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10 yrs ago
So tired, sleep why do you spurn me?!
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Bio

Hiya, AChronum here! Although I'm relatively new to rping, I have plenty of writing experience and love trying new genres and styles. I absolutely love high magic fantasy RPs and am pretty much willing to do anything so long as I can create a charaxter, not play an existing one, and develop lots and lots of backstory! I'm perfectly comfortable with all mature themes as well, although smut for smut's sake is out of the question.

Interested in an RP? Send me a PM and have a magically marvelous day!

Most Recent Posts






The Statue of Ardyon

Connie, Barty, Jake


Croan watched as his students fumbled through their inital observations. One was missing. He would expel him if it was for anything shy of death and even that may not save him. Croan circled the room, glancing at Connie's notes critically, watching the simpleton try to offer comfort to the statue, and the MacLeod twin pluck at the magic. “Not incorrect, Mr. Macleod. The magic imprisoning the thief does not present as a curse; however, it behaves like one. Curses are malevolent intent made manifest through sorcery and their presentation to those privileged with sight are often coiled, tortured things. Why do you suppose that is, Ms. Withrop?”

He slapped Jake's hand off the statue. “Do not linger. Mr. Macleod explained it pulled at his magic - what can we surmise as a result of that observation?”

A Trip through Magic

Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia


The faintest squeaking could be heard outside the door, growing louder as it approached. The door burst open with a flair of vibrant magic and Professor Mikkail entered, bright eyed and bushy tailed, pushing a moderate sized chalkboard on small, squeaky wheels. The board had clearly been abandoned in some storage room or another, the faintest etchings of previous lessons still visible and the green faded and sun bleached. Still, the Professor looked at the thing like a child at candy and placed a piece of chalk and an eraser on the unstable shelf at the bottom before he beamed with clear pride at the group in his sitting room.

“Good morning, my little mystery seekers! Welcome to my sitting room. While you are part of this coven, you are most welcome any time even if I am not around. I do love surprise visitors!” Mikkail looked at where the journals once were. “I see we have broken into our presents already! I made these myself as a welcoming gift. I do not dare assume your note taking habits, but I always find a new adventure needs a fresh start so please fill it with what you will and I hope it makes the start of this journey we are taking together feel exciting!” With a wave of his hand, steam curled out of the tea pots spout.

“Please enjoy some of the refreshments. I always find it easier to concentrate with a soothing cup of tea.” Mikkail gestured at the coffee table before he picked up the chalk and wrote on the board. “Our mystery will be a walk through time. I find that as those who explore the mysteries of magic, so too are we entrusted with its stewardship. Recording and preserving the twists and paths that magic takes through the ages is equally as important progress and innovation. For without knowledge of the past, how will we avoid blundering blindly into the future? So our mystery will be one even I have been stuck on for quite some time. A branch of magic, dark and bloodied indeed, was lost on this planet centuries ago and I have not yet been able to locate where its first grimoire vanished.” Mikkail finished writing and underlined the name.

Malleus Maleficarum


“Can anyone tell me what this is and what it was used for?”

Into the Unknow

Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Frankie, Annika


“Imaginitively named Anchors, these artifacts stabilize pathways on the surface of the Neverish. These ones are those the school uses - both to safely sit on top of the Neverish and to connect to various places around the world.” Sariel explained as she continued around the first gate, gesturing for those to follow. “The magic employed branches from sympathetic magic, wherein a symbol is charged with the intent and power of a place and acts as a placeholder for magical effects. This is incredibly convenient for two major reasons. Can anyone tell me?”

Sariel nodded at Finley as she pulled out a small set of keys and removed a loose section of the wall beyond the gate, revealing a keyhole. “There is a little bit of randomness to the coven selection process - mysteries aren't assigned entirely based on skill set, but rather as a way to challenge you to grow in both your specializations and your critical thinking. It may seem confusing, but be patient and approach this as an opportunity to develop a facet of yourself that has gone unnoticed!”

Sariel slid the key in the keyhole, turned it, and a series of cogs behind the door whirring loudly. Two other spots popped open above the keyhole. One was a small, pointed spike that Sariel cut her thumb on and let blood drip down to the base before shutting it. Another was a small scale and Sariel pulled out a feather from her pocket and placed it in, sealing that one as well. She turned the first key again and a section of the wall slid out of the way. Beyond it was a hole in the wall barely four feet tall and stale air rushed out.

“This is where you will be working today.” Sariel ducked into the next room and the strike of flint and steel and the warmth embers of a fire began to build. Inside a massive cave, a variety of work station was available: a furnace and anvil, a kiln and potter's wheels, a loom, a leatherworking bench, a carpenter's bench, a jewelers table, and an alchemist furnace all.looking as if they'd been made hundreds of years ago. Next to each, was a variety of materials and fuel supplies. Sariel lit torches set into the wall.

A hexagonal table in the center of the room hosted a raised center and a variety of reading materials.

“Your task is to craft an anchor that represents the four of you.” Sariel informed them. “This will guide you back when you dive beyond what you have traversed so far. It can be anything you can imagine, and make, and once you have completed it, I will inspect it to ensure it won't explode during the final step. There is some literature available here about them as well, but this is a connection between the four of you - if you can't craft an anchor together, your chances of surviving the Neverish are disastrous."

