SilverPaw

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

Reagan Gideon Breckenridge

The girl whom Reagan had praised not long ago as a mediator suddenly got mad at him, on behalf of a teacher of all things. As if the councilor needed her to intervene! Apparently she was similar to Daria in that regard, and Ray wondered at the coincidence that the two of them would share a room. El’s comments on respect and intelligence drew an involuntary sneer from him, however; she was using an intimately familiar tactic on him. Ray had met more than his share of adults who thought they could model him into some perfect heir, and who meant to control every single aspect of his life with that exact same sorry excuse of an argument.

“It was a joke, and you are the only one getting heated here” he informed El with an eyeroll. “I’d need an acid-proof stomach to even consider it,” he muttered to himself, brushing loose fabric from the damaged part of his outfit. Ugh, this jacket was ruined. Just great. Reagan thought it was still better to keep the thing, however, as he wasn’t certain how much money his parents would be willing to shell out for non-essentials when they were still so pissed.

Reagan rolled his shoulders, and huffed at his friend rather than get fixated on another over-reactive person. “Not any weirder than Betty’s imagination,” he replied to Feier, shrugging. Nevertheless, he was glad for her teasing observation, and his smile showed it.

As the student, whose first name he learned was Helena – not just Hel – due to Betty’s mention, soon excused herself, however, so Ray left her to it. Instead, he listened to the councilor with mild curiosity. “Sounds like you get spilled more often that you’d like,” he commented, rising a judging eyebrow, though the sharp reply was tempered by an upwards twitch of his lips.

“So you’ve decided to put the three problem students in one room? Curious arrangement, but I’m sure you have more than us to worry about,” he said to Betty, amused.

“Yeah, I heard, we’re with August,” Ray chuckled at Fei’s enthusiasm. Her joy was invigorating, and the resulting uplift in his mood was enough for Ray to forget entirely about Daria and Helena. “Sure, let’s go over,” he agreed, pleased to be in the company of a like-minded comrade who also had the perk of exuding an aura of carefree fun.

“Hmm, that incident of his, huh?” he barked a laugh. “I’ll let August tell you all about it,” Ray promised, expecting that to go over well, if well was a synonym for hilarious. He sighed, eyes closing briefly, grinning at the nostalgic bliss one of the more memorable events at the Institute brought him. Teachers and students alike had resembled uncoordinated chickens in their attempts to fix the incident, but their endeavors were laughably pathetic. Not to mention how nonfunctional their preventive measures had been.

“Oh, hey, look at that cutie he’s talking to,” he whispered to Fei. “Isn’t that kid adorable? Makes me want to pinch his cheek or something,” he murmured, expression softening as he looked at the brown-haired boy chatting to the blonde. There was something alluring about the plain-looking lad, though Reagan couldn’t quite put a finger on the why of it.

They approached the duo just as the kid introduced himself as AJ. “Seems like a nickname,” Reagan noted neutrally, mildly dubious despite AJ’s claim. Ray considered himself an expert on nicknames, after all, and that didn’t have the ring of a full name. “That’s fine though. I go by Ray even though my folks named me Reagan,” he confessed, his tone making it clear that he did not find his name appealing.

“Anyhow, we came over to inform August here,” he nodded at the blonde, “that Betty just told us that the three of us are dorming together,” he revealed, gesturing at Fei, the blonde, and himself, displaying another of his open-mouthed grins. “Since we were all expelled from the Institute for causing shit and all that,” he conveyed the councillor's reasoning with a smirk.

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@Cotton @xia @Zinita @stone @Aviaire

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

Reagan Gideon Breckenridge

Reagan had experience with cats of the mundane variant, and Daria bore a striking resemblance to a feline about to pounce on their prey with relentless fury. He was considering whether to relocate himself before she could scratch at his face or attempt to knock out a tooth or two, when another student stepped between them. Ray was sure he’d peripherally heard an introduction from her, but could only remember that her name was somehow related to the underworld. Is it just Hel? Pretty ballsy name to give a kid if so, he thought. That she was actually able to reign in the enraged Leopardkin was impressive, and Ray nodded at her in thanks.

