THE OLD KINGDOM: DARKNESS RISING What is the Old Kingdom? In grade school, teachers tell their students that the Old Kingdom (sometimes called the 'OK') is the only place on earth where magic still exists. True magic, not stage magic with card tricks and pulling bunnies out of top hats. The kind of magic that can change the weather, destroy an entire army, or raise an island continent out of the sea. The OK still has magic because iron repels magic, and the ushering in of the Industrial Age weakened sorcery to the point that it simply can't survive near human cities. Because iron is banned in the OK, it is the last safe place for magic. Where is the Old Kingdom? The OK is located on a peninsula and it is surrounded by a high border wall made of stones, called 'the Border Wall' or just 'the Wall'. It is illegal for anyone to enter the OK, and it is also illegal for anyone to leave the OK. No one has gone through the Wall for hundreds of years, but it is commonly known that the Old Kingdom has a king and a queen, beautiful forests and greenery, zero technology, and that all kinds of magical creatures live there. That place is too dangerous for regular folk, which is completely fine, because what sane person would want to go there anyway? What's up with Primrose Preparatory High School? Primrose Prep is located in Taggerton, the nearest town to the Old Kingdom. At Primrose Prep, they teach all the normal classes that every other school has, but they also have magic classes. Because Taggerton is so close to the Old Kingdom, they can't avoid the magic that blows over the Walls. For this reason, people in Taggerton who are sensitive to magic can control it and make things happen. To avoid magical accidents, Mayor Lang sent a messenger pigeon over the Wall, requesting a sorcerer to teach magic at Primrose Prep. Mistress Wintersmith answered the call and she has taught magic at Primrose Prep ever since. OUR STORY BEGINS in Taggerton. You are a student at Primrose Prep, a young sorcerer that is learning magic from Mistress Wintersmith. Recently, there have been disappearances in Taggerton: twelve teenagers from Primrose Prep have gone missing in just a month. The whole town is on edge. Police are working double-shifts, and volunteers have also been walking the streets at night with flashlights. But sadly, all of their efforts have been fruitless. No one knows what happened to the teens, or if they are still alive, but many Taggerton citizens are blaming magic. Even Mistress Wintersmith has been the target of harrassment: someone painted WITCH in big red letters on her front door. It is clear to everyone that this must end, before more teens go missing...or before someone decides to do something more sinister to Mistress Wintersmith. IN THIS GAME each character will have three spells to begin with. During the three chapters of this game, you will get the chance to add a spell to your Spells List. Whenever Mistress Wintersmith tells you (her students) the phrase, "I'm going to teach you some spells now" that means you can add a new spell. Just remember to be very specific (and realistic) about exactly what each of your spells can do. For instance, if one of your spells is to create a fireball, you have to be realistic and know that a fireball won't burn through a solid iron door. (Maybe if you shot fireballs at the door over and over, but even then it would take a while!) And if your spell is to create a mini-tornado, you should not expect it to pick up a building or uproot an oak tree. As long as you follow that rule and avoid god-modding, you should be fine. In your first post, write about how your character feels about the teen disappearances as they head to their last class of the day, Spells & Rituals with Mistress Wintersmith. I hope you're ready for a rocky ride! CHARACTER TEMPLATE (Send to GM for approval before posting!) Name: Age (13-17): Gender: Appearance: Spells List: 1. _____: 2. _____: 3. _____: Personality: Favorite Subject: (English, Fine Art, PE, etc.) Other:
CHAPTER ONE: The Nature of Evil Mistress Wintersmith sat behind her desk, staring blankly out the window at the quad. Her long white hair was piled on top of her head in a series of braids, held in place with silver pins. As usual, she wore a knee-length black dress with a bright white collar, sheer black stockings, and pointy black heels. Her infamous purse (a huge leather bag that looked like it weighed a ton) sat by her feet, bulging with all her folders, hand-outs, and lesson plans inside. But despite her polished attire and her monstrous purse, she was looking uncharacteristically gloomy. Mistress Wintersmith was normally bright and upbeat, more energetic than any sixty-six year old in Taggerton, but today she looked weighed down by all her worries. She had never thought when she came to Taggerton that the people would eventually turn on her. Now she couldn't even go to the grocery store without getting dirty looks, or the occasional bold citizen that yelled at her, "What are you doing about all these disappearances, witch?" Before the teens started going missing she was a sorceress, but when things got bad she became a witch. That's how it always seemed to go: normal folk loved blaming all their problems on magical folk. Mistress Wintersmith was beginning to wonder if it was a mistake to leave the Old Kingdom and come to Taggerton. She had just been so curious about the outside world that she couldn't resist Mayor Lang's request. But now, she wasn't so sure that it had been worth it. "Curiosity killed the cat," Mistress Wintersmith muttered to herself. "And satisfaction brought it back again," said a new voice. Mistress Wintersmith whirled around and raised her hands in defense, cold blue light shining from her palms. But it was just Alex Wilder, one of her magic students. He stood in the doorway, sort of slouching, the hood of his hoodie pulled firmly over his head. He did not react to her glowing hands, he just stared at her, unperturbed. Mistress Wintersmith cleared her throat and closed her hands into fists, extinguishing the icy glow. "I am sorry, Mr Wilder," Mistress Wintersmith said with a weary sigh. "I'm just a bit on edge. You know, with all the..." "Disappearances," Alex interjected. "I noticed. You don't look like yourself." With that, Alex turned and sat in his usual seat in the second row and immediately stuck his nose into a book. What a strange boy, Mistress Wintersmith thought with a small smile. Alex was weird, yes, but she loved him dearly, just like she loved all her students. She would be devastated if she was forced to go back to the Old Kingdom, but with the way things were going, it seemed like that was exactly what was going to happen.
