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Isaac Gil-Ruiz

0 · 797 views · located in Fort Feathermount

a character in “Brigade”, originally authored by ISpeakTheTruth, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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"What is it exactly that we're trying to do?"




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Name:
Isaac Raul Gil-Ruiz

Nickname:
He occasionally goes by Raul

Age:
19

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Hometown:
Sant Andreu
Barcelona, Spain

Occupation:
Working with his father at the family owned business, Isaac could call himself as a mechanic.



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Likes:
Cars || The Night || Thunderstorms || Tinkering || Cooking/Baking || Pancakes || History || Breakfast Cereal || Travelling ||

Dislikes:
|| Onions || Doing Laundry || Walking Dogs || Poptarts || The Winter Season || Stores That Advertise For Holidays Way Too Early

School of Magic:
Natural

Special Power:
Electricity Manipulation, otherwise known as Shock.
Not having his powers for very long, all Isaac can do at the moment is generate a small amount of electricity and give a barely harmful electric touch.

Strengths:
-Cooking
While the dish Pan de Jamon is the only thing Isaac really knows how to make, he's quite the expert at it

-Knowledge of Mechanics
Growing up literally in a workshop, Isaac has familiarized himself with all the bits and bolts and whatchya-m'callits.


Weaknesses:
-Fighting
He may be big, but he sure as hell isn't tough when it comes to combat. If seeing a mouse stuck in one of those mouse-traps bothers him, he definitely would have a hard time harming another human.

-Family
With the sudden loss of his best friend and father, Isaac doesn't like mentioning his family, seeing as he has none.

-His Power
Because being able to make lightning dance back and forth between his hands is just so powerful. . . yeah right.


Fears:
-Death
His family history revolves a lot around people dying way before their time. Isaac wants to live as long as he possibly can.

-Losing
It's the world that they're fighting for, correct? What if they lose?

-Not Being a Hero, Being The Sidekick
In Isaac's eyes, second place is the prison cell for losers. He thinks he has to be the guy that fixes everything, when in reality he doesn't.





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Personaltiy:
|| Good Sense of Humor || Friendly || Easily Frustrated || Stubborn ||

Isaac is. . . not to say hot headed or short tempered, but he does tend to get frustrated with himself rather easily. In his mind, he has to be one of the best there is at everything, no exceptions. He doesn't allow others to do things for him and he has issues with accepting help even when he knows that he needs it. This can often lead to the boy becoming painfully stubborn and causes others to get annoyed at him, as he thinks he has to do everything alone.
This doesn't mean Isaac's friends don't mean anything to him, instead it means exactly the opposite. His mind is focused on doing the hard tasks so the people he cares about don't have to, and he doesn't understand why people don't get the fact that he's just trying to help.
He also gets stressed rather fast, seeing as he believes he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders lone, and can occasionally become snappy and his anger is triggered more easily.

On the other side, Isaac is friendly and good with people. He likes jokes, talking, and overall just being with the people he cares about. He's a loyal friend and dependable, and if he makes a promise he'll try to find a way to pull through with it.







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History:
Isaac's past is rather bland, one could say. He was born in Barcelona, raised in Sant Andreu, and practically grew up right beside his father in the machine shop. . . The Guil-Ruiz Garage, the little space was called, to him it felt like home.
His mother never played a very big role in his upbringing, as she was absent for the past fifteen years of it, but even without her Isaac managed to do just fine and never really thought about the missing 'mother-figure'.

Outside of family and personal business, Isaac had always been the kid who made friends quick. Fitting in was no problem for him, and neither was standing out. People just seemed to like him, whether it was because of his normally upbeat personality or him defending others, he doesn't know, but the boy never complained about having friends. School wise, the boy got fairly average grades but never really impressed his teachers.
'He's dull. They all said, He should drop out, like his father. No one expected him to graduate, and his grades just kept dropping. By grade eleven, Isaac actually did quit school, but it wasn't because of his slow learning. His father got sick earlier in the year, and what was thought to be just a bothersome cold turned in to something that ended up killing him. Left to run the Gil-Ruiz shop and paying for the bills, Isaac didn't have time for anything that took him away from his job.

In short, Isaac was a fairly good kid through most of his childhood. While somewhat troublesome and a bit of a let-down to the Gil-Ruiz name, Isaac never let his past failures get in the way of his future victories.

Other:
N/A

So begins...

