Oooie

The Ordinary Mythical Academy

@Prosaic you did your best, and that's all that Satan can ask of you!😊

The Ordinary Mythical Academy

Sigmund

Sig popped up out of the chair and made a long, luxurious stretch. The chair had seemed like the most comfortable option at the time, but he'd spent two long hours in it getting his bearings. The knots in his back unkinked as he let out a low groan.

Feeling a bit less tense, he turned to regard his savior more thoroughly. She seemed young, perhaps it was possible she was as young as her looks implied. Sigil felt it likely she was much older: he could sense death on her, registering to his senses like a cold and dry wind.

"Sigmund!" He said cheerfully. "My name, that is. Though you should call me Sig. Sigmund sounds like a sea monster, which I am... Not?"

He trailed off, his eyes glazing slightly and fixing on a point in the distance. Had he ever attempted to breathe underwater?

"No, of course not." He murmured, though not with much conviction. His gaze continued to drift idly across the field before them. Enormous shapes and twisted beings stood amongst smaller human ones. He had a knack for taking the surreal in stride, but he had to admit to himself that the dragons made him uneasy.

The focal point seemed to be on the bloodied young man now prostrate upon the ground.

thumped him like a rented mule, whispered a spirit.
had it coming too, added another.

Sig was doubtful. Spirits could be petulant things, and rarely told the whole truth. Still, the poor guy must have done something heinous to have gained the enmity of so many so swiftly.

"Yes... What do roosters do, but establish pecking order?" He muttered, then his eyes abruptly refocused on Liana.

"Yes! I am here for the Academy. I take it these..." He made a vague gesture towards the assembled group, attempting to find the right word as 'people' would have been quite insufficient. "...motley individuals are here for much the same? Are you?"

He leaned in a bit, taking a closet look at her.

more than she seems, tattled a ghost, saw her watching.

"But you strike me as someone who knows secrets, yes?" He said with a sly grin. "It's quite alright, I don't need your secrets. I have enough of my own."

He jolted suddenly, as though a weighty realization had just struck him. He jabbed a finger towards the dragons.

"Holy Hell, how do you suppose they'll get them through the doors?"
@AbandonedIntel

The Ordinary Mythical Academy

Sigmund O'Welles

Name: Sigmund "Sig" O'Welles
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Age: 19
Room Number: -TBD-
Rooming With: -TBD-
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance:

oh hello

Roughly 5'7'', 120 lbs at best. Not a terribly imposing figure, but that's just the way it is.

Personality:
At first brush, you might assume Sig is on something, or perhaps should be on something he has neglected to take. Ditzy, forgetful, and just a touch manic, years of coping with his abilities have made him into a young man not quite attached to what happens around him.

Despite this he is ultimately a friendly and well-meaning individual. Quick with a smile and a laugh, he's certainly one to make friends before enemies. He has a low tolerance for aggressive and domineering people, though it isn't often he's bothered enough to engage in confrontation or otherwise rock the boat.

Bio:
Sig often worries about the holes in his memory.

He had parents, of that at least he could be sure. Who they were and where they might be now are simply two more questions to add to the list of "Things Sig could not tell you if his life depended on it"

Was it possible he had a brother as well? He could sketch vague memories of running along rolling, grassy hills with a boy not much older than himself, with gray eyes much like his own. Sig is certain he had at least some of these things.

He is also certain something terrible happened. He would like to think it was something he tried to prevent. A voice in his heart whispers that it may have been his fault.

Whatever the case may be, Sig's earliest memories start a scant six years ago. A lost, ragged urchin, gibbering in filthy alleys and surviving on half rotten scraps scavenged from the trash piles he also frequently slept in. He dearly wished he knew just how long he had lived like this, lost in a world of wailing faces and nightmares.

An old man pulled him up from the wreckage of his own mind. Despite all that Sig has forgotten, he remembers that smiling face and the strong, leathern hand that reached out to him through the gloom. He remembers the first words Attis Mallory ever spoke to him:

"Son? You look like you need help."

Attis, an aging spiritualist, was everything a bent (but not quite broken) young wizard could have asked for. Sig learned how to control his own mind, to respect his power and the effect it had on him. Ways to mitigate to pain and confusion that plagued him. Sig's time with his mentor would be comparatively brief, but it would serve to nearly put him back together.

After his mentor's recent passing, Sig has set out to reach the Academy in the hope that he might develop his power further. With luck, perhaps he could find the key that would recover everything all his soul has lost.

