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You can tell who's still keeping their pictures on discord because the link breaks in like a day
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I think that’s just called playing dnd
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Everybody I see complaining that this site is dead has like 3 IC posts total. My brother in mahz you pulled the trigger
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Glynwood Academy Grounds

Sunday, the 21st of the Third Pyric Moon, RY 3418


Dreary summer rains dominated the skies of the Realm's northwestern coast, foreshadowing the end of summer and the encroaching chill of fall, yet above the caldera that housed the Glynwood Institute for Thaumaturgical Studies, the afternoon sun shone as brightly as ever. Such inauspicious weather simply wouldn't do to usher in the new academic year, and it was promptly corrected before the first drop of water fell from the sky. Between the parted clouds, great whirls of Ouranic mana descended before coming to rest in glittering magelights that danced just above the surface of the lake, illuminating the path for the incoming class as they rode the ferry to the campus proper. The nearest town and static teleportation point outside the campus, a quaint little village of humble magi called Pebblebrook, had thankfully enjoyed the protection of Glynwood's sphere of influence against the rain, and it was from here that the young spellcasters of Glynwood's freshman class departed by cart earlier that morning on their ceremonial trek to the Great Gate.

Despite the weariness of travel hanging over the students' heads, exclamations of awe and excitement filled the air as the ferry drew near to the island at last, and all were ushered off the boat and into single-file lines before three makeshift kiosks, each manned with a chipper mage and an enchanted tome to admit the new arrivals and assign them their cohorts. Beyond, a waiting crowd of human staff and golems alike sprung into action as they began the process of transporting student luggage to their new dormitories.

Across the courtyard, upperclassmen spared only a curious glance or two toward the gathering as they trickled in from an enchanted archway to the wide double doors of the feasting hall, mixed in with flashes of sympathy or haughty condescension at the new arrivals that had to walk like commoners. Once past the entryway, the freshman class was led not toward the hall with their more senior peers, but instead into a smaller audience room, decorated finely enough to match any Pontaion nobleman's ballroom. Motes of flame traced lazy circles through the air above, lighting what the magnificent stained glass windows could not. A string quartet's gentle tune carried across the room above the chatter of students and staff alike, originating from a set of rune-etched instruments that levitated in place as they played of their own accord. Tables of refreshments lined the walls, leading to a grand stage at the far end of the room, where several magi stood in idle boredom before commencement of the opening address. Dedicated followers of obscure academia or Glynwood personnel might recognize a few, but only the most isolated could possibly miss the man standing center stage. Second Battlemage Renault Auristel had graced the assembly with his presence, distracted though he might've been in a quiet conversation with a quaintly amused looking blonde woman some might recognize as Vice-Chancellor Victoria Charbeneau.

This fact did not go unnoticed; between the assemblies of Cohorts Seven and Eight, a spirited discussion raged between two chatty students.

"D'you hear that rumor about Professor Charbeneau and Auristel?" The boy from Cohort Eight asked in a conspiratorial stage-whisper, "I didn't believe it, but look at that."

"I dunno," the other student, Blake, answered skeptically before he whirled around to tactlessly accost a nearby young mage with cerulean hair and oversized glasses, "Hey, Theo, are Charbeneau and Auristel fucking?"

The bespectacled mage seemed to wither at the question. "Please don't ask me about his sex life, he's like an older brother to me."

"So yes."

"That is not what I said," Theo bristled in response, but Blake had already turned back to his theorizing.

"Oh, let the boys gossip," a nearby girl chimed in, "It's not true, anyway. Riiiight?"