Isaac Gil-Ruiz's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Delphine Vawdrey Character Portrait: Adamus Locke Character Portrait: Desdemona Ariel Forte Character Portrait: Jenny Pilot Character Portrait: Abigail Turner Character Portrait: Jessica Cartwright Character Portrait: Oasis Monarae Character Portrait: Piper Baker Character Portrait: Jordan Levy Character Portrait: Alexander Andersson Character Portrait: Isaac Gil-Ruiz Character Portrait: Darren Conway Character Portrait: Tristan North Character Portrait: Savannah Hart Character Portrait: Emily Parker Character Portrait: Kara Darrow Character Portrait: Noah Richards
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Southern Ireland, around the year 1250
It is mid-afternoon. It being the middle of summer, the weather is warm, yet cool in the woodland forest. Although it may seem like any other day for the villagers residing just a mile and a half from the majestic and secluded Fort Feathermount, it is a special occasion for magic-wielders. Today is the Holiday of the Mages; the day when the Five Mages were thought to have spread the gift of magic upon humankind. At this time, the thirty have been told to stay put in the fort while everyone is getting ready for an "orientation" to be held in the fort's back courtyard. There is still a large amount of uncertainty and mystery in the air as the thirty prepare to hear what they will be doing for the next couple of days, or months, or perhaps even years...





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Everything was quiet for a moment, and then the present situation began to unfold. Although they seemed far-off and distant, the sounds of a jeering crowd could be heard from all around the swampy area. Not all of the cries muttered from the villagers’ mouths seemed angry, in fact, a few people were laughing, happy and awfully excited to see the extermination of a witch for the first time in their dull lives. Nothing ever happened in the small provincial town, and to the residents, an execution was equivalent to the king marching through the streets with his men mounted upon beautiful white horses.

The victim, (the witch) about to be persecuted, looked down at her grimy bare feet. Her jet-black hair hung off her scalp like thin pieces of string, and her face was barely visible. Her rough brown hands were binded behind her, and her feet were tied to the rickety old chair that was currently being suspended over the river by a rope. It was an interesting way of execution; slowly being drowned into the practically bottomless river, but in the minds of the villagers, there was no better way to exterminate someone who was blatantly a threat to their already poor, miserable lives. This woman would surely die. There was no way of escape.

Every little noise was blurry and faded out for a moment, and then as the sound of a single man’s voice penetrated the other villagers’ conversations, everything became clear.

“…By the people’s consent, you are to be executioned on this day for the practice of witchcraft and resisting arrest. Any last words?”
She said nothing.

The rope lowered. The woman knew it was all over. In just a few short moments, her body would be entirely submerged in the thickness of the water. Strangers whom she had once called friends started to jeer. The feelings of anxiousness and heightened adrenaline could be felt in everyone’s minds. The woman looked down as her wooden seat started to touch the tip of the water. Before her toes could feel the water’s edge, she looked towards the left, obviously focusing her attention on some single person before her actual demise could begin. Her brown eyes were pointed towards a middle-aged man who seemed almost out of place amongst the crowd.. With his arms crossed and his face lowered in a scowl, he nodded towards her in a simple fashion. In that moment, the accused witch felt a sense of tranquility. Once her ankles were submerged in the gray-hued river, she whipped her head downwards, and gently closed her eyes. Despite the current situation, there was a small part of herself that felt hopeful, but most of that sense was overcome by sheer terror. She would surely die. There was no way of escape…

And then the jeering, the laughter, even the gentle sound of the river’s current… it all came to a stop. It was so horrifyingly silent, it was if the world had become deaf. Everyone’s faces were the same. All the villagers who had attended the execution were white-faced, wide-eyed, and shared the same expression of stark disbelief and terror as they gazed upon the scene of the execution. There, sitting upon the water as if it was an entirely flat surface, was the woman. Her arms and legs were still banded together by thick ropes. However, that didn’t last for long, because with a sudden flash of light that seemed to be a spark, the bindings that held her arms together snapped free and sank into the river. Instinctively, she undid her tied feet with her free arms, and threw the spare rope off to the side onto the shore nearby. There was a moment where she took a few seconds to catch her breath, and then gradually, her mind processed the current situation. The way she sat with her legs crossed on the river’s surface; it was as though this hated victim was now a queen sitting triumphantly upon a gilded throne. Her bewildered face projected otherwise; although the picture was stunning, it was also devastatingly petrifying. And then, suddenly, there was the shrilly sound of a blood-curdling scream, and everything faded black.

