[CHAR] The Glynwood Institute For Thaumaturgical Studies

Faculty

...	Academy Staff
.............................................................	Albrecht Nortwin Chancellor Ouranian Eccentric and carefree, Chancellor Nortwin is paradoxically the last person you'd expect to be in charge of an esteemed academic institution yet also fits the bill perfectly. Such is the strength of the mana in his veins that even nearly halfway through his third century, Nortwin's youthful exuberance has yet to fade, and he seems to be making the most of it while it lasts. Despite his fits of whimsy, he keeps the magelights on and the academy running smoothly (though it's debatable how much of that is due to Nortwin's influence and how much can be attributed to the rest of the administrative faculty) and is always willing to hear a student out. It was his decision to begin the instruction of dark magic within Glynwood's halls and his approval that allowed the Magisterium's battlemage preparatory program to be tested at the institute, for better or for worse. There's a local rumor that any time someone mentions that they think he should step down as head of the university, Nortwin will miraculously know and do something controversial soon after. Aura: A brilliant sunburst of white light that separates into a kaleidoscopic array of colors at the fringes, accompanied by the faint sounds of a phantom violin. ............................................................................
.............................................................	Renault Auristel Overseer of War Magic Curriculum Second Battlemage Ouranian The current darling of the Magisterium political scene, Second Battlemage Auristel first came into the public eye after his first defeat of rebel leader Solomon Anedor and has only grown in popularity since. Though only a hundred and four years of age, he used his unique style of pyromancy to great effect against the undead hordes of the secessionists and the necromancers that controlled them alike, and his exemplary service record quickly earned him renown amongst other magi. After the final defeat of Anedor, many were under the belief that his meteoric rise to power would culminate in Auristel claiming the vacant seat on the Heptarchy, and it came as a surprise to all when he resigned himself to education of all things. Some believe that he was assigned to oversee the Realm's new battlemage preparatory program strategically in order to curtail his growing influence, while others believe he chose the post of his own volition. Whatever the truth, he has been known to take an interest in pre-Republic historical sites, like those found in the ruins upon which Glynwood sits. Aura: A bonfire of golden flames that fan out at their apex like the wings of a phoenix.
.............................................................	Nicodemos Selendor Third Battlemage Tellurian Renault Auristel's second-in-command and accomplished battlemage in his own right, Nicodemos accompanies Renault as surely as his own shadow does. An apt comparison in many respects, as the taciturn umbramancer lacks the force of personality that Auristel does, and much prefers lurking in the background while Renault leads from the front in all his shining glory. Word is that they've been joined at the hip ever since their own academy years, and Renault's tenure at Glynwood is no exception, even if Selendor does consider it a waste of their talents. Aura: Shadows that flow like ink in sluggish undulations around him. Gazing within gives one the distinct feeling that they are being watched.
.............................................................	Victoria Charbeneau Vice-Chancellor Artifice & Pyromancy Instructor Ouranian The heiress to one of the Realm's largest suppliers of crystallized magicite, a key ingredient in runic engravings on many enchantments, Vice-Chancellor Charbeneau is well established in nearly every corner of Cresvald. She remains professional and polite in even the most unpleasant interactions, rarely letting anything disrupt her poker face, but make no mistake; her reputation for utterly ruthless business acumen is well-founded, and to draw her ire is to invite swift and decisive retribution. Her foray into education has been described by herself as a whim that every magistrix gets eventually, to pass on her knowledge to an apprentice or two. Or several hundred. While it's no secret that her administrative position was earned by merit of being one of the academy's largest donors, her extensive knowledge of all things in her field gifts Glynwood with a very comprehensive artifice program, and her Advanced Pyromancy seminar is considered among the best elemental courses at the academy by upperclassmen. Aura: Dancing motes of light that dart about like a swarm of fireflies in a strangely hypnotic pattern.
.............................................................	Varen Galenos Transmutation Instructor Cohort VII Overseer Tellurian The only battlemage on staff whose time at Glynwood preceded Auristel's arrival, Varen formerly worked security for a reclusive Prefect in the east, only to shift career focus upon her death. The complexity of most transmutation courses usually reserves them for upperclassman, so he's hardly thrilled about having to oversee a new cohort of freshmen this year. While aloof, he's not outright dismissive, and he takes his job as an educator as seriously as his old vocation. His advice on magic might seem a bit more tailored to dueling than more scholarly pursuits, but he's seen enough magi over his career to offer at least passingly relevant commentary on nearly any field. Aura: A turbulent whirlpool of deep ocean water, whose waves seem to form into blades at their crest.
.............................................................	Beatrix Dorne High Magic Instructor Tellurian A friendly and cheerful woman, Beatrix tries her best to make the lofty heights of High Magic accessible to novice magi, and encourage them to delve deeper into the field rather than wallow in the slums of low magic forever like some people. Like most High Mages of renown, she has a bit of an ego when it comes to her field, and derides aural magic as quaint at best, believing a mage's true potential lies in advanced rituals that throttle the heavens themselves. Beatrix personally oversees most modifications to the local weather around the academy, and can often be talked into revealing the forecast before the schedule has been officially posted. Her voice can often be heard through the halls, bickering with her husband about the merits of High Magic and its practicality in everyday situations. She swears they aren't even married. Aura: A geyser of mana that shifts between shades of pinks and lavenders. Complex runic patterns trace themselves into the air around her, only to be washed away by the upwelling as they near completion.
.............................................................	Caleb Dorne General Elementalism Instructor Ouranian A mischevious man who seems to enjoy getting a rise out of people, the other Professor Dorne couldn't be further from his wife. Most of the academy's elemental magic curriculum falls under his purview, and its ubiquity among the magical population (unfortunately) makes Caleb one of the most present influences on Glynwood students over the course of their education. Nevertheless, he's quite popular, much to his wife's consternation, and he's often seen arguing with her about the pragmatic superiority of "low magic" to stuffy rituals that take all day to cast. He will call you a nerd if he catches you reading from a spellbook. Be warned. Aura: A chaotic tempest of all four classical elements, all clashing against each other explosively as they fight for dominance of the field.
.............................................................	James Finnigan Abjuration & Binding Instructor Tellurian Formerly a witchhunter for the Magisterium, Finnigan retired from a long career of hunting down lawbreaking mages in favor of scaring the next generation into compliance. Or trying to, at least. His teaching is blunt and no-nonsense; if a student does something stupid, he'll tell them in no uncertain terms that such a mistake could wind up getting them killed in a real altercation. Despite his gruff exterior, however, James Finnigan is ever the advocate of public safety, and ensures no student leaves Glynwood's hallowed halls without the confidence and ability to protect themselves in the event they run into trouble, even if he has to hound them for their entire tenure. Aura: A field of rattling, ethereal chains within a swirl of fog, each engraved with runes of binding.
.............................................................	Darius Melcroft Dark Magic Instructor Ouranian As a common born mage hailing from a small archipelago off the western coast of Cresvald, Darius has little public history from which to draw from, even for a dark mage. His extensive knowledge of necromancy allegedly comes from an apprenticeship in his home prefecture, though he will not name his teacher if pressed, and he presumably fought in the war in some capacity on the rebel side. Beyond that, the man is an enigma; stoic and flat in his interactions and rarely offering more information than necessary. Naturally, his arrival at Glynwood has been fraught with controversy over his potential political allegiances and preferred style of magic, not at all aided by his ever-present mask similar to those worn by the upstart Sons of Anedor. Aura: A roiling cloud of ash. From within, flashes of eerie light can be seen blinking in and out of existence like lightning in a far off storm cloud.
.............................................................	Rudolf Burglund Adjunct Professor of Arcane Theory Tellurian With a mere thirty-seven years under his belt and an uncanny tendency to accidentally sneak up on people, Rudolf seems to have little business in an instructional position among magi many decades his senior. Or he would, were he not a magical prodigy for all intents and purposes, even if he doesn't believe so himself. He hails from a line of prestigious battlemagi, though you'd never guess from interacting with one so soft-spoken and nonconfrontational, and it's presumed to be no coincidence that he was hired by the academy concurrently with the introduction of their battlemage preparatory curriculum. Accusations of nepotism certainly aren't helped by the fact that Rudolf is a terrible educator that's far too meek to command a classroom. Nevertheless, he's an extremely talented caster for his age - the knowledge is clearly there, he just doesn't stutter it out right. Aura: Tongues of deep purple mana that enfold around him like the petals of a rose.
.............................................................	Hieronymous Symbelion Divination & Astromancy Instructor Ouranian Ancient. Wise. Powerful. Hieronymous is everything a mage could be - should be. Nearing an extraordinary five hundred years of age, the elderly man knows he does not have much time left, and thus he aims to spread his immense knowledge with a fervor unmatched by his younger years. Rumor is he foresaw his own death, but it's far more likely that he simply realizes that few reach his age and fewer still surpass it. Ever the scholar, Hieronymous served a brief tenure as Prefect in a heartland province about two centuries ago before stepping down after a mere eight months, claiming governance distracted him from his studies. Apparently it was not in jest, as one could fill a book with a list of all his publications nearly as long as the publications themselves. Aura: A cloud of multicolored astral mist, like a luminous nebula localized around him. Gazing within, one can see the semblance of ghostly figures in the gaseous swirls, their eyes twinkling like stars, though no two people report seeing exactly the same thing inside the fog, even if viewing it from the same angle.
.............................................................	Portia Meliae Botanical Magic & Alchemy Instructor Tellurian Perhaps famous as the author of From Seed To Paradise, a staple in modern botanomantic terraforming concepts, Portia served as a senior consultant for the Bureau of Terraforming and Climate Manipulation for much of her life. Academy staff note that the Belworth case has recently sent her into a bit of a melancholy - not the trial per se, but the events leading up to it. While otherwise reserved and studious, she has some strong opinions about the Bureau's management of the situation and maintains the entire scenario could've been avoided. Fortunately, she avoids being roped into any political discussion on the matter despite this perceived sympathy for Belworth by taking a strongly anti-necromantic stance. Nobody likes arguing politics with a centrist. Aura: A gentle viridian glow, breached by rays of light like sunbeams from above. The smell of fresh soil emerges when the aura is first manifested, only to be overtaken by fresh floral scents over time. ............................................................................

