Atticus stood at what served as the head of the room; in the roughly oval shaped amphitheatre, a podium and several transparent boards arrayed behind him at the narrow end of the the oval and looked slightly upward, watching the twenty some odd students enter into the classroom's wider end, and filter down the rows into their seats. For a moment he let his gaze drift further upward towards the domed ceiling. It's deep indentation and dull, yet reflective surface, would provide a good backdrop in future classes for showcasing particular spells or effects. At five minutes past the start of class, when he was relatively sure there were no more latecomers, he began the class.

"Good afternoon," from the beginning he spoke slowly, deliberately, "I am Atticus D'Arcstorm, and I will be the professor for Introduction to Arcane & Metaphysical Theory 1000." As he spoke, both his name and the name of the class appeared on the transparent boards behind him in large, easy to read, dark blue lettering; it was as though the class were being narrated for the hearing impaired, or perhaps for the facility of those who simply were slow at taking notes. "There are some of you here I recognize, from other classes " Professors " or from around the campus; some of you are completely new to me, though for future consideration you may assume that I never forget a face, name, or especially Practitioner of the Arts. Before I begin, I must confess that this is not the class I had originally intended to teach; it was brought to my attention, though, that in order to teach the class I desired, it would be better if there was a prerequisite which established the proper conceptual foundation. I will state now that for the remainder of the class, the terms 'arcane' or 'metaphysical' theory will be used synonymously and interchangeably with 'magic', unless stated otherwise; you can thank some of the faculty from the Combat Annex for that, or at least their ignorance in not realizing you could juxtapose the terms." His tone was very, very dry. If it were someone else, it might be said that he'd tried just now to slur the faculty from the Combat Annex, when in reality he'd just been stating a fact.

"The fact that society can be divided into these two categories of people leads us directly into Consensus. Consensus is the term that we use to describe what we all, to the very greatest extent, agree that our reality is. We all agree that if we jump, we come down again; if you hold a match to a block of ice, it will not burn; that you are sitting there in your seats, and that I am at the front of this classroom lecturing. We can all agree on these things. This comes into play with magic due to the simple fact that magic " especially to people who are unschooled in it " appears to change, or not adhere to, or allow other things to not adhere to, the laws of reality as we have agreed they are. An additional, and important point about Consensus is that it can, and does, change. It can change over time, or, it can change determined by who the 'group' is that determines it; for example, and I apologize now if I come back to the same examples in the future, but I wish to make this something you can remember, and perhaps relate to: if I were with a group of say, pyromancers, and no one else was around, there was no danger of anyone else viewing what we were doing, our Consensus would dictate that air, or perhaps anything in fact, could burn " even perhaps ice. That would be our agreed upon reality, our Consensus."

"This last fact brings us into another duo, not types of people now, but types of magic: Coincidental and Vulgar. I shall try to be terse in my descriptions of these, as I believe that they are fairly straightforward. When magic falls within the purview of any kind of Consensus, when it does nothing to violate the laws of reality as all onlookers would see, or be effected by it, it is considered Coincidental.

An interesting note on Consensus while considering this; imagine a person, mundane or awakened, who constantly in their life deals with repeated circumstances which are rare occurrences for most others, such as a firefighter. A firefighter is more apt to be in situations where they are surrounded by fires, and probably " at least if they are likely to survive " water; because of this, many spells which have to do with either fire or water are completely Coincidental around firefighters. Everyone here, if you consider, would likely not find it out of place for a large fire or explosion, or jets of water blowing through the air, to be accompanied by a firefighter. Or perhaps the example could simply be a person who is indecisive; for a mentalist, or someone skilled with the workings of persuasive or mind-effecting magic, many spells cast on an indecisive person could be considered Coincidental."

"Certainly while some of you might not have ever seen a mage die in casting a spell, you must have heard of them being 'burned out', of losing the ability to cast spells " sometimes temporarily, other times permanently; sometimes the touch of Paradox weakens a magic user, leaving them feeling drained of energy as though they had exerted everything they had physically " even though the casting of a spell might take only a gesture. Some mages bleed, some develop palsy, and as I implied before, if the backlash of Paradox is strong enough " if it violates Consensus in such a grandiose way that, for example, it results in Sleepers Awakening, the backlash might be strong enough to make the mage bleed from the nose, ears, eyes, or even die as though they had suffered some sort of cardiac arrest, or an aneurysm or the like.

"Arguably worse, Consensus may seem to calcify to the point where reality simple rejects the existence of the mage entirely, and they and whatever effects they try to achieve become all but invisible to reality " and everyone or thing within it, save those things touched by madness, whose attention is generally unwanted."

He clasped his hands behind him and he stopped pacing and stood directly in front of the lectern, facing the students. He took his time, giving them theirs to finish any note taking. Glancing sideways, his view took in a tertiary transparent board and he raised his hand to gesture to it, making vague writing motions with his finger tip as words appeared on the otherwise unused board. When his gestures stopped, so did the words appearing on the board, revealing them to be this weeks homework assignment; it was only the first class, but he thought it better to get a handle on what the students absorbed and what they did not, plus, the first assignment wasn't terribly difficult: provide one example of Coincidental magic, and one example of Vulgar magic, OR; provide an example of a scenario in which the same type of 'effect' might be considered with Coincidental -or- Vulgar, depending on Consensus, OR; provide examples of two different 'types' of Consensus.

As he watched the last of the students look up, he wondered how many were looking up because they had finished taking notes, and how many looked up because they'd been lost or asleep and had just realized that he had stopped talking.

"Thus concludes our first lecture in Arcane & Metaphysical Theory. I shall stay for a few moments after, as long as you need, really, to answer any questions or concerns that you may have. Please do not hesitate to ask if you need something, and for those of you in a hurry ? please note that next classes homework assignment is on the board, before you become too engrossed in discussion, though, as we will be discussing your thoughts on the material so far, and your expectations."





