
Michael's demeanor grew more uninterested by the second as he explained this, clearly doing this more for Ciara than for himself - a professional and objective scholar he was not. "Apart from that, some more minor spells in there would be 'Puff', that lets you breathe out an allergenic pollen that gives people the sniffles 'n watery eyes for a few seconds, or uh, 'Deep Breathing', to let you hold your breath longer. The fey mages in this book really just liked breathing, I guess. Breath out the bad, breathe in the good, conjure a tree because... trees let you breathe better or somethin', I dunno."
The janitor would begin walking back towards the checkout desk, but would turn on his heel one last time towards Ciara. "Hey, but don't let my indifference get in the way, I dunno the first thing about the primal discipline, compared to the greats. Who knows, ya might find something in there that I never saw."
WINGRAM CLINIC
"Mmm? Well, let me see..."
As Chunji inquired at the reception desk, the dreary dark-ringed eyes of the receptionist scanned over files on the clinic's Adapa. He traced a line across with his finger, muttering, "Steeler, Steeler... Wund... ah, here we are," he would conclude, nodding and turning his attention back to Chunji.
"Chloe Steeler is still under observation - her wounds have healed, but campus security swung by for questioning. Even if that weren't the case, though, she's been asked to stay under close watch for the next hour to scan for any potential permanent damage to her prime essence as a result of her injuries. As for Davil Wund, it appears he's been approved for visitation, though with instructions to stay bedridden for the rest of the day."
Leaning forward in his seat, the receptionist would clasp his hands together and lean against them, head tilting to rest as he spoke dozily, asking, "Would you like to see Mr. Wund, then?"
Just then, an orcish individual would exit through the door in front to Chunji's left, dressed in a dark blue uniform with a matching cap and cape. His posture was iron and his gaze was ice, staring towards Chunji a moment with a look betraying suspicion. With a grunt and a tip of his hat, he'd withdraw a cigar from his breast pocket, a lighter from his pants' pocket, and light it, inhaling deeply while maintaining eye contact. After another moment savoring the devil's smoke, he'd exhale and briefly lift up the side of his cape to reveal a baton and a winged badge dangling around his belt, then begin walking towards the front entrance.
"Stay out of trouble. It's day two, and our logbook is already a novella," he would state as he pushed open the clinic doors and walked out, the trail of syrup-scented cigar smoke lingering behind.
"Y-You can't smoke in the... clinic... sir..." The receptionist would give up before continuing to speak, realizing that the man had already left by the time he'd worked up the courage to speak. With a frown, he'd turn back towards Chunji, turning the clinic's Adapa towards him.
"The previously mentioned campus security, Sir Lazris Toil. The head, at least, when mannekin won't satisfy. I'm afraid that even though it appears his questioning has concluded, Steeler will remain under isolated observation for a while."
The receptionist's hand would gesture towards the clinic's terminal now pointed towards Chunji. "But we can still allow you to see Wund, if you would like? Just sign in here, by placing your Adapa against the clinic's, as proof that you were here visiting at this time. Just walk through this door, and he'll be the last door on your right," the receptionist would gesture, pointing to the door that Lazris had walked out of.
@ERode
CLOTHIER DE HRUNTING
As Otis made his way into the campus town, a fabric store would indeed present itself. A building seemingly made of solidified velvet and denim almost seemed to announce itself, with its pretentious array of blues and purples upon its walls, and the three sentient flying carpets that circled its rooftop like vultures. A wolf mascot danced outside with a striking red scarf, trailing the air with its movements and briefly leaving behind runes in the air that would spell out statements such as, "Hrunting for your heart," or, "There's always a suit for you," before silently cheering and breakdancing. People seemed to mostly pass by the store regardless, attracting very few eyes to its presence. Was such a pretentious and loud store even here yesterday, in the plaza of the campus town? The neon sign that blinked and shone with attention-seeking intent, reading 'Clothier de Hrunting' would certainly be hard to forget.
Regardless, were Otis to enter, he would hear the jingle of a bell above him followed by what sounded like three women singing in harmony, "Clothiiiiing, Deer Huntinggggg~," trailing off from a speaker hooked up to the ceiling. The scent of overpowering perfume radiated through the shop, which consisted of many fine tapestries and display pieces all throughout. A goblin would peek his head out from behind a checkout desk on the other side, stretching to catch sight of Otis from over some cloaks and robes, his red sunglasses reflecting off of the sunlight peering in through the nearby windows.
