Riven Wight

Schooled in Magic

@OfWindAndRain

Holy hobgoblins, A POST! Quick! To the bunkers! The end of the world must be coming!

Schooled in Magic

When her question did not gain her a response, Jazelle glanced to Wyrm, wondering if she needed to speak up. But Wyrm had seemed capable of hearing well enough only a moment ago. She scowled, but her attention swiftly returned to the wyvern as its body shifted beneath them, readying to take flight.
Jazelle leaned forward and gripped the saddle tightly, her heart pounding in her chest. For the first couple seconds, she kept her eyes scrunched shut against the unfamiliar movements of Tyro taking to the air, her grip on the saddle turning her knuckles white. She ran what little she knew from movies and books about riding a horse, hoping it would help with not falling off a flying dragon.
Once the wyvern’s flight evened out, she dared to open one eye, then the other. She inhaled at the view before her. Though the fog still clung to the treetops like a massive, misty ghost, the sun had burned enough of it away for her to make out bits and pieces of the expanse of trees and fields stretching far beneath them. Smoke from fireplaces rose from a few cities and towns further off, rising to join what remained of the morning’s fog in a swirling dance.
For the first while, Jazelle’s gaze darted from one thing to the other, awestruck. She shifted as far over in the seat as she dared, trying to get a better look at the world she had been thrust into.
After about an hour, the shock-and-awe of it began to wear off, and her rear started to feel a bit sore from sitting on the saddle. She tried to make conversation with Wyrm, to get any further information she could, but gave up with an irate growl when the woman refused to speak.
When they passed between two mountains into an eerie valley about an hour and a half later, its atmosphere alone made her skin crawl. She cast a quick glance down, wondering what would possibly live in such a place, glad when the wyvern dove to quicken their passage. Only once they had cleared the area with its foreboding fog and mysterious figures, did she dare try speaking again.
“What was that place?” Jazelle looked back toward the mountains with a shudder. But yet again, she received no reply. She gave Wyrm an annoyed look. “Fine. Don’t talk.” She looked away from her with a humph.
When a half-hour that felt more like half an eternity passed and the massive castle came into view, Jazelle’s jaw dropped. She took in its three stories, and the surrounding lands, wondering if the king was home. After all, this world was rather medieval-esque. Why would they not have a monarchy?
Then, the wyvern began to descend toward the castle in a spiral. Jazelle’s brows furrowed, and she glanced back the way they had come, thinking of how close that eerie, otherworldly field had been, then toward the mostly barren land with its withered trees she had seen looming on the horizon.
[i]This [u]can’t[/i] be a smart place for a school…[/i] she thought as she realized that the castle had to be Whitehall.
She gripped the saddle harder when the wyvern spread out its wings, jerking them to a halt and renewing her fear of plummeting to the ground. Then, they were landing in front of the grand entrance of the castle.
Her attention snapped toward the doors when a man threw them open. She stared at him a long moment, his voice too aged for his otherwise fairly youthful appearance. Only when she noticed both he and Wyrm were staring, did Jazelle realize his last statement was directed at her.
“Oh. Right.” She muttered. Gripping one of the straps of the backpack she had the feeling Sunder’s tailors had made, she slid carefully from the saddle to the cobblestone path beneath them.
“Ja—” she started answering his second demand, but caught herself with an irritated huff. A name. In the last three hours, she had devoted little, if any, time to thinking of a name to use. The moment she tried to think of something to give him, her mind went frustratingly blank. “Yeah, I’ve got nothin’.”
Look for one I can steal in the library or something… if they have a library… She looked up at the monstrous building. They’d better have one.
She raised an eyebrow at the man’s flourish to the entryway extending beyond the doors. “Sure...” She watched him cautiously as she stepped toward the stairs leading to the door.
Jazelle cast a quick glance back at Wyrm and Tyro, before shoving her hands back in the muff of her hoodie, and warily ascending the stairs, keeping a fair distance between the man and herself.
“Don’t suppose you have a name, do you?” she asked once on the same stair as him.

Schooled in Magic

Hey. So sorry I haven't replied here yet. I'm going to work on my reply here next, but for a fair warning, I'm likely going to be pretty busy until after Easter. I'll try to get to it soon, though!

Sorry again!

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

*Gives a thumbs-up to all of that, because I'm too lazy to give an actual response.*

Sorry for the wait. I've been making everyone wait as of late. Heh.

P.S. For some reason, words didn't want to come to me today. I had to drag them kicking, screaming, and throwing stuff (I'm still wondering where they got all the spoons and jam). So I apologize if my post isn't up to par with its usual.