[Scribe of Thoth]

Students

...	Cohort VII
.............................................................	Blake Karcyl Ouranian Hailing from one of the rebel prefectures in the southwest, Blake is understandably tight-lipped about his origins and family. One might think he wasn't from a mage family at all, if not for his frequent usage of his family's distinct brand of severing magic that he wields as surely as any blade. In fact, that's just about the only magic he seems to wield, and he's got the cuts all over his arms from spells gone wrong to prove it. Nevertheless, he's quite competitive, whether from a perceived need to prove himself or something else, though he usually keeps it good-natured and sporting. Aura: Ripples that slice through the air like blades in wild rotations around him. Subtle ribbons of red mana trail behind, as if the air itself were bleeding in their path. ............................................................................
.............................................................	Dionysia Abernick Tellurian The daughter of a well-off mundane merchant, Dionysia understands little of the concepts of magic beyond those which enter the mercantile sector. She has no aspirations of ruling prefectures from atop her lofty tower or discovering a workaround to bypass the limitations of the Third Law of Arcanodynamics, and knows she will likely end up as a mere cog in the magical machine, albeit a gilded one. And there's nothing wrong with that. A bit of a scatterbrain, Dionysia nevertheless has quite a talent for alchemy, at least with the fundamental reagents she can get her hands on. Quite convenient, given how popular of a commodity potions were back home. Aura: Gnarled, thorny tendrils surrounded by a swirl of autumn leaves caught on the wind and accompanied by pungent herbal scents.
.............................................................	Theophilos Selendor Tellurian As the younger brother of a Third Battlemage, Theo is no stranger to magical academia, even at his young age. Though seemingly not following in his brother's footsteps, he had no qualms about exploiting his connections; Theo graduated from a prestigious boarding school in the heartland as a promising young diviner and astromancer, well ahead of his less privileged peers in magical development. Despite this, he lacks the arrogance and typical upper class personality flaws common to many in his position, and is generally very polite and agreeable, if a bit weary of being hounded for celebrity gossip. Aura: A veil of darkening blue twilight drawn about him, dotted with motes of silver light like stars in the night sky.

[Hero]

"Not interested."

_{My father's legacy is his--my accomplishments are my own.}

Name:

Phoebus Calderon Adeon

Age:

19

Gender:

Male

Appearance:

Phoebus stands tall, having recently sprouted up a foot and typically towards over his peers. His farmer origins show with his built figure, albeit his fairer skin makes people think otherwise. His messy blond hair is constantly askew, clear, blue eyes sharp and alert. He looks much too serious for someone his age, often looking older as a result. That said, most who have met the man have said that he is the spitting image of his father, much to his irritation.

He often rocks his uniform with an open jacket as he hates how stuffy he feels with it on, though he lost the belt on the first day and didn't know who to ask to get another one.

Personality:

Phoebus's name is connotated with the sun, but Phoebus himself is anything but warm. His expressions are typically hard to read and he constantly judges people instantly, often keeping his thoughts of the first impression they give him. He's blunt and likes to be direct, disliking double-meaning and honeyed words. He dislikes talking about himself and will shut down a conversation if his family is brought up and outright refusing to speak of his father. That said, he is polite enough to carry a conversation with anyone and finds himself interested in the uniqueness of magic.

Background:

The region of Faron is known mostly for its farmlands. It is estimated that almost thirty five percent of Cresvald's food is grown there and has the most diverse supply. The former Prefect of Faron was a man named Hollis Simmons, a man who loved to flaunt his power. The confidence came from a lack of mages; the vast majority of Faran were farmers first and foremost, and most mages that were born in the territory typically ended up leaving. His treatment of the people seemingly went uninterrupted until one of his own battlemages challenged him to a duel. Said challenger was a young man named Calder, a brilliant elemental mage with humble origins who Hollis had taken under his wing. Hollis' overconfidence lead to his death, and Gathar Adeon, another noble, was elected to replace him.

Gathar adopted Calder into the Adeon family and eventually had his daughter marry him. Together, they had two children, Phoebus and Diana. Initially a bubbly child, Phoebus grew up surrounded by people who were in awe of his father. While initially finding himself humbled and overjoyed, as the years went by, it was clear that people saw him more as an extension of his family--and what was worse, they had expectations of him. It was gradual, but over time, his smiles became less genuine and more forced, and he had to stop himself from sighing after hearing the same story about how his dad saved some sheep for the twelfth time.

When the war came, Calder left his family behind and joined the battlefield. Most believed he would die a warrior's death, but instead he went from a local hero to one known throughout the country for his feats. For Phoebus, everything got worse then. It wasn't like he entirely blamed his dad--especially how he had spent years stressing over the next letter to arrive hoping it was good news--but resentment began to build. The lessons he used to enjoy became irritating to him and Phoebus started just walking away when people would talk to him about his father.

The last straw came when some old bat mistakenly called him Calder. At that point, Phoebus rejected his mother's tutor and asked to go to an academy he had heard about. Despite his family's hesitance, they ended up agreeing and gave him the letter of recommendation needed.

---

Attunement:

Ouranian

Aura:

Phoebus' aura manifests as what he calls a 'delayed bloom': initially, it appears as if he is encased in an enormous flower whose petals have yet to fall. Once he casts his magic, the flower blossoms in its entirety, and the aura visually changes. Sunlight bounces off each petal, giving them a shimmery look. Lights twinkle in and out of sight and appear much like fireflies do. His aura has an energizing effect similar to a citrus scent, though is entirely silent. Said flower doesn't seem to be equivalent to any existing, though if you squint, it almost looks like the flower is on fire.

Magic:

Initially, Phoebus was on the path to making fire magic his expertise, especially as his eager father was all too happy to teach his son everything he knew. However, Phoebus has mostly abandoned his fire magic in favor of plant magic. Surrounded by agriculture for most of his life, Phoebus easily leaned into it, enjoying the process a little more than he thought he would. His favorite 'trick' is creating a plant-based creature and giving it 'life' by channeling his magic into it, happy to test the limits of a giant Venus flytrap or an octopus made of vines.

---

Arcane Items:

He wears a small bracelet that lights up in different colors. He also has an old staff passed down from generation to generation from his mother's side of the family.

Other:

• Has a preference for bitter foods
• Isn't a big fan of absolute darkness
• Plays a mean tambora
• Is a talented painter
• Cooks well
• Always has sunflower seeds but not for any practical reason he just likes to eat them

[Light]

SPAAAACE MAGIC

Infinity, at our fingertips... Isn't it exhilarating?

Age
18

Gender
Male

Appearance
Apollo stands with good posture at a slightly above average 5'10". With the paler complexion common among the northerners of Tythrae and silver hair atop his head, the bright blue in his eyes offers a colorful contrast to his face, which often wears an equally amicable smile. While not very physicsally inclined, he is healthy enough from a life of proper diet and minimal exercise, with similarly minimal tone of his musculature.

The school uniform he wears remains mostly unaltered, but adorned over it is a second, smaller capelet of a midnight color. Around his neck he wears a turquoise opal gem affixed as a pendant and strung by a golden necklace.

Personality
Apollo is a curious mixture of well-learned and naive. Most of his early life involved heavy schooling, leading him to develop not only a strong repertoire of academic knowledge but a hunger to keep learning. However, that life of relative ease and safety also kept him unprepared for the wakeup call that the war would bring. Despite growing with the lesson of mortality, Apollo never lost his youthful wanderlust, always letting his mind drift with dreams of the worlds beyond his own.

Interacting with him will often lead to a sense of his genuine nature, as he's quick to show his true colors and to trust others. This usually leads to him coming off as friendly if not a bit too eccentric, but those who keep him company will find themselves an unbreakably reliable ally.

Background
Born an only child to a somewhat wealthy pair of mages in the frigid northern metropolis of Tythrae, Apollo Sophos lived a comfortable childhood under the love and care of his parents. His father- from whom his namesake was derived- worked as a architect for the city. The geo-pyromancer led research and development of the most up-to-date archanoconductive technologies responsible for both powering and protecting the city and her people. Across the table, his mother Freyalise was a professor of alchemy and fundamentalism within the Tythrae Academy of Arcane Arts, helping aspiring mages find their unique form of magic. They were not so interconnected with the upper echelon as the politicians and most successful merchants were, but being only the next tier down was nothing to complain about from the child's perspective. His parents all but assumed he would show his true colors as a mage in due time, and so they sought to give him a head start on such an arcane education. While still too young to fully enroll in any magical institutions, his mundane education was still of high quality and Freya would use her own educational expertise to enhance his learning at home in the evenings. For ten years, Apollo enjoyed the upper class lifestyle his family could afford for him. Unfortunately, the youthful and starry-eyed boy would have his world shatter around him not long after his tenth birthday.

As tensions rose between the distant Magisterium and the very local supporters of Belworth and Anedor, the Sophos family began to fear for their safety and security. While not strictly loyal to either side on principle regarding the Belworth trial, the connections they did keep primarily threaded back to the Magisterium. There was simply no way they would be viewed as anything other than loyalists, and as suddenly as news about the rebellion began to spread, they awoke to find themselves in enemy territory. As subtlety as a couple of somewhat well-known mages could, Apollo Sr. and Freyalise fled the City of Spires with their son in hopes of finding refuge in the Cresvald capital of Pontaion. The closest thing to refuge amidst a war was found among one such friend of the family, an old and accomplished arcanist and historian within Pontaion by the name of Ezeras Ekkenhart, who not only took the Sophos family in, but took a liking to the young Apollo. Through the guidance of both Ezeras and Freyalise, Apollo was as mentally prepared for his noesis as a child could be, something his parents anticipated now more than ever.

It was the dusk of his twelfth birthday when it came to him. Wracked and bedridden with fever and nausea for a week prior, he awoke on the day of importance feeling much better, just in time for a gathering of the immediate Sophos and Ekkenhart families. The dinner might have been a more opulent celebration, if only the worry of revolutionaries storming the city at any time wasn't looming over the hearts and minds of everyone involved. Modest catering and music were hired for the night as the two families gathered in the gardens that stretched across the land owned by the arcanist.

The young Apollo looked to the sky as the setting sun gave way to the first motes of light, twinkling in the vast heavens above. A sight not new to him but one that always overflowed his heart with amazement and wanderlust, an infinite expanse with infinite possibilities. He reached up to the stars with his hand in childish hopes to grasp even a morsel of such elegant and ethereal magnificence, and for the first time in his life, the inky void beyond responded in kind. A sensation equally prickling, tingling, and burning ignited like a tiny spark in his palm, and as he withdrew his hand to look upon it, his fingers unfurled to reveal one of the motes he'd always aspired to had coalesced in his grasp. It started with only one, but after a moment, a second winked into existence just beyond his fingertips. Then a third, a fourth. He was stuck silent by awe, and it wouldn't be until the wandering eye of their host looked up from his own meal that anyone else would notice the event transpiring.

"Wh- Hey, hey! Freya!" Ezeras stammered, quickly standing and setting his plate on the table beside himself as he turned to the emerging mage's mother. "Freya, go get your husband, quickly!" Equally startled by Ezeras's sudden outburst, Freyalise gazed upon her son. Her face became alight with joy and surprise, she nodded to the historian and rushed inside to inform Apollo's father of the good news.

