Gameplay
It was a relatively overcast day as you all arrived at the Magaambya Academy, located in the city of Nantambu, a bustling Mwangi city. Coming from all walks of life, you traveled here to seek knowledge in some form or another, to hone your skills in the magical arts, and or find the truth of oneself. AS you cross the bridge over into campus grounds, you see a man of color cloth fabrics adorning his person and smile on his face.
The teacher speaks with a gentle, soothing timbre, “Welcome, and a kind hello, new students. It is my pleasure to instruct you. You may call me Teacher Ot. You are embarking now on a life of study and service. We see within you intellect, passion, and judgment—in short, the virtues to build upon the strengths of the thousands who have come before you. We follow the footsteps of Old-Mage Jatembe, who showed us that the price of magic is the responsibility to better the world.”
Chomski straightens himself up at seeing the man in the colorful clothing. He bows at the meeting and then nods along to the whole speech.
Among the gathered students, one stands out due to her unusual mode of transport - a young Varisian woman with an excited, curious expression rides on the shoulder of a massive automaton which dwarfs even the tallest of those fathered nearby. When the group reaches the bridge and its members are met by Teacher Ot, the construct bends down to allow its rider to dismount.
Andra hops off of its shoulder, landing on the ground. She's quite short for a human, barely coming up to the large construct's knee - though at least she's taller than the gnome! Andra smiles excitedly as the teacher introduces himself and welcomes them to the school. This is what she's been waiting for all these years - a chance to learn magic the right way.
Startled by the large construct that has now joined the crowd, Chomski realizes that he forgot to turn his hearing aid on if this thing was able to sneak up on him. Gus, his rat friend, runs up his sleeve.
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Standing a head and shoulders above most of the crowd, but still humbled by the gigantic construct nearby, a powerfully built young man stares off into the distance. He pays no heed at all to the warm welcome being offered.
He's armed and armored, with a solid piece of plate adorning his chest, and a well-used sword strapped to his back that looks big enough to cleave through two men in one swing. At first glance, and likely every glance after that, he would seem wildly out of place here... save, that is, for the fact that much of the rest of the crowd seem even stranger for their own reasons.
Finally, around his right shin, a tiny green viper clings on for dear life. Every few steps, the warrior stops and shakes his leg to try and dislodge it, to no avail.
Joseph Curwen stands near the front of the crowd. Unlike many of the assembled, he does not look nervous. He had attended the Magaambya Academy for a semester a decade ago, but he belonged here, regardless. A wizard as skilled as he was in the arcane arts would naturally attend the most prestigious university in the world. Joseph is a human of ulfen descent. He is tall like most ulfen, but much leaner. His light blonde hair is sun-bleached almost white from time spent outside at archeological digs. He has sharp, grey eyes, always flitting about. His outfit doesn't seem to follow any style. The coloring is primarily red and black, with baggy trousers but a tight-fitting tunic. The left sleeve is missing entirely, exposing his left arm, which sports a somewhat crude tattoo of a tian sky dragon snaking its way down his arm. He wears a tattered, short black cape that is adorned with raven's flight feathers. He carries a cane made of black wood with a gold collar and handle. One that is obviously more style than function. A large raven sits perched on his shoulder, also surveying the crowd.
Joseph taps his cane on the floor and sighs, grimacing. He never understood the point of these welcoming ceremonies. There were more important things to do. Fields of magic to advance!
The raven spies something interesting and takes flight.
Mischief alights upon the strange automaton. Tink tink tink. He pecks repeatedly on the top of its metal head. "Corn?"
The construct tilts its head to look up at the bird, and stares at it with glowing eyes for several seconds. It raises a hand to the raven and extends a finger for it to perch on.
"Now who are you whom follow in these footsteps? Many of you have likely traveled far and wide to so so. What strengths does one such posses to walk such a splendid path here, he smiles clearly loving this meeting. Only four of you stood there, all sponsored in some way or at the least proven to someoneone why you should be here.