Danni Kingston

Location:Contest Stadium, Strange Academy
Skills:Pyrokenesis




There was so much going on.

Danni was starting to feel a little overwhelmed: The deafening apology and the now Hulksized Stature, Beanie turning on Princess (almost burned Beanie too), Beanie blaming Hulking (Hulkling can do that now?), Princess kissing Beanie… Danni audibly gasped at that. Princess was being messy AF. He was itching to take a photo but he didn't have a phone so instead he resolved to tease her mercilessly after they won.

However, Danni had one America to outrun. He'd clearly marked the right person, but the arrival of an interloper threw everything off. He pouted. Danni was looking forward to that little race but nooooooo, this twinkle twink popped up outta nowhere and stole everyone's attention. Fire balled in his hands, even as the others took defensive stances. Danni deserved to be the center of attention not… He peered into the starry form suspiciously. It seemed… familiar.

They had spent, quite literally, every waking moment of their life together. Even the brief period that Dorian was at that dumb x-man boarding school, video calls, gaming chats, and weekend hangouts were mandatory and aggressively enforced. Every photobook had more photos of them together than separate, every present given with the both of them in mind, every trip and activity planned for two, not for one. There wasn't a universe in which Danni wouldn't recognize his best friend, his brother, his platonic soul mate in whatever form he was.

“You cheater!” Danni screamed, blasting his way across the field to half directly in front of… whatever Dorian was now. He shook a finger in the Entity's face. “I put up wit’ it when ya went ta t'at awful school, I tolerated it when you made t'ose really “friends” on your streams that say wierd t'in's in your chats, I understood when ya got Spicy because ya can do… sticky t'in's t'at I ain't doin’ wit’ you, but t'is?! T'is?! I t'ought I was special! T'at I was t'e only one ya wanted ta be in and now, ‘ere ya are inside your old crush. Just ‘cause ‘e ‘as magic and all t'at? We spent years workin’ on moves t'at let you be in me while we fight and you ‘aven't wanted to team up even once! ‘ow is t'is fair?!” Danni stared tearing up and sniffling as he shouted at the thing in front of him.




Nicholas clicked his tongue in disappointment.

He'd woken with the gong, deliciously sore and stinging from the night prior, and promptly rolled back into his blankets until the sun was properly above the tree tops around the school. While the long breaks from school and Haven permitted them the luxury of exploration in a new era, he could do without the breaks from the exquisite delights their Fey and shifter offered. The addition of a moth was certainly appealing, but she seemed inexperienced and Callaghan and Finley were far more suited to aiding fledgling in their early sexual awakenings. Nicholas was well aware his own appetite for carnal delights would turn gentle lovemaking into something better suited for underground cults and clubs.

Nicholas found his footing and went about his morning routine. Washing, brushing, disinfecting, bandaging, and all the other necessities of wash room time. Professor Mikkail was the strangely supportive type and likely wouldn't blink an eye at his attire… Or maybe he wasn't and he'd chastise Nicholas for his lack of presentation. The idea did stir something in him, but he chased that away. He already had plans for the later evening and while a small orgy invigorated him, offering his blood to a vampire would take him the better part of a night and day to fully recuperate. Nicky pulled on a black dress shirt, pants, vest, and coat. The only pop of color was a deep red tie and an antique gold and ruby ring on the middle finger of his right hand that was a gift from some centuries ago. Croan would get the message. Nicky picked a pipe and tucked it away as he set off, a small box of gardening supplies in hand.

Which brought him to now, after a cup of coffee and a short smoke, staring at the once thriving calades now withered, shriveled, and dead. He was certain that he'd left them in the proper condition to handle his absence but clearly something interfered and now he had to start from scratch. He shrugged off his suit jacket, carefully hanging it on a hook at the door, and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow. He grabbed a few of his pots, brought them to the back where a hose lay and a drain, and crouched down to set the pots down, hissing as the stretch exacerbated the claw marks in his hip. It was a much missed pain and Nicholas decided not to linger on the touch he'd missed the touch of the people here. It was strange how easy it was to move on most of the time, but every now and then he found himself yearning for people long buried and he knew that when they had to leave this place, Callaghan and Finley would be two of those.

Marcus's face flashed to mind and it morphed into the strange boy from last night, before their trust when the party favors hit him hardest. Such an innocent seeming thing and the magic… Nicholas frowned as he gently dumped and scrubbed out the pots. How was it possible the boy made that happen when it was clear he could barely rub two brain cells together? The twins hadn't spiked the favors in any unusual way, other than the slight illusions to keep everyone confused about what they were grabbing, but bubbles were… infantile at best and… Nicholas wrinkled his nose in frustration with himself. Mostly for the brief flash of affection he'd felt looking at their old lover's face, but some for allowing himself to entertain the boy at all. Nicholas wouldn't go looking now, but he certainly needed to find him sooner rather than later.

Jake had not slept during the night. After Frankie had helped him find their shared room, he had spent much of his time sitting on the bed he had been assigned to, staring at the other boy. There was a small creature with him, too, watching him as he watched. Social cues were completely lost on him - he didn’t realize that it was strange, and their other roommate, Annika, had not returned to the dorm room either. So he watched, the steady rise and fall of Frankie’s chest soothing, almost charming. He was mesmerized.