By the time his parents had both returned to the courtyard, a field of stars sparkled like a nebula around him, the painful and euphoric surge of mana coursed through every inch of his body as he finally managed some kind of vocalization. Pouring from his throat as he turned to see his parents was a truly bittersweet cry of actualization for his calling in life, as his body seared both within and throughout a cosmic radiance that gleamed with greater and greater intensity every second. Just as it seemed like the mana flowing through him would begin to burn and explode outward, both his noesis and his body crumpled inward with a surge of space-pulling energy, shunting nearby lightweight and unaffixed objects toward him. Flowers and the nearby tree's branches bent inward, cups and silverware on the table clattered to the floor, and even Ezeras's now empty chair slid across the stone patio an inch or two. As suddenly as the moment came, it went, and the new mage collapsed onto the floor with an onset of exhaustion.

Apollo studied under his mother and their host in more practical ways going forward, both of them ensuring he would become familiar with the general principles of spellcraft in addition to helping him discover his individual style of magic to get him ready for formal schooling. For the rest of his teen years, he attended institutions of remarkable quality within the Cresvald capital, funded by the savings his parents had brought with them since departing Tythrae. In his spare time, he took on part-time work in the library owned by the Ekkenhart family, using his magic to aid both minor tasks at hand and to share his arcane knowledge with those who would give him the time of day outside of the quiet reading areas.

Despite the difficult times across the land, things looked to be on the bright side for Apollo.

Unfortunately, the war that his parents had tried to flee from eight years prior finally caught up to him in a second shattering of what Apollo thought he new about the world. Pontaion had come under siege, and despite the warnings of both him and his mother, his father elected to take up arms to protect the two most important people in his life. Both powerful mages in their own right, Apollo's father and Ezeras allied with the city to push back against the rebellion, weaving storms of flame and lightning to sunder waves of magi that sought to take the city. Two men left that night, but only one returned, Ezeras barely managed to cling onto his life as he fell in the doorway of his own home. The pain he felt across his manaburned flesh as he delivered the devastating news was simply incomparable to the pain that struck Freyalise and her son that night.

Even with the shadow of such loss looming over Apollo, life continues to move on. In the wake of the war, the peace talks, and settling the wreckage, he awoke one day to find his things packed and a sealed letter thrust unto him by the man that had watched his father burn his own soul away to save his son. Written in fine penmanship on the front of the envelope simply read:

To:
Glynwood Institute for Thaumaturgical Studies
Office of Admissions

---

Attunement
Ouranian

Aura
Apollo's aura manifests as a prismatic nebula of stars and cosmic dust particles, tiny motes that twinkle in the space around him, gleaming with iridescent light. As he channels stronger and stronger magics, the stars shine more brightly, and thin rays of radiance connect them together in constellations.

Magic
Photomancy
Along with graviturgy, photomancy is one of the schools of magic with which Apollo is most proficient. He naturally picked up the skill and art of conjuring, focusing, and manipulating light in its many forms to create a plethora of desired effects both as cantrips and as low magic, the simplest and most abundant of his spells involve evoking twinkling motes of starlight either around him or at a distance, projecting their radiance to illuminate surroundings in just about any color. More in depth channeling of his photomancy can allow him to bestow the gift of illumination to other objects, project light around him or in more concentrated patterns such as cones and rays, and even unleash blinding flashes. The most complex spells he has yet learned combine with his space-warping graviturgy to instead control the way light moves. Such spells can bend light in ways limited only by the imagination, such as around objects to obscure them from view or back on itself to "snuff out" a source of light.

Graviturgy
Along with photomancy, graviturgy is one of the the school of magic with which Apollo is most proficient. Using mana to manipulate the fabric of space itself came to him intuitively, manipulating the paths of moving objects, pinching the gaps between two points in space, and creating wells of gravitational attraction to pull on and distort the areas around them. Inventive use of graviturgy has also allowed him to to set objects into orbit around points in space or other objects, launch things at high speeds using such orbits, and even pull himself up off of the ground to mimic a semblance of flight.

Kinetikinesis
Not to be confused with its intrinsically psychic sister-school telekinesis, kinetikinesis manipulates not the tangible with the mind, but instead manipulates forces with mana. To a similar effect, kinetikinesis can be used to push objects, lift them, and manipulate things in any way a simple directional kinetic force of varying magnitude could. For this reason, it's colloquially known as "force magic." Apollo is practiced with this school of magic a bit more than the fundamentals, but is far from proficient, and has much to learn in how to finely control the forces projected.

Chronomancy
The realm of time manipulating chronomancy is a deeply complex school, where most of the practical application requires equally complicated high magic to properly cast. For Apollo, the theory behind such magic is understandable enough, but even to this day his skill in this school is only a fleeting smidgen beyond the very basics of gently increasing or decreasing the rate in which the subject of the spell experiences time. To master the art of chronomancy is to master time itself, and while mages certainly have the time to work towards this, Apollo is still an infant by comparison to the knowledge and experience of true chronomancers.

Other / Miscelaneous
Due to his academic and arcane focused upbringing, Apollo was able to grasp the concepts behind spellcasting as a whole rather quickly. His inherent inclinations lean him towards metaphysical magics, but he knows enough about other general forms to cast very simple elemental and cognitive spells. He has never had the desire or opportunity to learn dark magics of any kind.

Arcane Items
Mage's Staff
Given to him as a final parting gift from his family friend Ezeras, Apollo carries with him a staff of dark oak wood, topped with a bright blue crystal. The staff itself has seen plenty of use, as powerful magics invoked by the elecromancer who gave it to him have burn-etched shapes of cracking lightning into the wood across the entire length of the staff. Black leather wraps around the base of the crystal and again at the midsection of the staff, both supporting the structure and giving the user a comfortable place to hold it.
Tome of Dictation
Apollo purchased this compact leather-bound book of blank pages using some spare coin from his part-time job. By opening the book to a blank page and speaking a command word, it becomes able to hear audible sounds nearby, and transcribes any clear speech it hears into words on the page. Continuous speech can fill multiple pages, so long as the page is turned at the right moment. The book becomes inert if the command word is spoken again, if the book is closed, or if the opened page is full of text.
Pendant of Protection
When the architect Apollo Sophos I learned he would have a son, he knew he would inherit not only his name, but this golden pendant adorned with a sparkling turquoise opal. The gem has been something the young Apollo would carry with him for as long as he could remember, wearing it at the request of his father without truly understanding its purpose. Once he had grown old enough to begin learning to use magic himself, the adults in his life explained to him the abjurative nature of the stone. Just as the body of a trained mage passively protects itself in a veil of arcane armor, so to does the pendant, acting as an additional layer of protection to whomever wears it.

Other
- Apollo is left handed
- His favorite color is blue
- His hair is dyed silver. His natural hair color is black.
- He likes both coffee and tea. Crazy, I know.

[Obscene Symphony]

Eliseo Rhaveus

_{"You know, there was actually a fascinating discussion of this very concept in Canterbrick Stables v Elrichsen, where— wait, where are you going?"}

Name:

Eliseo Benedict Rhaveus

_{(you can call him Eli)}

Age:

18

Gender:

Male

Appearance:

Saved from a skeletal form only by a habit of fencing instilled in him as a child, Eli is a bit taller than average with a lean, narrow build. His skin is dark brown and mostly even, topped with tousled brown-black hair contrasted by a pale lock on his forehead. His tallow-coloured eyes are usually rimmed by rectangular spectacles, and his features school nicely into his signature look of distracted contemplation.

His style of dress follows the trends of high society, currently consisting of loose-fitting shirts and simple, slim trousers complemented by ornate doublets or overcoats. As for his Glynwood uniform, Eli has coped with its considerable drabness by adding a colourful textile sash tied around the waist, a popular article in the Southern prefectures that he's particularly fond of. He is also rarely seen without his cloak, even indoors, coping poorly with Glynwood's brisk northern clime.

Personality:

Truly a politician's son, Eli has always been charismatic and outgoing, thriving on social attention and happy to make anyone and everyone into a friend. He loved talking to people of all sorts, passionate for discussion and debate of any topic and hungry to learn. Curious and opinionated in equal measure, Eli loved defending his own views as much as entertaining those of others – skills that would shine in politicking later in life.

But the naive optimism of youth is fragile, and the fallout of the Belworth affair was a blow from which Eli never truly recovered. Shaken in his foundations by the superficiality of political life, Eli lost all faith in the sincerity of others, learning the hard way that people are really only out for themselves; friendships are mere tools for favours and influence, and the spirited discussions he loved so much only a means to an end. Jaded and hurt by such a harsh reality, Eli has since drawn in on himself, convinced that anyone giving him the time of day has ulterior motives and uninterested in playing such a cynical social game. As such, Eli can come off as cold and a little melancholy, still naively yearning for connection even as he strives to keep others at arm's length.

One exception, however, is that old habits die hard; still just as strongly opinionated as ever, Eli is still liable to launch into a lengthy spiel if someone brings up a topic of interest, prattling on until either he realizes he's wasting his breath or his unsuspecting victim walks away.

Background:

Keen classmates will recognize Eli’s surname as that of Juliano Rhaveus, famed (or perhaps infamous) chief prosecutor for the Heptarchy responsible for the prosecution of the controversial Belworth case. His father’s station is representative of the whole of Eli’s pedigree; hailing from the wealthy Southwestern prefectures, House Rhaveus has long held a strong presence in the workings of the Magisterium, producing lawyers, statesmen, and all manner of scholars for generations. As such, Eli spent his privileged youth sheltered securely in the walls of his Pontaion townhouse and sprawling Southern estate receiving a first-rate education from tutors and relatives alike, not least of whom his accomplished father.

The two were near-inseparable when Eli was a child, the boy always at his father’s heels chattering all manner of questions, and Juliano happy to answer them all. Eli had the privilege of sitting in on all manner of Magisterium business (when security didn’t demand privacy, of course) and he grew to love the world of politics and governance and the people who made it up. Juliano Rhaveus had no shortage of friends and allies, and kept up with all of them; Eli grew up with a slew of doting relatives and family friends alike making regular rounds at his childhood home, sharing their love of the political sciences. As such, it surprised nobody when the boy who made legislators out of stuffed animals and conducted mock debates on the ethics of early bedtimes soon aspired to be a great statesman himself, handling issues of import among the esteemed ranks of the Heptarchy.