Delphine woke up to the coldness of the cobblestone floor. Her eyes wide with fear, she gasped. A dream; she had only been reliving the tragic moments of her recent past. Thanks to the failed potion she had created only an hour ago, instead of peaking into the lives of the founders of Fort Feathermount from generations back, she had only seen visions of her own miserable life. The spherical bottle that had contained the failed potion was still in her hands. She settled the empty glass down on the ground, and after wiping away the trickles of sweat on her forehead, sat herself up into a standing position. She took a look at the foucalt pendulum clock across the alchemy lab, and saw that it must have been around quarter to four. One could argue that such an invention was not brought into the world until the renaissance, but that person would be showing little knowledge of the magic-wielding world. In other words, the clock was only thought to be invented in 1851, but it was actually created long before that time. Wizards and witches had created the clock, along with many other things, first.
Just then, there was a knock at the locked door. Delphine whipped her head around to the front of the room, gave a soft groan, and opened the wooden door.




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Adamus stared at a disheveled-looking Delphine, and raised his right eyebrow in bewilderment. “Dee,” he said in a firm voice, “What happened? It must have been five minutes since I first knocked on the door. Why didn’t you answer right away?” The brown-skinned woman exhaled rather loudly, as if in slight annoyance. “I think you already know the answer to that question, Adamus.”

He gave a smirk and a chuckle. “You’re right. I do. I could see your aura stone-cold on the floor. I came to see if you were alright.”
“The last part I do not quite believe,” muttered Delphine teasingly. Although, there was something about the sentence that seemed rather serious. “That potion over there,” Adamus continued, pointing to the empty bottle on the ground, “what was it for?” Dee sighed, and pointed her eyes towards the ground. She hated admitting failure. “I was trying to create some sort of clairsentience-spell within the potion that would allow me to look back on the lives of the founders in order to see things in this fort that are not visible to the common eye. Instead, I saw something else…and I…I passed out.”

Adamus nodded with a sharp and understanding look on his face. His eyes gave the impression that he knew the specific event that Delphine was talking about, the one where she almost died. Instead of questioning her about it, he changed the subject. “So, the Holiday of the Mages; are we still doing that?” Delphine nodded, turned around, and casually strolled back into the room. “Of course. Why should we skip the most important tradition of our ancestors, our culture? Besides, with you around, we cannot help but celebrate it. You and your students have to rebuild good relations with your guardian…after what you have done.”

Adamus responded strongly and quickly, “Look Dee, I know you staunchly disagree with the Sacrament of Bestowal. I know what it means to our culture as well. I had no choice but to do it. If I could tell you what happens in the future, in our future, then I would. But right now, you just have to trust me. I know that’s asking a lot of you, but you have to try.”

“It must be amazing to know how I die,” said Delphine, sharply. It sent a wave of painful silence throughout the small room. After a couple seconds of glaring, Adamus sighed, and turned his attention to a small bell stationed by a window to the left of the room. “Should I alert them? Are you ready to begin?” he asked. Delphine nodded, “Yes, alert them now.”

With a mallet located on a small side-table, Adamus pounded on the black pewter bell. Upon being hit, the large bell made an ominous other-worldly chime that could be heard in every little crevice of the fort, and even miles away from the building, into the forest.




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There was definitely a difference between this forest and the forest that Jenny used to know. For one thing, nothing was on fire. (There were no demons to destroy the land around her.) With the monstrous creatures gone, everything felt strange. Only three days ago, Jenny’s adrenaline was soaring. After travelling to this new world, things had finally become peaceful for once. Here, there was never a time she had to look over a shoulder, never a time she had to worry about a roof over her head or her next meal. It was great, obviously, but it felt strange. She knew she would have to take time to adjust to it.

High up in a sturdy tree, Jenny was writing and drawing in a journal, a thing she used to do before having to constantly worry about her survival. Once she had finished the details on a golden chalice she had been sketching, she closed her notebook, and took a good look at the forest in front of her. You could tell that nothing had been affected by pollution or any influence of a future civilization that could destroy the wildlife. The trees felt stronger and more climbable, while the air was fresher and so rich, that it could put someone to sleep. Jenny carefully searched through her rucksack backpack that had propped on her shoulders, and looked through the junk that had accumulated in her large bag. She had found her old IPhone, (useless not only because it was out of charge, but because there was no reception in the Middle Ages,) a hunting knife, some rope, the remains of a first-aid kit, her friend’s flower ring that she had kept after her devastating death, some pens and pencils, a canteen of water, a pile of clothes, and a blank little flipbook that showed the United Kingdom’s flag on the front. She would be saving that for something special.

Just then, Jenny’s head jolted to the right as she heard the chime of a strong-toned bell. No doubt this was the bell that meant it was time for the thirty young adults to come to Fort Feathermount’s courtyard. Apparently, Madame Vawdrey (or Delphine, as Adamus had introduced her,) was giving some sort of orientation to the group, answering any questions they might have had and laying down the ground rules for the next couple of days (or however long it took to defeat the arising demons.) Seeing how strict she looked when she had first laid her eyes upon the thirty, Jenny did not want to get on the woman’s bad side. She was probably already on her bad side, seeing that she had gone far-off into the woods when she and the group had been originally ordered to stay close to the safety of the fort.