"Oi, oi! Day finding you well, sport?"
The goblin would waddle out towards the Strigidae, dressed in a sleeveless trench coat that dragged along the floor, jean shorts, and yellow crocs. He'd look up at Otis with an iconic customer service smile reflecting off of his flame-patterned sunglasses, hands clasped together as he looked briefly to his left and right. "Anything I can help you with today?"
@Estylwen
WINGRAM LIBRARY
As Ciara flipped to the page, she would briefly see references to the 'Shadow Hunt', a bloody time in the mid to late sixth century in which lycanthropy - a branch of Umbralism dedicated to the marriage and fusion between mortals and beasts from Kazaar's realm - was deemed heretical after repeated mass murders from werewolves and other such man-beast creatures forged through rituals. It was noted as the first point in history in which a branch of Umbralism was completely and utterly condemned even by fellow Umbralists, with all public information on the rituals of its practice purged, all practitioners and scholars of its use put to death without trial. The main character in this book appeared to be one of the hunters called to exterminate the practice of lycanthropy, but found himself conflicted upon falling in love with a werewolf girl struggling with her own murderous tendencies at the end of her life.
Regardless, Michael would see no problem with any of that, instead fully willing to move on to the more important subject of Ciara's book search.
"Primal, huh? Well, ya can't learn anythin' too crazy in a day regarding an entire quarter of magic's history," Michael would muse, scratching his head from overtop his hood. "But if ya want a few basics, I've got my recommendations. I ain't too good at magic, myself, but I think I've been around long enough to know what might help a beginner out."
He'd lead Ciara over to the back of the library's ground floor, though on the opposite side of Gulliver. Michael would gesture towards a sign that dangled in this quarter of the library that read 'Primal', then shrugged, muttering, "Somethin' about how primal magic always 'blooms in the northeast', or somethin', I dunno. They insisted that all primal studies and stories be compiled in the northeast corner as a result; still in alphabetical order, of course."
The hooded janitor would trot towards the 'T' section of the primal quarter, withdrawing a book titled, 'Tanglous', and handed it over to the shadow mage. Much of its color seemed faded from age, but it was a green paperback with a tree crudely carved on the front. "Here we have Tanglous, written by the Vaalin pixies of the fourth century. It details all kinds of stuff about the manipulation of vines and minor movement of trees... y'know, basic tree-hugging fey shit. Despicable little fuckers that'd decorate the trees with your guts over an unripe apple, but their stuff doesn't sound so threatening at first glance."
He'd point at the book, gesturing for it to be flipped. "Last chapter details the spell that has since been translated into the common tongue as 'Timber', in which you channel... I dunno, the belief of pixie dust or friendship or somethin' and you can summon a quickling tree - a tree that lives its entire life in six seconds, and only reaches about eight feet tall before tumbling over and crumbling into dust."
Michael's demeanor grew more uninterested by the second as he explained this, clearly doing this more for Ciara than for himself - a professional and objective scholar he was not. "Apart from that, some more minor spells in there would be 'Puff', that lets you breathe out an allergenic pollen that gives people the sniffles 'n watery eyes for a few seconds, or uh, 'Deep Breathing', to let you hold your breath longer. The fey mages in this book really just liked breathing, I guess. Breath out the bad, breathe in the good, conjure a tree because... trees let you breathe better or somethin', I dunno."
The janitor would begin walking back towards the checkout desk, but would turn on his heel one last time towards Ciara. "Hey, but don't let my indifference get in the way, I dunno the first thing about the primal discipline, compared to the greats. Who knows, ya might find something in there that I never saw."
Today's been a scorcher and it's really been killing me, but I'll try to get the next round going once it cools down.
Mmm, if there's nothing by the time I wake up, I'll be going to the next round.
As fate would have it, Valen is also proficient in yapanese.
@Sifr@Psyker Landshark@ERode@AThousandCurses
The remaining compacts would ramble on to varying lengths, some promising better futures or making grand promises of greatness, while others settle for few words. Some notable standouts would be an orc girl from Compact 4, who simply stated, "I'll win," before attuning and leaving, or a twiggy-looking gnome from Compact 6 with hair that resembled a vanilla ice cream swirl, who read a full page from his favorite adventure novel before Raja hastily moved him along even as he swore he, "Hadn't gotten to the big reveal yet, the main character's arc climax all ties into my motivation for the school year!"