OOC: Class has begun, everyone have fun! You don't have to check them, but there are not hidden, but not obvious links in there, as I mentioned in my Sign Up OOC, crediting the origins of some of the concepts I'm borrowing. Cheers!

Ammy sat in the middle of the classroom and clothed comfortably in jean and white hoodie for the day. She had a Star Trek themed messenger bag by her side and was aptly writing away, penning down the notes Professor D'Arcstorm had provided on the boards. She had to confess that the vast majority of this information was completely foreign to her and it lit the fire of eagerness to learn more in her.

She glanced to the student, Fliss, if she remembered the name right from seeing her in the History of RhyDin class that Professor Tolmay had taught. It was nice to see some familiar students progressing through various classes the Academy had though at the moment she too was curious to hear what the professor would say to Fliss' question. She'd had some prior experience with magical or 'Mana' sickness as some had called it, but the Paradox and Consensus terms had her scratching her furred chin.

As the professor spoke, Fliss' note taking grew faster, comprehending what she had missed the first time around. It made sense if she thought of it in terms of her father's experiences, rather than her own, which meant that Johnny was going to be on the receiving end of a few uncomfortable questions when she got home.

She smiled in relief as the professor reached the end of his explanation, nodding to show that she had understood, and raised her hand once again to ask another question, waiting patiently to be called upon.

"This is just to clarify," she apologized for asking something more so soon. "By Coincidental, you mean something that the accepted Consensus might view or experience, but accept as possible, and Vulgar is something that the accepted Consensus would have difficulty in accepting as possible in their general view of reality. Like ....Coincidental would be heat making water evaporate, but Vulgar would be making it burn?"

Ammy listened intently to the illumination Professor D'Arcstorm gave when responding to Fliss' question. This had brought to mind and answered a few puzzling questions and speculations she'd had upon her own home realm when reading various magical histories her husband had on hand. She would raise her hand quietly and wait to be called on once other questions before her had been answered.

"So to settle things correctly in my mind given that the terms being used are quite foreign to my homeland, a Realm or Reality could simply choose not believe magic exists; that such exhibits of magical talent could prove quite detrimental to the person that was awakened as you put it professor and the simple act of minor spells could produce severe exhaustion based on the majority of a non-believer dampening field"

Is this the same type of difficulty or deterioration one could see, for example, in a realm that once believed fervently in Gods, Temples, Worship, Sacrifices and Miracles and then had some kind of shift to realizing that somehow they do not really exist leading to a consensus of no divine power manifesting anymore"

Or would it just mean that the consensus shifted in that realm from a 'holy' or 'religious' collective to a more modern technological one and many miracles now summed up to modern science and deity powers go unseen as coincidental magic and true miracles get attributed to mass hysteria or demented people as a form of vulgar magic?"

It is good to see so many roused from their slumber, Atticus thought, with full appreciation for the irony of the juxtaposition of sleeping students, Sleepers, and Awakened. He answered them in the order them came, and tried, when possible to segue from one subject to the next with some sense of commonality or purpose.

His focus still on Fliss, "Correct, although I would temper the term 'accepted Consensus', if only because I do not believe there is a question of accepting or not; every reality has it's own Consensus, it's own....set of rules.

"In planes, dimensions, or universes that support life, there are similarities between those realities, because it is the laws of that reality that make life - as we know it - possible. A living being must be able to breath, to take in sustenance, it must have shelter; at least living things as we know them. I may have been remiss in my earlier explanation of Consensus in putting the complete onus of it's existence on the things that 'live' in a world.

"The universe, each of them even, is like a tapestry - in arcane parlance, called the Tellurian; whether no one is looking at it, or a dozen people are looking at it, the tapestry is the same - but how people perceive it is different. Consensus is like, and I hesitate to give more examples, so as to not sow further confusion, what everyone/thing can agree they see in the tapestry." His eyes narrowed, and he felt suddenly that he'd gone too far, said too much. "For the purpose of this class, and for right now, you have a perfect, functional understanding - at least before I answered your last question."

He acknowledged Ammy, then, and listened to her set of questions, as it were; mind still churning from trying to answer Felicity without going too far, elements of Ammy's questions were evocative of the same train of though and so he dove in - some part of his consciousness hoping that he didn't offend her in the process of answering.

"I will attempt, Lady Spiritor, to answer your questions and concerns in order; as I tried to explain - poorly I believe - to Ms. Storm, Consensus is more than the belief of a group of people - even if that group consists of all the persons on a planet. Some places have a highly rigid Consensus; reality is very set, very calcified, and by extension magic is very hard to use, and when it is used comes with greater risk than when used in a place with more malleable Consensus. It is not a question of a non-believer anything, more the fact that each reality has it's own set of rules that it adheres to - and when you break those rules, you are subject to certain consequences; this is much like the adage that every action demands an equal and opposite reaction. If you are the type of user who chooses to quantify your energy as some sort of 'mana', the exhaustion effect which I used in an example is synonymous with," he paused, considering for a moment, wanting to make sure he got this exactly right. "The more strongly your magic violates Consensus, the more 'mana', or whatever unit - spiritual or otherwise - your magic will 'cost'. In some realities, 'simple' spells become much harder.