But even the strongest of spells had to wane. So Jake had left their room, venturing out in exploration of… he wasn’t quite sure. The conversation he had with Frankie kept replaying in his mind, something which he found odd. He didn’t want to think about it, but it kept coming back. Was that normal? To be unable to get something out of his head? He’d have to ask. He trusted Frankie with these questions. The idea of asking the others… It was strange, his chest seemed to tighten at the very idea. He didn’t understand that either.

The dining hall didn’t interest him - he had no intention of eating anything again, not after that candy. And the libraries, while very pretty, lacked stimulation. Hardly any of the books contained pictures, and the librarian had stared at him the entire time he’d wandered, their eyes narrowed. Had he done something wrong? He didn’t know. No, the place he found himself appreciating the most at Strange Academy was outside, where he could see the sky - he loved the sky! It was so beautiful, with so many twinkling lights - and as time went on, the darkness fell away to a sea of enchanting reds and pinks and purples so pretty he had cried.

It must have been morning as he sat in the courtyard near a small building constructed entirely of glass, filled with so many plants it looked like it could burst - and his body suddenly felt warm. He startled, only to see that the pretty boy from the night before was there, heading inside the glass structure. His hands suddenly felt very cold. His body tensed. But that inner warmth did not fade. He didn’t know what to do. Jake just stared for a moment.

And then, he walked up to the glass house, went inside, and smiled at the boy. “Hi!!!”

Nicholas hadn't bothered to look up at the sound of the greenhouse doors. It wasn't uncommon for a groundskeeper to do their due diligence at this hour - someone had to check on the wider variety here and Barty wasn't paid to do that. So it came as a surprise when a loud voice disturbed his peace and Nicholas swore heavily as he fumbled a pot. It nearly slipped through his fingers, even with his gardening gloves on, but he managed to catch it with the tip of his fingers and set it down carefully. He stood to face the very subject of his last thoughts with a flat look and a cocked brow.

“Is there something you need?” Nicholas asked, stripping off his gloves and placing them on the table next to him. The boy looked chipper, instead of how Nicholas would have expected him to after his bubble fiasco. And, after he'd had some time to remember, Jake technically saved him from being knocked over by Callaghan during his transformation. Still, not a mark or suggestion at any of that. “You seem well after last night.”

Jake hesitated for a moment. He didn’t think he needed anything. He had to consciously resist the urge to try to help the boy with the pot he’d almost broken. The person last night at the bar had warned him about helping the boy, as much as he found himself yearning to do so. ”Nope! I don’t need anything!”

At least he could understand him now - he hadn’t been able to last night very much.

”Thanks!” Jake swallowed. ”Unless you didn’t want me to be well?”

Nicholas's other brow rose at the reply. He just wandered in here for no reason at all? The boy did seem rather… simple and lost so that very well could be true, but Nicholas was a suspicious person by nature. A boy wearing a dead man's face was a peculiar sort indeed. He picked his gloves back up and pulled them on. “It is not my business whether you are well or not but as a general rule, it is better to be well. And since you seem to be idle, get a pair of gloves and you'll help me with these.” Nicholas gestured to the small box he'd left near his spot in the greenhouse. This was an excellent opportunity to both feed his curiosity and get a helping hand with the prepping for his new plants.

Jake tilted his head slightly. He could understand the boy now, but he was still confused by him. He wanted him to help with something? And he told him to be well? A smile slowly crept on his face, and Jake nodded, going over to the box and fetching it. Were there gloves inside? Maybe? But he had the feeling the boy wouldn’t like him just opening up the box without asking first, so he just retrieved it for the moment. ”Um, I don’t know your name. I’ve been calling you the pretty boy in my head. Is that okay? Do you have a name? My name’s Jake. Short for Jake. And long for Jake.”

Nicholas, crouched down and reaching for the pot again, whipped back to face Jake. For a moment, the Greenhouse fell away and it was 1893 again. It was a stifling hot afternoon and the schoolhouse was a mess after he'd sent the children home while all he wanted to do was lock the doors and go swimming to take the edge off it all. He'd sighed at the sound of the doors opening up, fixed his face into a smile, but before he could turn to greet them, one of his two favorite voices settled into his bones like honey. “Hey, there pretty boy. Need a hand closing up?”

Nicholas snapped out of it. “Nicholas is fine.” He replied softly like he couldn't quite trust his voice yet, feeling a little raw at a memory he'd drown in drugs and sex for over a century. Distracted as he was, Nicholas simply took the box from Jake and opened it, offering him the pair of spare gloves in there. “I will endeavor to remember, Jake. Put your gloves on and I will show you how to clean these.”

Jake’s face flushed, and the heat rushed to his chest once more. There was something about how soft, how quiet the boy - Nicholas - had become. It made him want to take a thousand dragon’s blows to see that no harm came to him. It took conscious effort to tear his gaze away from Nicholas and to the gloves - there was already a good amount of grime and dirt under his fingernails. Nicholas seemed like he liked to be clean.

Jake put on the gloves, the extra layer of fabric feeling strange at first - his movements ever so slightly constricted. ”Do you like cleaning these things?”