Different priority was given to Compact 8, 9 and 10. Notably, the students from each wore a silver pin on their chest. There was a shift in the air as they all approached in a marching formation as one, with Valen taking to the front of them. Raja raised an eyebrow as this transpired, crossing her arms as she awaited an explanation. The Leuvalt heir would step forward and take to the podium, locking eyes with the principal with a nod before turning to the crowds of Wund and Nero each. "Explain this, Leuvalt," Raja would spit, waiting for the boy to begin speaking. After another moment to take in his surroundings, he would.
"It is not through arrogance or ignorance that I stand here to speak, but through power. At the age of nineteen, I already stand at the apex, ready to seek contest with the strength of Dandelily's finest, Strigari's finest, and beyond that, even breaching the realms of the four Mirrisian Stalwara. Were it based solely on merit, I would rival the capital's arcmages, and an arcmage's cloak would grace my back. I, as the reignited hope of Leuvalt, am indeed he who triumphs, and none can argue such claims," Valen would declare, back straight and chest proudly puffed, looking across the students of both sides - taking an extra second in particular towards Otis and Iraleth, were they to catch his eye. He would sigh, his shoulders sinking a moment as if contemplating something, before continuing.
"And yet, merit alone is not what brings us success. We live in a world of titles, struggling through its muck - many of us swallowed whole by the maw of unequal birth. Those in power across the many societies of this planet are not always there through merit, but often through title, through wealth, through happenstance, through nepotism, through misfortune of the capable, and more. I count myself among those who received a voice through titles and wealth, initially. Yet, such things gave me the chance to demonstrate merit, ability, and ambition. Is it fair?"
He would give a moment of pause for the crowd to take in his words, Raja at his side tapping her foot as if waiting for him to wrap things up. Such a gesture would then encourage Valen to proceed after another moment, shaking his head.
"...It is not fair. Wund? Nero? Those, too, are equally determined through title. Shaktis Wund as the pioneer of spellcasting, and Nero as the great martyr who burned for his beliefs. To stand behind them and their truths is admirable, but outdated. There is no merit in continuing the path of a predecessor's success - no new ground to be tread by reopening the old wounds of the world. And so what do I propose? A new beginning. It is here that I announce that Compacts 8, 9 and 10 will not be partaking in this pitiable faction war. As the classes that make up the Iris Record, we will carve our own path."
Discussion would perk up amidst the crowds, with reactions ranging from disbelief or mockery at the ridiculous long-windedness, to anger and confusion at what seems to be special privileges, to some of the more competitive folk seeing it as a challenge. Raja herself stood there, her face contorting in frustration, putting her foot down. The imp cackled lowly, but was ignored as the principal leaned in towards Valen. "What? This wasn't in any documentation I was told of, Leuvalt. I'd expect-"
Just then, Raja opened her Adapa and began reading a new notification that had arrived, her eyes going wide. "I see..."
Valen nodded, and looked towards the remaining Compacts wearing silver pins, as he withdrew one from his own pocket and placed it on his chest. "With permission from the board of directors, I, Valen Leuvalt, will act as representative of Wingram's third faction: the Helm of Kastrus. With a legacy of pain and hate, Kastrus Aishblut had regardless done more for the people of this country than either Wund or Leuvalt. He is why we enjoy luxuries that Mirris and Rekordia struggle to maintain, and it is through the will of the forgotten prince that we who claim the Iris Record shall find the future."
At that, the remaining 23 students making up the Iris Record would march and encircle the attuning pillar. Valen himself would turn away from the crowd towards the pillar, and all at once as if rehearsed, each of the 24 Iris Record students would touch their palms to the pillar. An immaculate burst of energy would ring out as they attuned, and as Valen closed his eyes, a smile would briefly grace his lips - so sudden as if it were almost a trick of the light. Upon the completion of attunement, Valen would bow to both crowds of Wund and Nero, and then make his way off the podium after one final statement. "That will be all. This is a declaration of intent: the future will be ours to helm." He would state this plainly as he walked off north of the pillar with the rest of the Iris Record students, presumably back towards the tower.
Raja would stand there, gritting her teeth as she read an email in utter disbelief, seemingly unable to dispute the declaration in the slightest with whatever information she was presented. Regardless, she would look towards the remaining students and shrug. "Well... that will be all for the ceremony. The full details of your faction choice and what it entails will be delivered via essence mail by evening, but for now, all further classes for the day will be canceled. The effects of attunement are sometimes wonky on your prime essence, so we'd like to give you lot the rest of the day to adjust to and report any complications."