"Moving on to the 'deterioration' that you mentioned, I must admit that there are certain characteristic similarities, with perhaps a small caveat; our purpose here is to examine magic, and the theory of it's use, without labeling as divine or profane. I cannot fathom a realm, as you put it, whose Consensus evolves to only mitigate a certain type of magic like that. Moreover, the discussion begs the questions: What are gods" What are Miracles" What are the correlating functions of Temples, Worship, and Sacrifice? These questions and their answers are to a large degree, if I gauge your interest correctly, beyond the scale and scope of this lecture certainly, but will be touched upon briefly later in the class, attached to the idea of where magic - or the power that is manipulated to cast spells - comes from. If it answers your question at all, though, the 'power' as you put it would - I believe - still be accessible, but likely through different means. I believe that should also answer your last addendum to that question, to a degree at least; the Consensus might not change, but levels of Vulgarity or Coincidence might change."

He cast an apologetic look around the class upon answering this last question, and the tone of his voice took on a tone almost as apologetic.

Almost.

"I hope you can see," speaking to the class as a whole, "the intimate relationship between paradox and magic in my explanation of Consensus; it is both something fluid and static, depending on who is assessing it, for what reason, and depending on their subjective state to Coincidental and Vulgar magic."

Lydia arrived to class a few minutes early. Her role as Headmistress of the Academy made her time sparse but she wanted to witness the Professor's first class, especially as she had been not-so-subtly hinting that she would like him to teach for years. Although she may have suggested it was due to his lack of substantial work, she honestly thought he had quite a lot to offer to the students. What she was not aware of was that her twin sister, Leta, had approached Mr. D"Arcstorm as Lydia to request that he complete research on behalf of Pengallen Corporation, a subsidiary for The Company she worked for, which undoubtedly would have cut into his productivity time for the Academy as well.

Lydia chose to sit towards the back as not to make Professor D"Arcstorm, or even his students, anxious of her presence. She worried the students might hesitate to ask questions in fear of embarrassing themselves in front of "the Headmistress" or, even worse, they may act up on purpose just to test the Professor to make him look bad in front of her.

Sitting towards the left rear of the amphitheatre, she attempted to wear a casual ensemble to fit in with the other students, but most of her traditional habits were not ones she could break from so easily. She wore a pale blue blouse adorned with a simple copper beaded necklace, opting to skip the blazer. Choosing to forego her typical pencil skirt, she went with a black knife pleated skirt that went above her knees over black sweater pantyhose with simple black leather flats. Her hair, on the other hand, was in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, as was her routine.

Sitting ramrod straight in her seat for the lecture, Lydia occasionally glanced down to her small leather covered notebook to take notes with her antique ballpoint pen. While most of her notes were regarding the lecture as Professer D?Arcstorm went along, there were a few of her personal notes along the margins regarding how well he organized his lesson and how he was properly able to relate the content to the students with many examples. She was even more impressed as he answered questions from the audience, easily able to clarify the material further. Considering his somewhat antisocial tendencies at times, she had wondered how his interactions would go during class. Now she was no longer concerned.

She was very proud of him.

As the lecture and discussion began to dwindle, Atticus had been eyeing the clock at the very back of the class. He had no desire to infringe on another Professors class time by keeping their students over long. Despite the imposed limits of other classes and other people's schedules, he was hesitant to rush anything, as he enjoyed listening to the discussion between students for their somewhat innocent approach to the material that they were covering. Sometimes, he found, the further back you learn a thing, a concept, the harder it was to refresh your opinion; listening to their interpretations was both interesting and educational. He was eager to see how their thoughts would twist and curve and process more theories as they were added onto those just learned.

"Fascinating," he murmured to himself, both in response to his thoughts and to the students remarks. "Not necessarily young minds, but fresh minds, are truly one of innovation's greatest assets." Only those closest to the front would have heard him. There was no bell, and no marker of time save for the clock inside the classroom, and whatever the students themselves had brought. Sound was mitigated from outside thanks to warding, to prevent class from being interrupted. Now the onus fell on him to call the assembly to order and dismiss it.

He raised his hands....and again glanced at the clock. The second hand moved forward a second....then backward a second. Forward, backward, forward, backward...

"Though I hate to interrupt your learning," his voice raised to get the classes attention, even as his eyes narrowed in studying the clock, flicking away from it and back to his students. "But today's class has reached its afforded limit; most of you have somewhere else to go, and all of you have homework," he gestured to the board behind him where next week's assignment was still posted. He kept talking as students began to gather their things. "Next weeks class we will start to cover different 'kinds' of magic, but all through the lens of Technomancy - I am certain it will provide quite a bit of insight as to how some mages can work within the limits of Consensus and still achieve spectacular effects. For those of you not interested in Technomancy, I assure you the following weeks classes will steer us from that to more 'traditional' views"

The clock kept ticking, not forward, but back and forth, back and forth...

One of the students approached him in passing out the door, "Professor, I think the clock is broken..."

"Yes," Atticus responded, somewhat absently, "I am well aware, maintenance will address it....shortly." The boy nodded curtly and kept true to his route out of class, backpack slung across his shoulder.

After some additional comments from some of the other instructors, and hesitant looks and smiles from most of the students - which he did his best to reciprocate - he was finally left alone in the class with one pupil who hadn't yet moved from their seat.

"The clock doing that, in a class full of magic users - Coincidental, right?" the boy spoke casually.

"Yes," Atticus tone was dry in response, "Obviously. Nevertheless, I am not sure what you - we - use in that sense qualifies strictly as magic."

"'Cause you just build 'em, right?" the boys eyebrow shot up, and he stood and stretched. And appeared to just keep stretching, growing, maturing, until suddenly there stood a fully grown man. The only thing that remained the same was the shock of unruly blond hair. "Just here to pass it along, but, you have to go to the Inn tonight."

"I have class work to prepare for, and I have no desire to visit a drinking establishment." Atticus was collecting his things, preparing to depart - whether the man was ready to be dismissed or not.