Carefully, Jenny lowered herself from the tree’s sturdy branch that she had been sitting on, and made her way down from the tree. When she was close to the ground, she let go of the branches, and let her brown hiking boots pound the forest floor. She then gripped the straps of her pack tightly, and started to jog. The young woman had never considered herself the athletic type, but she had always been rather fluent in running and climbing. It was probably because she still had the energy of a seven-year-old, but it in all seriousness, it might have been the fact that running and climbing never took as much hand-eye coordination as other athletic activities. Maintaining a well-paced speed as she made her way past walls of thick green vegetation, Jenny looked up at the sky. Soon, the sun would be on its journey towards the west. When she could hear the sounds of flowing water and small chatter, the girl knew she was near the fort at last. She leaned against a tree trunk by the courtyard, making sure that nobody would be able to see her coming. When it was all clear, she quickly walked towards the black cobblestone, and made her way to the center of the large area.

The courtyard that separated the forest from the fort was so big, it could pass for a tiny town. There was a fountain that produced bright-blue sparkly water in the center of the enclosure. From there, a blacksmithing forge and a grindstone stood to the back of the courtyard, closer to the actual fort. Then, to the right, there was a long table and a fire pit, most likely used to dine outside when the weather was nice. On the other side, targets had been set up for archery, and scarecrow-like dummies with slashes around their stomach and head areas stood tranquilly in the warm afternoon. It was strange; dummies and targets had been placed in the courtyard, and yet there were no weapons to practice with. If there were any weapons, Jenny knew that people would probably be crowded around the two stations by now. To be honest, she was somewhat happy about the fact that nobody was really training yet. Although her first impressions weren’t always accurate, she had a feeling the new group she had acquainted herself with contained extremely competitive people. Although she seemed like it, Jenny was not the most confident girl she knew, and often compared herself to other people in a negative way. She knew that the more her and others learned about combat, the faster the demons could be defeated. However, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would soon be handy with a weapon, or prove to be useless at combat, just like her special power. In regards to her special power, Adamus claimed that it would reveal itself to her in time, but Jenny was doubtful, and found herself starting to grow impatient. She would probably be the first among the thirty to be slaughtered by the demons, she was sure of it. The others would be slashing demons left and right like it was their job, while she would be left in the dust. After all, she was just an artist…

With a sigh, the girl made her away over to the fountain, and sat by the edge. While she waited for others to come near, she picked a strand of her new brown-colored hair, (which had previously been blonde only seconds before the group had time-travelled to the middle ages,) and twirled it around her fingertips.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Desdemona Ariel Forte Character Portrait: Jenny Pilot Character Portrait: Abigail Turner Character Portrait: Oasis Monarae Character Portrait: Piper Baker Character Portrait: Alexander Andersson Character Portrait: Isaac Gil-Ruiz Character Portrait: Darren Conway Character Portrait: Kara Darrow Character Portrait: Noah Richards
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Isaac was absolutely hopeless, there was no doubt about it. If his constant disappearances hadn't told the other's that already, then the boy would consider writing it on his forehead for all of them to see.
'Don't count on this guy.' The words would probably say, 'He burnt his hands because he's an idiot.' To his credit, it hadn't been as bad as he made it up to seem. For once his lack of ability helped him, and his fingers would most likely survive the electric shock that he had accidentally attacked them with.
Just once, Isaac wanted, just once for him to try to use his stupid power without it blowing up in his face. It's only been a few days, The boy thought, looking up at the treetops as he walked through the forest, Not even a week had passed. Obviously I'm not-
The ringing of the bell interrupted his thoughts.
Time to go.

As he trudged over the grass, Isaac realized that he still wasn't used to this all new place. It was completely different from his home, it was... peaceful. Nothing was trying to kill him. There was nothing to fear or hide from.
It was nice.
Not only that, but there were people here with him.
In a way, he felt a bit more like the kid who worked beside his father in the machine shop, and less like the young man who decided it would be best to work alone. This... place, seemed to bring out the better in him. It made the weight on his shoulders feel just a little bit lighter.
Of course, feeling better didn't mean he truly felt any connections to these other people around him. Three days wasn't a lot of time to figure out how everyone else worked, what they did, who they were. He knew their names but no so much their faces, he knew a bit of what they were like but feared at the same time that he didn't. Second guessing himself was a problem that Isaac seemed to be struggling with.
What happened to his younger self? The one who got along with everyone and didn't care about anything? It seemed that as soon as he had aged up more and more, he lost touch with the version of him that he liked most.
Now, while people were still grand and the young man was still just as much of a chatterbox, even his jokes seemed to be slipping away.
Being a child was much more fun.