Daria then gave her parting remarks, to which Reagan simply said, “Noted,” with a quirk of his brow. Once she left, he turned to Feier. “Wasn’t that the most cliché development possible?" he asked, seeking seeking to confirm that he wasn’t the only one caught off guard by that. "Seriously? A duel at dusk? Where is that kid from?” he wondered, openly baffled at this recent experience. “Such a classical example of a brute,” he muttered condescendingly.

With a flip of his hair, Ray shook the odd mood off him, redirecting his attention to his friend and Hel. The latter had a wit and temperament he could appreciate from what little he’d seen, so Reagan allowed a small but genuine smile overtake his face as he snorted at her remark. “I am still undecided if I want to waste my time for the likes of her,” he commented. As the conversation topic was non too gently changed, however, Ray shifted gears with grace and a hidden feeling of gladness.

“Fei and I met at the Institute,” he smirked, offering the green-eyed, black-haired girl in question a fist bump, glancing at her briefly with a sly look. “Right, Fei?" he chuckled. "Oh, and by the way, I don’t know if you’d ever noticed him, since his incident was after you were expelled, I believe, but doesn’t he seem like Lacey-Vane to you?” he asked, pointing to the taller blonde boy some ways away.

Just then, their conversation was interrupted by a slime lady, who forced herself into his personal space and began dispensing unsolicited advice. Ray’s eyebrows twitched. Is this how Daria had perceived him? He empathetically did not want to sympathize with her. He stared down the councilor with a thoroughly unimpressed expression. “Seriously?” he exclaimed for the second time in as many minutes. “All you managed to catch was El’s joke, and you honestly…” Ray trailed off, noticing his voice had raised in pitch. Reagan disliked when that happened, so he stopped and allowed himself a long breath.

“It’s not that kind of a date,” he snapped, honestly disgusted at the very idea, tone souring at the offensive word he was forced to repeat. “The only protection we could possibly need to worry about is the kind that’s effective against attempts on one’s life,” he informed her, lips twisted in displeasure. With a huff, Ray shook his head. Here he was, playing straight man to some naïve, doltish professor. How had it come to this? Reagan had wanted to question Betty if she would truly trust as delicate of a matter as she assumed she came across to his most recent prank victim, but let the matter go.

Instead, he smoothed out his expression, bidding the jaws of his mind to release their firm grip on that Daria girl. “But never mind that, Betty,” he began, tone sickly sweet, “the important thing here is you,” Ray declared, an unholy gleam in his eyes. “I have never been able to confirm this, but I’ve heard rumours,” he leaned closer to her, voice hushed as if conveying the greatest of secrets, “that the outer layers of a slime can be used to make the highest quality of jellies,” he concluded, lips stretching into a sharp-toothed grin.

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@RabidAnubis @Cotton @xia @Zinita

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

@RabidAnubis Ball's in your court. Whether there's actually a fight or not depends on Daria now, I should think.

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

Reagan Gideon Breckenridge

Several more students showed up. A shy newcomer, another girl, a blonde and weirdly shining one. Was that holy light? Reagan politely nodded at her, and said, “Welcome,” calmly, regally; as if personally inviting her to feel free to join the conversation. A blonde student began helping a professor arrange the tables, yet he also knocked off some things. Ray smiled, though it was a tad distant, as he was in the grips of a strong déjà vu. I swear that’s…nooo way…Yes way?? Before he could get too excited and ask Feier if she was seeing the same thing he was, one of the cat ladies took offense to him.

The pink haired girl up and went into his face and started bitching at him for his constructive criticism. Feier attempted mediating, and while he glanced at her with a brief expression of gratitude, he wasn’t about to back down. “Thanks Fei, but I got it,” he said, but thought, I hope. His reply to Fia was as gentle as he was capable of making it, yet it still came across as imperious more so than anything else.

Reagan turned back to Pink, as he chose to term her, and glared right back. “Ha? How the fuck is it free when we’re paying for it?” Ray rolled his eyes, and shook his head in bewildered annoyance. “Yeah, you’re apparently so poor you identify with your food and feel insulted alongside it,” he snorted. “It’s not even like you made it,” Reagan huffed, bemused and frankly irritated to be called out on his rich boy’s behaviour. Yeah, so he was used to higher standards, so sue him if expecting bad then getting a shithole was a bit of a shock.