The crimson-haired principal would storm off, stomping towards the Iris Record, yanking the shade imp along with her.
@Estylwen
As Ciara entered, the library would be notably empty - predictable, due to the ceremony. Sitting at the checkout desk, legs propped up on the desk itself as he leaned back in the office chair, would be the familiar cloaked, hooded visage of Michael. His eyes would initially be closed as if napping, hands propping his head up in sheer comfort, but would awaken and dart towards Ciara as she entered. The same easygoing smirk he always wore would be present as he nodded in her direction, scratching at the scraggly stray chin hairs on his face as he withdrew a book from his pocket.
"You ever read, 'Scented Pawns', by Henora Milby? Absolute classic of Rekordian literature, never knew it had respectful depictions of werewolves in it. Crazy shit, that. Shame those dudes ain't around anymore, I'm sure hollerin' with the wolfpack would a real riot. Umbralism, eh? Whaddya do."
With a small chuckle escaping him as he haphazardly tossed the book onto the desk, he rolled his shoulders and looked back towards Ciara. "Buuuut, spoilers: all the main characters die in the end. In the book, I mean. Henora had a real mean streak, she loved killing off her darlings. The werewolves in particular got it really bad, but I guess that's what a period piece'll get ya."
Michael would lean up in his chair and kick his boots off the desk, finally sitting like a normal person. "Sudden arrival though, kid. I'm guessing you weren't here to talk literature, and I ain't here any longer than I'm required to be, because good lord am I losing it sitting here. Just browsin' and want me to shut up and leave ya be, or is there somethin' you're itchin' for?"
Apart from Michael, Gulliver Bronsteel would be visible at the other end of the library, though he didn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation; he was instead nose deep in a book in the corner.
CAMPUS GROUNDS, LEYLINE ATTUNEMENT ZONE
The remaining compacts would ramble on to varying lengths, some promising better futures or making grand promises of greatness, while others settle for few words. Some notable standouts would be an orc girl from Compact 4, who simply stated, "I'll win," before attuning and leaving, or a twiggy-looking gnome from Compact 6 with hair that resembled a vanilla ice cream swirl, who read a full page from his favorite adventure novel before Raja hastily moved him along even as he swore he, "Hadn't gotten to the big reveal yet, the main character's arc climax all ties into my motivation for the school year!"
Different priority was given to Compact 8, 9 and 10. Notably, the students from each wore a silver pin on their chest. There was a shift in the air as they all approached in a marching formation as one, with Valen taking to the front of them. Raja raised an eyebrow as this transpired, crossing her arms as she awaited an explanation. The Leuvalt heir would step forward and take to the podium, locking eyes with the principal with a nod before turning to the crowds of Wund and Nero each. "Explain this, Leuvalt," Raja would spit, waiting for the boy to begin speaking. After another moment to take in his surroundings, he would.
"It is not through arrogance or ignorance that I stand here to speak, but through power. At the age of nineteen, I already stand at the apex, ready to seek contest with the strength of Dandelily's finest, Strigari's finest, and beyond that, even breaching the realms of the four Mirrisian Stalwara. Were it based solely on merit, I would rival the capital's arcmages, and an arcmage's cloak would grace my back. I, as the reignited hope of Leuvalt, am indeed he who triumphs, and none can argue such claims," Valen would declare, back straight and chest proudly puffed, looking across the students of both sides - taking an extra second in particular towards Otis and Iraleth, were they to catch his eye. He would sigh, his shoulders sinking a moment as if contemplating something, before continuing.
"And yet, merit alone is not what brings us success. We live in a world of titles, struggling through its muck - many of us swallowed whole by the maw of unequal birth. Those in power across the many societies of this planet are not always there through merit, but often through title, through wealth, through happenstance, through nepotism, through misfortune of the capable, and more. I count myself among those who received a voice through titles and wealth, initially. Yet, such things gave me the chance to demonstrate merit, ability, and ambition. Is it fair?"
He would give a moment of pause for the crowd to take in his words, Raja at his side tapping her foot as if waiting for him to wrap things up. Such a gesture would then encourage Valen to proceed after another moment, shaking his head.