Fort Feathermount was the place that Isaac and the others were staying. It was large in size, amazing in detail, and magnificent in every way possible. Being raised literally in a small spaced garage, nearly anything bigger than a cramped room was like a mansion to him, but even good ol' Feathermount was seriously impressive, and Isaac was actually starting to like it.
Already he could see that a small group of the others were gathering. Not wanting to be the odd one out, Isaac made his way over to him and quickly tried to catch up on the conversation.
". . . In fact, did you all sleep well?" A lady Isaac recognized as Piper asked before continuing to ramble out herbal medicines.
"I… am talking too much." She said afterwards, looking somewhat embarrassed.
Headaches? Sleeping? Isaac's brows furrowed. Automatically, his thoughts drifted to nightmares, but so far he hadn't been having any of those, luckily. Disturbing dreams, maybe, but nothing that made him wake up feeling unnerved.
Isaac opened his mouth to make a comment, but shut it again once he realized that it would have been stupid to be talking about nightmares.
Listening would do just fine for the time being.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Piper Baker Character Portrait: Isaac Gil-Ruiz
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#, as written by xRoo
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”I will knock you back to last Tuesday.”


Oh, yet another person had joined the group. A boy, maybe a little older than her but not much. Isaac, she remember a little bit of him upon the first meeting, but she never really exchanged more than a few words with him. Pan couldn’t help but let her eyes trace over his features for a brief moment. She found herself liking his jaw structure and his smile, but quickly forbid herself from going further. Pan cleared her throat slightly and tightened the pouch about her shoulder and waist before she settled her gaze upon Isaac’s and offered one of her smiles.

“How are you?” She finally asked, getting over her slight embarrassment from earlier. “Sleep well?”

Pan didn’t want enemies, none, but Oasis was inevitable. Maybe one day the two will see eye to eye but at that moment, it just didn’t seem obvious. Pan was usually a well-liked person because of her free spirit, perhaps that was why she was given the Air trait. The gift that so caused drama between her and Oasis.

The girl could remember some time at school, middle or high school she couldn’t remember which. She was new and everyone wanted to be her friend. Not because she was popular, just because she seemed pure and not afraid to be out there, and be bold, smile all the time. She hoped that it wouldn’t cause her too much trouble now, with this future…or past.

Oh this time in the world. How would she survive? At first, she felt like she could face the world head on, but at times she felt herself getting discouraged. She knew she was strong, she knew she could stand her ground, but for how long seemed to always be the question. Would this era be any easier than the future, or much, much harder?

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Delphine Vawdrey Character Portrait: Adamus Locke Character Portrait: Desdemona Ariel Forte Character Portrait: Jenny Pilot Character Portrait: Abigail Turner Character Portrait: Jessica Cartwright Character Portrait: Oasis Monarae Character Portrait: Piper Baker Character Portrait: Jordan Levy Character Portrait: Alexander Andersson Character Portrait: Isaac Gil-Ruiz Character Portrait: Darren Conway Character Portrait: Tristan North Character Portrait: Kara Darrow Character Portrait: Noah Richards
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With Adamus Locke behind her, Delphine Vawdrey gracefully processed down the fort's outdoor staircase, and into the courtyard. "Dee," her partner in crime started, "Are you going to continue on with the orientation even if all thirty of them aren't present?" She turned around for a second, and gave him a hard glare. "Of course. I cannot force them to come. It is their problem if they would rather disregard our resourceful information and have themselves slaughtered by demons in two days tops. If they do not wish to see their future again, however pleasant it may be compared to this time, then so be it."

She sauntered her way up to the fountain, reaching the students' line of sight. Delphine seemed to gaze at each and every one of them with petrifyingly sepia-colored eyes. To her surprise, quite a few of the thirty showed up. Not all of them, unfortunately, but a decent amount. She planted her feet about six feet away from them, while Adamus took his stance behind her. He crossed his arms behind his back in a military-like fashion, and watched the present scene unfold.

"Good afternoon, newly recruited," she began, her voice sounding firm, deep, and robust. Whenever she spoke, silence was always sure to follow. She had used the term "newly recruited" instead of "students" because she knew the fort was not a school. Delphine didn't feel like it was her job to teach these young adults. However, they were obligated to learn. "I am sure that most of you have already acquainted yourself with the fort's interior and exterior. Now that you know the basis of it, I will ask it of each of you to respect it as if it were your own.”