But the strife of the war affected everyone in the republic, and perhaps young Eli the most out of his sheltered peers. Initially, the Belworth case was exciting; Eli was proud of his father for enforcing the laws of the Magisterium so stalwartly, and he was sure such a righteous cause would be championed by all of the honourable statesmen he’d come to know and love. But instead, the controversy surrounding the Belworth case and the resulting political schism within the Heptarchy put his family on precarious ground, suddenly caught up in disputes over Belworth’s prosecution and the reach of the Heptarchy which began to threaten beyond academic debate. Family friends Eli had known since birth suddenly turned against his father, and men Juliano had butted heads with for decades suddenly became friends; Eli’s world was turned upside down as friends and foes changed places, the superficiality of political allegiance finally rearing its ugly head.

Fearing for their safety amidst rising unrest in the capital, Juliano sent his family away to their Southern estate while he remained in the capital, where they remained for the duration of the coming war, including Eli's noesis at the age of 14. Still reeling from his upheaval from Pontaion, Eli dug into magical studies as a distraction more than anything else, flitting from one topic to the next following interests that changed with the tide. Magic was fun and fascinating, sure, but the passion he'd previously held for politics wasn't mirrored in the magical arts; aside from the defensive magic his father insisted he learn, Eli became a jack of all trades, master of none, dabbling here and there to develop moderate experience in many fields, but no deep understanding of any of them.

Now that things have finally calmed down, Eli’s family has returned to Pontaion - but it’s not the same. Despite longing to return to the city that raised him, Pontaion felt colder, more foreign to Eli than it did in his youth, the faces of beaurocrats and politicians now concealing potential threats as opposed to the friends he once knew. As such, Eli is eager to move on, hoping that immersion in academia at Glynwood will distract him from the political turmoil brewing at the capital - and the turmoil within as he tries to find a new direction for his future.

---

Attunement:

Tellurian

Aura:

Eli's aura materializes as an iridescent golden shell that encapsulates him like an egg, marked by glowing runes that write and erase themselves on its surface. Inside, his aura is filled with excited murmuring, reminiscent of an eager crowd anticipating a great debate.

Magic:

Eli likes to dabble in all manner of magic, and as such he's amassed a fair arsenal of low-level spells mostly geared toward convenience. A little telekinesis here to reach a book on a high shelf, a little fire there to keep his tea hot, all products of an endless stream of intense, but short-lived interests. The only area of magic in which he's progressed beyond the beginner stage is a field of defensive magics often employed by those in law enforcement, impressed upon him shortly after noesis as a caution against any negative attention drawn by his father. Those spells include inflicting paralysis on individuals or groups, conjuring magical bindings, and summoning protective barriers outside of his own.

In a cruel twist of irony, the only area Eli has found any more than fleeting interest in is High Magic, its complexity and depth plucking at the long-abandoned passions of a boy who once wanted to tackle complicated problems for a living. Of course, being so young, such advanced arts are still well out of his grasp.

---

Arcane Items:

• A pair of magicked spectacles which reveal invisible enchantments. Although intended to help the wearer avoid magical traps, the glasses don’t actually indicate whether an enchantment is malignant or benign, only that it is present.
• A very expensive, very complex magical artifice currently all the rage in the wealthy Southern prefectures, used for telling time down to the second. It is made of gold, fits in the palm of the hand and is secured by a chain attached to Eli's doublet, usually carried in his pocket. Its small size and great value make it a pickpocketing risk, and the care that must be taken keeping track of them has led enthusiasts to fondly dub these little devices "pocketwatches."
• A gift from his father on his return to Pontaion, Eli is also bringing a staff with him to Glynwood for use with High Magic. Created by the fine craftsmen of Pontaion, the staff is made of fine polished ebony and topped with a palm-sized knob of solid silver, wrought in the likeness of an octopus with only seven tentacles.

Other:

• The pale lock of hair near Eli's forehead is a birthmark. Apparently his great-grandfather Benedict had something similar, and such was the origin of his middle name.
• Alongside his magicked glasses, he also has a set of normal glasses for nearsightedness.
• Eli is a perfectly average fencer, and that's probably all he'll ever be.

[Achronum]

Lucius “Luc” Dilore

_{I’m the first one with magic in the family and you know what I’m allowed to do with it? Chores.}

Name:

Lucius “Luc” Dilore

Age:

18

Gender:

Male

Appearance:

Just below 5’10, Luc was average all around, with long back hair with too many cowlicks to count, and a lean frame with muscle built up from years on the family farm. He had his family’s green eyes and once fair skin - now tanned and freckled from constant sun exposure.

Luc dresses casually, his lack of familiarity in anything nice leaving him feeling uncomfortable and out of place. He options for utility and comfort over fashion, favoring simple breeches, sturdy boots, and plenty of pouches on his belt.

Personality:

Luc is adventurous and curious, although the energy of his younger days has long been tempered by the hard work needed to recoup after the ripples of war left their little section of the world. He carries a strong sense of community, strengthened and reinforced when it was the only thing that kept his family alive through two years, and attaches easily to all kinds of people. He just wants to have a good time and in his head, that means the more the merrier so he rarely leaves himself alone for longer than he needs to and seeks attention of any sort, for better or worse.

Normally, positive and upbeat, Luc does carry one burning resentment. He thoroughly blames the Heptarchy for his family’s struggle: for the two years away, for Felix abandoning them, for the blood, sweat, and tears they had to put into home to make it livable again. His unfamiliarity with the world of magi makes him hesitant to voice his opinions, but his respect for the ruling body shrinks a little more everyday.

Background:

In all of Dilore family history, no one had ever heard of magic in the blood. They were farmers, simple people who lived on the same land for generations. They lived just outside the same village, knew the same people, knew the same crooked buildings and every bump in the road between home and the market. The world rarely beckoned them away from their kin and kind and those that did wander away usually wandered back soon enough with stories to delight. The Dilore family had its own problems, but family was a core value and they made it through each hurtle side by side. They were steadfast and loyal people, content in the happiness they made with each other.

Lucius Dilore was no different, born the youngest of three into a warm home. Like all children, he was an adventurous spirit and the world around the family farm gave him plenty of places to slip away from his chores, off to explore the various nooks and crannies of their rural area. He’d gotten himself into a fair share of trouble, not the least including his parents who didn’t take kindly to him getting his knees scraped up running about instead of feeding the chickens. Still, he’d always be abc and washed up for supper when the bell rang, beaming from ear to ear as he rambled on and on about the bugs and sticks and all the other things he swore he found.

Despite his parents' irritation, it was with fond annoyance they let Luc enjoy his explorations. Felix was already helping their Pa in the fields and his Ma had Valeria at her skirts, learning to sew and cook. He’d have to learn soon, but for now, they let their youngest grow in his own way. Ten would be the time, his Pa decided.

The world had a funny way of getting in the way of things. Luc joined his Pa and brother with their daily tasks on the farm a day after his tenth birthday, despite tears and tantrums, but it didn’t matter for long. In the dead of night, the three siblings were woken and bundled into a cart bound for the capital of their little province. Luc, tired and achy from his new found responsibilities, slept the whole way, ignorant that they weren’t the only ones on the road. He had no clue that behind them, the family’s world was burning to ash as Heptarchy forces crushed the revolting Magi of their province.

By the time the Dilores could make their way back to their farm, Luc was twelve. Their time away from home was rough, a tension in his parent’s shoulders that hadn’t been there before. A fight between his parents and his brother left Lus returning with one less sibling and he couldn’t help but resent Felix more than a little. Valeria and Luc came back closer than before, and he spent what free time he had with her. His favorite game of theirs was when they told stories, passing them back and forth until one of them made the tale so ridiculous they laughed first. They had their bickering matches of course- the Dilores were a feisty bunch beneath the pleasantness-but life continued on as they rebuilt the farm seed by seed.

Felix’s return was the trigger for Luc’s noesis two years later, stumbling back with little more than the clothes on his back and a few empty bottles. Luc had been the first to encounter him, charged with inspecting the fences for damage. Felix had been trying to climb them and it had taken a moment to recognize him. He’d thinned out, beard and hair disheveled and matted, and a number of bruised and open wounds on him. Luc didn’t remember what happened after that, but when he woke in bed some time later, the sun had set and he could hear his Ma’s worried voice the room over. He hadn’t thought much about it until he realized he wasn’t alone in the room.

Outside their little village, lived a reclusive mage that the children knew as Granny. She rarely left her woods, and that spawned any number of strange stories about the things she did. However, Luc had stumbled across her on a few of his explorations and she had always offered him a piece of her lunch or invited him to see what creature she was whittling out of wood this time. Granny was kind, if not a little strange, and neither her eye patch nor her crooked nose that looked like it was broken one too many times really bothered him (except the first time he;d been out after dark and thought she was going to eat him). But now she was here to teach him, called by his Ma, and while his head was spinning, he was so…

Bored. Granny taught him useful things like how to sweep with wind and how to coax water out of the well without a bucket. She taught him how to cool himself with the wind on a hot day and how to tell if water was safe to drink. Useful, but boring. Felix thought Luc should be grateful Granny was even teaching him; Luc thought Felix coud shove his opinion where the sun didn't shine. It was worth the extra chores to see Felix’s face after he’d said that.

Now, he was leaving home for a second time. A letter from Granny to her alma mater secured him entry, and now he was spending his last night with his family, trying not to cry. It was different from last time; this was a good thing! But he swore to himself that he’d bring everything he learned back so a Dilore would never have to leave again.

---

Attunement:

Ouranian

Aura:

Luc’s aura displays as dark whirling clouds and whistling winds.

Magic:

Luc has been exposed to Aeromancy and Hydromancy from his instructor, with a keen preference for Aeromancy. In his day to day, he uses this magic mostly to help him clean and employs wind and water to scrub floors, dust, and ease any other chores he can manage to wiggle his magic into.

---

[Crusader Lord]

Voted Most Likely By Her Peers To One Day Make A Pilotable Gundam Golem Is-

The world sometimes feels like a stage…we’ll never always know what part we might play in the grand scheme, what role we will place ourselves in, or where we’ll ultimately end up after it all I think. Nothing is certain in that sense.

But in the end, we must all face it until our own curtain call whenever it comes…and I find that poetic.

…Besides, my mother always did like going to the theater when she got the chance

Name: Seraphilla Alyriana Laevataenia Omphalonius

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Appearance:

A physically matured younger woman who stands with confidence as she walks or moves about. She further has the same silvery hair of her mother, but also the silvery eyes of her paternal great-grandmother, both of which alongside her general looks has drawn the gaze of some of her peers as she’s grown up. Her build overall remains relatively fit and slim, something she had worked with personal exercise (offscreen at least) to maintain in turn over the years after some advice from her mother noted years ago that: ‘health in body is also health in the mind and leads to better excellence in magic’.