“Ahh, yes, I can certainly see how wretchedly my comments have affected you,” he drawled. “And you accuse me of a fragile constitution?” Ray tone and smile were both obviously mocking, though it couldn’t be said that he took much joy in the situation. He really didn’t need or want some random stranger making assumptions about him.

“Don’t worry, I came here just so no girl could ever possibly be compelled to attach herself to me,” he remarked dryly, though he doubted this hothead would understand what he was actually implying. Then again, no one would unless they were familiar enough with him to know that one of the many reasons he detested his parents was because of their oh so favoured concept of arranged marriage.

“This may be another unwarranted observation on my part, stranger, but maybe try learning that just because you can take shit, why should you?” he suggested haughtily. “Exactly as you confronted me for my poor social graces,” the air quotes for that phrase were loud and clear without Ray needing to make the appropriate gesture, “you can simply not be satisfied with mediocrity, whether for your darling food or whichever other element of your life you might care for.” Reagan concluded, rising a questioning brow at the surprisingly volatile student.

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

Reagan Gideon Breckenridge

When he was done with the admissions officer – and hadn’t that been fun? – Reagan took to exploring the academy’s grounds, getting a feel of the layout and memorizing some convenient locations he could displace himself to. By the time he’d made it to the party that had been advertised to them, a few students had already gathered at the snacks table. What drew Ray’s attention, however, were the teacher’s antics. A dryad was chucking balloons at some guy, and they just stuck to him, which caused the guy to shriek in outrage. Ray covered his mouth with a palm and giggled near-silently at the poor flustered professor.

Strolling to the plant woman, he whispered, “Hey, teach, watch this,” and after takin a few seconds to scan his target and the selected ‘weapons’, enacted his plan. Multiple delayed displacements, easy peasy, Ray grinned, and with a twitch of his fingers, a shadowy portal swallowed three of the smallest balloon clusters. A second later, they reappeared right next to the human professor with a poof of smoke, gently bumping into his torso, the side of his face, head, and limbs, leaving more surface of him covered than not. He barely had room enough to breathe, part of his mouth was obstructed, and only one eye was free enough to glare fiercely at the gathering.

“What is this sorcery?!” he squawked. He was probably genuinely wondering who’d done this to him, and how exactly, but the turn of the phrase was quite the unfortunate one.

“Pfft,” the dryad smirked. “Not bad, kid,” the lady of vines gave him a once over, before looking back at the riotous sight of Professor Cyrus with appreciation. “Minus points for stealing my only source of entertainment though,” she pouted. “He’ll really leave at this rate,” she muttered with a disappointed sigh.

“That would be a shame, he looks like loads of fun to keep around,” Ray replied, undeniable amused. “Maybe y’all can convince him,” he winked at the assembly of bored or semi-occupied professors, and left for the refreshment table. Reagan situated himself so he had a prime position to watch his prank victim still struggling to peel the balloons off his body. This guy is just too easy. Perfect for destressing. The lizard man was already helping the human professor remove the balloons, though more so for the sake of the decorations rather than to help relieve his colleague, Ray thought, the youth’s demeanour still blatantly self-satisfied.

The teenager delicately picked up a muffin, eating it neatly as he observed the goings-on. The chocolate muffin was dry and lacking in sugar content. Ray wrinkled his nose. Ugh, low quality food, this’ll be one of the many inconveniences of this place. Oh well, he sighed, and took a rum ball next, which was marginally better. As the professors’ shenanigans weren’t getting any interesting developments at the moment, Reagan’s redirected his focus to the three female students grazing at – or in the case of the pink-haired one, devouring – the food. Two were cat-folk, and the third…Oh? Reagan cocked his head to the side, a pleased smile spreading across his face. This year just got a 100% better. He didn’t immediately express his eagerness to meet up with Feier, however.

“Hey, guys, I’m Ray,” he introduced himself with a grin. “So, does anyone else find this fodder totally deplorable or is that just me?” he asked, tone and expression full of levity, though he was genuinely wondering. “I bet I could whip up something better,” he stated confidently. “Whoever baked this,” he sighed, and shook his head, “I kinda pity them, ya know? Though it’s really us right now that have to bear with their lack of skill,” he snorted, but nonetheless placed a roll cake on a plastic platter and proceeded to fork it into small pieces, which he ate thoughtfully.