Most kids, when they hear their alarm clock, shut it at first. But of course it would be on snooze, so it would wake them again. After about fifteen minutes of snooze-and-repeat, followed by an angry parent waking them, they'd grudgingly wake up. Drake just stopped time. It was a beutiful thing, this new spell. An emtire hour of sleep, completely outside the natural time flow of the universe. But there wqqpas nust one problem with it. Of course, the only problem with it was that an hour is always over. And then he'd be back in the world where you have to get up and go to school. God, he hated that. The hour was up, and the alarm just kept going. Drake hit the snooze button, or so he thought. He woke up with a start, the time was 8:05. Shit. He ran to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then shaved. He opened his wardrobe, a mountain of clothes with no way of navigating, and threw on the first things he found. A star wars jersey and a pair of faded jeans. Then he ran to the kitchen. He thought about making a proper breakfast this time. Then again, he thought about alot of things. Opening the fridge, he took out a pair of slices of pizza from the night before. He put them in the microwave and said, in a clear voice, "Vida ex Machina." Because pushing a button is such a drag. The microwave turned on, counted down a minute, then opened. He took out the pizzas and began to eat. Once he finished, he sat on one of the kitchen chair. He closed his eyes and focused. "Teleport," he said. One day, he thought, he would get this right. On that day, he would disappear from his home, and reappear right on the chair by his desk. That day, as usual, he missed the chair by about a foot, and fell hard on his ass. With a string of swears, he stood up, and brushed the dust off his clothes.
Luckily, the attention he had drawn to himself was immediately distracted by the opening of the door. Andreas paused for a moment in the doorway, surveying the room, as if trying to decide if it was really worth carrying on with his day. He gave token nods to people already there. At least, he considered them to be polite nods. They were more like ticks, really. Exhaling, he strolled over to his seat. He was having a bad morning. Don't get me wrong, there was always something about Andreas that sucked the enthusiasm out of a room, but usually that was his snark and caustic manner. This morning he was particularly apathetic. He repositioned his chair and, as an afterthought, glanced up at Mistress Wintersmith. "Good morning," he said, his lips stretching into a sort of a smile. He decided it was worth having a go at this whole 'being involved in life' thing after all. Despite his penchant for sarcasm (wit, thank you very much!), he did find some solace in the school. Sure, he wasn't the bubbliest of students. But at least it was normal. At least it wasn't home. There were options here, things he could achieve. Concentrating, he took moisture from the air to form a thin film on his right palm. His arm dangling at his side, he let the water go again, dripping onto the floor. He repeated the process, trying to see how quickly and intircately he could control the thin layer. Andreas, pleased with himself, looked to his side and saw the small puddle he had created. Had anyone else noticed? He looked around the room. That was the moment the teacher also noticed the puddle. "Sorry Miss, I wet myself." He didn't smile. Jokes weren't funny when you smiled. No response was forthcoming. "I'll clean that up," he said, and the puddle floated towards the open window.
Trisana Trisana Moonglow Starchild entered the classroom with a huge smile on her cute, heart-shaped face. "Helloooo!" she sang out in a high soprano. Then she did a twirl for no reason, her long, rippling hair splaying out around her. She was wearing a denim vest over a rainbow tie-dye dress and sandals, gold rings twinkling on her toes. When she finished twirling, Trisana giggled and waved to Mistress Wintersmith, taking a seat next to Andreas. She watched with large, unblinking blue eyes as he directed the puddle out the window. "Nice!" she said, clapping and laughing. "You're getting really good at all that water stuff. Have you ever considered a career as a janitor?" she asked innocently. Before he could answer, Trisana turned to smile at Drake. "Hey, you!" she chirped as she kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes. "So, what do you think about going on a trip later? There's this awesome music festival going on, but my parents won't give me any money for a plane ticket. Dumb parents. Anyway, you could just teleport us right in, right? Whaddaya say?" Then she turned to Alex. "Oh, hey there," she said, waving at him. "Is that a new book already? Wow, you read a lot of books. Like, an insane amount. I wish I could read like that, but I always get distracted..." She stared down at her desk for a moment, then she looked up and blinked. "Did someone say something?" she asked, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.