Unfortunately for her, Theo offered only a weary glare in lieu of a response. Dionysia shrugged innocently and turned her attention back to the stage, where a lanky man with a spring in his step made his way across at last. A sudden silence fell across the room - the music stopped, and the conversation died down to muted whispers almost immediately. Not on the part of the student body, however; anyone still talking would find their voice greatly muffled, even if they were to scream as loud as they could.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think everyone's arrived, and I'd hate to keep you any longer than I have to," the recent arrival to the stage chirped exuberantly, his voice carrying across the room despite - or perhaps because of - the enchantment acting upon the student body. "I am Chancellor Albrecht Nortwin, and I would like to be among the first to formally welcome you to the Glynwood Institute for Thaumaturgical Studies! For the first in many years, we once again have the honor of hosting students from every corner of our great nation and, as ever, I see before me a sea of potential. I'm sure you've all heard of some changes to our curriculum this year, but make no mistake; our commitment to the education of the Realm's finest minds remains as firm as ever. And, on that note, I'd like to take a moment to thank Second Battlemage Renault Auristel for his generous acceptance to teach at our fine institution."

The rest of the staff members politely clapped as Auristel bowed for the crowd, which provoked swooning looks and thinly-veiled glares from the incoming class in equal measure. This fact didn't seem to go unnoticed by Chancellor Nortwin, whose face slipped into a pensive frown for but a moment before it sprung back to its prior enthusiasm.

"In these tumultuous times, I believe it's more important than ever that we remember the ideals of our founder, Theodoric Glynwood, who urged us to put aside our differences and petty politicking and stand together as magi, that we may build a brighter future for the Republic through education," Nortwin continued, a bit more solemnly than before, "So, when you look upon your classmates and those in your cohorts, I urge you to dwell not upon the conflicts of our past, but on the future that you wish to create instead. Thank you." Once again, the staff politely clapped, along with the majority of the assembled students. It was plain to see from a couple of the faces in the crowd that not everyone found the sentiment of the speech particularly inspiring, and more than a few grumbles of 'necromancer' and 'traitor' could be heard floating around underneath the cacophony of clapping hands.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to come up with another speech for your upperclassmen," the chancellor followed up tactlessly, "Vice-Chancellor Charbeneau, if you would?"

The woman in question merely sighed as Nortwin departed at a hurried pace. Her lips moved as though she had mumbled something, and Auristel barely caught himself from letting out an amused snort as Charbeneau made her way to the front of the stage.

"Thank you, Chancellor. It certainly is hard to follow a speech like that. Students, make sure to see your cohort overseers before you leave for information about your dormitories." As Victoria spoke, several professors descended from the stage, one for each of the assembled cohorts. A bored-looking man with wavy black hair took his place before Cohort Seven, passing a critical glance over the students under his charge before his attention drifted back to Charbeneau.

"Members of the staff will also be standing by to help acquaint you with the campus and answer any questions you may have. You'll find your student handbooks and class schedules already delivered to your rooms. Classes start first thing tomorrow morning, but until then, please feel free to mingle and enjoy yourselves for the rest of the day. Once again, on behalf of all of us here at Glynwood, I'd like to congratulate you all on your acceptance and welcome you to our academy. Thank you."

Upon their dismissal, the crowd dispersed; some eager to be the first to greet their new cohort leaders, others more concerned with the tantalizing spread of food that they'd been so rudely denied upon entry. Whatever magically induced silence had taken hold of the hall before was gone, and the air was once again abuzz with chatter and music.
Alright, since everybody’s more or less in, I’m gonna call it a couple days early.

@Obscene Symphony @Light @Hero @Achronum @Crowvette
You guys are all good to go.

@Crusader Lord
There’s a handful of minor inconsistencies in your backstory like some of the years not lining up (which I’m assuming are from the edits) but she’s accepted after those are fixed.

@Dead Cruiser
Raisin Bran is fine with the caveat that, while I don’t have a problem with the magic section as written, I’m interpreting it as her having a grasp of the fundamentals of all those fields and isn’t particularly proficient in more than a couple.

Either way, y’all can throw them in the character tab. I’ll have the IC up in a couple days.
Alright now that I actually did more than skim the sheets, a couple nitpicks.