“I enjoy gardening.” Nicholas offered, barely turning the hose so just more than a trickle came out. “It's messier than most of my hobbies, but it's pleasant to nurture something seed to bloom. It takes patience and time and for better or worse, I have time in spades. Grab that brush there, rinse the inside of the smaller pot, and then scrub all the way around. Then rinse again until all the dirt and debris is out.” Nicholas demonstrated step by step.

“If you wouldn't mind indulging my curiosity a moment…” Nicholas paused in his scrubbing and watched Jake closely. “Why suffer the brunt of Callaghan's transformation for me?”

Gardening. Not cleaning. And he liked things that took time. Jake was learning so much! A thought popped into his head, one that he didn’t want to have, but he couldn’t help it. He likes stepping on people, too. He shuddered slightly, trying his very hardest to think about other things - but the more he tried not to think about the precious night, the more it consumed him. He followed Nicholas’ instructions, taking the brush and the pot, letting the water hit it, and then he started to scrub. The example really helped. He just copied the motions he had seen Nicholas do.

He turned his head as Nicholas asked if he could indulge his curiosity. Jake nodded. He fidgeted slightly under the other boy’s stare. “It was the right thing to do,” Jake tried, before frowning. “I’m supposed to protect you.” That didn’t feel completely right still - like there was more that needed to be said. “I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

Nicholas offered a non-committal hum in response and returned to his task. Nicholas couldn't tell if Jake was being honest or still playing dumb; either way, the response made him feel warm and uneasy at the same time. Once upon a time, trust would have come simply with the expectation that Nicholas would have the upper hand if anything were to happen. And it was rare that someone would throw themselves in harm's way for a stranger. Those who did were usually preyed on until they found their grave early, or lived a long sad life with hopes of some sort of eternal reward later. But Nicholas's magic didn't sit at his fingertips now. His reflex to flee around Jake had disappeared within a night and that alarmed the witch more than if it had been. His magic was reliable, safe, and proven. It hadn't ever failed him, even when he asked terrible things about it, and his faith would not be shaken now, even if it seemed curiously quiet.

“To keep those around you safe, so must you be. If Callaghan had been someone other than himself and gone rampaging, what good is a door mat?” Nicholas chastised softly, placing down the pot. Nicholas held.out his hand. “The next time you find yourself with such chivalrous thoughts, pause a moment and consider my words. Give me your hand.”

He put his hand in Nicholas’ without hesitation, just complete innocent trust. With his other hand, he still held the pot he’d been cleaning, the brush tucked inside of it. He didn’t quite understand. Why would he need protecting? He didn’t need it - not like how Nicholas and the others did. He wasn’t fragile like them. “Can I ask you something then?” he paused for a moment. “Why did you step on me?” He shivered slightly.

Nicholas thought about it for a moment. “Beyond the bubbles, my memory fails in some parts. I confess I don't recall what occurred once you were on the floor; I believe my mind was occupied contemplating coupling with a dragon. Our favors hit stronger than expected; my brother's influence no doubt.” The witch sighed. Jake's hand in his felt new and familiar all in one, a tingling sensation where his fingertips met the other's hands. This was a bad idea - he absolutely should not be alone with Jake because old feelings started stirring and it would be so easy to give in, but he was just keeping them even. That's all this is. “Does that satiate your curiosity?"

He relaxed slightly hearing the explanation. The staff at the bar had been wrong, then. Nicholas hadn’t done this on purpose to hurt him - it had been an accident, a misunderstanding. And there was something to the touch - to the literal sparks he felt on the edge of his fingers. He smiled, before the grin became so large his cheeks started to hurt. And then gently, he rotated their hands, so that way Nicholas’ was on top, and his own on bottom. “Is there other stuff you wanted to ask me?”

There had been, but they seemed unimportant at the moment. Nicholas was not one to deny himself pleasure, but he tempted this urge down anyways. Kissing this man here without knowing what and who he was was a poor decision and there was nothing enough alcohol in his system to ignore that. He stared at their hands.

They looked…

“No. A debt is to be paid.” Nicholas cleared his throat, his voice breaking as he snapped himself out of whatever spell he'd fallen into. Nicholas plucked a flower from one plants, a few leaves from another, and a breeze blew softly. Barty's magic was flashy, fun, and entertaining, designed to be seen and heard and felt. Nicholas's was a quieter thing, turning and redirecting, and his favors no different. Between their hands, he placed the bloom upon a bed of leaves, and cupped between them he breathed. For a moment, nothing happened, until the faintest glimmer of his magic played at the edges and the flower settled, hardened, and dimmed.

“My gratitude for your actions.” Nicholas explained,.dropping Jake's hand and collecting the pots carefully. “A smaller token, to be sure, useful for something simple. Directions, a meal, help with your studies - call for any of these and I will answer.” Nicholas took the pot from Jake's hand. Time had gotten away from.him and it was closer to class than he'd cared.

Jake stared at the bloom in his hand, and once again he found his eyes watery. No one had ever given him anything before. He hadn’t even known that he could want for something like that. It was so beautiful. He was afraid that if he moved his hand, it would shatter, the petals falling to the ground lifelessly. Almost immediately, he vowed to himself that he would never use this token. He wanted to keep it. He considered for a moment putting it in his room, copying what he had seen Annika and Frankie do with their belongings, but he didn’t want to part from it, either.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “But you don’t need to pay me to help you.”