Mistress Wintersmith smiled at her students without engaging in their conversations. She would really miss this if she had to leave. The bell rang over the PA system, but Mistress Wintersmith wasn't in a rush to start class. She would give them a couple minutes to get settled in before she started lecturing about the dangers of black magic and how to reverse a curse. So, she stood up and started cleaning the whiteboard, rewriting her name in purple marker at the top when she was done. "Now, where are my glasses?" Wintersmith mumbled as she patted herself all over. At that moment, two boys in matching letterman jackets came to the door. They were seniors, Will and Derrick, the most popular couple at Primrose Prep. They were both tall, slender, and handsomer than anyone had a right to be. But they were also known for starting a very successful anti-bullying campaign, promoting kindness and compassion, and working with all kinds of community service programs. And as if that wasn't enough, they had recently started an organization called Food for the Soul that delivered hearty, healthy meals to low-income households. Teachers and students lovingly called them the "Gay Angels". "Hello, boys!" Mistress Wintersmith said, bustling over and giving them both a peck on the cheek. "What can I do for you today? Sign a petition to save the rain forests? A donation for one of your programs? All I have is a fifty, but if you could get change I would be more than happy to give you something." "No thanks, Ms Wintersmith," Will said with sad smile, taking Wintersmith's hands in is own. "We're not here for us. We're here for you." "Yeah, we're worried about you," Derrick chimed in. "Oh, that's so sweet of you! But you don't have to worry about me, I'll be fine." The Gay Angels exchanged a look. "Haven't you heard?" Will asked tentatively. "A lot of people are calling for your termination, and even more are trying to get Mayor Lang to deport you." Derrick nodded. "Most of Taggerton thinks you're being lazy and not trying hard enough to find the missing teens, but there's a growing faction..." He paused and looked at Will, and Will nodded for him to go on. Derrick cleared his throat. "Well, there's a growing faction that thinks you're behind the disappearances. They want you to be arrested...or worse." Mistress Wintersmith's face turned ashy gray. "Oh...I didn't know. That's disappointing." "If you need support, you can call us," Will told her. "We're here for you." "I was thinking we could take you out to dinner later," Derrick offered. "There's a nice little Italian place that has the best breadsticks." Will rolled his eyes and grinned. "You're obsessed with breadsticks." "Thank you, boys," Mistress Wintersmith said with a forced smile. "For everything. I'll see you tonight." Will and Derrick smiled and hugged her before leaving. As soon as they left the room, Mistress Wintersmith walked slowly to her desk and sank into her chair. She looked sad and defeated.
Joe Waters From their seat in the very back corner of the class, Joe watched the Gay Angels attentively from behind the curtain of their hanging bangs and the awning of their hood. They sank lower into their sweater, feeling their face heat up. God, those two were pretty, but it was more than that. They were just so cute together. Joe wouldn't exactly describe themselves as having a crush - could you crush on a couple? But it was probably close enough. Opening a worn notebook under the desk, their hands absentmindedly scratched out a crude pair of kissing winged figures in ballpoint. They were barely recogniseable. Joe's brow furrowed, and they quickly scribbled it out. After a moment, they drew something else: A pair of wings, one left, one right, with a heart in between them. The rest of the notebook was littered with doodles of similar calibre: lopsided cats, malformed stars and suns. Most of the images were tiny, and almost all of them were joined together in a sprawling web of arrows of different colours. It wasn't a code, exactly - more a personal shorthand. One of Joe's hobbies had become tracing out the social maps of the school. Who was dating who, who had what fight. It was mostly an exercise in observation. Observation was a lot less terrifying than getting involved. As they flipped through the book absentmindedly, their eyes stopped on a particular page. Unlike the others, which were scattered and mostly without order, this page focused clearly on the twelve symbols at its center. Joe had started back around the time of the fourth disappearance, and since then had crammed in a symbol for each successive person as they vanished. A moon wrapped around an arrow - that was number six. A spiral and a square, number ten. Joe's brow furrowed again. They didn't like looking at this page. Arrows trailed off in all directions, and the page was peppered with question marks. Twelve students? Twelve kids had gone missing in the last month, and still nobody knew what was happening? Joe didn't have any illusions that they would be the one to "solve the mystery" - that's what the police were for, it was their job. But tracking out the details like this made them feel a tiny bit less terrified, less...helpless. Ever since the fuss had started, they'd been using their invisibility spell practically nonstop outside of class. Their dreams were haunted with terrifying figures in constant pursuit. Even now, a bit of a cold sweat had broken out down their back. They had to remember: there was no guarantee anything dangerous was really happening, right? Maybe the missing kids were pulling...a practical joke on everyone. ...Sure. The Angels left, and Joe sighed. It looked like Ms. Wintersmith was feeling a little the worse for wear from their news. The whole town seemed to be rallying against her these days... Their eyes drifted across the page of missing students again, following a line drawn hesitantly to a hexagon with a cluster of lines drawn over it - the closest Joe could come to drawing a snowflake. Again, they glanced at Ms. Wintersmith. They liked Ms. Wintersmith. They'd almost actually tried to ask her a question, once. She really cared about her students, you could tell. There was no way she'd do anything to hurt them, right? ...Right?