As for her uniform? It has been modified to an extent, maintaining that ‘formal look and etiquette’ as well as a small waist-cape and a back-cape having been attached for flair whilst still maintaining the ‘formal’ type of look to it. The doublet has been simply adjusted to wear comfortably without any sort of bagginess or such to it, though ultimately the belts and leggings were frankly a more notable modification to it on her part. She likewise wears the boots (ignore the shoes) that came with the uniform as part of it without any modifications to them. Outside of the ‘formal yet fashionable’ modifications to her uniform, she hasn’t done anything to the cloak and keeps it for use when she needs it in turn. (In other words, hey I am part using her appearance pic as a general-ish reference for her uniform because it works! I think. Hopefully.)

Personality:

A relaxed yet studious younger woman, Seraphilla is someone who will push herself hard to get work done and learn the things she has a desire to learn. She is the sort of person who takes charge of group projects at times, or chides a peer for not putting in the effort and complaining about the result they got. At the same time, Sera is also someone who will on occasion overwork or push herself too far if she gets too wound up about something mentally or emotionally (rather than lash out with it visibly). She is also someone who is willing to listen to others if they need it, though feels bad about having someone listen to her in return if they ever extended her the favor. Seraphilla also has a general interest in the history of the very territory the Republic exists upon, spurred in perhaps some small part by her family’s own long history and the pride they have had in that history in turn.

When it comes to personal habits she will at times tinker with tiny little projects, like making a little golem to fly or run around her room. She can also be the sort to crack open a book or tome to read if it catches her fancy. There is also doing things like seeking out some fancier food to eat on certain occasions (sometimes stress related ones), taking long and drawn-out hot baths with flowers floating on the surface, or even opening the window or sitting outside at night to feel the cool night air on her face and just relax. In short, in that vein she is a ‘stop and smell the roses’ type of person if it is relaxing to her or even a bit silly and yet still relaxing to her she'll still do it.

Background:

Seraphilla was born as the third of four children to the current head of the Omphalonius family, himself an enterprising and merit-driven Prefect in the midwest of the modern Magister’s Republic of Cresvald who had been more outgoing and active in things than his more reserved father before him. Though with the changes in generations ever moving onward, such differences in the heads of the family were seen as nothing much to the Omphalonius in general. In fact, as a rather old if not ancient line they had seen and been through quite a lot of things over the myriad centuries indeed.

From a young age, Seraphilla was raised with a general education and learned general things about magic just like her 3 other siblings were. Though while in the end only those who achieved noesis could take up the mantle of running the family as its head, even those without the boon of magic (as few and rare among the Omphalonius line as such had eventually become) would have places and roles in which to help or assist the family as a whole without ill treatment. This was also admittedly done in some part for fear of retaliation or other issues arising from such individuals, but for Seraphilla and her siblings that would manage to not be a matter of such concerns as they all achieved noesis at various points in their lives. Her older brother achieved noesis at the age of 12, her older sister at the age of 11, and her younger brother in final would eventually achieve his at the age of 13. All of these ages were generally standard times to achieve noesis within the long and generations-bred line of magi, though slightly younger and slightly older ages were not unexpected or unforeseen points to achieve noesis either.

She, meanwhile, stood out as an oddity in the family when her noesis triggered at the ripe and abnormal age of 9. It was certainly something that astonished her parents and relatives without a doubt, the youngest in about three or four generations to achieve it so young, but the occasion was also something unexpected that came both without warning but with consequences at the time. Long had Seraphilla been a playful and rambunctious child, and with her siblings or parents or caretakers she had often made a habit of hiding and waiting to be found, making playful mischief, or even just curiously going about the family estate to learn about things. On the day of her noesis, she had been hiding in the family’s backyard under some cover in the pouring rain (as a hired servant tried to find her in turn) and passing out due to the event. It did, however, cause the servant to finally and quickly locate her and rush her in after finding her almost half-drowning in a puddle she’d been sitting next to at the time. One sickly round of pneumonia later on her part, as well as a scolding from a admittedly frightened father and mother, and she would finally begin her preliminary magical education in earnest with them as her older siblings had before her.

When it came to an area of interest for her preliminary magical studies, thhough, hers would by one of the family’s various business pursuits: Mining. In particular, through being exposed to it somewhat, she found herself admiring geomancy and somewhat hydromancy, and on top of this had a growing curiosity about transmutation. It would be from this that her initial magical education would be shaped and formed around her, at least at the start of it.

But only one year later, at the age of ten, ‘The War’ would start...and with it things would begin to crumble around them.

Living where they were within the central provinces, it all began with several neighbors turning to the rebel side and trying to convince and then ultimately coerce the Omphalonius to join them. This would lead to a number of attacks on their estate as things escalated, until eventually proper skirmishes were occurring around where they lived. Despite the bringing in of many disaffected citizens to their estate for protection, magical and non-magical alike, it would only bloat the worsening situation as the warpath of Anedor and his forces began to come down toward them. Seraphilla and her remaining siblings (as her older brother was off getting an education at another magical school at the time elsewhere), meanwhile, were secreted off to the city of Akarith on the west coast with a relative living there for safety when word of Anedor’s forces marching south came along. It would also be a desperate flight to safety, however, that would see several of their escorts dying along the way to boot.

Despite her initial magical education being continued in the large coastal city of Akarith and under the careful guard of a member of their own house, after their arrival Sera and her siblings would look for news of their parents and siblings each day with baited breath as it came with merchants and news-bringers and refugees to boot. Would they be alive? Would the estate and everything be gone? What little they first heard was of their parents and large family estate having become a pocket of fierce pro-Magisterium resistance against Anedor and his hordes, with nearby magisterium forces in that area having been pushed to their estate as her family gave them refuge and in turn got help to fortify the place further. Beyond that, however, word became scarce as the focus turned mostly toward fighting back against the insurrectionists. At the same time, Seraphilla would ultimately throw herself into her preliminary magic education as she hoped to be able to get back home one day...even if she had to learn the magic to fight her way back home herself! Learning and playing and going about town or to the beach with her father's uncle and his guards was all she was much allowed to do in those days at any rate, all to try to keep her and her siblings busy, but even so the hope she’d make her parents and family proud by learning more as they fought on was there to help her mentally for the time being at least. In regards to magic it eventually become something the magic-educated siblings would be able to practice around each other during those years, at times in play, at other times competing against each other or their father's uncle's youngest two children, at times making life a little more difficult for the servants of the estate and the relative who had taken them in, and otherwise as they tried to make the best of a situation they had no real control over. Even so, in the end the paternal relative who had taken them in, Rhadegus Siegrend Alberic Omphalonius, would certainly treat them like family and even at times get in on the fun himself with a jolly laugh. Yet while he was a gracious and kind host, the mercantile-oriented mage would also likewise impress their line's value of treating family well along the way at the same time as they lived upon his personal estate within the city walls.

The city of Akarith was certinaly not a minute place either, having myriad sights and smells and goods and so forth of the large middle coastal city that supplied many goods from the sea directly to the central provinces (including being a notable mercantile location in moving goods by sea along the Republic's western coast from north to south and vice-versa by sea) as well as a place that acted as a hub of sea trade with places abroad. It was certainly a place Sera and her siblings had never seen before, with wide open beaches nearby to boot that proved fun to play upon over the years, and it was likewise during these years that Seraphilla would learn how to swim in the ocean after her first exposure to its beautiful and comfortable yet also dangerous waters as well (these being far from her common expeirences in swimming in the rather large lake connected to her family's estate back home). However, even this very place that gave them refuge likewise became a place of refugees in part as the tide of those fleeing the war would arrive and set up within or (mostly in this latter case) around/outside of the city walls. With them would trickle in further news of terrors, deaths, and destruction caused by both rebel guerillas and Anedor's forces alike, and it would cause the local Prefect to institute a number of measures such as nightly lockdowns, expelling a number of the initial refugees from within the city walls and swelling the ranks of local guards to send patrols through the forming refugee suburbs. Even Rhadegus would take Sera and her siblings with escort when they left anywhere, 'just in case' as he would always tell them, and small incidents like thieves and the occasional guerillas who had snuck into the refugee suburbs to wreak havoc certainly felt like justification for a number of the measures despite the discontent of those refugees who wanted to live within the already-packed city walls.

Midway into the war a number of more iterant and discontent refugees, despite attempts to send wagons of supplies as well into the refugee area beyoond the walls by the local Prefect to try to help keep them compliant, would attempt to storm the city gates to force their way inside after a number of guerilla attacks and incidents within this area...leading to what is even now remembered post-war as 'The Akarith Incident'. City guards and local mages assigned to the defense of the city would try to generally scatter the crowd and disperse them, until a guerilla cell who had infiltrated the mob that day tossed several spells back at the front gate and guards manning it. The gate became set ablaze by magical fire, and a number of those living inside panicked under the assumption the city was being put under siege (a real fear in the city in those days) in turn. Attempts to stop the panic inside and the raw violence developing outside finally erupted into a force led by the local Prefect personally engaging in an unavoidably bloody massacre of the mob members and most of the guerillas that had been concealed within (the rest being captured as prisoners). This in turn would lead to smaller incidents being incited by this as word was spread in twisted rumors of 'the Prefect murdering innocent refugees' and so forth, though the Prefect would consolidate a more formal authority over the space beyond the city walls with the deployment of further guard patrols and mages as well as the building-up of more permanent guard stations throughout these new refugee-wrought suburbs at the time. No more of such incidents could be tolerated, much less allowed, and the Prefect would ensure that with a fist of iron. At the same time, a number of refugees would leave after the major incident and smaller ones, with their own complains and fears about being 'purged' and otherwise due to guerilla actions that would incite further smaller 'incidents' as the local rebels would be hunted down and outed bit by bit. Even the siblings would not be exempt from what few issues managed to make their way within the city walls, Sera receiving scarring burns on her back from a rebel who tried to attack her with a torch after she snuck out once night to see the ocean again despite her uncle's myriad stern warnings.

In time the suburbs would be fully secured by the Prefect, chasing out the guerillas in final and stopping their ambushes on guard patrols and so forth, as well as better organizxe and build up these informal suburbs. Forging formal roads, altering the spacing of guard posts to more effectively distribute the manpower and reduce the former excess of guard posts, create boundaries for markets and so forth to be set up, and even better formalizing neighborhoods so things could be tidied up with the patrols and so forth. This made a good case inthe minds of many refugees, who in turn settled down to stay otherwise after losing everything where they had once lived before (and other reasons, etc, that people might find to stay by that point) by the time the war ended. At the end of the war, then, all it took was formalizing things on paper in the aftermath with the Republic and the Prefect would frankly incorporate the suburbs into the city proper before beginning construction of further outer suburb-protecting walls. This as the original city walls would be kept to protect the 'inner city' or 'old city' of Akarith and act as a boundary line. It would also be around this same time of initial celebration in Akarith (one was held to celebrate the incorporation and end of the war at the same time) that, with the arrival of some familiar messengers, Sera and her siblings would finally be brought back home on safer roads than they'd fled upon to reach greater safety years prior. The losses her family and many others incurred by the end of the war, as they would soon learn, had been notable in and of themselves, losing about half of the extended relatives and so forth that had been living on their bloodline's primary estate proper...their own mother being among those. She had died valiantly, succimbing to magic and wounds as she'd been protecting a number of injured who were being cared for in their main room (a makeshift 'hospital' at the time) from attacking rebels and waves of undead. It was a time of grief for Seraphilla, her father, and her siblings, but at the same time they found a vital source of comfort in each other in the days to come.