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

Anora looked back over her shoulder again at Pahn’s laconic answer to her speech. She gave a slight shrug, content that he was following, then led the way toward her apartment. She cast him frequent glances, growing uneasy from his expression and the way he looked at everything. Like he walked toward his death, soaking in everything he could. Or, perhaps, not his death, but the world’s.
She took a deep breath, and looked to the many people and cars going about their business as usual. For them, it was just another day, nothing more, oblivious to the danger creeping beneath their feet. Unknowing their world my very well be turned upside down in just a few short hours.
Pahn’s words ran through her head, that he was the one about to bring on an apocalypse. She cast yet another wary glance back at him, wondering if he had meant it directly or indirectly, as an aftereffect of what he had planned to regain his regalia, or by his hand perhaps in part from some deep seeded hatred for the place. As little as she knew about what was to come, there was one thing she was certain of: she would do everything in her power to defend the place she called home, and keep as many people—not just those she cared for—safe and alive as she could. No matter what that meant.
The path to her apartment was one she could have walked blind. As the multi-story building and its neighbors all huddled around a grassy courtyard came into view, she felt a moment of minor panic as she realized she had not checked for her keys. Worried she had left them in the car with her wallet back in the parking lot, she reached fully into one of her pockets as they arrived at the building’s entrance. She let out a soft, "Phew," when she felt them inside, then pulled the door open, and quickly ascended the stairs to her floor.
Once inside the small living room that served as the entrance, Anora turned around to look to Pahn, taking a couple backward steps toward her bedroom. She stopped as he entered behind her, his appearance already making the peeling wallpaper and dingy lighting look that much worse in comparison.
Anora could not help but grin and cross her arms as she marveled at the contrast.
“Make yourself at home.” She gestured to a small, worn love seat shoved against the wall opposite the door, a coffee table marred with rings in front of it, then hurried down the short hall to her bedroom.
Just before she closed the door behind her, she peaked out of it. After listening to make sure he did not decide to walk back out, she shut the door, leaving it open a crack.
She turned to her desk and shoved some of the drawings and paintings cluttering it aside, nearly knocking over a brush-filled cup of paint water, but stopped. She stared down at them for a long moment. She gently placed her fingertips on the topmost picture, the half-painted sketch of a bloody battle with both human-like and monstrous figures slaughtering each other. They looked about ready to jump off the page and wage their war in her room as they had in her head.
For so long, she had felt all but a slave to her mysterious dreams, a captive to what they had to show her, leaving her only capable of drawing them out to maintain her sanity. But now, she stood her ground against the very things they were about, with a man she felt held answers to all their secrets, at last more of a player in them instead of a pawn. As horrific as many of them were, a sense of rightness seeped through her.
But she had another job to do first.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, she hurriedly grabbed a piece of notebook paper from a drawer, and started writing with the first pen she could find, trying to explain everything in as few, quick words as she could.
A couple crumpled pages, many scribbled out lines, and no small amount of frustration later, Anora had a nearly completed note as good as she could hope for under the circumstances. She paused for a moment, twirling a strand of her died black hair, then wrote the last couple lines:

This is something I have to do. For my sake, and yours. Please understand. I’ll see you again soon.
Stay safe. I love you all.
Anora.