"My nephew is dead, Atticus. You remember him, don't you?" his words were somewhat cutting, "I had a part in that gamble, and so did you. Those seeds he took - we knew his mind, but we made sure he had access, didn't we?"

Atticus had stopped, his mind racing. Most men in his situation would look chastised, but not him. He didn't feel much, least of all that. To him, all they were talking about was a calculation.

"She....is a goddess. Do not put his death on my hands; it was the boy's own faulty logic." No, not logic. Love. "His life is within her hands, to stay dead, or rejoin us. Do not speak to me as if she is some neonate to be schooled in resurrection."

"I'm not trying to. Just saying. She's gonna be there. Tonight. I'd go myself but....some pillars have to be left standing, don't they' Really wanna risk seeing Tempus loosed the same as Pathfinder was?"

Atticus waved sundry, silencing the man's protests.

"Very well, I shall attend personally." He turned away from the man to face the boards, making sure they were again clear. "And Brend, fix the..." he turned back towards the man, finding....no one, and nothing there, then glanced towards the clock on the back wall. "Clock."

The hands on the clock showed that it was into mid evening. Somewhere in the span of minutes their short conversation had taken, hours had passed. A hard look of frustration appeared etched around his eyes, and he closed them with a deep breath, letting everything flow away, feeling his body tingle as it separated into it's most base building blocks until any onlooker - though none were present - would have seen his body glowing as if lit by blue fire.

Without sound, the blue fire coalesced into an arc of energy, and shot towards an energy socket in the wall, traveling to town faster than the eye could process.

It didn't matter, in the end, what the answer was. If she chose to make issue here, or to use them as leverage, she would have to go through him. Something he was certain she would not object to, but also something that she might find much more difficult than she might anticipate. As the last of the students trickled in Atticus moved to stand in front of the transparent boards as they seemed to glow, coming to life with the heading 'spheres of Reality', with nine bullet points below it " for now, blanks.

"Welcome back to Arcane & Metaphysical Theory 1000, I see most of you have made the brave choice to continue with your education in this field " something I commend you for." Just for a moment, a hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth, which was fairly unusual; he was known for his deadpan lack of emotions, and being the one of the most stoic and difficult to read professors on the campus. "I'll apologize now for the length of the lectures. I'll sincerely try not to overwhelm you, and I hope you remember to please not hesitate to ask questions afterwards, especially those of you who haven't said anything yet. I want to make sure everyone has at least a tentative grasp of where we are with things before I move the class forward; to that end, also, I'll be collecting last weeks homework at the end of this lecture. That should give the procrastinators among you ample time to finish up, and for those of you who weren't sure what to write at the end of last weeks class " perhaps this weeks will allow you more insight."

"Part of the way magic works for a mage is that, while reality is objective to Sleepers, it is literally much more subjective to Awakened." Atticus had moved to stand in front of his podium again, much like last time, pacing slowly " deliberately even " back and forth before the students.

"The most common reality to interact with the Nexus, I believe most people would agree, is the reality usually designated as Earth Prime. For that reason, in any examples or scenarios presented, you can assume that the Consensus held by the Sleepers is that of Earth Prime - Magic being viewed as illusion and sleight of hand, and most magical effects are seen as synthesized by high technology.

"Our exploration of the spheres we will start with Primal Field Theory. P.F.T. is the idea that everything in the universe, the multiverse, at its most basic indivisible level is essentially made from the same building blocks, simply rearranged to produce unique effects. This is an expansion of what on Earth Prime would be called String theory, or Unifying Theory. The largest deviation from Earth Prime's 'version' is that with P.F.T, those minuscule scale quanta that everything is made out of can be manipulated in a much more experimental way than String theorists could ever dream of. This is one of the reasons that having a facility with Primal Field Theory makes practitioners of the 'science' potentially very powerful. They understand and can manipulate the fundamental building blocks of reality itself, and in doing so, even other magics can be susceptible to their effects - to augment or hinder."

"Normally I would cover each sphere independently, but because there is a stronger than usual correlation between the two, Enlightened Biology & Enlightened Physics are the next two spheres we will cover. The correlation in these cases is quite obvious, I think, to their Earth Prime counterparts - Biology & Physics. To address the differences in their simplest terms, Enlightened scholars - magic users - of these disciplines are able to break the normal scientific restrictions faced by their respective practitioners. In the case of Enlightened Biology, there is nothing - or very little - to do with the body, plant or animal, which cannot be repaired or modified in some way. Genetics can be altered to such extremes that the original subject no longer remotely resembles it's first incarnation; plants that cannot bear fruit, or cannot grow in certain conditions do, and thrive; the dead can be brought back to life, even, though the chances of that being made possible can be increased by knowledge of other spheres as well - such as Force-based Paraphysics, which we shall cover momentarily."

"To contrast the last few spheres that we have done, we will now look at what is referred to as Psychodynamics - or in more lay parlance, Enlightened Psychology. Like it's more casual moniker, this particular discipline deals with manipulating the mind, though beyond the capabilities of normal psychology. With Psychodynamics, especially coupled with Enlightened Biology, it would be possible to heal - or inflict - any mental condition, either to help or hinder a subject; one could be afflicted with the somewhat colloquial 'multiple personality disorder', or, they may have their mind 'trained' or conditioned to a certain end, either making them smarter - or in more sinister circumstances, making them servile. Anything a psychologist could do with their practice, a Psychodynamicist could be able to do faster, more reliably, and more permanently. While Enlightened Biology can certainly help this discipline especially in regards to others, perhaps one of the ways in which Psychodynamics shines on its own is in a practitioners ability to empower their own minds to achieve feats, such as thought projection, telepathy, or mind reading - though in some circumstances all of those uses could certainly be considered Vulgar if the practitioner was not careful. Some of the more interesting, and certainly practical uses of Psychodynamics involves it being coupled together with our next sphere of study: Data."

