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    1. Whimsley 9 yrs ago

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Mathigyle


As if on queue, a strange rumbling erupted behind a nearby wall to Madam Lilith. Glass breaking, knocking against steel, and low grumbling depicted a crescendo of action occurring. If one were listening closely, they could hear a conversation happening between a coughing horse and a low moaning sound. "No. No Jeffrey you forgot the catalyst! How am I supposed to contain the energy of the mixture? Quick, place that wormwood cap on the flask. No, not the empty flask you imbecile! WHY DID YOU THROW IT IN? JEFF-"

A high pitch hissing sound bubbled into an explosion, and from the blast a secret door waned open. Billows of smoke breathed from the volcano of a room as Mathigyle slowly shuffled out, his giant, round glasses fogged and robes all covered in soot. Upon seeing the Madam, a toothy grin spread across his face and he craned his neck upward and to the side. His tyrannosaurus wrists managed a wave. "Ah, Madam Lilith, good to see you here." His eyes narrowed and the Lich nearly jumped for the first time in hundreds of years to see all the children about. Flabbergasted, Mathigyle rolled up his smokey sleeve and checked one of 6 watches with 7 heads. "Intriguing! It's a moment to the first day, how fitting. Good day, children." The Lich strained his wolfish smile and the fog cleared from his lenses to reveal pure white eyes, nearly to fall from his head. He was trying.


Mathigyle Dieruynx

Age: ??? (Ancient)
Gender: M
Species: Undead (Lich)

Powers/Abilities: Mastery of alchemy and potion-crafting, knowledge of necromantic and dark energy casting, ability to manipulate his and other souls through destruction, storing, and renewal. Any who approach Mathigyle will feel the temperature of their bodies significantly decrease the closer they get.

Appearance: Mathigyle wears faded, earthen robes at all times that drag behind him, much like his bleach white beard. Besides the beard, he has a sad comb-over of hair atop his scalp. His gait is shuffling at its fastest. He wears glasses three sizes too large atop eyes with pupils lost long ago. The hunch of his back rises above the crown of his head. Mathigyle often brands a lingering, teeth-exposing smile that is genuine in nature but often terrifies the children. If not carrying something, Mathigyle's arms would bend outward and his wrists would drip as a Tyrannosaurus, almost as old as he. It's difficult to say what his body and legs look like, as he's often wearing so many layers that he appears to be a dirty pile of laundry moving about.

Backstory: From what the school has gathered in the bits and pieces they've managed to wrestle from him, Mathigyle was of the original alchemists in the golden age, where the philosopher's stone was greater than myth and disciples wandered the sandy wastes in order to discover the true secrets of alchemy. Mathigyle was of those disciples, yet he had no master, only a fellow disciple friend who shared the motivation and will to continue on without a teacher. Upon a fated day, a sandstorm overtook the pair and they were forced to take refuge within a cave. The cave, as it were, held a terrible secret inscribed on the walls: immortality.

Beyond his "death" and journeys in the Underworld, Mathigyle inherited the innate ability to control necrotic energy and the dead, for he was unliving, and so the ancient alchemical pact granted it to him.
To this day, Mathigyle appears to guard the secret to alchemical eternity. Yet he feels the drive to share other alchemical knowledge with any who will hear him, as to discover the infinite field that is alchemy, one must teach its ways. He cannot do it alone, nor would he like to. And Madam Lilith's has been the prime institution for his... eccentric teachings since it first opened.

Personality: Curious, odd, and potentially dangerous given his lack of attention to things. Mathigyle is a brilliant yet unfocused alchemist who sometimes spontaneously speaks to some sort of invisible entity only known as "Jeffrey". For some reason, speaking to "Jeffrey" is of the rare moments Mathigyle is shown to express true rage. At other times, he can be quite cordial and enjoyable to be around.

Friends/Family: Mostly dead, but often befriends new students, given they survive his course(s)
Crush/Relationships: Deceased; none current

Other: JEFFREY. JEFFREY WHERE YOU DID TAKE THE TEXT I WROTE OUT FOR THE OTHER SECTION? JEFFREY!!!