@Lewascan2 For starters, inducing early noesis is a quick way to make manaburn barbeque out of your kid, assuming one understood the process enough to even try, and soul alteration in general rarely leads to anything positive for the one being altered. Seems like a massive risk to take for a mere ~3-4 years of extra magical training that's probably wasted on a 7 year old that won't understand any of it anyway.

The magic section is also well beyond what an 18 year old mage would be capable of; even expert necromancers have a hard time finely commanding scores of undead beyond giving vague directions to the entire shambling horde at once. Same with unraveling other mages' spells and reshaping biology, which are other schools of magic entirely and usually have a High Magic component. As for the whole ghost part, trying to pull a spirit or some semblance of a lingering essence from a dead body only works if it has freshly died, otherwise the soul would have vacated its earthly fetters by then and be unretrievable. Spirits rarely linger unless acted upon by magic designed to do so. Likewise, the rest of her skillset is way too broad and developed for a teenager, let alone one that was a child soldier. Only so many hours in a day and whatnot.

As for the items, the whole crypt is pretty much out the window in terms of enchantment complexity. It'd take a team of archmages to run something like that long-term and it definitely wouldn't be portable. The staff's fine, but the part about self-maintenance doesn't work. Luckily staves are pretty hardy and only substantially degrade after prolonged use or in absolutely massive spells that are probably worth melting a staff or two in the long run.

@Hero Not sure which one you're using yet but depending on the size/complexity and autonomy of Diana's magic constructs, that's a totally different field than generic elemental magic and likewise gets more complex the more elements you throw in. It works for Phoebus since he's only working with a single element (or whatever you consider plants) but most golemancers (placeholder term, don't quote me on that) stick with one or two elements, typically of the same state of matter, to start with. For example, the act of puppeting an ice construct and a stone construct are fairly similar, one made of fire and one made of stone aren't.

@Crimson Flame Minor gripe, and I get that's your gimmick and all, but I'd prefer an actual picture. Also, where'd you pull a goddess from? Even humanizing the world soul as a sort of earth mother figure wouldn't give you a tangible entity to commune with.
Fair enough! Does this place still have some room, or are you full?


Not accepting anybody until the deadline because I'm a procrastinator, go ahead and throw a sheet in if you want.
@Scribe of Thoth Thoth AND another mage-related RP?! :O

...As an aside, how often do you expect people who join here to post? Just to ask the question in general as a passing curious traveler on the Guild.


Once a week-ish. I say "ish" because everyone knows "strict weekly posting schedule" devolves into "eh, when you feel like it" about two months into RPs here anyway.
Too many people to tag but the OOC is up


“Aged slabs of ancient stone paved the road to Glynwood, a long march that ended atop the hill at a massive archway of solid gold. The Great Gate, they called it. Though we had since left the forest behind, the path was still overgrown in places with moss and shrubbery as a testament to its disuse. No surprise; no one in their right mind would take this route, but, as first year students, we were required to make the trek at least once. In all the time we’d traveled, I had yet to catch even a glimpse of the school; as we summited the hill, it became clear as to why. The ground fell away into a vast basin, a monumental crater that descended sharply into a lake fed by the biggest waterfall I’d ever seen on the far ridge. What initially appeared as stone reliefs chiseled into the cliffs revealed themselves as structures as we grew closer; there stood a veritable city carved into the face of the rock, relics of a civilization long gone. Swells of mana danced faintly on the wind, drawn ever downward toward the island at the center of it all: the Glynwood Institute for Thaumaturgical Studies.”
Diary of an Unnamed Glynwood Student


The Realm breathes a collective sigh of relief.

After six grueling years of civil war, the Magisters’ Republic of Cresvald is again unified. Yet as her citizens exchange their swords for plowshares and the reconstruction begins in earnest, unrest still looms in the shadows. The Provision For Ethical Necromancy, the crux of the treaty between the insurrectionists and the Magisterium, has left many on both sides of the war uneasy, and though the fighting may have ceased, animosity still simmers, waiting for the spark to ignite it once again.