"While all of the spheres of reality for the Technocratic paradigm have corresponding more 'Traditional Spheres', Data is somewhat unique in how it has evolved separately from it's parallel, Correspondence, which we'll discuss next class. Data is unique due to the fact, which is also it's weakness, that it relies heavily on technology " and because of that is a relatively new advent. Data is somewhat like Primal Field Theory, in the notion that everything can be broken down to some sort of universal base unit, but practitioners of Data are of the opinion that those base units are essentially ones and zeroes, the binary languages of modern computer code, or other similar 'source codes' that Sleepers would view as confusing masses of code and formula. What truly allowed Data to come into it's own as a sphere is the creation of Internet, or World Wide Web systems, linking together various technological apparatuses. While new and interesting, Data can be very hard to understand conceptualize; while numbers, codes, formula, etc. Are very real, working with Data using the mind alone can be very abstract.?

"I thought it fitting to include the last two as a set, as there is a certain synergy between them. In both the Technocratic parlance and in more traditional views of magic, one is called Entropy, and has to do with " superficially at least " what on Earth Prime and like worlds is called Chaos Theory. Chaos Theory by itself is an incredibly complex mathematical analysis system, and far beyond the scope of this class to teach " though everyone would do well to have a basic knowledge of it. To be brief, Chaos Theory " and the sphere of Entropy " is the realization that actions cannot be 'taken back'; you can commit another subsequent action which seems to undo the consequences of the first, but you cannot truly rescind an action. Some things are irreversible, some are just more obvious than others; you can refill a glass of spilled water, but you cannot put all of the water which was spilled back into the glass, nor return the glass to it's exact position before the spill occurred " you can return conditions to a similar state, but you cannot reverse the action that made them proceed to the state they are now in. Manipulators of Entropy are masters are identifying the hinge moments in which things change, moments of what some would call fate or fortune; it is in those moments that Entropomancers, sometimes known as Fatalists, use their power to effect chance one way or another " coincidentally. At it's heart, use of the sphere of Entropy is what allows mages to effect probability."

"In a way, it would make sense to end there on Entropy " there is a certain sense of finality to it, after all, in determinism. After having taken up so much of your time, however, I thought the only more fitting sphere to end on, however, would be Temporal Mechanics. For some of you, use of Temporal Mechanics would be an excellent way to return to the beginning of this class and recommend to an earlier you not to take it; for others, it would be an excellent chance to cover the source material again, and in that difference we would find the difference between mediocrity and excellence " though that is truly a digression into education.?

Having settled in her mind some of what the first lecture had been about, Fliss had come to the second feeling more confident in her ability to understand the professor's chosen subject.

That confidence was gone by the time he reached the end of his first paragraph.

By the third example, she was taking notes on automatic, her mouth hanging open and her mind as blank as the expression on her face.

What the hell was a Sphere, and what did it have to do with anything" Was she Awakened, or was she a sleepwalker here" Was taking this class the worst mistake she had ever made ever in the history of everness" She'd thought she had a handle on the angle he was coming from, but as he talked, she realized she was more lost than ever, glancing guiltily down at her homework as though second-guessing every word she had written ....even the easy words like and and the.

As the professor paused, she looked down at her notes. Earth Prime ....Technomancy ....paradigm ....Primal Field Theory ....what am I doing with my life ... She crossed that last one out a little harder than necessary, igniting the hem of her sleeve in the process and yelping as she put out the flames with her palm, casting as furtive look around the room in the hope that no one had noticed. Of course, the burning smell in the air wasn't so easy to hide.

If in doubt, draw attention elsewhere ...

She raised her hand - the hand that didn't have a burned sleeve - and waited patiently for the professor to notice her.

"Um, sir ....is this all about how an Earth Prime Technomancy might separate out and explain within the terms of their own Consensus how a magic user does things?" she asked, hoping like hell this wasn't just a completely superfluous question. "Like how I'm magic here, because magic is accepted here, but my dad isn't considered magic, because there isn't magic on his homeworld. He's called a meta-human. But he and I can do pretty much the same things in the same way. Does that make sense?"

Please gods, let that make sense.

Ammy sat in class again, in the middle, staying relaxed and writing her notes down. She continued work on keeping casual with jeans and hoodies though it would seem even in student capacity it was hard to get many of the students on campus to label her anything but a professor. The wide range of Spheres discussed was massive though they seemed to correlate or ring in her mind with the terms of 'domains' or 'schools' of magic back on her home realm. She jotted down the possible connection between the three terms in her margin to consider later.

Force-Based Paraphysics, F.b.T. as the professor's notes had indicated for an acronym, had her summoning rapidly to her side a well worn, leather journal flagged with multiple tabs. She selected one section as she continued writing notes down from the lecture and did a quick review on something written in the journal. Seeming to have found agreement with something she nodded to herself. That was when she smelled the singe of fabric in the class room and looked to see Fliss raising her hand to ask her question.

The question posed by the girl struck a similar cord to the notes she was just referring to on some of the history of her ancestors. She'd slip her hand up and politely wait after Fliss was answered before speaking her question.

"Professor D'Arcstorm, my question has a bit to do in similarity with the last bit of Fliss's question in regards to 'magic' and 'metahuman'. I've been studying my ancestors for a year, they are a race of altered humans, called Humaran that came from a heavily radiated Earth due to massive wars. Records from what I could find stated magic to humans then was heavily considered myth and fairy tales but the Humaran's found a genetic way to allow them to harness the radioactive energy in the environment. Certain Humaran strains could replicate 'magic like effects' by using this radioactive energy. However some of the Humaran factions called these strains mutated Humarans to be able to do such. Could this be a case of F.b.T." Could Metahumans be in the category of F.b.T. if they are dealing genetics allowing them to access powers beyond a normal person?"