He pulls out a small candle from his robes, "Fire, a key to life, energy. Who amongst you can light this candle without the need of flint or match?"
A look of recognition flashes across Andra's face for a moment as a memory surges to the surface. She sees herself casting a simple spell to light a similar candle, years earlier as a young girl. The memory changes in an instant, to another - mighty gouts of flame leaping from her fingertips to engulf entire buildings in flame as a wicked grin curls across her young face. The memory fades as quickly as it had come, and she winces at a sudden stab of pain in her head and wavers on her feet a moment.
Her construct guardian seems to sense her moment of weakness, and bends down to place its large hand against her back to lean on. She recovers after a moment, looking up at the teacher.
"I... think I might destroy the candle if I tried," she admits. She speaks the local tongue with familiarity, though with the accent of a foreigner. "Perhaps someone else should try first."
The snake coiled around the warrior's leg slithers up along his body and up to his shoulders.
"Go on," it whispers. "You know well the secrets of fire."
The warrior tears the snake away from his shoulder and holds it helpless in his grasp. He glares daggers at the beast, and responds in a harsh whisper. "I would sooner burn you alive, would you not think it proved you right."
Almost unconsciously, he wreathes his other hand in magical flame, only noticing that he'd done so after the fact. He shakes his wrist and lets the flames harmlessly dissipate, but by then it's too late. Everyone has seen him create fire, and the expectations will be raised.
Satisfied, the snake slips out from the warrior's grasp and slithers back down the length of his arm to find some other perch.
A ghost of a smile pulls at Joseph's lips. Summoning flame was likely to be the first thing a young mage would be taught after mastering simple light spells. He had a handful of defensive spells prepared, but the majority of his spell repertoire was dedicated to utility or magic research.
Ah, a challenge. Mischief thinks, clutching the automatons finger in his beak and trying to take to the air. I am the master of challenges. Mischief releases the robo-finger and hops over to its brow, leaning over its brow and pecking its robot eye. "Tell me, automaton: can you produce flame?"
The automaton's eyes seem to focus on the bird. "Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ sᴛᴇᴘ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ Bɪʀᴅɪᴇ. Mɪɴɪᴍᴜᴍ sᴀғᴇ ᴅɪsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ: Rᴇǫᴜɪʀᴇᴅ." it says in a rhythmic voice like the chiming of a bell.
Andra smiles, stepping away from the automaton and to the edge of the bridge, where she retrieves a long stick from the ground. When the bird has moved out of range, she holds the stick out like she's toasting a marshmallow over a fire, making sure to stay at least five feet away. "Ok, Emmet. Go for it!" she says with a grin.
The golem lets out a chiming noise and then suddenly bursts into searing heat! Flames shoot out of the openings along its body and roar around it for a moment, engulfing the stick in Andra's hands before vanishing a moment later. The air around Emmet wavers with the sudden heat - but it's accomplished its goal. The stick in Andra's hands now burns with a flame she uses to carefully light the candle in Teacher Ot's hands.
The golem turns to Andra. "Hᴇᴀᴛ ᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴅ sᴜᴄᴄᴇssғᴜʟʟʏ. Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Pᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴜɪᴛs ᴇxᴄᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʟɪᴍɪᴛs. Exʜᴀᴜsᴛ sʏsᴛᴇᴍ ᴏᴠᴇʀʀɪᴅᴇ ᴅɪsᴀʙʟᴇᴅ." She sighs at the construct, smiling. "Ah well, that can happen. I'll fix you up in a bit, don't you worry." She pats the golem's leg, which seems to have rapidly cooled and returned to a normal temperature.
Andra eyes Kijani from her position by Emmet's hip. She'd seen the young man produce the fire as asked - but seemed even more unwilling than her to use his abilities. Curious, that, she thinks. Perhaps he doesn't want the attention.
"That... ought to do it..."
Fear has left the gnome's body and a wave of genuine awe has now replaced it as he eyes the golem.
"That's some friend you've got there. My powers are divine and Nethys did not give access or suggest anything with fire today."