Rebuilding wasn’t easy at first, but the Omphalonius had been through much before and survived perhaps even worse times than this. The family would rebuild, some would remarry, and their estate would be marked by permanent outer walls and other magical defenses surrounding it after this point to boot. Her father’s prefecture would gradually begin to rebuild as well, and for the first time in years the estate was home again...and while it felt different at first it began to finally feel like such to them again over time. Despite promises and an open invitation from their father's uncle that they could visit again at any time they wished, though, the continuation of herself and her siblings' magical education back at home (rather than with their relative) would see Seraphilla looking toward where she wished to go to get a higher grade of magical training due to her age in particular. Her older sister, meanwhile, would be heading off to go to another school their father had been to, as well as try to catch up due to the effects of the war on her own magical learning before she could get a chance to go off to another magical school as well. As for Sera herself, she would be suddnly one night called into her father's meeting room upstairs about the matter.

Said room was a major place in their own home where he talked business with others, family or otherwise, but usually not his children. In that sense it was an odd place to call her up to simply to talk to her in this case, but even so she went. The two would speak together for some time on her personal motives and desires to further her magical education and learning. Then, after ascertaining what he seemed to feel like was enough about his own daughter in greater depth, her father would softly yet bittersweetly smile and withdraw a sealed letter of reccomendation from his drawer to hand to her. As it had turned out, her mother was an alumni of Glynwood itself and had expressed the idea years ago of sending Seraphilla and her younger brother there to learn. Her mother, an accomplished mage, was fond of her alma mater and had hoped to allow at least one or two of her children the same experience. This conversation had occurred about a year before the war started, but after Sera's own noesis. Ultimately, after all that had happened, her father had simply wanted to see her resolve to learn before giving her a letter of recommendation to the school itself as a way to honor her mother's wishes.

Safe to say, it was a time of some tears and joyous celebration with her family the night before she left for Glynwood.

---

Attunement: Tellurian

Aura:

Her aura looks like she is surrounded by a shining (and suspended in the air) field of gemstone-shaped various metals, ones which are constantly changing into different distinct gemstone-like shapes, which glint with light and the wet cool of water droplets sitting upon them as if they had just passed under a fresh spring rain. To the touch the aura feels cool indeed, and yet at the same time moving into or through it gives others a sticky sensation like one is touching wet clay. Her feet are likewise seemingly surrounded by a smooth floor of incredibly smooth muddy clay, which is constantly swirling around her at the center and rippling with little waves that rise up as if it was part of an ocean or she is standing in the eye of a storm. On occasion a metallic sheen will pop through the swirling floor of muddy clay torrent round her feet, which comes up to her heels at most, like something hidden that was concealed underneath has risen up for a glimpse only to disappear again under the depths once more.

Magic:

Transmutation - Most often used to: transmute earthen materials into metal for her use in terms of daily or general use, transmute earthen materials into minerals for use in fortifying her mud spells or so forth, tweak little things like the color of her clothes or food, purify water and metal and other materials or such things, and so forth along those general lines. She is rather interested in expanding these skill far and wide, however, even whilst keeping to its uses in her daily life or in tandem with her magic in a general sense.

Mud/Clay Magic (Geomancy/Hydromancy) - An art whose components are geomancy and hydromancy, it involves the creation, conjuring, and manipulation/use of mud/clay. She often employs it to the end of creating simple golems to do her bidding or carry things or grab things for her, create little platforms of shaped clay/mud to move over dangerous or inconvenient terrain, to make a place or spot as slick and slippery as possible to slip up others, and can do things like make defensive mud barriers and dense/blunt (due to mud/clay’s very nature) projectiles formed from dense mud/clay to boot.

Likewise due to her education in this area, she has some more general geomancy and hydromancy capabilities by virtue of necessity for her craft, and hopes to supplement these far more with an education, using them to do things such as (but not limited to): clean herself or other things of general of dirt and grime, dry her body more quickly after a bath or shower or after swimming, remove dirt and earthen materials from a rug or bed or such things, and even conjure and manipulate rocks to use as projectiles or barrier.

Metal Magic - Also known as ‘Métallomancy’, it is a more niche area of Geomancy that involves the conjuration, manipulation, shaping, and use/control of metals, ranging from metal spikes to thin metal wires and barriers and so forth. It is often used to protect her from things like rain and weather (and things such as falling objects), create a mirror to examine herself when getting dressed or so forth, create little tools for her work without having to buy them (at least in the more basic cases), and reinforce or add metal components/parts to her golem constructs. She could create metal projectiles and barriers and such with this, at least of a basic or personal-use sort.

Artifice - Mostly used in the daily sense by her in the creation of golem constructs of a simpler sort, or in making little trinkets of a most basic sense to make something easier. In that vein she has much room to expand or augment her capabilities in this area to be sure.

Divination - A magic she has put to more common daily use in things such as (but not limited to): Finding missing items or locating things she is seeking out, looking at other rooms or places from afar to see if someone is there, looking at the basic past history of older or historical items to see what happened to them or where they were, and alert her of something out of her sight like a falling rock from the top of a cliff or stampeding steed blitzing around the corner of the street that could hit her. Like with Artifice, she has much room to expand and develop her skills further in this area (and is interested in doing so both for this magic and in regards to Artifice).

---

Arcane Items:

Pocket Memory Tome - Kept safe in a little snug leather pouch on her left hip, it stores her memories and any information she has learned automatically if it is within a certain distance from her so she can look back at them later. Can even allow her to re-experience her stored memories to boot. Prefect for the young or even very old mage on the go, or who wishes to review the past and what they’ve learned later on! An expensive but rather resilient and durable little piece of artifice her older siblings purchased for her before she left, with a little help from their father, as a gift. Also helpful for mages who can be more forgetful, such as her younger brother, who also got one of these at the same time as she did back at home.

Usually this artifice only stores memories from the time of receiving it onward, as adding the capability for storing older memories in it costs extra. Her father paid for this extra functionality however, so she’d have full functionality of the item…though admittedly there are certain points in time she does not look back at or such in the book for personal reasons as well.

Staff of Luwen - A fancy magical staff passed on to her by her family, an heirloom of some age which has been lovingly cared for and also enchanted in depth to maintain its good condition despite its further usage over the centuries. It is a proper mage’s staff and high-quality magical tool with some family history and quality preservation/durability protecting measures added to it, to put it simply.

Ring of Alert - Like a little alarm clock worn on her right hand, she can set it using a simple spell to ‘go off’ at a certain time to wake her up each day or wake her up from a nap or such. Has had it for years, as it was a gift from her mother to help her wake up for her initial preliminary studies in the first year she began to learn magic. Still keeps it and uses it to this day as a nice little tool.

Other:

• On the map Thoth made, their estate would be a dot right in the middle between where the capital of Pontaion is and where Glynwood is.
• Some Family History Stuff

  Her family, the rather ancient Omphalonius line, is a line of mages that originates back far before the pre-Republic times, which has made them something of a ‘historical artifact’ in that sense of the word. Their family vault, a thing kept under their vast home compound and estate, is said to hold within it a number of familial ancient items and relics and so forth from ages long gone. Said vault is a veritable treasure trove of the past, with some things even the family by current times does not have all the information about still, and by modern times the vault’s contents have been increasingly kept under layers of enchantments and spells and doors and barriers and so forth to keep them within the family’s hands and as safe as mortally possible. Some have made jests at their excessively protective nature of said vault even going into current times, though others have mostly shrugged at them and gone on with life due to them not making trouble for anyone about it save for potential or attempted thieves. It has, however, lent a mythical air and slightly ‘ancient’ sort of mystique to the Omphalonius bloodline all the same.
  
  At the same time, however, beyond jokes about their very old bloodline the Omphalonius have long adapted to and weathered the ages through their efforts. In ways they have remained the same in their line’s overall acceptance of the trials of life and the passage of time, comparable to a great mountain remaining still standing resolute despite the changing of the world around it. On the other hand, they have kept with the ruling politics of the time and likewise adapted with the changing of local culture and ideas. ‘Flexible’ would be a word that could be applied to the bloodline in a general sense, bending and flexing without destroying themselves…or taking up means to strengthen themselves or rebuild before the erosion of the changing tides can wear them away.
  
  It would be this bloodline that ‘Sera’ (as she insists only friends or family can ever call her) was born into what amounted to great opulence and wealth, managed, wrought, and accumulated over the generations as they’ve expanded into a modestly large house of sorts without trying to ‘reach for the stars’ in the eyes of their neighbors.
• Her middle two names are taken from female ancestors of hers, who were each themselves notable magi in their day. In fact, the Omphalonius Family have long used these long, winding names for their children as a way to remember their history and pay some respects to their ancestors in turn. A local family myth even holds that the spirits of those whose names one is given will help watch over them in times of need.
• Likes the rain and swimming, she’s also enjoyed swimming and has become a great swimmer at that over the years. Sometimes has even gone off to swim in the last two years just to just help clear her head a bit, or done so to get out some stress and energy. Can hold her breath underwater pretty well to boot!

[Dead Cruiser]

Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile

_{Our songs are made for the pure and free; they shall never sound in slavery.}

Name:

Róisín Morrígan Ó Goídel

Age:

19

Gender:

Cailín

Appearance:

Róisín is short and wiry, her most striking feature being the conflagration of red hair that hangs down to her waist. She has dark blue eyes, a plain, freckled face, and is almost always covered in dirt or greenery. Traditional tattoos wrap around her right leg, stretching up the length of her back: dots, lines, animal designs, all with deep cultural significance to her. Róisín wears as little of her uniform as she can get away with; she is typically barefoot with her trousers rolled up to her knees, and her doublet slung over her shoulders when she deigns to wear it.

Personality:

To most, Róisín is a solemn, taciturn figure, reserved yet stalwart. This is largely the face that Róisín chooses to show strangers, as it masks her intense compassion, as well as her fiery temper. Ever her parents' daughter, she is amazingly willful, practically bull-headed, and passionate about her values and beliefs. However, she is both pragmatic and intelligent, and understands that there is a time and place for brute force, as well as for softer approaches. Like her grandmother from whom she learned her oldest and most potent magic, Róisín is unimpressed with grandeur, and never at a loss for a trick.