Power 1: Spectramancy: Sig utilizes the ambient energy of the dead to drive his magic, specifically the omnipresent "spiritual residue" left behind by all that has once had a mortal form. By harnessing and controlling the latent power of these "ghosts", he can achieve a number of anomalous effects, from moving objects to obscuring his presence. He can also manifest these entities into physical form to enact his will, and even take them into his own body to access their memories and skills: Channeling a skilled martial artist, for example, would temporally make him a formidable hand-to-hand combatant. He can utilize animal spirits in a similar way, generally using them to heighten his senses or physical strength.

It is very difficult for him to control "natural" spirits, such as elementals. The primal nature of such beings makes them highly unpredictable in their application. Demons and divines present many difficulties as well, as he is unable to affect them while they are bound in a physical form, but it is possible for him to influence them as long as they exist in a metaphysical state.

The Obdurate Mind: A byproduct of his primary ability, Sig is nearly impossible to influence spiritually, mentally, or emotionally by magical means. Empaths, mind-readers, invading entities and the like would find his mind to be a slippery, obstinate thing that is exceedingly difficult to get a metaphorical hold on, let alone dominate.

Likes: Social environments, intoxicating substances, ghost stories, small animals

Dislikes: Unprovoked violence, being manipulated, early mornings, authority figures

Family: Possibly

Friends: None living

Sentimental Attachment: An obsidian ceremonial knife, left to him by his late mentor.

Weapon: While he has no traditional weapon, he does carry a number of bones (human, animal, and otherwise) fashioned into various charms. These objects help him more easily tune himself to spirits.

Other: Sig speaks with a faint Irish brogue

The Ordinary Mythical Academy

Sigmund

"It's cold up here." said Sigmund O'Welles, to no one who was really listening.

Indeed, despite the thick blanket wrapped around himself (and a generous few drops from his flask), a chill wind seemed to seek every nook and cranny it could dig it's icy fingers into.

It had taken a lot of consideration and a touch of trial and error to even get as far as he had. The old man had told had told him many times that the academy was 'up in the clouds', but Sig had always assumed that was a metaphor. It had at least presented an amusing challenge.

This is how it came to be that he was lashed by a rope around his waist to a padded upholstery chair many hundreds of feet in the sky. The chair was in turn crudely bolted to what appeared to be the repurposed top of a very large dinner table.

The whole slap dash mess was born aloft by roughly a dozen mostly translucent, roughly humanoid figures. They shimmered a pale blue, featureless upper torsos that trailed off into drifting mist at the waist. They floated along with a stately grace, but the blank faces of the specters managed to give the impression of a group of much put upon servants.

The floating pieces of land did cut an impressive figure on their own, but...

"It wouldn't hurt to take a bit more of a look, eh?" He said, but the spirits had no opinion.

He closed his mortal eyes, took a single deep breath, and opened his Third. The islands erupted into a swirling mass of psychedelic colors and shapes. No matter how many times he saw such wondrous things, it always stole his breath for a moment.

A smaller, open area a bit below the academy proper seemed to contain the most dreamy madness. Fantastical beasts, demonic figures, animals and many other strange things seemed to caper and dance in his augmented sight.

It was in a curious, dreamy trance that he floated down until his platform hovered roughly four feet off the ground. He sent a ripple of will to his spectral entourage informing them that their task was complete. They vanished with a tiny sigh of relief, and Sig had a fraction of a moment to realize he had not instructed them to gently put him down. He dropped the last handful of feet and landed with a thud, jarring him out of his trance.

"Lord! What a show." he said, rubbing at his face as he closed his third eye.

He looked up and frowned in mild confusion. Had he not actually closed his sight...? But no, there was the menagerie stood in the flesh in field before him.

He turned to his left to see he had landed not far from a dark skinned young woman.

a cold soul whispered a tiny voice in his mind.
half in, half out murmured another in a disapproving fashion.

"Hello there!" He said, undaunted by the warning spirits. "All that over there is real, isn't that something?"

Sig disentangled himself from the heavy wool blanket and moved to stand up, but the forgotten rope harness tugged around his abdomen and caused him to sit back down hard.

"Piss!" He snapped, and began to fumble at the knots with cold numbed fingers. The dead sailor he had manifested down on the ground had been very helpful for tying the knots, but Sig had left that particular shade behind, and hadn't the foggiest idea how to undo them.

"Say there," he said to the vampire, "would ya be so kind as to cut a poor fellow out of his flying chair?"
@AbandonedIntel

The Ordinary Mythical Academy

@EchoicChamber that is exactly the trope I had in mind. I thought, 'that, but also a spoopy boi'

The Ordinary Mythical Academy

@The One Sorry if my formatting sucks, I'm still learning ^^;;
I'm open to tweaking this if you find it necessary!

Sigmund O'Welles

Name: Sigmund "Sig" O'Welles
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Age: 19
Room Number: -TBD-
Rooming With: -TBD-
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance:

oh hello

Roughly 5'7'', 120 lbs at best. Not a terribly imposing figure, but that's just the way it is.