"No one wants to give out a name, don't be shy, you are all among good company here at Magaamby," he says watching as the automaton bursts into flames on command. He seems rather impressed by the display, happily lighting his candle, "Excellent. Your mechanical skill will surely be well received here and no doubt a subject of a good paper."
"Speaking of papers, what interests do you all have. Here at the academy we strive to have our pupils grow, to pursue all varieties of paths, even those non magical. For example I love nature, especially bird watching," he says making a call. Within a few seconds a bird appears on his raised hand.
"Mwangi Blue Quail, beautiful red color, I have been hearing its song all day today," he says with a warm smile, "Can any of you get a feather from it without plucking one?"
Wiping his hands on his clothes, the gnome steps forwards.
”Hello all, my name is Chomski, Chomski Bramblebuckle. I’m a chef and healer and devout followers of Nethys. The All-Seeing Eye is a huge fan of colleges like this but what actually drew me here was the cuisine. My friend Lumusi is the head cook here and I love to travel to different destinations to discover new cuisines. But, while I’m here, Nethys says I should take the opportunity to learn more about magic and increase my power.”
Shuffling through his clothing…
”My friend Gus is around here some place. He got scared by the golem, but I would imagine it’s the snake that’s keeping him away. I’m very excited to get to know all of you. I will do my best to help you with my healing.”
"I'm Andra," the young woman says, smiling at the others. "And this is Emmet! I built him based on an old friend." She pats the robot on the leg fondly, and turns to address Teacher Ot. "My interest is in the integration of magical and mechanical methods of construct animation and automation - and in a broader sense, the combining of magic and technology. Emmet is based on both principles - mechanical articulation, with a magical power source. His intelligence is derived from an interaction between the two," she explains proudly.
She looks thoughtfully at the bird. "It's a very beautiful bird. I'm not sure how to get a feather without plucking one, however..."
Joseph lifts his cane, grasping it halfway down the shaft. With his hand removed from the handle, no one is surprised to discover that the handle of the cane is shaped like a raven. "I am Joseph Curwen. You may have heard of my parents, Rick and Evelyn. They have written many books on ancient and esoteric history. I am here to continue work on my thesis. I believe there is a way for any spellcaster to - relatively - easily cast spells from all magic traditions, not just one or two. The Cascade Bearers here at this school already practice something similar, only to a more restricted degree than I believe can be achieved, so what better place to continue my research?" His tone is casual and matter-of-fact, as if such a theory were rather mundane. "Beyond that, I suppose my primary fields of interest are ancient history and archeology."
"This is Mischief." He says as the raven alights upon his shoulder. "He is... Mischief. Knowledgeable about magic, but a troublmaker." The bir 'tuts' loudly and pecks the young mans earlobe. "As for feathers: Mischief, I belive the fowl of the air are your purview."
Mischief takes wing, cutting through the air to land on Teacher Ot's shoulder. "Pretty bird!" He croaks, hopping further down Ot's extended arm to his elbow. "Pretty bird! Pretty bird!" He starts hopping up and down, whistling in time and flapping his wings, trying to get the quail to dance with him and perhaps lose a feather.
Ot takes the other bird on his arm, able to hold the weight of both of them. The blue quail would hop around with Mischief, singing out in a language only birds could understand. That being of course that it was uninterested but thanked him for the dance as a loose feather feel away. It'd tweet one last time before fluttering away.
"Very interesting young Curwen. I have met them awhile before, what excellent people and a great thing to see their child grow and follow in their footsteps while making their own path. Our own path here is very important, no student is a like after all."
He nods to Andra while looking to the Gnome, "She is an excellent cook and I bet she will be very glad to see you."
"I hope that you are all kind to snakes," he says, giving a look towards Kijani. A small skinny snake of his own slowly slithers out of Ot's clothing "Ah, why if it isn't Mr. Afram. Afram is shovel-snout snake local to the area. Utterly harmless, the only thing he bites is the small vermin in campus gardens, a service to our community. Have you all helped the community, in what way? There is no need to keep such good secret in fact, can any of you tell me what secrets Mr. Afram has?"