Mathigyle Dieruynx

Age: ??? (Ancient)
Gender: M
Species: Undead (Lich)

Powers/Abilities: Mastery of alchemy and potion-crafting, knowledge of necromantic and dark energy casting, ability to manipulate his and other souls through destruction, storing, and renewal. Any who approach Mathigyle will feel the temperature of their bodies significantly decrease the closer they get.

Appearance: Mathigyle wears faded, earthen robes at all times that drag behind him, much like his bleach white beard. Besides the beard, he has a sad comb-over of hair atop his scalp. His gait is shuffling at its fastest. He wears glasses three sizes too large atop eyes with pupils lost long ago. The hunch of his back rises above the crown of his head. Mathigyle often brands a lingering, teeth-exposing smile that is genuine in nature but often terrifies the children. If not carrying something, Mathigyle's arms would bend outward and his wrists would drip as a Tyrannosaurus, almost as old as he. It's difficult to say what his body and legs look like, as he's often wearing so many layers that he appears to be a dirty pile of laundry moving about.

Backstory: From what the school has gathered in the bits and pieces they've managed to wrestle from him, Mathigyle was of the original alchemists in the golden age, where the philosopher's stone was greater than myth and disciples wandered the sandy wastes in order to discover the true secrets of alchemy. Mathigyle was of those disciples, yet he had no master, only a fellow disciple friend who shared the motivation and will to continue on without a teacher. Upon a fated day, a sandstorm overtook the pair and they were forced to take refuge within a cave. The cave, as it were, held a terrible secret inscribed on the walls: immortality.

Beyond his "death" and journeys in the Underworld, Mathigyle inherited the innate ability to control necrotic energy and the dead, for he was unliving, and so the ancient alchemical pact granted it to him.
To this day, Mathigyle appears to guard the secret to alchemical eternity. Yet he feels the drive to share other alchemical knowledge with any who will hear him, as to discover the infinite field that is alchemy, one must teach its ways. He cannot do it alone, nor would he like to. And Madam Lilith's has been the prime institution for his... eccentric teachings since it first opened.

Personality: Curious, odd, and potentially dangerous given his lack of attention to things. Mathigyle is a brilliant yet unfocused alchemist who sometimes spontaneously speaks to some sort of invisible entity only known as "Jeffrey". For some reason, speaking to "Jeffrey" is of the rare moments Mathigyle is shown to express true rage. At other times, he can be quite cordial and enjoyable to be around.

Friends/Family: Mostly dead, but often befriends new students, given they survive his course(s)
Crush/Relationships: Deceased; none current

Other: JEFFREY. JEFFREY WHERE YOU DID TAKE THE TEXT I WROTE OUT FOR THE OTHER SECTION? JEFFREY!!!
@Letter Bee @Lady Athena

Krunk-Mobile, Storage Bay

Found it


Zerraf hunched his back and leaned forward to be at eye level with Alexander as he spoke, his face just close enough to be uncomfortable. He had a dazed look to his eyes as if they had painted over with gloss, and he swayed to and from Alexander as if he were about to fall at any moment. Each time the red mage leaned forward, the brim of his wide hat would scrape against Alexander's hair, again, and again, and again. An observant person would note small cuts focused around Zerraf's half-mask.

When Alexander was finished speaking, the red mage squinted and looked up and down Alexander's body, face, arms. He'd repeat this numerous times, assessing his form with scrutiny. As if he were to remember each detail at some later date. Standing tall once again, Zerraf shrugged. "Ey-eh? You're not round like the other ones." With this, Zerraf turned toward the pile of supplies and found his belongings as Alex discussed their situation. He picked everything up with his left hand, oddly enough, before sheathing his rapier in its desired place. Amidst the junk there was one holy grail: a 1200 thread-count pillow with periwinkle covering and golden tinge. He carried the pillow with his left arm and cradled it on his shoulder, as someone may a wooden beam, before gently laying his head down. Paradise. He began to walk back toward Alexander. "Nah. They're already inside, you can't fool me ball man." Zerraf said with a soft exhale, in the tone of a sleeping man.