Drake "Sorry Miss, I wet myself." He chuckled. The joke was stupid, yeah, but a funny type of stupid. Like watching an episode of Monty Python. No, not that funny, but still. "So, what do you think about going on a trip later? There's this awesome music festival going on, but my parents won't give me any money for a plane ticket. Dumb parents. Anyway, you could just teleport us right in, right? Whaddaya say?" Drake thought about it. On the one hand, it's not every day a cute girl like that asks you out. Yeah, he knew he was being friendzoned like hell, but still, it wouldn't hurt his popularity points, that's for sure. And he would get mad likes on instagram. On the other hand, well, put it this way, he couldn't really be arsed. Then again, it might be fun. "Umm, maybe," he said. His usual answer. When the two "Gay Angels" entered Drake almost wanted to pukein his mouth. Yeah they were great and all, always helping out and being awesome, but they were just too perfect, you know? These people who had it just so easy so they thought they could fix the rest of this crappy world woth flowers and rainbows. They probably never had to skip the prom because nobody would gp with them. They probably never had the upneenth screaming argument with their mothers about "getting a life". And beside, could someone be more of a suck-up!? Yeah, yeah, he was being jealous and unfair. But screw it. He didn't trust these guys. He'd seen enough movies to know that the nice ones were always those who ended up being the bad guys. They were probably going to blackmail poor Ms. Wintersmith, or something. He had to find out what they were up to. At least he would learn more about these disappearances. Before his reasonable side could convince him that life was not a movie and this was a really dumb idea, and his "Drake" side would remind him of the exciting youtube marathon he had planned, he passed Trisana a note. It read: Tell you what. You come with me to spy on miss Wintersmith and the Angels, I'll take you to the festival. We can bring invisibility boy(?) with us.
Andreas He tried not to get too irritated at the Gay Angels. He was sure they were all very genuine. They just got on his nerves. It was probably that they were such a contrast to himself. They reminded him of his own incapacity to express care or warmth. It was a thought that pierced him like a needle. A crack appeared in the fortress of his being, and through it he felt his inner child squirming in its dungeon. He looked about desperately for something that could distract him from his moment of weakness. His eyes fell on Joe, buried in some notebook. Joe the shy. Joe the hide-in-a-notebook-so-you-don't-have-to-face-the-people-around-you. In a moment he reckoned they'd look up and catch his eye, and then they'd look quickly away again. He could see it in his mind, their eyes darting around in uncertainty. He waited for it to happen, so he could stare at them and see what effect it had. Then he realised how childish that was. How pathetic. Movement caught his eye. A piece of paper being passed to Trisana. "Careful Drake," Andreas muttered out of the side of his mouth, "that might strain her attention span." Of course, he'd had to speak past Trisana who was sitting right next to him. He smiled jovially at her. "Hi!" he said. As much as he enjoyed pushing people away, he didn't actually want to expose their noteswapping. Not really. So he took the moment to hold Miss Wintersmith's attention for them. "You know Miss," he began, "you're obviously not going to do well here anymore. There's too many racists in town. Something goes wrong and they blame the immigrant. You're better off leaving. It's sad I know, but I've seen it before. There's only one way this is going to end if you stay here and do nothing."
Samara Samara preferred being in the back of the class. That was usually where the troublemakers and underachievers sat, but she was neither. Quite the opposite, actually. Samara liked to think of herself as a second teacher or the other adult in the room, someone to keep an eye on things. Fortunately --or unfortunately-- Miss Wintersmith’s class didn’t have many troublemakers. Something about the old lady seemed to bring out the best in them, or at least make them tuck away their darker halves until after class was over. In short, this is hallowed ground. You don’t bring trouble into this classroom. And you sure as hell don’t make Miss Wintersmith cry. Well, she wasn’t in tears --yet-- but that look on her face... it was bad before the Gay Angels delivered the news. Now it was absolutely gut-wrenching. Someone is going to pay for this, Samara thought. Vengeance wasn’t really her thing, but a line had been crossed. She’d been in a foul mood ever since the disappearances started. Samara thought of herself as an anti-bully. When she saw a problem, she put herself between it and its victims. Literally. She had actually started wandering the streets at night, hoping she’d get snatched up by whoever was responsible for these disappearance. But, no dice. She kept at it until her parents made her stop. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ they said. The whole damn town’s in danger! Why didn’t they understand she was just trying to do her part? Imagine if we all did our part, instead of sitting here gossiping about it, she thought, angrily drumming her fingers on the edge of her desk. Her eyes narrowed on the slip of paper in Drake’s hand as he secreted it to Trisana. He was slick, but not slick enough. Samara was about to give him a piece of her mind, but Andreas spoke up first. "You know Miss, you're obviously not going to do well here anymore. There's too many racists in town. Something goes wrong and they blame the immigrant. You're better off leaving. It's sad I know, but I've seen it before. There's only one way this is going to end if you stay here and do nothing." Samara stood up so fast, she nearly flipped her desk. “She’s not leaving! Not if I have anything to say about it,” she said, more forcefully than intended. The embarrassment instantly set in and she briefly looked around in a panic before promptly sitting back down. “Sorry, sorry… I… what I meant to say is, doing nothing is not an option. And, if you leave, they win, ma’am. We have to do something, not just take the easy way out.”