"...It is not fair. Wund? Nero? Those, too, are equally determined through title. Shaktis Wund as the pioneer of spellcasting, and Nero as the great martyr who burned for his beliefs. To stand behind them and their truths is admirable, but outdated. There is no merit in continuing the path of a predecessor's success - no new ground to be tread by reopening the old wounds of the world. And so what do I propose? A new beginning. It is here that I announce that Compacts 8, 9 and 10 will not be partaking in this pitiable faction war. As the classes that make up the Iris Record, we will carve our own path."
Discussion would perk up amidst the crowds, with reactions ranging from disbelief or mockery at the ridiculous long-windedness, to anger and confusion at what seems to be special privileges, to some of the more competitive folk seeing it as a challenge. Raja herself stood there, her face contorting in frustration, putting her foot down. The imp cackled lowly, but was ignored as the principal leaned in towards Valen. "What? This wasn't in any documentation I was told of, Leuvalt. I'd expect-"
Just then, Raja opened her Adapa and began reading a new notification that had arrived, her eyes going wide. "I see..."
Valen nodded, and looked towards the remaining Compacts wearing silver pins, as he withdrew one from his own pocket and placed it on his chest. "With permission from the board of directors, I, Valen Leuvalt, will act as representative of Wingram's third faction: the Helm of Kastrus. With a legacy of pain and hate, Kastrus Aishblut had regardless done more for the people of this country than either Wund or Leuvalt. He is why we enjoy luxuries that Mirris and Rekordia struggle to maintain, and it is through the will of the forgotten prince that we who claim the Iris Record shall find the future."
At that, the remaining 23 students making up the Iris Record would march and encircle the attuning pillar. Valen himself would turn away from the crowd towards the pillar, and all at once as if rehearsed, each of the 24 Iris Record students would touch their palms to the pillar. An immaculate burst of energy would ring out as they attuned, and as Valen closed his eyes, a smile would briefly grace his lips - so sudden as if it were almost a trick of the light. Upon the completion of attunement, Valen would bow to both crowds of Wund and Nero, and then make his way off the podium after one final statement. "That will be all. This is a declaration of intent: the future will be ours to helm." He would state this plainly as he walked off north of the pillar with the rest of the Iris Record students, presumably back towards the tower.
Raja would stand there, gritting her teeth as she read an email in utter disbelief, seemingly unable to dispute the declaration in the slightest with whatever information she was presented. Regardless, she would look towards the remaining students and shrug. "Well... that will be all for the ceremony. The full details of your faction choice and what it entails will be delivered via essence mail by evening, but for now, all further classes for the day will be canceled. The effects of attunement are sometimes wonky on your prime essence, so we'd like to give you lot the rest of the day to adjust to and report any complications."
The crimson-haired principal would storm off, stomping towards the Iris Record, yanking the shade imp along with her.
@Estylwen
WINGRAM LIBRARY
As Ciara entered, the library would be notably empty - predictable, due to the ceremony. Sitting at the checkout desk, legs propped up on the desk itself as he leaned back in the office chair, would be the familiar cloaked, hooded visage of Michael. His eyes would initially be closed as if napping, hands propping his head up in sheer comfort, but would awaken and dart towards Ciara as she entered. The same easygoing smirk he always wore would be present as he nodded in her direction, scratching at the scraggly stray chin hairs on his face as he withdrew a book from his pocket.
"You ever read, 'Scented Pawns', by Henora Milby? Absolute classic of Rekordian literature, never knew it had respectful depictions of werewolves in it. Crazy shit, that. Shame those dudes ain't around anymore, I'm sure hollerin' with the wolfpack would a real riot. Umbralism, eh? Whaddya do."
With a small chuckle escaping him as he haphazardly tossed the book onto the desk, he rolled his shoulders and looked back towards Ciara. "Buuuut, spoilers: all the main characters die in the end. In the book, I mean. Henora had a real mean streak, she loved killing off her darlings. The werewolves in particular got it really bad, but I guess that's what a period piece'll get ya."
Michael would lean up in his chair and kick his boots off the desk, finally sitting like a normal person. "Sudden arrival though, kid. I'm guessing you weren't here to talk literature, and I ain't here any longer than I'm required to be, because good lord am I losing it sitting here. Just browsin' and want me to shut up and leave ya be, or is there somethin' you're itchin' for?"
Apart from Michael, Gulliver Bronsteel would be visible at the other end of the library, though he didn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation; he was instead nose deep in a book in the corner.
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