“A favor was owed and now it is marked. I expect a debt paid when I am owed; I will not tolerate mine own neglected.” Nicholas stood, putting pots back on the table and rolling down his sleeves.. He looked back where Jake was still staring at the flower as he buttoned up his jacket. “Tis near time for class to begin. Come along so that you will not be tardy.”







Location: Mikkail's Sitting Room
Grimore: N/A
Skills: N/A





Nicholas squinted as he took in his future classroom. Mikkail's sitting room was… vibrant, in clear contrast to even Nicholas's standard attire. He hadn't even crossed the threshold, standing in it with arm still holding the door handle, and seriously considered skipping. Mikkail was one of the few older than him here, but had all.the energy of a toddling child having found their feet and exploring the limits of their freedom. Skipping would likely land him in trouble and trouble meant leaving and they'd just settled in for another year and since it wasn't danger…

Nicholas sighed and fetched a flask from his inside pocket, unscrewed the cap, and took several long swigs before he stashed it, squared his shoulders, and took his steps into the room. His eyes wandered more freely, pausing on the two already in. Strangely, he recognized both. Other students typically remained nameless. In the years they'd been here, he could only name a handful. How strange it was that he would be sharing his class with faves he remembered and names that came easily to the tongue.

“Morning.” Nicholas offered the barest of greetings with the nod of his head, and folded himself into the furthest armchair without hesitation. Seeing Willow reminded him of last night's antics and he felt the faint sting from wounds unhealed that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Everyone sle…” He trailed off as his attention was caught by the books, clearly of good quality, embossed, and individually named.

Individually named

Nicholas quickly flipped his notebook over so the name was safely out of sight.








Location: Camp Lava Lake Trail Head
Skills: N/A
Outfit: Outfit





“Yes. I'm sure none of us can question your skills in handling… wood. Or your friend's, I suppose.” Aster glanced at the hankies over the edge of his glasses. “I don't doubt your hands have known plenty of splinters and they'll probably know many more after this conquest.” Aster said as he glanced pointedly at Zeke. He wasn't certain what set the cretin off, but Aster certainly wasn't going to let him talk however he wanted to.

Still, Aster was glad Em brought up labor because as much as he wanted this to be perfect (He was involved so it would have to be!), Aster dreaded having to actually lift anything. He swam to keep his silhouette sharp and pointed and lithe, not to haul logs and ratty furniture. He'd sooner let this would be killer take him than break a nail. “Excellent. I will be happy to catalog all issues in the place, though I have a sneaking suspicion that it will be an incredibly short one: Everything. If it has been abandoned for as long as it you claim, I doubt anything will be usable.” Aster pointed out in all seriousness. He wasn't certain if Dobbs was testing them, but he appreciated the pace. Swimming was all cardio and the speed was perfect. He didn't have to slow.himself down because the Straights couldn't figure out how to put.one foot in front of the other.

“And the sleeping situation? What does that look like? I have to start visualizing where to put my things.”
Danni Kingston

Location:Contest Stadium, Strange Academy
Skills:Pyrokenesis




As April went flying sky high, Danni stared at the wall of rock that took her place. He'd just told Speed and Hulking they weren't allowed to touch their supports and here they are, getting friendly fire from their ex and not ex.

Heh, fire.

“Oye, Jotunn! What the ‘eck, girle?! Don't you-” Danni had plenty to say but the thunderous crack of America crash landing on the field sent Danni stumbling. A crater now sat between him and Beanie - why were people trying to get between him and her now too?! - and all he could do was watch with horror as America held absolutely nothing back, the sick sound of Beanie's chest barely holding its own loud in his ears. He was distracted and barely dodged the half hearted punch she threw this way. “America! Beanie isn't a villain! Why you ‘ittin’ anyone ‘ere t'at ‘ard?! Like, I know, t'e muscles area good look on you - that profile is killer, btw, can I take some photos some time or maybe you wanna come on t'e show? - but maybe don't-”

Danni's chastising was cut off as the landslide started. He was not strong enough to carry another person while he was flying, and he needed as much maneuverability as he could get so instead, he took off before the falling rubble could cut him off and cleared the threat. “Spicy, you got Princess, aight?” Danni shouted and then turned back to America.

“Tag! You're it!” Danni shouted as he fired off two shots into America's side and then bolted, trying to draw her away and up into the sky.







A new day dawned on Strange Academy. The Academy gong ushered in the break of dawn, its magic traveling through the halls and deep into the bones of its students. Nightmares and dreams both shattered beneath the weight of its enchantment and students were dragged to the waking world once more.

While the rest of the students grumbled in their beds and woke to morning meditation or physical training classes, those who contemplated the Mysteries were permitted more freedom. The early morning was theirs, before the dining hall opened for morning meals and the students were expected at their Mysteries. Some may find sleep again, others wander the grounds, and some who'd been here for some years, may seek the comfort of familiar locales.

The Statue of Ardyon

Connie, Barty, Jake


The Archive boasted a number of ancient, powerful, and cursed artifacts from across the universe, carefully contained and countered in every way manageable. Long, chained lights dangled from its vaulted ceilings and creaked as the tiniest vibration caused them to sway. The walls were dominated by tiny, tiny filing cabinets, the font of each written in a strange script that most would need a magnifying glass to even attempt to decipher. On a perch above it all, The Archivist watched unblinkingly. The Owlfolk sorcerer was as old and dusty as their note cards, their robes long faded and the color of their feathers long stolen by time. Still, they watched and hardly breathed as students came to peruse their Mysteries or the artifacts on display.