Mistress Wintersmith smiled at Samara and sat up straighter. "You know what? You're absolutely right," she said. "I have to take action. I'm sure I can find some kind of way to track whatever is taking children. Maybe there's a pattern or something that I haven't noticed before..." She jumped to her feet with surprisingly agility for someone so old and started scribbling on the whiteboard, writing down everything they knew about the missing teens. "They were all teenagers. There were boys and girls taken. They were each kidnapped from their beds at night. At night...I wonder if that's significant?" She paused and tapped her chin in deep thought. "I have a question," Alex said, peaking up from his book. "Don't you have ice in your hands? Why don't you just freeze anyone who tries to mess with you? Why do you take this crap from regular folk?" "Language, Mr Wilder," Ms Wintersmith said. "And I was taught never to use magic against those that couldn't defend themselves. I come from a very respectable family with powers over ice and snow. My grandmother once whipped up a blizzard to stop a forest fire that threatened to destroy a village. But we would never harm a non-magical person, not unless it was absolutely necessary." As if on cue, all the power in the school cut off and they were plunged into semi-darkness. A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the halls, and then it stopped abruptly. It was a human scream. "I sense death," Alex said, and everyone in the class knew what he meant. A chill had crept into the classroom and a damp smell pervaded the air, the smell of grave dirt. "I'm going to investigate," Ms Wintersmith announced. Blue light was already shining from her hands; the marker she was holding was completely frozen, and she tossed it onto her desk. "Stay here and hide under your desks. I'll ice you in so nothing can come inside." With that, Ms Wintersmith strode out the door and blasted it from the outside with her ice magic. Alex wasted no time: he jumped up and went to the door to look through the thin rectangular window. It was covered in a thick layer of ice, but he could still see through it...and what he saw made him turn to his peers with a shocked expression. "It's Will," Alex said numbly. "He's dead. Someone...or something...ripped his throat out. He's lying in the middle of the hall and Derrick is crying over him. Ms Wintersmith just ran down the hall, but I didn't see where she went. What are we going to do?"
Trisana Trisana smiled from ear to ear after she read Jake's letter. "Sure! The more the merrier!" she told him in reply to his request to bring along "invisible boy". She turned around to look back at Joe Waters and waved her hand exuberantly. "Do you want to come on a trip with us?" she mouthed conspicuously. "Careful Drake," Andreas muttered out of the side of his mouth, "that might strain her attention span." "Huh?" Trisana frowned at Andreas, but he almost immediately started talking to Ms Wintersmith. She turned to Jake and whispered, while waggling her eyebrows, "It looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, geesh!" “She’s not leaving! Not if I have anything to say about it." Trisana applauded Samara's passionate outburst. "Girl power!" she shouted for no apparent reason, pumping her fist in the air. And that's when the power went out and the scream split the air. "Holy shit," she muttered after Alex told them what was out in the hall. She felt numb all over. How could Will be dead? He was just talking to Ms Wintersmith, checking up on her, and now he's gone forever. Brutally murdered. And poor Derrick! He didn't deserve this, no one did. But a human couldn't have ripped out Will's throat. It had to be an animal, or something even worse. Trisana turned to the most adult person in the room: Samara. "What should we do?" she asked her, repeating Alex's question.
Joe Joe whipped themselves into invisibility the moment the lights went out. It wasn't on purpose - they could barely think for panic. Everything was dull and frozen and distant. Then that scream shot through the halls and they were forcibly snapped back to reality. The closest thing they'd ever heard to that was the time their second-youngest sister had tried to climb the rocky outcropping near their house - she'd slipped, of course, and on the way down she caught her arm between two falling stones. After some time in the hospital, she'd come home okay - but Joe could still remember the sound of her screaming when she was hurt, and alone, and thinking that nobody would find her. This sound was infinitely worse. Ms. Wintersmith was already gone, the door frozen behind her. Alex was looking out after her, saying something about Will and Derek, saying... Wait. Will...was dead? Everything stopped. They reeled. That...wasn't right. That wasn't real, was it? This couldn't be real. But the other part of them, the part that always worried too much, the part that went looking for the younger siblings that sort of hated them because they'd been gone just a little too long- It was thinking something else. Something's out there. Something did this and it's out there. Where Derek and Ms.Wintersmith were. They swallowed. They could hear Derek's sobs, faint in the hallway. Ms. Wintersmith had gone on, it seemed. He was all alone out there. Hesitant, anxious, Joe glanced around the classroom. A few of the students seemed to be trying to work out a plan of attack, but the rest were milling restlessly. No one seemed to know what to do. To be fair, neither did Joe. They listened to Derek crying in the hall. A room full of people who would only become more panicked, or one distraught person...and probably a murderer. The choice was obvious, really. Still invisible, Joe went to the wall and phased their way through. They peered out at the dim halls, attentive, terrified. Desperately hoping this wasn't the stupidest thing they'd ever do.
Samara was on her feet again the moment Miss Wintersmith even hinted at going out there, but she was too slow. The woman was gone and the door sealed before Samara could even think of stopping her or going after her. She hung her head in shame because she knew what was about to happen next. Well, she never expected someone would be killed --especially not Will-- but she knew it was about to get ugly. Okay, okay, think. Teacher's gone. Calm down and think of something. I have to- "What should we do?" Samara wheeled around to see Trisana staring at her. She did a double take, as if silently asking 'who, me? You're asking me what to do!?' See where all that 'second teacher' and 'other adult in the room' stuff gets you? Aww, shit... She muttered an incantation under her breath and her armor appeared almost instantly. It was angular and futuristic, more like something out of a mecha anime than something a medieval knight would wear. If something was ripping people's throats out, she neeed to protect her neck. And everyhting else, really. It was a tactical decision. At least that's what she told herself. Truth is, she was terrified and this was her security blanket. She felt safe in her crystal shell. "Alex, get away from the door. We don't know if the ice will hold. If it can rip throats out, it can probably break ice, too," Samara said as she walked over to where he was standing. it could probably break her armor too, but... ehhhh, let's try not to think about that. Her footsteps clinked on the classroom floor, like a china set on a dining room table. "It likes darkness, eh? We need light. Lots of light." Samara took a brief look around. Someone was missing. "Where's Joe? Is he --I mean they... dammit, is Joe still here? Andreas, can you sense him?" He's probably more frightened than anyone; his thoughts ought to stick out like a sore thumb... assuming he didn't already teleport halfway across the world by now.