Just at that moment, Eleanor burst through the wall. Zerraf opened an eye to investigate. "Yo-oy yo. Sis. Let's get out of here." Sis? That was odd. Eleanor had never seen and likely never heard of Zerraf before. Maybe he was confusing you with someone else? You both did have the white hair and rapier. In any case, true to his word, Zerraf dropped his pillow as if it were not the latest, greatest discovery in recent history. Thud. He extended his left hand to your bloody right, his normally glazed eyes now shining. Arcing and crinkling, smiling even.
Glad to see this is coming to life. Keep us updated when you can!
Arcadia

Survey Initiative HQ


Jäger looked over the crowd with a quaint muse and an active mind. He eyed over each individual as the mute man continued to speak, the crow of a tall tree overlooking a valley. His pale eyes evaluated each member, assessing their strengths and weaknesses, not as a prediction but a precaution. No individual is immune to treachery, not even Jäger himself. His eyes shifted as he stared at the backs of heads. Her, the one in the bright clothes and active stance suggested she was a fire mage. Her magic was powerful but after a few failed casts she would be incapacitated. The man in the middle of the crowd was built to masculine perfection; he likely utilized Ki. More difficult for Jäger to handle, but every man has a limit. Lightning was quicker than any punch, as powerful as Kho's will might be. And the golem, well. that was something barely mentioned in the tomes. Jäger would need to keep an especially close eye on that one; what an exciting learning experience the golem offered, what precious knowledge Jäger might gain.

The CMAS gave him special permission to leave with Survey Group 1 after the events of Survey Group Alpha, though he was not informed of any secondary intention this go-around. He was to keep the peace within the group and minimize collateral damage given an ambush was present. Perhaps he was kept in the dark about going-ons, or perhaps he knew everything; nothing was certain. Jäger would remain vigilant. What was certain was that Jäger had not been outside of the walls for some time, and it would be more than satisfying to test his skills against something other than novice magi and machinists. The normal mandates and orders were delivered by Joshua, something Jäger had memorized at this point and had no need to listen. No, staring at the backs of heads was more important; who was to act out, if anyone?

Upon deliverance of the final word, the crowd began to dissipate to prepare for the evening departure. Likely to get uniforms, however Jäger brandished his CMAS uniform, unique to him, quite proudly at all times. To pride one's own strength was a thing to be feared by an enemy. Jäger's gauntlet collided loudly with his chest as he saluted Joshua before treading off with heavy pace. He would need to focus his mind through meditation, and review the word of Kho in the meantime. Kho's word was will, and his will was to better Jäger.

Evening came as a sudden realization, and Jäger collapsed the leather-bound tome he held. Perhaps he would find another's eyes to open upon this journey. Arriving at the south gate, a portion of the crowd from before sat about on benches, pathways, or stood in small groups to discuss the coming venture. Jäger chose to approach the most interesting of the bunch: the metal golem of lion face. It was often not Jäger's mentality to be cordial or to even introduce himself, however he attempted to better himself in all ways for the name of his family in Saiga and his hero-prophet Kho. The monks had shown him an ultimate kindness that Jäger still failed to understand and enact. "Hail, stranger. You are a fascinating individual, and I would know your name, if you would give it to me." His dialect was oddly formal for casual conversation. Having been raised in the temple, it was imprinted on Jäger to always speak this way. Jäger extended a bent arm as if to firmly grasp the golem's hand, fingers curved and the back of his palm towards the pink, sunset sky. His book of Kho bounced against his waist in doing this and Jäger's eyes remained locked on what he believed to be the eyes of a lion.
Krunk-Mobile, Prisoner Bay

Weeeeee.


Zerraf slouched over and rolled his shoulder in response to hearing where his weapons were. "Hm, Okay. Thanks Fatty Gold." Just as the red mage batted an eye at the approaching Krunklets, the entire bay gave way before they could play. May-day. While the Krunklets toppled over each other, Zerraf seemed more as if someone had turned off the gravity. Before the Krunks could dog pile him, he maintained his slouched posture as his hunched figure cartwheeled over the rail and down to the first floor, hand still in pocket, gusts of wind placing him down on the floor with a tap against steel. He nodded to the remaining 2nd-floor Krunklets who were still standing before sauntering his way to the opened Storage Bay. He might just get that pillow too. Maybe. If it's not too far. Zerraf took a ten second nap on the way there. He'd think about it later.
there goes the tension XD


......For now......*slowly begins writing on same paper*
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