She paced back and forth. The woman stared ahead towards the forest and the fort rather than at the young adults who watched her from a perpendicular spectrum. Adamus crossed his arms, and at times, turned his gaze downwards towards the grayish-black stone tiles of the courtyard. “I will now state how things are going to work around here.” Delphine stated boldly, “I advise you to keep these standards in your minds at all times. In other words, break any of these rules, and it is your quandary, not mine. I am only here to ensure all of you are safe, as Adamus has instructed me.” She turned back to face the man, who gave a small nod, and then placed her arms in front of her, and gripped them tightly.

“First and foremost, this fort is not a school, nor is it a college or institution. It was never established as a school, and it will not be referred to as a school. Our ancestors have simply referred to it as a “headquarters” of sorts, a safe-haven where not only magic-users are protected, but are given tools to aid them in a secretive and prejudiced world.”Delphine then gazed sharply at Jenny as she spoke, at least, that was what the young French girl was getting from her stern, heart-stopping glare. “When I say a prejudiced world, I am referring to the many peoples in this area who are unfamiliar with magic. There are people who do not believe in it, and who understand it to be a vile craft. It is because of these peoples’ views that I ask each of you to be cautious to an extreme degree. You do not want to reveal your identities to them, as they may not be so willing to accept you…”

Adamus then quickly stepped up to speak, “In addition to what Dee has just said, I’d like to add that every little thing you do in this past will add up in the future.” Delphine strongly held her gaze on Adamus. She preferred the title “Madame Vawdrey” in front of those who were below her in rank, and he knew it better than anyone else. “If you aren’t careful, the eradication of the demons may not be the only thing you change in the future. It is because of this that we ask you tell us where you are going. We don’t mean to invade your privacy or personal boundaries, but we just want to complete this mission as subtly as possible.” He then stepped back, letting Delphine take the stage once again.

She cleared her throat, and then spoke clearly, “Now, as for what you will be learning here and how you will be learning it, we have set up a structure for all of you so that you will learn to harness your powers, as well as other skills that may come in handy as we all try to find and rid of these demons once and for all. Including Adamus, there are six instructors who will be teaching you a certain subject of magic. Five of them will be mentors for a specific class of magic. When I mean class, I mean what certain category your special power belongs to. I am sure Adamus has already explained, but if you need help figuring out your class of magic, you can see me after this orientation, and I will further explain it to you.”

Delphine then moved farther back, and started to project her voice. “Because the world and the future is at stake here, in addition to whatever special power you may have, we are going to require that everyone practice in at least one of the magic sub-sets per day. There is alchemy, taught by myself, runes translation, enchanting, transfiguration, which involves shape-shifting and such, and finally, summoning, like so….” In a split second, Delphine had drawn a bow from behind her back. She turned around, revealing a quiver of arrows strapped around her right shoulder. Clearly, the items hadn’t been in her possession before the orientation. If one had inspected the situation closely, they would notice that Delphine had supernaturally taken Oasis’s bow, as it was missing from the red-haired girl’s possession. The quiver of arrows, however, was a mystery. Delphine moved slightly closer to the targets that were set up far away from the fountain, and continued to speak.

“In addition to using magic, we would also like you to train in combat, as it is useful to know, and valuable in certain situations you may encounter.” She carefully gripped just below the tip of an arrow, and with her fingers clenched in a fist, she lighted it on fire. “There will be chests set up around the courtyard that will be filled with a variety of weapons, such as bows, maces, flails, swords, and knives. You may train with them as much as you like, but please do not destroy them too much. Some are very ancient…” She strung the flaming arrow into the bow, pulled the string, and aimed for the target. Her stance as an archer was impeccable. You could tell just by her mannerisms that she was extraordinarily professional in the art of archery. “As for practicing, you may do it alone or with others. There is really nothing to say about the subject of the matter, HOWEVER, if someone is irrationally fighting another for purposes other than training, there WILL be consequences…” She let go of the string, sending the arrow flying through the air. With extreme speed, it hit the target right in the center. The flame was then put out, leaving a distinct black mark right on the target’s bullseye.

The bow then disappeared out of Delphine’s hands, and found itself perched right next to Oasis’s feet. The tan-skinned woman sauntered back up to the young adults. “Now, tonight is the Holiday of Mages, and so normal protocol will not commence until tomorrow. We ask each of you to celebrate the holiday with us, as it is a traditional part of our culture. Of course, just entering under the wing and protection of the Five Mages, it would be incredibly wise to make an outstanding first impression on them. You may not believe so…but they are always watching over us.” She turned her head towards Adamus. He gave a quick nod again, the same expression plastered upon his ancient-looking face. “Formal attire appropriate for the holiday can be found in each of your rooms. While you all get ready, Adamus and I will be decorating the courtyard. The Holiday of the Mages is a festivity that you certainly do not want to miss out on…”

Delphine took a moment to let the last sentence sink in, and then spoke louder than before, “That is the end of the meeting. If you have any questions you pray need answered, I will be staying put for a few more minutes in order to quell your curiosity. As for the rest of you, I encourage you to make haste and get ready for the feast we will be having in a few short moments. Thank you all for your participation.”