Kijani frowns as the teacher acknowledges him, but says nothing. Clearly, he has no intention of singling himself out by stepping forward.
"Helping this community? Well, I have only just arrived here, but my family has built many bridges and dug many wells near remote villages to supply their excavations over the years." Mischief attempts to crawl into Teacher Ot's sleeve. "Many snakes have a deadly secret..." Joseph mutters. With so much time spent in desert and rainforest, Joseph was well acquainted with the things that slithered and crawled in the undergrowth, searching for a safe, warm tent or boot to shelter in. "A scorpion no bigger than a thumbnail can be just as deadly as a jaguar."
Ot does not respond to Kijani's inaction, simply smiling as the snake coiled on his shoulder.
As a small vermin himself, Gus squeaks from inside Chomski's coat.
"I've tried to help communities in a few ways in my travels. I am a healer as well as a cook and I've tried to infuse the two. But I am also a follower of Nethys, and I have done my best to leave mostly completed spells in the communities I've been to on parchment to see if that sparks the interest in the arcane for those who might pick them up."
"Ahh, but you are no threat." Joseph says smiling.
Mischief, also a wildlife expert, chimes in. "Spikey tail! Spikey Tail!"
Ot smiles, "Good good, his tail is spikey, but nothing that would cause anymore trouble other than a small scratch. Otherwise, harmless," he says before letting the small snake down and letting it slither into a flower bed, "Now that we have for the most part introduced ourselves to one another let us get on with more important matters."
His hands glow with a strange magic before raising his hands in the air. Symbols are conjured into the air, all different from one another. A flickering candle, a balanced scale, multipronged keys, pursed lips, an open hand with eye in the palm, and lastly a running hourglass, "Choose one if you wish."
Balanced Scales: The hero gains guidance as a primal innate spell.
Multipronged Key: The hero gains mage hand as an arcane innate spell.
Pursed Lips: The hero gains message as an arcane innate spell.
Open Hand with an Eye in the Palm: The hero gains shield as an arcane innate spell.
Running Hourglass: The hero gains stabilize as a primal innate spell.
Without waiting for input, Mischief swoops through the set of keys, intent of using them to unlock doors to places he is not supposed to go.
"Is that your choice?" Ot smiles, watching the bird try to swoop through the key loops.
Kijani's snake slithers up to his shoulder again, but he grabs it and shoves it into his pocket. He doesn't even deign to look at the meaningless symbols, let alone choose one.
Instead of choosing, Chomski notices the human with his snake, not making a pick of choosing to cast the spell before. He walks up beside him, talking just loud enough for a one on one conversation.
”If you’re not choosing, then neither am I. Not sure if it’s the right answer, but you seem smart, so we’re in this together. I know you heard my name before, but we didn’t catch yours…”
The warrior glances down at the top of the tiny man's head, which is just about all he can see when he stands so close.
"Many people have been speaking today, little fey-thing, and I've listened to none of them. Were I a smart man, I'd have fled west some time ago."
This may be a bit of a shocking statement, considering west of here is just empty scrubland until you hit the Shackles.
Joseph shrugs. "Keys are as good as anything - I would not want to break Mischief's heart." It may be too late for that, however, as Mischief wails in sorrow when he finds the keys to be illusory.
Shocked that he got a response from the tall human, as he responds, the small gnome looks up with his big adorable eyes hidden below his wild white eyebrows, that anyone would be endeared by. A sight so absurd, it’s you can’t help but be disarmed.
”West does sound like an adventure, and one we might end up on at some point. Little fey-thing is a new nickname, and one I wear proudly. And don’t think I didn’t notice your lack of name. I’m not as clever as you with the nicknames though, so would you mind sharing your real one? I might have a pastry in my pack for you if that is enough of a bribe for you. If pastries aren’t your thing, then also let me know what foods you’re interested in, as well as your name. If you do, I promise from this day forward, I’ll have some on me. So, to recap, what’s your name and favorite food, or the favorite food of your snake… please don’t say my friend Gus…”
Kijani shuts his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, trying to tune it all out. If he can have the patience to endure this, he hopes, he will be able to endure anything.