Hoping her words would not be a lie, she carefully folded the letter and placed it in an envelope she addressed to her family. With that done, she turned toward the rest of her bedroom. She gave it a quick once-over, scowling at the dresser with the drawer she had broken earlier, its contents still strewn through the room.
As quickly as she could, she grabbed the backpack sitting at the foot of her bed, and exchanged the set of work clothes shoved inside for a few items she thought may come in handy, including a flashlight, a small multi-tool she kept in her nightstand, a few clothing items, the thick drawing pad she was rarely without, and a small pouch with an impressive collection of pencils, pens, and a couple erasers.
With a nod of approval, she shouldered the backpack, grabbed the envelope from the desk, and left, holding her breath as she waited to find out if Pahn would still be there. She sighed in relief when she saw him standing in the middle of the room despite her invitation to sit.
She gave him a nod in greeting as she headed to the coffee table, and propped the envelope on a mug she had forgotten to put in the sink, making sure it would be easily spotted. Straightening, she pulled her phone from her pocket.
Something tells me they probably don’t get service in the Underworld. She placed the cellphone beside the note.
At last, she turned back to Pahn, “Thanks for waiting.” She nodded when he spoke. An apprehensive, yet excited smile spread over her face. “Let’s go save the world, shall we?”
She took a slight step back when he opened his eyes, now aglow with a silvery light. Her eyes were glued to him as an awesome aura radiated from him and filled the small apartment, an aura speaking of power and age beyond Anora's wildest imaginings, and his form became impossibly more perfect, the sensation all but drowning out the atmospheric change.
She gasped and flinched when a faint rumbling sounded. It took her a second to realize the sound had come from outside the building. She spun toward a window facing the street. From where she stood, she could only see the change in the sky, the once light blue covered with fluffy clouds suddenly unnaturally dark in color. Before she could go to the window, a few shouts rising up through the pane from the street, her attention snapped back to Pahn as he spoke.
She inhaled at the disorientating feeling of his voice, a voice worthy of the most powerful of kings, echoing in both her ears and mind in an all-consuming wave.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she breathed, though she did not expect him to answer. She stared at him for a couple seconds that felt like minutes. Though she knew she had never witnessed such a transformation, the familiarity of it all nagged maddeningly at the back of her skull. Had she seen something like this in one of her dreams, or was it something more?
There’s no way I could’ve forgotten a dream like this. Again, she turned her head from Pahn as cars laid on their horns. She glanced once between him and the window, then rushed to the window, yanking the curtains back and peering outside.
Her eyes widened and mouth opened slightly at the scene unfolding before her. She got there in time to see the men turn only a couple cars and their passengers to dust. She looked up as more of the swirling mist that was all that remained from their victims rose into the air above the city in different parts of town. Frantically, she tried to pry the window open, to shout a warning about the three men heading down her street to those they had not gotten to, but the window stuck.
She stopped in her attempts and gripped the windowsill tightly when someone ran one of the men over. She watched, dumbfounded, as the seemingly normal woman got out of her car and fired rounds at them, turning them to stone, before returning and speeding off.
Anora slowly backed away from the window, her grip the last thing to leave it. Had he conjured the beings on a murderous rampage?
She spun back toward Pahn, her mouth opening to speak, not caring what her words may interrupt, but it snapped shut when the inexplicable instinct warned her against it. But she did not have long to wait before he opened his eyes and spoke once more, his words still sounding unnervingly through her skull.
Still, her fists clenched and she glanced toward the window as the sounds of sirens grew closer. Despite his intimidating presence, a mix of confusion, fear, and righteous fury mingled on her face and glinted in her eyes as her gaze met his.
“What did you just do?” she hissed, each word short and snapped as purple mist swirled to life threateningly around her fists without her conscious command, making her eyes glow once more.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

I like your new avi! Ladybug and Cat Noir. I have a button pin with them on it. xD

I look forward to seeing what you come up with for a distraction, then, if you're good with taking that up!

Sweet about finishing the book! HA, about the roses! Is it bad that I like that for a villain? I took notes while reading it for ideas. I’d have to agree with you on the favorite chapter. The Hatter, March Hare, and Dormouse were fun, and their interactions were some of the most enjoyable to read for me. That, and at the end of chapter six where the Cheshire cat comes in. I also like that he shows up while Alice is playing croquet with the queen and stirs up a bit of trouble. I also agree about the Mock Turtle. Those were a couple, “WHY EVEN…?!” chapters. I haven’t gotten any further in Through the Looking Glass yet.

My gosh, I haven’t thought about VHS tapes in ages. Crazy how long it’s been since you watched that! Have you seen Burton’s adaptation of the story? (I’ve stolen the name “Absolem” from him. Because I was feeling lazy. But I’m not giving it to my version of the Caterpillar.)

Quick writing tip? Think of character thoughts as the same as dialogue. The normal rules for dialogue apply to thoughts. Though an inner dialogue, it would still be written in present tense, as if the character had said it aloud.