Before reintegration, the moments between ticks of the clock that it took him to answer would have seemed like an eternity in their emptiness; the actual time it took him to answer would have been the same either way, but before there was something so mechanical about things. Reality, or his paradigm at least, had become more vibrant. The often two dimensional formula that he saw in everything, explaining everything, making sense of everything in his mind, had changed. The formula was still there - measurements of time, space, light, dark, and other things. Instead of his mind's eye perceiving in an academic light, however, it was more akin to synesthesia reading sheet music, and hearing the notes. That was it. The difference between a gear in a machine, or a man weaving the Tellurian.

He found himself nodding as the women spoke, very much appreciating how their questions dove tailed together. He couldn't help but note to himself how interesting it was, the similarities of the questions, and the differences in the demeanor of the two students. For a moment watching the panoply of emotions play out across Felicity's face as he'd been lecturing, he wondered if he should be concerned - after a brief moment of interest in the fact that he felt interested. The part of him that was the Artificer supported wholly the study of the arcane at any age - the younger the better; the other part of him, the newer - but secretly older - part of him couldn't help but recognize for a moment that for someone that wasn't him, wasn't indoctrinated so young, there are probably a million other things that seem to weigh so much heavier than how to manipulate the functions of reality. What's more, he thought that without a sense of irony. It was hard not to feel that every question she asked was a kind of personal victory, both for herself as a student and him as a professor.

Amaterasu comparatively seemed to grasp - if not immediately understand - everything he said, and immediately try to arrange it into her own paradigm, which he found utterly fascinating to watch. Especially being in a room in which the vast majority of people hadn't even been familiar with the concepts only days before. He recognized Ammy as a High Mage, or Archmage, in her own right - and certainly to a people at least, she had ascended to a divine or semi-divine position. According to his own paradigm, she was as close to a High Eternal as any being he had met who had not ventured through the Looking Glass or Pendulum artifacts of the Existence Paradigm set.

Except perhaps, Arenn the Redeemer's twinner, and it was hard to determine exactly where she stood giving her dynamic, evolutionary nature.

"I couldn't have asked for two questions to be more tailor made to one another," he spoke casually; instead of his usual pacing he walked only until he stood in front of the podium, and leaned back against it, hands clasped behind his back. "The first thing we have to address with both these situations is this: Is there really a difference here between Science and Magic, and if there is, who can tell where that line is drawn" Perhaps suggesting we address it is going too far - we need to think about it. Can anyone, truly definitively answer it' My answer to that is no; as individuals our viewpoints are so completely subjective as to make any statement of an answer irrelevant. As groups, it's just slightly the other way - there's a certain practical objectiveness we have to adopt when looking at the question to make the answer inclusive to our combined viewpoints. Pardon me," he stepped away from the lectern and began to pace again, but unlike the previous class, he gestured more broadly with his hands, and when he wasn't addressing particular students his gaze seemed to retreat inwards as he spoke - while the transparent boards behind him were filled with visual aides of his thoughts: back to a basic diagram of the nine 'spheres' of reality that they'd gone over, each one overlapping two others on either side. Two spheres were which lighted prominently were Force-based Paraphysics, and Primal Field Theory. He addressed Felicity more directly.

"Now, you've already stated how your father is viewed, but what about how you would be viewed on his, as you call it, homeworld?" his gaze shifted to Ammy for a moment to make sure she was included in this part of his answer as well, that it be directed as much towards answering her. "Let's look closely at the definition of 'meta-human', to begin. It's essentially 'beyond human'. Taken very liberally, I think it's safe to assume that most magic users would or could be considered 'beyond human', and most meta-human's could be viewed as magic users to the uninitiated. Broadly, it comes down to how we, or any Consensus I suppose, likes to define the unknown; to directly answer you, Ms. Storm, yes - not only is it 'like' how your father isn't considered magic at home because there is no magic there, it is exactly that." He turned more fully to Ammy now.

"And while I am hesitant to essentially offer guesses about the development of worlds or people with which I am only in the infancy of familiarity, especially in regards to their ancient history, it certainly sounds reasonable that what you're describing, Amaterasu, is possibly a technocratic paradigm in its infancy, or perhaps an early hybrid - or late for that matter - when a Consensus is just forming, or changing from one paradigm to the other. If you're asking specifically about which 'spheres' would be coming into play, I would certainly consider F.b.T likely to be prominent, but also perhaps Enlightened Biology - in terms of adapting the lifeforms to harness otherwise exotic energy, although that would still be done with synergy in regards to F.b.T." He nodded, hoping that cleared up some of their questions, and spread his hands to gain the attention of the entire class.

"Just a note on the spheres we've been referencing; we are working on the premise that all of reality can be in some way philosophically divided, as it were, into different portfolios, or 'spheres' of influence. Everything in reality can be somehow qualified as belonging to one, or several 'spheres'. I believe I've said as much before, but perhaps not so succinctly. I don't mean to overwhelm any of you, and just want to make sure we're all making this journey together, as it were." He gestured between Felicity and Ammy, pointing with his pinky and forefinger, his ring and middle finger forming a circle against his thumb, "Hopefully I've sufficiently answered - if not, we can try again. And anyone else that feels the need to add something, or ask something in addition, feel free."

Ammy listened intently to the answers Professor D'Arcstorm gave to her and Fliss and found herself more intrigued. Given the many realms she'd traveled and seen particularly during this last reincarnation as a Lupinossai, she'd seen several cultures that interchanged science and magic as easy as breathing. Though she's never really poked or asked anyone particularly about the high science that they accepted over magic, save one person and she rubbed her temples every time she thought of Mae Pendramon, her former mentor when traipsing the cosmos. The Atlantean could tie the mind in knots in a matter of seconds if you allowed him.