Ot smiles, "Very well, and what about you. Does one with such a mechanical contraption gaze upon such sigils, does one catch your eye?" he says politely towards Andra.
Chomski sees that his multiple attempts have failed and realizes that perhaps this isn’t someone looking to make friends. He walks away and does his best to not feel too insulted by the audible and visual shots fired.
Andra moves forward to examine the symbols. As she gets close, a tattoo on her right shoulder seems to resonate with one of the symbols - pulsing with the same colored light as the sigil of the hand with the eye. Her eyes glow a soft blue as she instinctively casts a minor spell of her own, letting her perceive the magic of the symbols directly.
"They're fascinating pieces of magic... but I think I'd prefer not to choose," she replies to Teacher Ot with a smile.
"Interesting that so many of us chose not to choose. I'd wonder what the odds were on this..." Chomski seems to now be lost in math.
"Very peculiar indeed but not too uncommon. Some find that they can do without such need for assistance," he speaks, noticing the tattoo with an interested look.
“At the Magaambya, we seek to understand our differences. Where others might dismiss a trait as irrelevant or troublesome, we understand that the things that make us unique in life are key to who we are as people. And it is who we are as people that defines our magic. Sometimes, it is things that are different about us, things that societies have taught us to hate, that show what our talent will be. To the north, people say that children with white or red hair have strong potential for magic. Here in Nantambu, we recognize that left-handed people are skilled at undoing spells. One student of mine is terrified of butterflies, even though he considers it ridiculous. Yet in exchange for this fear of fluttering whimsy, he has one of the most orderly minds for games and strategy that I have ever seen."
“Sometimes, we do not understand our magic, and that lack of understanding causes pain. People who are uncomfortable in their own skin are incredible shapechangers but often feel unsettled until they recognize the shape they were meant to be. Those who feel an urge to jump from high places often become frightened of themselves, but they are simply channeling the untrained will to fly."
“Sometimes, our talents are not revealed by happy means,” Teacher Ot face becomes somber, and he continues, “One student here had a family who planned her life out from birth to death, punishing her when she deviated the slightest bit. She only found freedom in the thought of her grave, and as a result, the dead began to speak to her. Here, she has freedom to choose her own path, but her necromancy remains strong. You don’t have to share, but I want you to ask yourselves: what about you defines you, even if others rarely notice it? Is there something inside you that pulls at you, perhaps defying rational explanation? Thus, I return to my first question: who are you, and how can that person best be guided to grow?”
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Andra thinks, smiling a bit as she listens to the teacher's words. "I think I'm a creator. I've always liked to make things - even when I was very little, I was drawing or making little houses out of sticks and leaves. Emmet's the best thing I've ever built - but I'm not going to stop there. I want to study magic to add another tool to my toolkit, and let me create even more wondrous things."
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Chomski nods along to the whole speech and then to Andra's answer.
"That is a great answer, Andra..."
Thinking for a moment, he wonders if there's a best answer for this exercise.
"I'm going to say that I'm a protector. In my life, I've seen horrors and I've seen joys. I feel like I can best serve by preventing as much of the first and giving as much of the second. Food is how I bring joy, and magic will only make this skill better. The ways of the All-Seeing Eye is how I prevent horrors and magic definitely makes this skill better. The more skilled I am at magic, the more I can further protect people."
"Mʏ ᴅᴇsɪɢɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴛᴏᴏ, Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ Cʜᴏᴍsᴋɪ," the automaton unexpectedly adds, turning to look at the small gnome. Its face isn't emotive enough to show any sort of an expression, but somehow it gives the impression of a gentle kindness.
Mischief scoffs at the suggestion of guidance and growing. "I am perfect."
Joseph considers, unsure how to answer. He had always excelled at magic, which was why he was here to begin with. He needed only access to the expanded resources of the academy to advance his studies. He remains silent, but his feelings fall in line with Mischief's.