Everything seemed quiet at first, but then the ball got rolling again. As Adamus gave a gentle smile upon the group, Jenny got up from the edge of the fountain, and made her way towards the staircase that would bring her towards the inside of the fort. She had no questions, as she remembered the talk Adamus had given the group about the different classes of magic. Although the orientation had been simple and to-the-point, Jenny couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. Hopefully she’d get to drown her anxiety in plentiful food, as the Holiday of the Mages sounded absolutely exquisite….

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Delphine Vawdrey Character Portrait: Adamus Locke Character Portrait: Desdemona Ariel Forte Character Portrait: Jenny Pilot Character Portrait: Abigail Turner Character Portrait: Jessica Cartwright Character Portrait: Oasis Monarae Character Portrait: Piper Baker Character Portrait: Jordan Levy Character Portrait: Alexander Andersson Character Portrait: Isaac Gil-Ruiz Character Portrait: Darren Conway Character Portrait: Tristan North Character Portrait: Kara Darrow Character Portrait: Noah Richards
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Jessica listened to Madame Vawdrey's words, barely daring to move. The woman had an aura about her that demanded the absolute respect of everyone around her. Even from this distance, Jessica could see that Madame Vawdreys' eyes had a steely determination about them, that she would succeed in anything she did, whatever it took. This was not a woman to suffer fools gladly. Jessica liked that.

Jessica looked around the group who had gathered. As was always the case, she knew some of them better than others, and some were noticeable by their absence. Alexander hadn't turned up, Jessica noticed with a small smile. No doubt he had fallen asleep somewhere. Now, Jessica was one who liked her sleep, but compared to Alex, she felt like she barely slept. When Madame Vawdrey had finished speaking, and she was sure Adamus had nothing more to add, Jessica quietly took her leave of the group. She wandered through the fort, wondering where Alex had fallen asleep this time. She figured that the most logical place to start would be his room. There was a bed there after all. She backtracked on herself, trying to remember where Alex's dorm was. When she remembered, she started walking with some kind of purpose in her steps, until she came to his room. Jessica pressed her ear to the door. Hearing next to nothing through it, she knocked on the door, "Alex? You in there?" She asked, giving her voice just enough volume to carry through the door without startling him too much, she hoped.




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Darren felt his stomach sink at the mention of 'formal attire'. While he doubted that the suits that usually constituted formal attire weren't around yet, the prospect of dressing up didn't really appeal to him. He had never really understood why his cousins, both of them girls, had gone crazy for a new dress every Christmas, that they would wear to eat dinner in, and probably wear once or twice again before forgetting about the dress and demanding a new one for next Christmas, or birthday, or some other celebration he hadn't noticed. His Christmas attire was a clean t-shirt and some comfortable trousers that has a little give in the waist. Nothing fancy, just practical and comfortable. Sometimes, it was pajamas at the dinner table. He never saw the point.

Not really being an expert on historical fashion, Darren had no idea what constituted formal wear in this period. Historical dramas had completely passed him by. His knowledge of fashion of the past was corsets. That was it. There were corsets involved somewhere along the line, though he doubted he would be required to wear one. No, no corsets for him. Darren pushed himself up from the ground, dusting his jeans down when he was up. Realising he had absolutely nothing to do other that get changed, he sat himself down on the fountain wall, wanting to be a part of the group for just a little while longer.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Delphine Vawdrey Character Portrait: Desdemona Ariel Forte Character Portrait: Jenny Pilot Character Portrait: Abigail Turner Character Portrait: Jessica Cartwright Character Portrait: Oasis Monarae Character Portrait: Piper Baker Character Portrait: Jordan Levy Character Portrait: Alexander Andersson Character Portrait: Isaac Gil-Ruiz Character Portrait: Darren Conway Character Portrait: Tristan North Character Portrait: Kara Darrow Character Portrait: Noah Richards
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Abigail raises her eyebrow at Noah at his comment on her enigmatic choice of words. Tristan goes on to question her choice of words as well, but a lingering frown makes it clear that she isn't altogether too keen on lending further insight on her wordings. Still, never the sort to not answer a question asked, she responds, albeit in a voice nearly drowned out by continuing conversation: "The preferred mages are taught, or born, but not instantly made." She glances around briefly, but is quite content to have been overlooked for small conversation, though she is hardly the sort to be naturally inclined towards such chatting. This is especially true now, as her mind is easily moved away from that which she cares little for- like one's opinion of the weather, or anything along those lines.