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

@Zinita If we wanna mess with the teachers, can we have them react in small ways or should we leave all that to you? I forgot if that was asked already or not, but I have ideas for my 1st post that I need this info for.

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

Missing door or present guinea pig, which is better? Too bad there wasn't anyone with some sort of time (or duplication) magic or something in between, then we could have had both.

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

Fun fact: I used the posh name generator for Ray's middle and last name. (I also considered giving him multiple names like Helena has, except his parents would have done it unironically for "prestige". I didn't feel like generating more though, lol.)

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

“I usually ask the locals too…but what if they intentionally point us to some ambush location?” Ifrari expressed his worry, biting his lower lip as he considered whether his paranoia was warranted or not. “Know what, we probably will have to ask around, let’s just be extra cautious of traps, then,” he decided.

The dark elf then watched in wonder as Rex threw the ginormous sword and swung it around with ease – with only one arm. “Whoa,” he couldn’t help but murmur. Obviously, the youth was large and muscular, but he hadn’t really imagined the sheer power he had. “Yeah, that works. You knock them away, and I’ll pick them off with my spear.” Ifrari nodded, grinning. He certainly was more confident about the mission after that demonstration.

The Hundi expressed a concern about morality and Ifrari cocked his head to the side. “Rex, if at any point during the mission you think we’re doing something immoral or questionable, just notify me. I can get too focused on the job, sometimes, so I might not notice,” he confessed. The dark elf wasn’t entirely sure what specific concerns the Hundi had; maybe he was just wary of not helping strangers unrelated to the mission? It could have been something else too though, given how uncomfortable he appeared, which is why Ifrari said what he had.

“Let’s go then,” he confirmed, and the two made their way out of Venne.

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

Reagan Breckenridge

He really, really wanted to take a break. And why shouldn’t he? The admissions officer quickly slipped a “Busy making a phone-call, please wait for my invitation!” notice on the outside of his office door, which he locked behind him, and slumped against. At least he’d taken care of that guinea pig. He shambled to the chair behind the desk, practically poured himself into it, contemplating his life. Unfortunately, he was disturbed just minutes later by sudden, violent knocking on his door. He startled, picked up the handset of the phone – what was he doing, did he really need to pretend to make a phone call just for a little peace? – muttered a soft “Excuse me,” into the speaker, then shouted, “Just a moment, please!”

The knocking stopped, but before the admissions officer could take some well-deserved time off, as short lived as it would be, his whole door was swallowed in some sort of shadowy…substance? Then it promptly disappeared, and he heard a distant clatter-crash, which sounded suspiciously like wood breaking.

Into his now door-less office sauntered what could only be the next student. The admissions officer replaced the phone handset, and very deliberately collected the application form for his next scheduled interviewee from the top of the pile of similar forms.

“Welcome,” he said, not at all sounding welcoming. The youth in front of him kept the pleasant smile which had been affixed to his face ever since he’d entered. The admissions officer had the vague feeling of being approached by a predator, despite the casual confidence with which the teenager approached and threw himself into the chair on the other side of his desk. The boy was still smiling pleasantly.

The admissions officer cleared his throat, glanced at the form, and asked, “Reagan Gideon Breckenridge?”

“Yep,” the boy answered, popping the p. He then grinned, revealing two rows of sharp, sharp teeth, and added, “You can call me Ray though.”

The admissions officer wrote down the nickname, and went down the list. Age, 16. Gender, male. Nationality, The Federation. Under appearance was written ‘Take a photograph if you must.’ The interviewer scribbled a ‘cca. 5’7 tall’ next to it. Species…

“Human?” the admissions officer blurted out, gaze snapping to the gray-haired, red-eyed boy.

Ray rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that shit. I was born a human, I’m a human, alright? Next question,” the teenager snapped, tapping his pointy red nails on the office desk.

“Er. Right. I see that you wrote violence, deceit, trickery, and mischief under physical abilities and skills…Could you elaborate?” the older male wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but the more details he had on a troublemaker, the better…supposedly.

The honestly demonic looking youth in front of him was once again amused, offering another discomforting grin. “I'm what you old folks call a delinquent. Or, as my parents would say, a problem child,” Ray carelessly inspected his nails, checking for non-existent lint.

The interviewer sighed, added a note to the boy’s profile, and decided to get this over with.