Andreas “She’s not leaving! Not if I have anything to say about it.” Andreas flinched, but he didn't respond. He made a quick scan of her mood, and found love and protection. Still, he didn't quite fancy his chances arguing with Samara, even though he disagreed. He wasn't much of a positive thinker. He was more of a "Oh dear, let's clean up the mess" type than a "Time to take a stand!" type. Miss Wintersmith would be better off leaving. He watched her drawing on the board with a sort of distant regret. This wasn't magic, this was some deranged serial killer. It needed investigators, not magicians. Unless you had the power to sense people's inents. That could be a useful tool to an investigator. Before he could see where that thought would lead him, the lights died. Dam power cut. Then the scream came. His face tingled, his hearing dulled. Rational! He must stay rational! Then the news came of Will's death. He was only dimly aware of the discussion happening around him. Feeling a little dizzy, he rose to his feet. He would be prepared. "Andreas, can you sense him?" He looked at Samara dumbly. Two depressions in the floor flanked him where he had ground up the tiles, betraying his tension. He blinked. "Right, hang on." He stretched his awareness outwards. At first, he could only make out the fears and desperation for information of those near him. "They're not in the room, I'll take a look out the corridor." Feeling more in control of himself, he walked towards the wall. There was fear, and pain. Trying to peer through the fog of Derrick's outburst was like trying to listen through a foghorn. But there was someone else there... if it was Joe, he was a little taken aback by how much more they were in control of themselves than he was. Perhaps those who shy away from others are better at being independent. It felt a little like Joe. "I think he's out in the corridor," he reported. "Look," he began, not sure how it would sound coming from him, "we really need to get Derrick away from that body."
Out in the hall, Joe saw Derrick weeping over Will's blood-soaked body. Derrick was shaking all over and every so often he would say, "Why, god, why!?" Joe could also hear a loud raucous coming from down the hall. Blue flashes of light could be seen coming through the doors of the cafeteria. Something hissed like an animal and Mistress Wintersmith's voice shouted, "I'll kill you for what you've done!" There was another flash of light, and then the doors of the cafeteria burst open...and Ms Wintersmith came flying out. She banged into the lockers and slumped to the floor, unconscious, her head lolling to the side. And out of the cafeteria stepped an impossibly beautiful woman swathed in a crimson dress with a plunging neckline, a black velvet cape flowing behind her. She smiled down at Mistress Wintersmith for a moment, and then she turned her head sharply in Joe's direction. Brilliant yellow-gold hair framed her round, porcelain face. Her eyes were luminous green and her full, soft lips were bright cherry-red. She smiled a slow smile, revealing a pair of sharp, cat-like fangs. "I know you're there," the woman sang out in a sugary sweet voice. "I can hear your heart beating. Come out of hiding so we can play, my pet." She let out a peal of tinkling laughter, her eyes flashing dangerously. Derrick's head jerked up at the sound of the woman's voice and his face turned deathly pale. He frantically grabbed Will by the shoulders and started dragging him toward a storage closet, sobbing uncontrollably the entire time. Alex was glued to the door of the classroom and he saw the entire thing. "Fuck this," he growled angrily. He rarely showed emotion, but now he was brimming over with rage. "I'm not just staying in here like a good little boy. That woman hurt Ms Wintersmith, and probably killed Will. She has to pay." That said, he stepped back and waved his hands in front of him. A giant pendulum appeared by the ceiling, made of bronze with a huge, wicked blade at the bottom. "Drop!" Alex ordered, and the pendulum whooshed down and shattered the door (and Ms Wintersmith's ice barrier) to pieces before disappearing. Alex sprinted out into the hall and turned to face the deceptively beautiful woman. Suddenly, he couldn't move or think clearly. All he could see was her enormous green eyes, glowing brightly, filling his entire vision. "That's right, my pet," the woman crooned. "My name is Vetala. You want me. You love me. Come to me." And just like that, Alex started walking toward her.