Thinking on the topic of the creation of mages, Abigail can sympathize with those who would disapprove of people given gifts instantly. After all, were she back at the university, life as it had once been, and someone suddenly waltzed in with an incredibly proficiency for mathematics or science that they hadn't had the previous day, and showed no evidence of working for, how could she help but be irritated? Not that this is the same situation entirely, of course, for those who will teach them are still many years ahead of the skills of the 30, including the one who looks as though she might actually be younger than several of the members here. Still, the idea does linger in her mind, that they are a somewhat irritating sort due to the foundations of their magical abilities, though not due to individual personality issues. Well. Some of them do strike her as somewhat aggravating, but that's unimportant.

By this point, a few more people had entered the courtyard, though they made no attempt to engage themselves in the conversation, instead opting to watch silently. She studies their faces from the corner of her eye, before becoming concerned that she might look rather creepy doing so and looking away once more. Piper begins talking, then, asking people how they've slept and talking about her most recent herbal concoctions. Abigail is far more interested in hearing about her use of various herbs, but the girl comments something about her loquaciousness and fades out a bit.

Conversation is cut short as soon as Adamus and Delphine arrive, presumably to debrief the group on what's going on. Based on the look that Delphine gives Adamus when he addresses her as 'Dee' in front of the students, she would rather be called more formally. Abigail makes a note to address her as Madame Vawdrey when speaking within earshot of the woman, who can certainly do more damage than Abigail can. Already, the girl begins to doubt that she will be much a part of the vanguard going against the monsters, especially as is, for she can't really yield a weapon at the moment. Perhaps she will have a seat planning the strategy, but it seems Adamus will be doing most of that. There must be some point to her, though. Abigail hopes so, anyway.

When the debriefing is over, Abigail has no questions- none that will not be answered over time, anyway. She is excited despite herself, for the girl has always had a place in her heart for old things, and being able to celebrate a holiday in the genuine fashion is a somewhat exciting prospect for her, though it appears that not everyone shares this opinion. She notices Darren deliberately staying in the area of the rest of the group, but thinks nothing of it. People are pack animals of sorts, after all, even those raised in highly individualistic cultures. She, personally, continues on towards her personal room to find what has been left for her.


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Tristan doesn't seem to notice Abigail's response, honestly having already moved along to the next subject at hand. He hasn't always had the longest of attention spans, something well known by several of the people who were employed by him- his manager, manager's assistant, driver of the tour bus, etc. He may have been able to work towards his musical career, but that was an exception rather than a rule in his life. He is constantly changing various little things, even if the larger picture continues to remain intact. He gives a smile to ever person who enters the courtyard individually, though his gaze continues to dance from person to person to person. He is far more fond of looking at people than at the various details of this great structure. He has always been like that- more focused on people than items, on social spheres than material wealth. Perhaps this is part of his social competency.

Eventually, further conversation comes about, as Piper inquires after how the rest of the party had slept last night. Tristan, personally, had slept like a baby. He's always been a very heavy sleeper, leading to constant tardies back in his school days. It was something which had bothered his parents very much, in fact. "No need for those, thank you," the young man responds cheerily, remaining somewhat polite in the statement. "I sleep like a log, regardless of where I am doing so, as it happens," he adds, running a hand through his hair, as is his tendency to do with little to no reason. It's a very meaningless habit, but then, most of his are.

When Piper states, seeming concerned, that she is talking too much, he raises his eyebrow before grinning, "Well, if that's true, you're in great company." He refers partially to himself, of course, though many assorted figures might be inserted into this vague 'company'. It is clear that no one is feeling particularly talkative, so he is glad when two of their instructors enter, the woman reminding him more of a stern schoolteacher than the man, despite her prettiness and youth.

They go through a spiel about how people should conduct themselves, and briefly touching on how their education is to go about. He is more interested in their physical training, being in rather good shape himself- he must, to keep the slightly more shallow fans' attention riveted onto him and his career. Given his gifts for sleight of hand, as well, his first thought is that he'd do best with something lightweight and close-combat, like a dagger or something along those lines.

When they finish off, he is quite ready to go, admittedly somewhat curious as to what this 'formal attire' will look like. Regardless, he is quite interested in the mentioned food, only just realizing how hungry he is. So, he walks, taking care to remain somewhat near others as he does so. Someone must have a room near his, after all.