Four glass cases dominated the area, warded and locked, displaying the Wand of Watoomb, The Eye of Uatu, The Ka Stone, and Dragonfang.

Door number 12 was beyond that, in a narrow crowded hallway designed to dissuade wanderers from traveling. Black wrought iron numbers hung on the doors, guiding the coven members down, and although resistant, would reluctantly permit the Coven to pass.

Inside was a simple room. Bland white walls were covered with thin black veils, six floor length candelabras each boasting 7 candles that lit as the door opened. Incense on the single table caught flame and soon rosemary, basil, and thyme filled the room and four pairs of white gloves, each sized appropriately, sat neatly stacked next to the incense holder. A series of circles, lines, and symbols carved into the floor surrounded the center piece:

The Statue of Adrolyn.

Depicting a man curled around a cubic object, The Statue of Adrolyn perfectly captured the distress of its subject. Each wrinkle in the skin, the look of horror and resignation, a hand held up to deflect or to beg, and clothing disheveled and torn at pointing to struggle. Lines and glyphs, different that those in the floor, were also carved into the statue and they pulsed with a faint red glow.

Professor Croan stood across the room from the incense, contemplating the statue. Without offering a greeting, Croan spoke. “Don your gloves and examine the statue. Any means is acceptable; it is indestructible.”

A Trip through Magic

Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia


Professor Mikkail's sitting room was as flamboyant as one could expect. Large windows along the wall let the morning sun filter in, intricate designs along the heavy purple and gold curtains tied neatly aside. A light purple velvet sofa sat beneath an oil painting of a long, lithe silver dragon wrapped around a metallic ship in the center of an amethyst lake. Two armchairs matching the sofa flanked it, a coffee table with a pink and green table runner running down it and a matching china tea set laid out with cakes and sandwiches. Delicate looking vases hosted large blooming harcross flowers around the room and vines with large leaves trailed down from the ceiling.

At the far end of the room, a small solarium sat with its glass doors shut and locked. Inside, a variety of glowing flora soaked up the sun and a rocking chair held a heavy quilt, a well loved paper back neatly settled on top.

A gramophone played in the corner, where several bookshelves with small silver dragons inlaid into the shelves hosted a measly portion of Mikkail's writing and scrolls. Several writing instruments and kits were packed away on an intricate writing desk, a small music box the only dusty thing in the room.

On the coffee table, the Coven would find handcrafted leather note books. Each one had their name embossed in fine gold with the pin symbol beneath it.

Callaghan Silver


Cassiopeia Belfontaine


Paedrus MacLeod


Willow Ojos


Into the Unknow

Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Frankie, Annika


The journey to the heart of the Academy was as challenging as any task they'd been set so far: deadends, blind turns, ans vanishing staircases some of the more mundane obstacles put in their path. Still the directions proved mostly true and admist a hallway where no sound carried, a reinforced steel door with runes visibly crackling with eldritch power sat nestled between six massive suits of plate mail and oddly enchanting landscapes of a mountain and a frozen tundra where multicolored lights drifted across the canvas. Periodically, something moved in the distance of the paintings but it was too difficult to see properly.

The crackling energy stilled, one rune at a time, and blinding light spilled out of the doors. Sariel, wearing knee high boots, an unbuttoned lab coat over her clothes, and goggles dangling around her neck, stepped out and beamed. “Good morning, Coven! We have plenty to do so we'll jump right in. Take one of the lab coats here and a pair of safety goggles; you won't know what you'll be working with until you see it so better to be over prepared. Gloves will be available once we're fully inside.” Sariel gestured to a coat rack where a variety of sized coats and goggles were available. The space was in fact a circular hallway that enveloped a main chamber inside. A door, locked tight, could offer quick access but Sariel was already moving away from it as the doors shut behind the Coven.

“This is the primary artificer laboratory. It requires special permissions as the work done here is dangerous to more than just the body. If something goes wrong, it can affect the mind and even the soul. Do not attempt accessing this space recklessly.” Sariel warned. Inside tubing and wires covered the ceiling, pulses of the same eldritch energy skittering across the web like spiders. Equipment of all shapes and size hummed, hissed, and screeched but the most everyone catching were three large hour glasses suspended in the center above three flasks sitting on agitation tables that swirled impossibly slowly. Still, Sariel wasn't stopping.

“Due to the secure nature of this facility, and for your own safety, you will only have access to the primary material for one hour three times a week. Over exposure to the material can, and has, caused significant damage to individual's magic. Sometimes their health but that is usually repairable. You will, in lieu of unrestricted access, will have access to a section of the Library you typically would not. We'll go over that more once you understand the nature of your role.” Sariel stopped at the opposite side of the circle, where a plain wooden door was set into a blackened stone wall, and opened the door.

The room inside was twice the size of he previous one and the feeling of magic was nearly overwhelming. An archway stood in the center, ancient stone overgrown with strange, ethereal tendrils set into a floor of marble pavers that were only broken by a ring of brown-reddish brick with runes carved into them. Similar wires and tubing covered the vaulted ceilings and hummed with eldritch power that scattered into the next room. A workbench ran the length of the room and above it a variety of strange artifacts of all materials were carefully arraigned in specific patterns that, to an unobservant eye, seemed pointless.