Oh ****. Oh, ****. There was so much blood. Joe'd realised they'd been hoping that maybe, somehow, Will was okay. But there was no way a person who looked like that was still alive. They couldn't fault Derrick for falling apart; they felt like they were about to throw up. All the same, they started hesitantly towards the sobbing figure - all the while wishing they'd bothered to plan this far ahead. They had to get Derrick out of the hall. Maybe they could...drag him into another classroom and barricade the door? Did Derrick have any spells that could help with that - assuming he was even up for using them? In the moment, Joe couldn't remember. All their energy was going into not panicking at whatever Ms. Wintersmith was fighting in the cafeteria. Ms. Wintersmith was strong. She could handle whatever it was, right? Then she came flying out and crashed into the lockers. Joe almost screamed, but terror kept them silent. Please, no, ****, not Ms. Wintersmith too, oh **** please please **** no. They stared at her unmoving form. Was she still breathing? Oh please ****, let her still be breathing. Then that...woman stepped out and Joe's blood froze. One glimpse of those green eyes was enough to send shudders down their spine. Then she spoke, and they felt their heart stop. She knew where they were. For all the good it did, Joe stayed invisible. She wanted them to "come out", well that at least was definitely not going to happen. ...But none of their magic was any use here, was it? They were really starting to regret not learning any combat spells. Then the classroom door exploded in a shower of ice as Alex's scythe crashed through it. Joe felt a surge of relief. Pretty much any of Alex's spells could put a serious dent in you. But no, wait- something was wrong. At her voice, he started walking towards the woman - towards Vetala. Oh. Oh, ****. Joe's mind raced. They glanced at Derrick dragging Will's body, Alex's mindless stare, Ms. Wintersmith's unconscious form. What could they do with what they had? They needed to get people out of danger, that had to be the priority, but how? They gulped. Ms. Wintersmith was way, way too close to Vetala. Derrick was at least moving under his own power. That left Alex. Okay. Deep breath. You gotta do something. Still invisible, Joe stepped in front of Alex, between him and Vetala. Then he concentrated, and an exact duplicate of themselves emerged plain as day. The doppelganger stood glaring sullen and defiant as Joe slipped toward Alex, plagued with doubts. Would this work? They'd never checked if their clone had a heartbeat before. At least in the dim hallway, their lack of a shadow wouldn't be as obvious. Please act alive, they directed it. Keep her distracted. The clone snorted at Vetala and cocked their head disdainfully. "Nice outfit. Somewhere a ren fest is missing you." Well, I guess that counts as a distraction? Joe thought as they slipped back towards Alex. They didn't dare try and talk sense back into him - the woman would surely hear. Instead, they grasped Alex's shoulders and shook them. No response or change in expression. Alex merely kept walking slowly, pushing them back. What else could they possibly do to- Oh. ****. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry Joe thought fervently, as they took one hand and slapped Alex across the face.
Samara Everything was spiralling out of control. Samara had every intention of going after Miss Wintersmith, but not this soon, not like this. Well, life doesn't always give you a chance to gather your thoughts --and your courage-- and formulate a plan. If the sounds coming from the hall were any indication, there wouldn't be a Miss WIntersmith unless they did something now. To her surprise, Alex beat her to it. He smashed the door and darted into the hall. Samara hesitated. Save him or the others? "J-just stay here," she said to the rest of class... even though she knew that order would probably be immediately disobeyed. Maybe she just wanted it off of her conscience. 'See, I told you to stay. If you leave, whatever happens out there isn't my fault.' "I'll take care of it," she said before leaving them and heading into the hall. There was fear in her eyes as she turned to leave, but once she set foot in the hall, it all washed away. Her eyes were cold and determined. It takes a certain kind of person to study defensive magic. Anyone can learn a combat spell, but only a select few have the strength of will to stand firm and stare down danger. Never let them see you waver. Never back down, Samara thought as she marched past a dazed Alex and... Joe? An unseen force slapped Alex across the face and she could only asume it was an invisible Joe. Looks like someone found their courage, Samara thought as she put herself between them and that woman. Those eyes... looking into them made Samara's head feel fuzzy. But, with the hall so dark, it was hard not to. "You want me to come to you?" Samara said to the woman, while shielding her eyes as if looking at the sun. "I'll make you wish you didn't say that." An invisible force began to tug her toward the woman, but it wasn't Vetala's power. It was as if they were tied together by an invisible rubber band. The pull was so strong, Samara's feet began to slip. She lowered herself into a crouch and shut her eyes as spikes began to grow out of her crystal armor, then she blindly launched herself at Vetala. Bad idea? Probably. But somebody had to do it.
Andreas did some quick calculations. He didn't want to do nothing. He didn't want to be that guy who was safe because other people weren't. But if Mistress Wintersmith couldn't handle her, what was he going to do? Give her a wash? This new threat was clearly out of their league. Their only hope of contributing anything to the situation would have been to distract the enemy so that someone could get Ms Wintersmith to safety. Their teacher was their only hope. Of course, by the time he had thought all of this, Samara was already out in the hallway. Joe, Drake, Samara and Derrick, all in harm's way. It was like they were qeueing for it. There was to be no plan here - only Joe had the ability to slip past and get to Wintersmith. What the heck? It was all going to shit anyway. Andreas stepped out into the hallway. He would be there. Samara stood defiant. Could this be his moment, pushing Samara aside to take the bullet himself? But as usual, cold logic destroyed the idea. It was pointless competing with Samara to be the martyr. She would just shove him aside, and all he would accomplish would be destroying her focus. No, she could take the medal. Then Samara launched herself at the enemy. Now would be a good time to distract this cat-lady-thing. A small tendril of water condensed itself near Vetala's mouth, and just as Samara drew close, the tendril forced itself up Vetala's nose. That should do it.