Background:

Róisín descends from an ancient line of mages and kings hailing from a land known as Fenn. A land of green fields, blue skies, wooded mountains, clear lakes, and singing rivers. Fenn was conquered in the long-forgotten days before Magisters’ Republic of Cresvald. At the time, Fenn was ruled peacefully by three royal lineages of druid-kings, but their fertile lands were coveted by an ancient sorcerer lord known to history as Fomori, who ruled a neighboring territory called Eochu. When the Fennish kings came under attack by Fomori's magic and forces, they attempted to unite under a single banner and defend their home, but by the time they had elected one among their number as High King, it was already too late, as their armies had been swept away and their loyal mages killed or turned against them.

A long era of suffering followed for the Fennish people. Fomori, an immortal mage-king, raped their land for resources for hundreds of years, and indentured the Fennishmen to slavery and servitude in his wars against the other mage-kings of the era. Later, when the Magisters convened and formed the Republic of Cresvald, Fomori was one among their number, and Eochu (and its conquered holdings) became one of the Republic's heartland prefectures. While the formation of the Republic did away with much of the cruelty of the old days, the Fennish still could not practice many of their traditional magical rights, as they had been outlawed as necromancy. For these myriad reasons, Fennish people departed their homeland in great numbers over many years to wander the other prefectures and countries. For this reason, Fennishmen have the reputation across Cresvald as itinerant healers, tinkers, cooks, brewers, musicians, and (among less welcoming peoples) thieves.

Róisín was born in the boggy lands south of Cliath, the dilapidated capital of Fenn. Both of her parents were descendants of Fenn's murdered kings and druids, and were held in high esteem by traditional Fennishmen as leaders and protectors of their oldest sacred rites, including Fennish magic and ancestor worship (both derided as "necromancy" by the Magisterium). For this reason, when the Heptarchy split over the ethics of necromancy and the Republic was riven with civil war, Róisín's parents declared the independence of the Fennish people, and joined the secessionist alliance. Inheritors to a centuries-long legacy of dissent and rebellion, they formed a guerilla resistance movement known as the Black Rose, which had its heart and headquarters in the dense, fae-infested wetlands of their home, but spread its influence across Cresvald through enclaves of diasporic Fennishmen. In the early days of the war their guerilla tactics were blunt but effective, and often resulted in enormous enemy casualties, resulting in their movement's derisive nickname, "the Bloody Rose."

For reasons that to this day she can only guess at, Róisín's parents involved her as part of the war effort from day one. Having undergone noesis the same year that the war began, her magical training came simultaneously to her training as guerilla fighter and potential leader for a rebel movement. While Róisín was never a warrior and never took up arms against the Magisterium, her magical talents were shaped toward the practical applications of healing and protection by her mother, herself an accomplished mage, so that Róisín could mend and care for Fennish soldiers wounded in the war. All the while, her father's mother tutored her in their people's traditional rites and magic, kept secret from the Magisterium for a thousand years.

Róisín's father was killed in the Siege of Pontaion, and the war ended soon after. As the presumed leader of the Black Rose, her mother Banba Ó Fintán was invited to the peace talks that followed the secessionists' defeat. Recognizing the Fennish people's many valid concerns, the Magisterium made concessions within Belworth’s Law to preseve the religious rights of their people, and appointed Banba as Adjutant-Prefect to the prefecture of Eochu, so that she might continue to lead and support her beleaguered people. With her mother's recommendation Róisín was sent to the Glynwood Institute as a show of good faith, though she herself wonders if she's more like a hostage. Her own feelings regarding the war's resolution are complex, but she finds herself sympathetic toward the remaining cells of the Black Rose that have refused to accept the peace accords her mother to which her mother agreed.

---

Attunement:

Tellurian

Aura:

The warm, dark, pure, embracing veil of death. Night settling over an ancient bog. The light of a full moon, fireflies, the smell of peat.

Magic:

Róisín's magical abilities largely relate to the traditional magic of her people and their verdant, boggy home. Considered for hundreds of years to be merely profane necromancy, Fennish magic is attuned to the natural cycles of life and the earth. Growth and decay, bounty and blight, birth and death. She can speak with and command beasts and plants, both living and dead, bend the elements of air, wood, and water to her will, and can heal the sick and wounded, as well as inflict venom and diseases. She also knows a little of charming magic, the rituals of Geas, and how to call upon the ancestral spirits of her people.

---

Arcane Items:

To keep her safe in Glynwood, Róisín was entrusted with two of her family's relics. First is her father's spear, which stands considerably taller than she does. With a haft of old hazel and a head of beautifully embellished bronze, the spear held powerful enchantments over life and death in her father's hands, but is now mostly inert in Róisín's. She uses it as a magical focus, as well as a deterrent for anyone who wants to cause trouble with her. The other is her grandmother's cauldron, an ancient pot of pitted, dark metal. Any food, potions, or other victuals brewed or cooked within the cauldron gain fortifying properties, and will never rot or go stale within the cauldron as long as a fire burns under it.

While not precisely an "item," Róisín is also accompanied by her bewitched crow familiar, Macha. Fennish witches traditionally raise an avian companion from a fledgling as part of their training, with crows and ravens being most favored. Róisín and Macha share a magical, sympathetic bond, allowing Róisín to command the crow to perform tasks even without speaking, and to see through her familiar's eyes. Macha can also be used as a magical focus for remote spellcasting, but the nature of the energy transfer involved would probably reduce the poor creature to a pile of feathers.

Other:

I'm not going to write her thick-ass Munster accent but feel free to imagine one.

[Crowvette]

Iris

link to a quick sketch of her cuz it probably won't embed nicely
_{Blessing of the Worldsoul upon you.}

Name:

Iris Myristikos

Age:

18

Gender:

Female

Appearance:

Her wavy platinum blonde hair is only somewhat exotic for her hometown, though it stands out more in Glynwood. Her eyes are a striking silver tinged slightly with blue. Her skin is somewhat pale. She stands slightly taller than average, but her clothing tends to hide how the rest of her looks.

Wears extremely humble clothing that she hand-sewed when not in her uniform. Absolutely no sense of fashion.

Wears her uniform without alteration, except for her large scarf which is part of her religious habit. It is patterned with symbols related to her temple and the Worldsoul, and can also be worn as a veil or even a short cape. Intentionally chose a larger size uniform because it reminded her of her robes at the temple.

Personality:

Innocent and pure to a fault. Those who know her from the temple liken her to a saint, possessing great patience and grace. She cherishes all life, and is loathe to hurt another living thing, even accidentally. She finds it unthinkable to break rules, even if she doesn’t fully understand them. Her humble upbringing has made her unaware of many of the luxuries and conveniences of the greater world.

Background:

Raised from youth at a local temple, Iris was instilled with the temple's foremost tenets: Charity, mercy, and service. She was considered a shining beacon of virtue by many, with equal parts grace and humility, and always willing to help others. Left as a child upon the grounds of the temple, she wholeheartedly accepted those of the temple and the Worldsoul as her family.

Her late noesis after her sixteenth birthday caused many things to change for her; and while she seemed to have an innate knack for more... destructive magic, the leader of the temple could not manage to instill in her any magic more befitting a gentle servant of the Worldsoul. Whenever she called forth her abilities, only great destruction and terror followed - much to her distress. Though she was utterly devoted to her town and temple, she reluctantly agreed to attempt to study at Glynwood, in hopes that she could one day return to the temple with a grasp of more… peaceful magic.

---

Attunement:

Tellurian.

Aura:

Arcing lines and beams of light radiate from her. An unsettling crackle of electricity. The light seems to focus around her head, not unlike a halo.

Magic:

She has a wonderful knack for conjuring lightning, white-hot plasma, and destructive blasts of light. She can’t quite seem to figure out ways to tone them down.

---

Other:

Celebrates many strange holidays due to her temple’s local traditions.

[Ignorancebliss]

Fungi

_{"A wary eye sees the truths concealed in the shadows."}

Name: Oliver Reed
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance:

At the tender age of nineteen, Oliver stood tall at a height of 1.83 meters, his angular frame a testament to the rigorous training he had embraced in the wake of his mother's untimely demise. White skin, bearing the faintest traces of the sun's touch, enveloped his being, a canvas that hinted at the passage of time. His brown hair, tousled and wild, framed a face that carried the weight of sorrow and resilience in equal measure. Within the depths of his gaze, green eyes flickered with a piercing intensity, like the emerald flames of a distant inferno. The contours of his athletic physique revealed the sculpted sinew of a pugilist, each muscle etching a tale of determination and sacrifice upon his flesh. Upon his academy uniform, two brooches adorned Oliver's lapel. A mushroom, a tribute to his mother, symbolizing her profound influence. A shining star, bestowed upon him by the Hiltern family, an unexpected mark of the weight of their shared journey.

Personality:

Oliver, a vessel of suspicion and silent introspection, viewed the world through eyes clouded with a cynical haze. Wary of those born into privilege, he kept a careful distance, their inherited wealth casting a shadow of doubt upon their intentions. Solitude became his refuge, a sanctuary for his restless mind, yet within the depths of his guarded heart, a flicker of yearning for connection remained. Oliver finds solace in the company of those he deems worthy, basking in the fragile warmth of their presence. Behind his guarded facade, a complex portrait emerges, a man forged by skepticism and a relentless quest for truth.

Background:

Oliver Reed's early life was steeped in the shadow of poverty, his family struggling to make ends meet amidst the bitter winds of despair. However, fate, that wily conjurer, smiled upon his mother Ophelia, granting her passage into the hallowed halls of the world's preeminent magical academy, The Glynwood Institute For Thaumaturgical Studies. There, she delved deep into the esoteric realm of fungal magic, enthralled by the wondrous cycle of decay and rebirth orchestrated by the humble fungi. With relentless determination, she birthed a magical by-product, a strange and magnificent organism named Manaflor. Only when Oliver reached the tender age of fourteen did his mother's creation attain the shimmering sheen of commercial success, illuminating their somber existence with a glimmer of hope. Manaflor, the harbinger of transformation, possessed an uncanny ability to draw forth the very essence of mana from the earth, storing it within its ethereal form. It was this realization that spurred his mother's ambition, leading her to transform desolate landscapes into sprawling plantations teeming with these enchanted fungi—magical power plants, they became, harnessing the latent energies that coursed through the veins of the world. In areas brimming with potent mana, where magical springs and ley lines converged, the Manaflors flourished, their spectral tendrils penetrating the fertile soil, drawing forth arcane power with each passing breath.

