Asgeir

Unfortunately, I don't have any screenshots of the book I learnt from. I bought it at the auction house, and the author wasn't any of the people that you mentioned, so it may have been a dud. It had all of the correct information in it, so I used it.

I have been roleplaying Arcane Evo for a good year now and have gotten to know it intimately. If you need people to vouch for my quality of roleplay, just say the word.

*Odin tramps over to the noticeboard. After reading it, he scribbles a note, then pins it to the empty portion of the poster. The vagrant wizard then wanders off.*

"Odin Hrafnblodt. Arcane and Electrical Evocation. Send me a raven and we'll have a drink."

((Need to have my MA re-accepted, then put in a TA. You can teach me first.))

MC name:

MagusArcanus

Character's name and age:

Odin Hrafnblodt, 63

Character’s Race:

Human

What magic/s did you learn?:

Arcane Evocation and Electrical Evocation

Who/how did you learn magic/s?:

Odin learnt Arcane Evocation from a spellbook that Odin bought during the period of time in which Magic Apps had been abolished. It covered the basics of the school as well as connecting to the void (which Odin had some IC help with). Odin began learning some Electrical Evocation from RedBench but did not continue his study of it until much later, when Odin bought another spellbook.

Offer an explanation of said magic/s you learned: 

Electrical Evocation is the act of using your knowledge of electricity to evoke energy that resembles electricity from the void, after forming a connection with it. Once brought into the physical dimension, the caster can manipulate this energy at will. However, the caster must use his/her mana to sustain it until he/she stops fuelling the spell. Once the caster stops fuelling the spell, the energy dissipates and reenters the void. Electrical Evocation is very costly energy-wise, and so it takes longer to cast. However, it hits very hard and can easily make up for it's lack of speed for sheer power. It's also one of the most dangerous forms of Evocation to learn, as novice students will often be unable to control the amount of energy that they evoke, resulting in potentially life-threatening injury in some cases. As a student's learning progresses these events happen less and less, however even grand masters of Electrical Evocation suffer from phases of impotence.

Arcane Evocation is the act of 'funnelling' energy from the void through your aura and evoking it into the physical plane. This energy is represented as pure, wispy magical energy that takes the color of your aura. Once brought into the physical dimension, the caster can manipulate this energy at will. However, the caster must use his/her mana to sustain it until he/she stops fuelling the spell. Once the caster stops fuelling the spell, the energy dissipates and reenters the void. Arcane Evocation (or Arcanism as it is now called) is an incredibly versatile school of magic, that can be applied to both combat and non-combat situations. Once the arcane energy has formed, the caster can meld it into any shape he/she chooses (ex. a ball, butterfly, battleaxe). However, the energy itself is only as solid as a highly pressurized gas and can never create sharp or solid objects, so even if the caster were to summon an arcane battleaxe, it would be blunt and very likely to 'shatter' (explode) if the caster's focus was somehow interrupted.

((REDACTED UNTIL MY MAGIC APP IS ACCEPTED))

((REDACTED UNTIL MY MAGIC APP IS ACCEPTED))

Odin's solitary jade green eye widens as he strokes his silky, alabaster beard for a moment, rereading the poster just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating again.

"Hrmmmm... extraordinary. An institution that is focused on actual magical study, instead of collecting students like a swarm of dung beetles collects faeces. I must inquire further into this..."

Odin chuckles as he lopes away, leaving an odor of cheap alcohol and mustard that lingers for many minutes after he has left.

"Oropher… do you remember me?"

I was the Dungeon Master for my very first D&D game, for which I wrote a campaign set in Forgotten Realms. The Church of Cyric was taking control of a small city, and it was the main objective for the characters to take down the church, free everyone from religious slavery and make sure that power was given back to the people.