None await this more than the Sons of Anedor, an insidious cult of disenfranchised necromancers and ambitious magi alike who will settle for nothing less than total independence from Magisterium sovereignty. From behind identity-veiling enchantments that obscure even their very auras, these cultists claim to infest every corner of the Realm, engaging in overt violence and subtle politicking alike to actualize their ideals.

Still, life goes on; commoners return to the fields, mages devote their powers once again to more peaceful pursuits, and a certain group of young spellcasters take their first steps into the world of magic in earnest. To them, I offer this:

Welcome to the Glynwood Institute for Thaumaturgical Studies.



Premise

As you can probably guess from the name, this RP centers on the freshman class of the Glynwood Institute for Thaumaturgical Studies (GIFTS, if you will), an academy of spellcraft in a nation freshly released from the throes of civil war. Of course, universities are rarely free of politics even in the best of times, and Glynwood is no different. The politics just become a bit more dangerous when everyone involved can shoot lightning from their hands and political violence by necromancers is becoming increasingly common.

I won’t patronize you with a list of rules, just don’t be difficult. For the sake of pacing, I’d like to keep to more or less a weekly posting schedule, though I’m obviously not going to stop anyone from posting more often. I'll make a final decision on sheets May 10th, though if you want little nitpicks in the meantime I'm happy to oblige.

There’s a decent bit of lore, most of which is at least passingly relevant, but the magic system and worldbuilding are kinda loose by design, so feel free to run a concept by me or hit me up with any other questions you may have.





Deepest Lore













Ceolfric couldn't bring himself to care about the rain. If their demon showed up now, they'd have no choice but to run; they could barely fend off a few undead wolves at their best, and now the rest of his travelling party was disarmed, battered, and probably on the verge of collapsing from an adrenaline dump. With such terrible odds, he doubted his Lord would be merciful enough to even spare him, let alone the others. Instead, he trudged along dutifully beside the wagon, constantly alert for any disparities between his eyes and his aetheric senses.

Their stop couldn't come soon enough.

Ceolfric offered only token aid in setting up the camp for the night; anyone who wanted to argue could try their luck with the wolves again. Quite frankly, he'd need his strength more than them if they were attacked again. Of course, the unspoken power disparity couldn't have peacefully remained so - Cerric decided to drudge it out into the open. The lecture about the consequences of undead exposure was fine, but the bandit couldn't draw anything out of his teamwork spiel except that they were all failing horribly at their assessment. It wouldn't have been so demeaning if he hadn't implied Eila was the thing holding them together and not Ceolfric's willingness to kill the thing that almost ate her.

Eila seemed convinced that she wasn't infected, and as far as Ceolfric could tell, she didn't seem to be lying, but he'd have to keep an eye on her anyway. If her aether started feeling faint, he'd have to tie her up or something. Or just kill her to be safe like Cerric had suggested, but there was no reason to throw an entire person away when she might still have use.

"I assume you all know where you fucked up," Ceolfric gruffly commented as plopped down at the base of a tree near the fire, leaning against the trunk casually. "But exposure is the first step to composure, so I hope you'll all react a bit faster next time." A little tenacity would do them some good; being aetherborn was no good if they froze up and cried every time someone wanted to hurt them. Freckles should've been able to handle the entire pack singlehandedly. Even the teenager lost his composure at the end, and he was Ceolfric's running favorite.

"Now, why don't we go over everyone's skillset and what that can provide in a typical caravan ambush scenario, so we don't have a repeat of that embarrassing display." Better to keep them on track before anyone started pointing fingers. The bandit figured he was safe, but even Eila was supposedly an educated woman and she surely didn't need to be told that she was a waste of a flank guard in four different ways to understand. One of them would break rather than reliably sticking to the plan, he was sure, but it beat floundering about without any sense of coherence.

Indifferently, Ceolfric drew his sword and poured the remainder of his waterskin over it, careful not to spill any potentially Rot-tainted water on himself. Last thing he needed was to chop a highwayman in half and have it rise up against him a few moments later due to carelessness.


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