Trisana Trisana watched Alex, then Samara and Andreas, run out into the hall. "Well, I'm not gonna be the only one staying inside!" she cried as she pranced after them, lifting her tie-dye dress so she wouldn't trip. Trisana skidded to a stop next to Andreas, almost bumping into him. "Woopsie!" She turned to look at Derrick dragging Will towards a closet, but she quickly looked away. All that blood. Will's ravaged body. It was too much, it was all just too much. Trisana blinked back the tears that pricked at her eyes and tried to be strong. Ms Wintersmith had taught them how to be strong, and she needed them now more than ever. When Samara launched herself at Vetala, Trisana held out her hands and a sword made of pure light appeared in her grasp. It glowed so brightly that it lit up most of the hallway. "Samara said we needed light," Trisana muttered. "I hope this is good enough." She raised her sword in a defensive position, but she didn't move closer to the woman who called herself Vetala. First, she would wait to see the result of Samara's attack. Who knows? Maybe Samara will crush her flat and we can all get back to our normal lives. But even ditsy Trisana had to admit that that was wishful thinking.
Drake For about two minutes, Drake just froze in place, unable to do anything. The scream, the body on the floor, Ms Wintersmith falling unconcious, he couldn't even percieve it. All he noticed was his heart hammering against his chest, his trouble rlbreathing, the pain in his chest and the thought that oh shit I'm going to die. Once he gained the slightest control he did what any reasonable person would do in a situation like this. He stopped time. The sudden silence had the exact effect he needed. It allowed him to focus, and soon after he was ready to exit the classroom. He took about two minutes to analise the situation. The first thing he noticed was Will's body, who he immediately decided not to give too much attention to. Ms Wintersmith was on the ground, unconcious. She looked bad, but alive. A woman was standing there, with Joe, Samara, Andreas and Trisana facing off against her. The fight had more than enough odds, he saw. There wasn't much he could help there. With Ms Wintersnith, on the other hand, he was probably the only one who could help. Back in real time, he took two breaths. He would have to time this right. He then said, "Teleport" twice. The first time brought him right next to Ms Wintersmith. He quickly grabbed her, and teleported again, to the Taggerton emergency room with his teacher. He stumbled and crashed into an EKG machine. Well, so much for a date with Tristine, he thought to himself.
When Joe slapped Alex, he blinked rapidly and touched his face. "Joe? Is that you?" he asked. "Geez. That hurt. You couldn't have slapped me a little softer?" Then he looked around Joe's clone at Samara. "I see Samara is doing her thing," he observed with a wry grin. Vetala's eyes widened when Samara stepped out into the hall, and her mouth dropped open when the girl flew at her like a canon ball. Then she snorted and coughed as water flew up her nostrils. A split second before Samara collided with her, Vetala side-stepped with incredible speed...but she wasn't quite fast enough. Her right arm was ripped off by a spike in Samara's armor. It flopped on the ground and oozed slimy black blood from the severed joint. Vetala stared down at it in shock and then scowled hatefully at Samara. "What kind of children are you!?!?" Vetala screeched. Then she ran at Samara in a blur of movement and pushed her with her one good hand. She was stronger than she looked and Samara flew into the lockers right next to Mistress Wintersmith. Samara created a huge crater in the wall, demolishing several lockers, and stuck there because of her spikes. "You're a bad, bad girl," Vetala hissed. "You need to be taught a lesson. But not quite yet. I'll save you for last, after you've watched me tear apart all your precious little friends!" With that, Vetala became a blur and flew down the hall toward the rest of the students. She swiped at Joe's sarcastic clone first and it dissipated immediately. "Magic trickery!" Vetala shrilled in a pure rage. Then she reared back from the fierce glow of Trisana's light sword. "Put that stick away!" she barked, shielding her eyes. Meanwhile, Jake had taken Ms Wintersmith to the emergency room. The moment they appeared in the middle of the waiting room, Ms Wintersmith stirred and opened her eyes, grabbing Jake's shirt with both hands. "Take me back," she gasped. "The kids! I have to protect the kids!"
"Take me back," she gasped. "The kids! I have to protect the kids!" "One moment," he said. His eyes quickly scanned the room. "Is there a doctor here?" he shouted. "I need someone to see if she wasn't hurt too bad. It's an emergency!"
Samara When Vetala ran off to find someone else to play with, she nearly dragged Samara after her. The Focus Fire spell pulled Samara off of the wrecked lockers and began dragging her across the floor, as if drawn by a magnet, but she quickly severed the link and collapsed, dazed and bruised, but glad to be alive. Her armor was cracked and broken spikes littered the floor like shattered glass. And blood. Black, slimy, disgusting blood. Not mine. She actually smiled at the thought that she'd drawn first blood. I should bottle some and put it on my mantle. Make daddy proud, Samara thought grimly. But the show wasn't over. Vetala still had plenty of blood and limbs left and Samara still had some fight left in her. Groaning in pain, she rolled over and got to her feet. Despite its battered state, her armor had a faint white glow rising off of it and a barely audible hum, like the sound of a live wire or a teapot about to boil over. "Yeah, I got some fight left in me," Samara whispered to herself as she balled a fist and readied herself. You put it there. How about I give it back. Going hand to hand with that monster was probaly not a great idea, but Samara had a 2-1 advantage in the hands department and Vetala's back was turned. (Apparently, she's easily distracted by shiny things.) How hard could it be to land one good sucker punch? Samara walked up behind the woman and swung for the back of her head.