The ink-stained contract trembled in her hands as Oliver's mother, her eyes hollow and weary, surrendered the patent for Manaflor to the insidious clutches of Enigma, a behemoth of a company shrouded in an enigmatic haze of power and greed. The weight of an absurd sum of money, a siren's call promising salvation, settled upon her shoulders like an iron shackle, threatening to extinguish the dwindling flicker of hope within. Yet, beneath the veneer of affluence, Enigma's predatory gaze bore down upon her, relentless and unforgiving, their demands reverberating through the hollow corridors of her mind. For all the wonder and potential that Manaflor held, the elusive key to harnessing its captive mana remained a taunting specter, dancing just beyond her grasp. A cruel paradox unveiled itself—Enigma's pockets bulging with wealth, yet their eyes bloodshot and feral, unyielding in their desire for immediate returns. Oliver's mother, fragile and teetering on the precipice of surrender, knew that the shadows of corporate domination loomed ever closer, threatening to consume her creation, leaving only a bitter residue of broken dreams in their wake.

As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the world, Ophelia, driven by a tenacious spark of curiosity, embarked on an audacious exploration into the realm of symbiotic fusion. The ether resonated with whispered secrets as she surrendered herself to the ethereal embrace of a Manaflor spore, its tendrils intertwining with her essence, fusing their destinies in a dance of unparalleled harmony. With each breath, she inhaled the pulsating energy emanating from the mushrooms that adorned her surroundings, a symphony of life and magic entwined. In this delicate union, Ophelia discovered a newfound euphoria, her very being suffused with the vibrant hues of optimism. She became an embodiment of metamorphosis, a vessel through which mana coursed, her existence entwined with the perpetual cycle of creation and renewal. With each passing moment, she transcended the boundaries of mortality, her dreams and aspirations entangled in the tendrils of symbiotic wonder. And in that fleeting, blissful connection, she glimpsed a world where magic and humanity converged, where the indomitable spirit of discovery prevailed, casting aside the cynical shadows that sought to snuff out the flame of possibility.

Within the confines of time's merciless grip, Ophelia embarked on an arduous journey of experimentation, her every waking hour dedicated to unraveling the secrets of symbiotic fusion. Days melted into nights as she conducted her tests, the sterile laboratory walls bearing witness to her relentless pursuit. With each procedure, she pushed the limits of her own humanity, seamlessly intertwining her essence with the pulsating manaflor fungus. Yet, as the symbiotic bond strengthened, an insidious metamorphosis began to cast its shadow upon Ophelia's very core. Her once radiant countenance grew pallid, an echo of her former self swallowed by the relentless march of fungal entwining. Oliver, a silent observer of his mother's descent, watched with a heavy heart as she became a mere vessel, her identity fading like a fleeting memory, consumed by the all-encompassing embrace of the fungus. In each passing day, the threads of her being unraveled, leaving behind a hollow shell that bore only faint traces of the woman she once was. As Enigma's impatient demands loomed, their vision of market revolution eclipsing any concern for Ophelia's diminishing humanity, Oliver bore witness to the tragic cost of progress, a bittersweet reminder that even the most profound discoveries exact a toll upon the souls of those who dare to seek them.

In the cruel throes of fate's twisted design, as Enigma's grand spectacle loomed just beyond the horizon, the haunting truth manifested its merciless grip upon Ophelia. The once-vibrant vessel of ambition and wonder was now a hollow shell, usurped by the insidious tendrils of Manaflor's dominion. No longer a creator but a mere conduit, her eyes, once filled with a flicker of defiance, stared into the abyss of resignation. The weight of her existence, stripped bare of purpose, bore down upon Oliver's soul like an unyielding burden. And in that final, haunting exchange, her voice, barely a whisper, carried the weight of a thousand shattered dreams—"We are all that will ever be"—a bitter reminder of the finite borders that encased their fractured world, where aspirations crumbled and humanity, lost amidst the relentless march of progress, dwindled into mere echoes of what once was.

Within the cold confines of Enigma's fortress, Ophelia's essence withered away, trapped in the desolate purgatory of her own existence. A grotesque semblance of life, her body moved with mechanical precision, a puppet controlled by the unseen hands of a merciless force. They whispered hollow words of her demise to Oliver, denying him the solace of closure, while the truth lingered in the shadows, veiled from his searching eyes. Ophelia's remains were concealed, hidden from her grieving son, leaving him haunted by an irreparable void. As the heir to the sum procured by Enigma for the intellectual property of Manaflor, Oliver stood amidst the wreckage of shattered dreams. The flames of Enigma's fear engulfed the once-blooming plantations, reducing them to ash, a desperate attempt to prevent the insidious tendrils of the fungus from ensnaring more souls. This heartrending reality tore through Oliver's being, the fragments of his shattered heart echoing the desolation that consumed him. In the midst of a world steeped in deception and anguish, Oliver found himself adrift, held captive by the callous dance of a fate that reveled in the destruction of hope.

Within the confines of his seventeen years, burdened by the absence of a father and a tumultuous family legacy, Oliver found himself at the mercy of Laus Hiltern, the architect of his mother's entanglement with Enigma and the guardian of his inherited fortune. Resentment simmered beneath the surface as he begrudgingly resided under Laus's roof, the weight of their intertwined destinies bearing down upon him. Yet, despite his aversion, Oliver discovered a peculiar relief in the fact that Laus never laid a finger upon his wealth, ensuring its preservation for the heir it rightfully belonged to. In a surprising twist, Laus, bearing the scars of a researcher outshone by Ophelia's brilliance in the realm of fungi manipulation, became an unexpected mentor. He nurtured Oliver's education, a continuation of Ophelia's wishes, guiding him along the intricate paths of fungal artistry. The complexities of their relationship danced in the shadows, a testament to the enigmatic ties that fate weaves.

In the tangled web of their shared existence, Oliver and Kennedy, Laus' son, separated by only a year in age, embarked upon a tumultuous dance of disdain and desire. What began as a mutual animosity, fueled by their contrasting personalities, evolved into a raw and physical connection devoid of sentimentality. As time unfurled its relentless tapestry, the boundaries between them blurred, morphing their bond into one of unlikely friendship. Through the lens of their newfound camaraderie, Oliver glimpsed the hidden layers of Laus's grief, understanding that he too had suffered the profound loss of Ophelia's absence. Memories of lasagna-filled nights, where the quartet sought consolation within the confines of Laus's abode, echoed through Oliver's mind, an unspoken testament to the ties that bound them. Within the boundaries of their fragile alliance, Oliver found ease, an avenue to heal the fractured relationship with his guardian, and a realization that the pain of loss knows no discrimination, seeping into the hearts of both lovers and friends alike.

---

Attunement: Tellurian.
Aura: Oliver's aura reveals itself covering his body with a dark shadow and multiple green glowing eyes.
Magic:

Alchemy

Oliver wields the art of fungal alchemy, harnessing the diverse properties of mushrooms to create potent potions and elixirs. With a wealth of knowledge, he crafts concoctions that induce sleep, illness, and a range of other effects. His expertise extends beyond fungi, encompassing a vast array of potions crafted from both natural and mystical ingredients.

Decomposition manipulation

Through rigorous training and unwavering dedication, Oliver has honed a modest yet intriguing magical ability closely tied to the realm of decay. With precise control and focused intent, he can manipulate the process of deterioration, accelerating the natural course of fading and decomposition. With meticulous movements and a deep understanding of the delicate balance between life and death, he can coax petals to crumble, leaves to wither, and organic matter to succumb to the relentless passage of time.

Mediumship

Fuelled by the void left by his mother's absence, Oliver delves into necromancy, unlocking the ability to commune with the departed. Within dim chambers, he converses with shades of the past, their whispers lingering. Yet, his yearning for his mother's voice remains unfulfilled. Knowing the perils it entails, he guards this secret power, concealing it from society's judgment.

Tarot

Oliver possesses a partial grasp of the intricate art of tarot reading. With a deck of cards in his hands, he navigates the symbolic labyrinth, uncovering fragments of past events. Though his interpretations are tinged with uncertainty, he weaves together the threads of the past, gleaning glimpses of truth from the enigmatic imagery. Yet, a veil of ambiguity shrouds his readings, reminding him of the depths he has yet to explore and the mysteries that remain beyond his reach.

---

Arcane Items:
Apothecary kit: A weathered wooden box, adorned with intricate carvings depicting various types of fungi. Within the kit, vials of different sizes hold a colorful assortment of dried mushrooms, powders, and tinctures. The earthy scent of the fungi permeates the air whenever the kit is opened, hinting at its potent and mysterious contents.

Tarot deck: A deck of tarot cards, well-worn from years of use. The cards are beautifully illustrated with rich symbolism and vibrant colors. Each card holds a story waiting to be unfolded, a connection to the mysteries of the past, present, and future. As Oliver shuffles the deck, the whisper of destiny can almost be heard in the rustle of the cards.

Crystal Ball: A flawless, transparent sphere resting on an ornate stand. Within its crystal depths, wisps of ethereal mist swirl and dance, revealing glimpses of hidden truths and veiled secrets. When Oliver gazes into the crystal ball, he sees fragments of possibilities and the echoes of forgotten knowledge, inviting him to unravel the enigmas that lie beyond.

Alchemy books: An assortment of weathered tomes, their leather covers adorned with faded symbols and handwritten notes. These books contain a wealth of alchemical knowledge, spanning centuries of experimentation and discovery. Oliver carefully flips through their yellowed pages, seeking recipes, formulas, and insights into the transformative properties of various substances.

Enchanted brooches: Two intricately designed brooches, each possessing a unique enchantment. One brooch bears the emblem of a mushroom, while the other depicts a shimmering star. These brooches are more than mere adornments; they are Oliver's lifelines in dire situations. They were enchanted by Laus and once activated by their own volition, they create a magic shield around him. Their enchantments are mysterious and potent, a last resort when all other means of protection fail. Each brooch only works once and then the spell is dismissed.

Manaflor spore jar: A small glass jar sealed with a conservation spell, housing a few spores of the intriguing Manaflor. The jar radiates a faint magical aura, preserving the spore's essence and potential. Oliver carefully tends to it, aware of the extraordinary properties it holds and the untapped possibilities that lie within its delicate confines.

Other:
1. Oliver collects antique pocket watches, each representing the preciousness of time.
2. He keeps a cryptic journal hidden beneath his bed, filled with enigmatic sketches and writings.
3. Oliver has a secret talent for playing melancholic melodies on the piano.
4. He can mimic the sounds of birds with astonishing accuracy.
5. Fragments of forgotten poetry adorn his walls.
6. Delicate pressed flowers are preserved in his closet.
7. Oliver enjoys deciphering complex ciphers and codes, challenging his intellect.