“Welcome to the heart of the Academy - The first gate to the Neverish. And in this mystery you'll be diving into its very depths!”





For Willow, the flames and screaming faded away and instead a paralyzing darkness took its place. There was no safety in this – a prison and a punishment for the sordid crime of life that Willow felt deep, deep in her bones. Movement was painful and there was no solace in this world – something evil, something warped, paced just outside her sight.

For Cassie, the slight cough cleared up as twelve butterflies crawled out of her mouth and fluttered about. Intricate runes burned along their wings and they left a trail of magic, her magic, behind them, before settling like jewels all over her. One that settled on her ear asked a soft question in a strange, broken voice: Who’s next?

For Finley, the fear faded away as their head cleared a little and they remembered where, and when, they were. Cal was a solid figure against them and they felt Dysphoria’s constant affection deeply – the world’s colors still shimmered and shifted but Finley was on the way to shrugging off the drugs.

For Jake, the pressure became unbearable. The pressure grew and he could feel the edges of his skull begin to split skin. But as quickly as it began, the pressure vanished and instead Jake was left with a sinking sensation in his stomach. Something had changed in the distance, a hole he didn’t know where, and something sleeping stirred for just a moment.

For Annika, her power surged again. Intense and overwhelming, it touched each of her creatures and they hissed and spat and shadows came off of them like embers. Without warning, they all split twice more and the room quickly filled with bunnies, terriers, and dragons.

Dysphoria felt a flash of possessiveness as Finley explained to Cal what would happen if her Lady appeared. Finley may be bound by such rules, but their Darling was theirs and they would happily tear Finley’s Lady limb from limb. Fey did taste yummy after all and it had been so long since Dysphoria had enjoyed a full meal of one. Still, such talk would only upset Finley so Dysphoria settled for tightening their hold on the fey, more tendrils scattering across them. “I will keep you safe, my Darling. No matter where you go, they won't harm a single hair on your head.” Dysphoria spoke softly, just for Finley, and kissed beneath their ear.

The big bug fluttered to them, panic and distress in every line of their body, and Dysphoria extended a tendril to it. “Do not worry, little bug. Come to me and I will keep you safe from the spooky things. I like eating spooky things the most.” Dysphoria cooed softly, their grin revealing row after row of large, razor sharp teeth and biting playfully.

Nicholas swallowed down the bubbles, the sweetness making him wrinkle his nose just a bit, but before he could complain, he stumbled back as he was shoved out of the way of Cal’s transformation. He went wide eyed, watching the attractive man elongate and flee to the other side of the room. A small flare of jealousy ran through him as Finley was snatched away with him. Cuddling with the dragon looked comfy and Nicholas lost all interest in the bubbly boy, stepping on him without a care as he stumbled forward. Alfonse lifted the tray of water as Nicholas nearly ran into it, gave Barty a look, and continued towards the exit. He held the tray out, plastic cups of water ready for people to leave.

“I’d recommend everyone take two. It will help get it out of your system.” Alfonse.

Nicholas stumbled over the dogs and rabbits, managing to catch himself on a chair, but he saw one at the feet of the dragon: a little shadow copy of it and he snatched it up without a second thought. “Dràgon beag cho grinn. Ag iarraidh fear.” He muttered, the drugs making him louder than normal, but he brought it up and kissed the snout and held it despite it trying to wiggle free. His head snapped up at his brother’s declaration and he smiled slyly, leaning against Cal with an ease and a look he usually reserved for behind closed doors. “Chan e sibhse triùir, ge-tà. Tha planaichean agam. Bidh e spòrsail.”

“Rohan, Connie, you need a hand with them or you got it?” Milthza asked, coming around the bar to kneel.down and help Jake up. “As for you, you really shouldn't put those two before yourself. They'll hang you out to dry if it'll help them.”



Danni Kingston

Location:Contest Stadium, Strange Academy
Skills:Pyrokenesis




“‘eck yeah! We'll trade numbers and Snikts!” Danni beamed, failing to notice the gentle shift of expectations. “Oof, nice shot Andy! I ‘eard t'at from ‘ere!” Danni cheered as he surveyed the field to pick his next shot. He was getting bored with Wiccan now that he'd had his revenge and he'd put up this big shield that looked like it needed kmowledge to break and Danni was head empty at all times. Much easier that way. He'd let the captains figure that one out.

“Wooooow. I build this beautiful dome for you, keep ya all nice and toasty, and y'all just abandon it. It's a work of art! ‘Ow am I supposed ta just throw it away like t'at?! Did ya even take t'e time ta appreciate it or were ya too busy caring about ‘scapin’?” Danni whined loudly as Hulkling and Miss America escaped his confinement. He gave it a sad, sorrowful look as he stopped focusing on it, and pretended not to hear the moment the flames stopped. It was per-

Oh shit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, ‘old your ‘orses! T'at's so mean! T'at was Beanie's first bubble! Why you…” Danni was already dropping when Hulkling shattered the force field, not willing to leave their supports vulnerable as the 300 pound tank threatened them, but Tommy was faster. He couldn't count the punches, but he could see April grunting with every hit, bruises blooming across her skin, and Danni saw red. He was shaking, the fury catching in his throat and twisting, and he barely caught himself in time, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He held his hands out at Speed's face, angling it to catch Hulking just behind him.