“Your magical style is spatial displacement, I believe you’ve already offered a demonstration,” the admissions officer noted, to which the boy only offered a haughty smirk. “Hm. So, what all can you do with it? Please, be as thorough as you can,” he asked, a pained tone entering his voice.

“I can relocate pretty much anything or anyone to anywhere,” Reagan stated, as if he’d had to explain this more than once, and was bored of doing so already. “Things with their own magic are tougher, sentient beings usually have to state their permission to being transported. Anything or anyone I displace can only be displace in its whole state, so the bigger something is, the more it takes out of me,” he recited. “Oh, yeah, I use my own magical energy to power the displacement, so,” he shrugged, though did not clarify. “Sacrifice, willing or unwilling, can expand the extent of my power,” Ray concluded with a yawn.

The admissions officer wrote this all down, and asked only, “Do you need visual contact?”

“Mmm, no, though it’s easier with it. Just a vague idea of a location is enough. I don’t even really need to see the person or item, because I can create this sort of very temporary portal…Obviously, it’s best to see what I want to displace though,” he expounded. “Hey, do you have anything sweet?” he asked suddenly.

“Er,” the admissions officer wasn’t sure if he should comment. Instead, he opened a drawer, took one of several sugar packets littering it, and handed it over to the teenager. Reagan grinned at him – for the first time seeming genuinely pleased for an entirely wholesome reason – ripped the packed, and shook all the sugar onto his tongue eagerly.

“Thanks,” he chirped, crumpled the empty packet, and threw the thrash onto his desktop carelessly. The older male was too exhausted to do anything but ignore this offhand impoliteness.

Magical Quirks: Some demonic traits, Reagan's form said. The admissions officer did not feel like getting additional information on that after that recent encounter, to be honest.

“Magical skills, hobbies, and interests: spatial displacement, occasional accidental brimstone production, mild heat resistance, oh I suppose those last two are the demonic part,” the older male muttered to himself. “You're interested in demonology and dark arts?” he sighed. The teen in front of him only nodded, and the admissions officer scribbled the following note: 'Observe interactions with AJ Underfoot.'

“You noted ‘Expulsion from previous schools’ when asked why you enrolled here. You were expelled from multiple schools?” the Fae Creek employee asked, exasperated, and very, very worried.

Reagan nodded. “Yeah, first it was for general misconduct and disrespect, then for getting into a fight with some snobs…last time I got some like-minded fellows and we tried opening a gate into Hell,” he uttered nonchalantly, “and this happened,” Ray said, gesturing to himself. “My parents threatened to disown me, but since they were too chicken to actually go through with that, they just sent me off to here,” the boy shrugged, his smile unrepentantly sly and smug.

The admissions officer turned to stare at Reagan for a long moment. "This last incidence involving a Hell-gate, er," he was almost too afraid to ask, "did it, uh, happen to occur at the Imperial Institute of Magic?"

Ray only smiled mysteriously, asked "And if it did?", and proceeded to laugh silently at the older male. The admissions officer was certain, certain that one school couldn't be possibly so terribly unfortunate. And surely, if Reagan had been expelled from his first two or so schools, he couldn't have been transferred to the institute...right? Clearing his throat, he continued the interview.

The personality section was blank, but the admissions officer could easily fill in some things. 'Easily bored. Disrespectful. Has a penchant for (hopefully non-lethal?) violence, but can apparently get along with certain individuals. Disdains elitism though he himself is arrogant? May desire to appear competent? Cheeky, flippant, sometimes profane. Can be bribed with sweets. Obviously has issues, apparently some due to his parents (and their expectations?)…who are surely rich and influential, but would just as surely take offense at being bothered. I suspect he can be a good student when properly motivated, however.'

“Alright, Ray, since you’ve already shared some of your past, let’s move onto the last section. What are some of your general skills, hobbies, and interests? You seem to have left this part blank,” the older male offered.

“Mm, yeah. Pranks…for laughs. Getting along with people, fighting them, either or both works for me. I make a pretty mean chocolate cake. 'Sides that, I'll do whatever’s thrilling or even remotely interesting, really,” Reagan offered, his smile wide, beaming, and not at all reassuring. “I hear this place is crazy. Lookin’ forward to that,” he winked, stood up, and saw himself out.

The admissions officer still had a door missing. He’d have to fix that. Why did he have to get it fixed?