Personality:
At first brush, you might assume Sig is on something, or perhaps should be on something he has neglected to take. Ditzy, forgetful, and just a touch manic, years of coping with his abilities have made him into a young man not quite attached to what happens around him.

Despite this he is ultimately a friendly and well-meaning individual. Quick with a smile and a laugh, he's certainly one to make friends before enemies. He has a low tolerance for aggressive and domineering people, though it isn't often he's bothered enough to engage in confrontation or otherwise rock the boat.

Bio:
Sig often worries about the holes in his memory.

He had parents, of that at least he could be sure. Who they were and where they might be now are simply two more questions to add to the list of "Things Sig could not tell you if his life depended on it"

Was it possible he had a brother as well? He could sketch vague memories of running along rolling, grassy hills with a boy not much older than himself, with gray eyes much like his own. Sig is certain he had at least some of these things.

He is also certain something terrible happened. He would like to think it was something he tried to prevent. A voice in his heart whispers that it may have been his fault.

Whatever the case may be, Sig's earliest memories start a scant six years ago. A lost, ragged urchin, gibbering in filthy alleys and surviving on half rotten scraps scavenged from the trash piles he also frequently slept in. He dearly wished he knew just how long he had lived like this, lost in a world of wailing faces and nightmares.

An old man pulled him up from the wreckage of his own mind. Despite all that Sig has forgotten, he remembers that smiling face and the strong, leathern hand that reached out to him through the gloom. He remembers the first words Attis Mallory ever spoke to him:

"Son? You look like you need help."

Attis, an aging spiritualist, was everything a bent (but not quite broken) young wizard could have asked for. Sig learned how to control his own mind, to respect his power and the effect it had on him. Ways to mitigate to pain and confusion that plagued him. Sig's time with his mentor would be comparatively brief, but it would serve to nearly put him back together.

After his mentor's recent passing, Sig has set out to reach the Academy in the hope that he might develop his power further. With luck, perhaps he could find the key that would recover everything all his soul has lost.

Power 1: Spectramancy: Sig utilizes the ambient energy of the dead to drive his magic, specifically the omnipresent "spiritual residue" left behind by all that has once had a mortal form. By harnessing and controlling the latent power of these "ghosts", he can achieve a number of anomalous effects, from moving objects to obscuring his presence. He can also manifest these entities into physical form to enact his will, and even take them into his own body to access their memories and skills: Channeling a skilled martial artist, for example, would temporally make him a formidable hand-to-hand combatant. He can utilize animal spirits in a similar way, generally using them to heighten his senses or physical strength.

It is very difficult for him to control "natural" spirits, such as elementals. The primal nature of such beings makes them highly unpredictable in their application. Demons and divines present many difficulties as well, as he is unable to affect them while they are bound in a physical form, but it is possible for him to influence them as long as they exist in a metaphysical state.

The Obdurate Mind: A byproduct of his primary ability, Sig is nearly impossible to influence spiritually, mentally, or emotionally by magical means. Empaths, mind-readers, invading entities and the like would find his mind to be a slippery, obstinate thing that is exceedingly difficult to get a metaphorical hold on, let alone dominate.

Likes: Social environments, intoxicating substances, ghost stories, small animals

Dislikes: Unprovoked violence, being manipulated, early mornings, authority figures

Family: Possibly

Friends: None living

Sentimental Attachment: An obsidian ceremonial knife, left to him by his late mentor.

Weapon: While he has no traditional weapon, he does carry a number of bones (human, animal, and otherwise) fashioned into various charms. These objects help him more easily tune himself to spirits.

Other: Sig speaks with a faint Irish brogue

The Ordinary Mythical Academy

@The One Yeeee I'll bang one out this afternoon

@AbandonedIntel Thanks dude! Good to be here.

The Ordinary Mythical Academy

@The One
This is the appropriate place to post a CS for consideration, yes?

What upppp

@Ruby
Good to be here! ^^

@Rawk
Why do course! All humans, such as we are, have genitalia. Just as a very unrealistic example, if I were a sophisticated AI sent to learn human storytelling so as to better manipulate their meaty processors, I might have indicated "no value found" in that category. But I did not! So no need to worry.

What upppp

Heyy everybody, my name is B and I'm very happy to have found this site!

Age: 29 (for the 65th time *wink*)

Genitals: Accounted for

Likes:
-Fantasy
-Most mammals
-Horror
-Hallucinations of past lives
-Outlandish situations

Dislikes:
-Too many bumper stickers on the back of cars. Why do you need the person driving behind you to know so much about your life? Sometimes those who wander are indeed lost, friend.