Lastly: Mmm. Coffee cake. Which makes me want tiramisu. Thanks a lot.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra’s brows rose at Ghent’s inquiry and amazed excitement about her pack. Apparently, Earth lacked a similar convince.
“Mary who?” she snapped, angling herself so there was a little extra space between her and Ghent. She huffed a sigh at his further questions. “The enchantment on it to make it lighter has started to wear off. But it’s only a portion of the weight it should be. Thankfully, the Curse didn’t effect all items with preexisting enchantments. But good luck finding one.” She snorted.
Elayra only shook her head at the question of food and walked just to his left, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Noticing him keeping tentatively close to her, she glanced up at the small rain guard.
She took a breath, moving more of her focus to the shield than necessary to maintain it, then muttered a simple, “Extendo,” as she waved her hand toward it and Ghent.
At the order, the shield glittered and expanded with the motion of her hand to hover over the both of them.
“Want to know what I think?”
“Would my saying ‘no’ prevent you from telling me?” she grumbled. But, alas, he continued regardless.
Her brows furrowed, and she turned her head toward him. “You think I’m what?” She let out a single chuckle through her nose at his reason for his diagnoses. “Or maybe you’re just extra annoying in the mornings.”
She eyed him as he reached back to a pouch in his pack, and pulled out what looked like a colorful envelope with the word, “Skittles” on one side. She watched him curiously as he tore the pack open, then handed it to her. She hesitated.
“Taste the…” Slowly, she took the pack, glancing between it and the sidewalk ahead of them, watching for anyone else who may cross their path, be they from Earth or Wonderland. “So, people here have managed to discover and bottle the ‘taste of a rainbow,’ yet don’t have magic?” she asked dubiously, watching him as he used the convex candies to aid in describing a bullet.
“Hopefully we won’t have to find out,” she offered at his conclusion. And hopefully Drust hasn’t had any problems with them, she added to herself, concern for her guardian flashing in her eyes. There was no telling what, if anything, had been waiting for him on the other side of the portal. Had the Shadowmire already returned to the Sorceress? Could she have already sent others to find them? Would she and Ghent find Drust waiting for them, safe in Wonderland, or the Red Queen herself?
Elayra scowled and looked to the side, trying to dispel the thoughts as her regret of having to hide her weapons deepened.
“Here,” she said gruffly, handing the pack back to Ghent. The car following them went unnoticed, the rumble of its engine overpowered by distance and the pattering rain. “Save your rations. I have my own if I need them.”

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

Sorry for the consecutive post, but I realized something; Anora has not actually given Pahn her name, or had it said around him. Is his use of it, then, intentional (like a two-way knowledge thing), or accidental? Not a big deal or anything, I was just going to make a comment about her realizing that my next post of it was intentional.

Of Science and Magic

For the fight that's going to happen how should we do it? I might add a bit about Byrce's mother hearing the howl and sending out a small group of Scouts. I'd also like to ask what you had in mind for the weapons? I usually fine pictures to help and the second guys weapon is giving me a 'its laced with wolfdbane' vibe haha x3

@Arista

Well, the Scientists and Mage (once in the picture) wouldn't be capable of taking down a bunch of werewolves AND drag Byrce and Thea off. If being overpowered, they'd focus just on Thea, and escaping. They're not that powerful. Technically, they'd be disposable in the eyes of the Sages that sent them. They're good enough to get the assignment, but not good enough to be irreplaceable. Keeping in mind they're still in the bounds of Altreiah, maybe the scouts get there too late, but find evidence they were there, including Zane? Other than that, the actual fight I figured would be improv, ending with our desired results of Byrce being brought down and dragged off for experiments by the Scientists because he has those extra powers and to figure out another way to bring werewolves down besides wolfsbane, and Thea getting kidnapped.

While I'm all for getting inspiration from pictures (and do that quite often), I like being capable of using my imagination/original designs and not being limited to and having to find a picture. And I feel too lazy to try drawing one. In my book, if I can't describe something well enough to not need one, then I've got a problem! So I apologize for the poor description, and appreciate that being pointed out. I've gone in and edited it to try to make Bearded-man's weapon and how he's wielding it clearer. Man, that was terrible! xD So, the paragraph now starting with "Meanwhile," and the last one got edited. Seriously sorry about that! Let me know if it gives a better picture now.

Anyway. You've got the wolfsbane part right! With info from someone in the castle, they knew to expect Zane and Byrce. In greater detail that wouldn’t have been known to our characters, Bearded-man made it, and it's basically a blow gun that stores darts laced in a mix of tranquilizer and wolfsbane, and loads them with a crank of the handle. The rectangular box with a lever is where the darts and mechanism to shoot them are stored. Another crank of that lever, and it’ll fire.

Did that answer your questions sufficiently?

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

Seriously, you don’t need to worry about me losing interest or not wanting to continue the story because of delays. I enjoy the story so far, so, in this case, it will take a lot more than waiting for replies to make me want to back out! Honestly, I get excited when I see there’s a reply from you here. I really only need to reread Anora’s CS to get “reacquainted” with her. Which, really, I should do occasionally anyway… I kind of forgot about her knife. And its description. And a couple other aspects. Sorry if it felt like I was off with her to you in my last post, or something, for that to be brought up!

Sweet. I’m really looking forward to the advancement of the story!

Also, like “a parent taking its unknowing child to get flu-shots.” That’s wonderful, there. xD