She gave the professor a nod from her seat that the answers to her question were enough. Enlightened Biology was certainly something the former Ammy Phoenix was apt to employ when she was much younger, more human and so quizzical in making life like so many mad idiots have done before her. She jotted some notes in her margin to speak with Amar Su about High Science and see what her Crystal Tek Labs partner had to say on it.

She would then resume listening to the professor though her clawed fingers twiddled a little in a practiced rote that Professor Charzore had taught in his Art of Fire Magic class. A bit of crystallized flame formed into a sheet paper with a message that glowed like embers within. The sheet of living flame was then folded like origami into a little firefly that was sent to buzz, did and weave quietly until it would land on Fliss' desk. Should the young mage notice the fire fly it would unfold into the crystallized sheet of fire and present a simple message.

~Hello Fliss. If you would like a study partner, I'm usually in the library every day after this class till sunrise. Great question by the way! Ammy Spiritor~

Andu removes his jacket to reveal both his scarred and tattooed hands and forearms, and his bright and flowery Hawaiian shirt. Leaning back against the wall, a bright friendly smile is given to any one who glances his way, though the ones given to Ammy and Fliss are a bit brighter since he knows both of them. Even scowls are met with bright and friendly smiles.

The nods of understanding, and suppressed chuckles as points click with his own knowledge in ironic ways might be surprising coming from some one so clearly designed and experienced for and in the chaos of brute combat. From his his "Steroid addict" muscles to the weapons scars to the pouch and bag lined equipment built, nothing really speaks of intellectual excellence.

As the lecture proceeds, Andu listens carefully but apparently takes no notes, a slight frown forming as he carefully considers the implications of what he hears, trying to reconcile his anecdotal knowledge with the lessons, and maybe not doing so well at times.

"Your question is simple enough to answer," Atticus replied, stepping from the edge of his desk, spreading his hands in explanation as was his want, as if that somehow made his words easier to understand, "though I'm not certain you'll be satisfied with the answer."

"Because magic is subjective, it's almost impossible to tell for ones self if you have the innate talent or gift to use it; to you it would or could appear as a natural extension of what you might consider more mundane abilities - or it might manifest as something more than mundane, but you might take the fact that you have abilities beyond those of others for granted because it's something that's developed with you from a young age. Often the only way to know for sure if one has the ability is to be tested by someone else who is already more accomplished; it's possible for someone to recognize it in themselves, but it would take a great deal of introspection in order to do so. You would have to be not only aware of yourself, but deeply empathetic or sympathetic to everyone and thing around you."

"Those who are not identified and tested at a relatively young age are what come to usually be known as 'wild talents', 'wild mages', or some variation. They often develop set ways in which their powers manifest, which is usually but not always triggered by some emotional cue: this is not necessarily something which causes the latent ability to become active, but rather a 'scab' if you will that has built up around the ability so that it doesn't get used extensively and end up inadvertently harming the subject. Besides being untrained, this is the other reason that such mages are often fixed with names or titles which circle the notion of their magic being 'wild'; due to their often heightened emotional state when the manifestations happen." He paused, turning from the class and walking behind his desk, reaching down underneath and taking a large textbook sized object from below and placing it on the polished wooden surface.

"There is nothing wrong with being a wild talent, I will state here and now. But I will also reinforce the notion that part of the purpose of this class is to make sure that if you have either the ability or the interest, you - or we - are able to determine if there's a latent ability in you, or perhaps merely ability beyond what?s already available to you. This isn't a quest for power; if you have the ability, you have power. This is a journey to make that power you the master of that power, so that it does not somehow end up mastering you. Drawing too deeply upon that power, if untrained, can lead to sometimes dire consequences; an aspiring mage can 'burn themselves out', which means that in reaching beyond what their capabilities are, they metaphorically - and sometimes literally - burn the ability from their physical form. The power remains, but it's impossible to draw upon; the previously mentioned 'scab' calcifies even further, preventing any access at all - no matter if the trigger conditions are met. We must always bear in mind that although we have great power to change some parts of reality, we also are a part of that reality, and in being we ourselves seek to maintain a kind of equilibrium with it - it is innate to us that reality not warp and twist chaotically and beyond our control around us all the time, lest we become harmed by it. The other, more terminal, end that could happen is simply this: death. Like a wire which conducts a current of electricity beyond it's gauge, minds and bodies can simply burn out under the load of the power placed upon and through them."

"There are many different tests that can be administered to determine if a person has the latent ability, but it's beyond the scope of this class - or at least what remains of this lecture - to detail them. Different mages have differing opinions of how best to do this, and it's certainly something that I would be willing to do for any here that are interested - and for that matter, anyone else you think needs to be, or should be tested." He raised an eyebrow questioningly, as if to ask, 'Have I answered your question?' After a moment's pause he offered an almost uncharacteristic smile, and moved to address the the entire class once again.

"That being said, your homework this week is simple. Claim your Barrington Codex at the end of class, and on your own time perform the rite to claim ownership of it. As an aside, for those of you who wish to add an immediate second entry to your Codex at a length of at least a paragraph, telling why you want to use magic, to be a wielder of the arcane, full marks will be awarded for this section of the class. But, you have to make me feel it, and I'm a man known to many for my stoicism." And now he found that notion almost amusing. Almost. That his apparent stoicism was really the result of his hard headed pseudo nature before reintegrating with Lazarus's memories. "Show me that it's not a flippant, off hand whim. Make me feel why you want it. Come collect your books, class dismissed."