“I didn't say you could touch t'em so ‘ands off!” Danni snarled. At point blank range, Danni almost exploded with a cone of fire hotter than he'd ever managed before. The heat roared across the field and up through the stands and Danni willed Speed and Hulkling to burn for daring to get in that bubble.








Location: Camp Lava Lake Trail Head
Skills: N/A
Outfit: Outfit





Aster didn't bother acknowledging the little man on a power trip beyond a bored stare. He was just another washed up want-to-be, regretting not going to school and actually doing something with his life and so what little interest Aster had in fixing… well, everything about him vanished. Especially when Marco was suddenly so focused on the trio blessed with Aster's presence for the foreseeable future. Aster cocked a judgmental eyebrow at Marco at whatever noise he made and followed his eyes to the hankies sticking out of one's pocket and another wrapped around the other's wrist and…

“Oh for heaven's-” Aster could not roll his eyes far enough to express his exasperation. Aster had higher standards than what his peers could offer. Drunken, backroom fumbling was not what his body deserved nor something he had any interest wasting his time on so his experience was lacking, but he wouldn't lie and say he wasn't interested. Anyone trying to fly under the radar in certain circles knew the hanky code regardless of their current interests and Aster wanted to smack Marco on the nose with a roll of newspaper since he was acting like a dog in rut. Aster took a second look at the two hanging from the back pocket and had to double take.

“I was nearly certain the black haired one was a butch.” Aster muttered to himself, before turning back into the conversation with a long put off sigh. “Well, I certainly would have been touring the French countryside by now - I'd wanted to take the last Night Ferry trip before they closed but…” He gestured around the area as they walked. “I was informed, in no uncertain terms, that I would find my way out of this mess myself or else. And when I asked what the other option was, we'll, I didn't get a response so I decided I'd grace the back country with my presence after all.”

Aster narrowed his eyes at Dobb's revelation. Aster was perfection personified and while he cared for his looks more than anything, he wasn't an idiot. Five out of six of them, and Aster was willing to put money on the girl made it six, could be served up as a sweet fruit salad and now that he knew its blood history, Aster was more than a little suspicious someone wanted them gone and buried. Homophobia really knew no limits. He'd make sure the twins realized that once they had the space to themselves. Straight people would always find creative ways to get rid of the weirdos however they could.

“Unless they left the remains laying around in a locked cabin, wildlife probably did most of the cleaning. Probably just old blood stains and as long as we're given reasonable supplies, it'll take a bit of elbow work but it'll all come out.” Aster offered hanky boy. He didn't know if anyone introduced themselves, but he certainly wasn't listening to anyone but himself earlier. Aster couldn't resist chuckling at the cannibal comment - their captor certainly deserved worse for turning down his assistance.

“What supplies do we have already? Is there a running stock or do we have a random assortment of things that hopefully aren't past their expiration? Am I expecting generic or name brand and will you get exactly what I put on the list or an approximation? And who is funding it, a govement spendong card or personal funds?








Location: Camp Lava Lake Trail Head
Skills: N/A
Outfit: Outfit





Windows rolled down and Queen blaring, Aster drove with all the enthusiasm he danced with: the complete and utter disregard for anyone around him. Why should other people's safety concerns ruin his day? They shouldn't and he'd happily claim the swerving tracks in the dirt road he barreled down. He still didn't agree that he deserved this banishment to the rustic backwoods. Aster was very mindful, very demure, only slashing that bastard's tires. If he'd known he was going to be punished for doling out justice, Aster would have smashed in the asshole's windshield and his side mirrors. Baseball bats were plenty cheap and readily available at a mall after all. Bastard better hope Aster doesn't catch up with him.

However, dwelling on little, shortsighted men didn't suit him very much and Aster swerved into the gravel lot and slammed on his brakes just in time to avoid his precious baby turning into a heap of scrap metal. Well, all's well that ends well and Aster unclipped his seat belt, paused at opening the door, and took a second to check himself in the mirror. As always, everything was perfect, the epitome of human beauty he was regularly told. Of course, they were wrong. He was the epitome of godly beauty and while it may as well be a sin to suggest anything else, Aster thought their quaint compliments were adorable enough to offer forgiveness.

He was just too kind.

He permitted himself a few more moments in the mirror before he tore himself away lest his own beauty bewitch him and stepped out into the wilderness. He slid his aviator's glasses on and stretched, shaking out the soreness of sitting for too long, and surveyed his new surroundings. A quaint little forest, far away from any trappings of modern society, a fat and crotchety old man, a pair of siblings, a lesbian, and two familiar faces. What an eclectic group of people.

“Marco! Emily. At least some tolerable folk made it out here. Aster greeted them as he pulled out two large leather suitcases, one slightly smaller than the other. “I wasn't really certain what we would need so I made sure to bring plenty. Just a few outfits, six or seven pairs of shoes, a full face kit, and definitely some exfoliating products because if I find even the threat of a break out because of this nonsense, well let's just say property damage will be the least of their concerns.”

Aster looked Dobbs up and down over the rim of his glasses. “Have you ever considered a little less beer for that belly? A few weeks and we could even get you into stripes.”
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