Obviously, we didn't have a paladin in our group, but we had a sorcerer, a rogue, a ranger and a barbarian. Fun times ensued.

~~~

My first LOTC encounter was… less than savory to say the least.

I was wandering around during the beginning of Kalos, when suddenly I stumbled upon a wayward orc. I began to RP with him, but he PGed me and then PVPed me. I thought that this was how the server generally ran, so I decided not to play for the next few weeks. It's also the reason that I don't RP with orcs, as I have never had a good experience playing with them.

I have nothing more to say.

Tythus… fix the server. It is your destiny...

*Odin walks over to the podium, the corner of his eye crinkling as he grins from ear to ear. He takes one ring from the box, then pats Ramza on the shoulder.*

"A fine speech headmaster. I will do what I can to teach others the meaning of knowledge."

*He saunters off to a secluded area of the gardens to smoke his pipe.*

*Nathaniel stumbles down the street, smelling of alcohol and covered in the latest batch of bruises from a fistfight. He glances at a poster on the wall advertising the Gentlemen's Society.*

"Hmmm… perhaps it is time to return to my old life…"

*He looks down at his scarred, calloused hands. They were his weapons, his tools, his life. Could he leave behind the pain and sorrow of his past? He did not know, but he was damn well going to try! Nathaniel proceeds to steal some high-quality ink and parchment from an unguarded stall, then sits at a public bench to write a poem in surprisingly good handwriting.*

The Letter

 

'Neath the glow - of a shining crescent moon,

A young boy cried out at his plight,

Though not a soul in the crowd - had stopped to listen,

Beneath that silver moonlight.

 

His breath came and went - in ragged gasps,

His sobs falling 'pon deafened ears,

This contempt and neglect - among other things too,

Are the cause of his violent years.

 

Then along came a lass - of elegance and class,

At their shared age of sixteen,

To stop and to listen - her ruby locks a'glisten,

To what the older boy had seen.

 

They came to be friends - and good ones at that,

Over the course of a year,

She taught him to write - He taught her to laugh,

And to each-other, they were held dear.

 

She spoke with her father - a stubborn old Count,  *The 'O' in 'Count' has been scribbled out, then hastily placed back again.*

About whether he could stay,

The old man agreed - but this he guaranteed,

"One wrong move, and I'll send him away."

 

Dressed in fine clothing - versed in good manners,

And sporting an excellent tan,

After a year - it did quite appear,

That the boy was becoming a man,

 

One fateful night - when the stars shone like diamonds,

The two did creep to her room,

They made sweetest love - 'neath that blanket of stars,

And with that he had sealed her doom.

 

'Pon the next morn - with a mighty roar,

The father drove them from bed,

Aiming at him a slash - with his mighty broadsword,

Which caught his daughter instead.

 

She hit the ground - both men crying aloud,

Her face not displaying her pain,

She uttered to him - her final loving words,

And then never breathed again.

 

He struck at her father - who stood there stunned,

The cursed blade slipped from his grasp,

Roaring with fury and rage - he ripped at his throat,

Killing him before he could gasp.

 

The man escaped with his life - although just barely,

As the guards finally arrived,

Though to him this fact - was no victory,

As of his lover he was deprived.

 

He still visits her grave - 'pon the peak of a hill,

When the stars are shining bright,

He brings a single red rose - the kind that she chose,

And stays for the rest of the night.

 

'Neath the glow - of a dull crescent moon,

A young man cried out that night,

Though not a soul in their graves - did stir to listen,

Beneath that silver moonlight.

 

*Nathaniel wipes some stray tears from his eyes as he finishes the poem, a few dropping onto the bottom of the page.*

"Urgh… I'm going to need some new clothes…" *He mutters, looking down at his open leather jacket and tight-fitting stained pants, the only items of clothing he owns.*

*He pins the letter to the poster, then saunters off to find appropriate clothing.*

((Hot damn is this taking off or what? Looks like I have a ton of new Scholar students.))

((I just wanted to ask if we could make a student list that was organized into the various classes that they will be taking. I can do it myself if I have permission.))

((I.. fought someone in the courtyard…  ))

Literally the best character on LOTC.

I luv u <3 +1

 

Dhaun'che looks up and sighs. "I have been trying to get a hold of you." she says. "You are still supposed to be helping with out tubes. We will be updating our list. Construction of the academy in these new lands have made it difficult for me to get to the paperwork. I apologize."

 

((While I am currently busy building/working irl, I am not necessarily able to read through all the posts. If I accepted you then I am sorry if you were left off the list. When I get a chance, I am going through the list and adjusting it. Please be patient.))

*Odin bows his head respectfully, then leaves in a brusque manner, eager to get back to work.*

((Sorry I couldn't make it the other day, work has been hectic lately and I've been very busy.))

*Odin storms into Ramza's office. He holds a copy of the staff list in his hand. He doesn't look happy.*

"Pardon me, Headmaster, but where am I on this list? I was accepted to teach Scholar classes, but I can hardly see my name registered here. If you have changed your mind, I would have expected to be notified in some way…"

*Odin sits at home reading a book and happily awaiting the start of the academic year at Rainë Academy, where unbeknownst to him he will be working alongside Dared as a professor.

Just finished the survey.

I thought that maybe Northerners would be better lumberjacks and craftsmen with wood, leather and stone. I also thought that since they might have a firmer grip on their culture, they would have retained more glyphs than the other races, and should start by knowing 1 random low level glyph.

Maybe that's just me being patriotic about Viking runes and my culture… but meh.

Great work in all. Will stay tuned in case I need a skin.

Fail plane is super dee dooper in all areas of awesome.

+1

-snip-

9/10 vereh funneh.

*Odin glares at Ahern before placing his next bid.

"400 for the second chest!"