"One last thing," he added over the soft clamor of shoes, bags, books, and other assorted miscellany, "Stop by the Headmistress Office and ask Rebecca for a copy of the 'Waiver D5', and if you're still a minor, please bring both a signed permission slip from your parents or guardian to go with it. We may go on a field trip during the next lecture, provided we have enough attendance." He paused for a moment now that he'd said all that, wondering if his positioning of the last request was subconscious or....he didn't know. He'd caught Headmistress Tolmay rather off guard with the request not long before class, and she'd opted to not attend so that she could go over the information he'd given her. It seemed that the answer he'd given to her when she'd asked if there was any risk to the students, while perfunctory as usual, had alarmed her when he'd answered that the 'statistical probability that anyone would come to harm was almost zero'. Had he purposely waited until the end of class to bring up the field trip? Maybe. But probably not.

"Questions, comments, concerns, my office hours are posted, and I'm quite easy to reach. Enjoy your weekend."

With the class pretty much over, Andu stands with the effortless grace more often seen in professional dancers rather than the heaving expected of one with his bulk. His jacket is retrieved and put back on as he carefully makes his way to the front of the class. Figuring out others has never been part of his "skill set", so Andu forewent attempting that a while ago. Instead he just smiles and nods to everyone, though Ammy might risk an restrained "ambush hug" and a "Hey, Little Sis" if she got too close.

His homework would be carefully stacked with the others on the Professor's desk and his own copy of the little "Codex" taken carefully, even a bit gingerly. When it came to the handling of seeming "breakables" made for those of....lesser stature, he was always gingerly. Just before he carefully sticks the codex in one of his many pouches, he freezes, and then glances toward the Professor. "Uh, Sir" Do you know if there is any dimensional magic involved in these books?"

*Home work. http://rdi.dragonsmark.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=31486

The moment the question was voiced, his mind broke it into two separate segments: 'do you know"', and, 'is there any dimensional magic involved in these books"' His expression was immediately amused, but it quickly turned appraising as the implications of the questions end struck home.

"Very astute observation Mr. Kirost, and," casting a quick, calculating glance at the many pouches adorning his form, "I can assure you that the proper precautions have been taken in their manufacture. In order to trigger the trans-dimensional space within the front hollow, an object must first be placed within, then the cover closed; the actions must be intentional, as well, an act of happenstance within another trans-dimensional plane would not cause the spell to complete. I'm assuming, of course, your concern is for effects which produce synergistic destructive effects, such as portable holes combined with bags of holding." He was about to dismiss the student and hand out the next Codex when an afterthought came to him.

"Although I'm not certain that Barrington ever tested the results of placing either of the objects I mentioned, the bag or the hole, within the front hollow of one of his Codices," he frowned at Andu, considering the implications, and nodded, considering. "Yes Mr. Kirost, very astute, very impressive. You've given me something to think about as well."

Eden had collected her Codex and bounced out the door almost too fast for the professor to take note of the source of her discomfort. "You're welcome, Ms. Parker," he called after her though she was almost out the door. His eyes narrowed on her as she left, and he made a mental note to be more attentive next class.

Ammy sat and listened to the rest of the lecture and made notes on how 'wild talents' or 'wild mages' were discovered. She did her level best to repress a few memories that often reminded her of several reincarnations she had where memories were not present for a long time of what she was, and just how cruel some of the testing she'd been through in several realms had been. Her eyes focused on her papers a bit, pen gouging into the pulp a bit as she noted chain and pit black chambers with binding circles were one rune short of barbarism.

Hearing that homework was being discussed snapped her out of the small rote behavior and she paid attention again. The Barrington Codex had captivated her, but what was new" Being a purveyor, seller, alchemist and sometimes creator of odd artifacts had the offering of this free, wonderful item singing like mana potions through her body. Ammy jotted down the homework assignment and thanked the gods it wasn't going to be something that her husband could tease her about. Dusty old wolf. She did catch Fliss' smile and was happy to see the offer to share notes and help out where she could be receptively welcomed.

As everyone got up and started to filter away, Ammy collected her notes up, headed down to the lecture area and dropped off her Over Done Homework on the stack of collected homework and picked up her own copy of the Barrington Codex.

The hug from Andu was accepted easily and a soft and easy, "Hey big bro." before she moved for the door. She did pause a moment or two.

She looked to Atticus. "Uhm.....Professor D'Arcstorm.....What would happen, hypothetically if a Barrington Codex were to, oh, be accidentally deconstructed for study?" She asked in a very innocent, yet not so innocent voice of someone thinking about something but wasn't sure how bad it may wreck things, or their grade. "And....do you mind if I maybe post or offer a study session to any fellow classmates that may need some help with the class?"

Layla walked down the aisle of the amphitheater to the front of the class and picked up a Barrington Codex, but not before dropping off her homework, written with pen on a plain lined sheet of notebook paper. Even though some people seemed to include quite a bit for their homework, she didn't have time for that. She just went with one example of Coincidental magic and one example of Vulgar magic.

One example of coincidental magic might be like a hot girl out on a dance floor at a club. If she was using a mind controlling type of ability to gain people's attention, it might be passed off as a mundane occurrence. People might argue that, if she stands under a flatteringly colored light in a certain way, it might reflect on her most of the night, drawing people's attention to her. They might also argue that if she danced around the entire dance floor, she would simply be viewable from all angles of the club, allowing more people to see her and, subsequently, focus on her.

An example of vulgar magic would be if someone witnessed someone else slathering blood across some inanimate stone gargoyles, saying a few phrases from an ancient text, and then the gargoyles came to life. It would obviously be a little harder to explain such a thing away to someone who has never seen that type of thing done before. Since most of the students and observers would be coming to collect their new class resource, she was careful to get in and out of the front of the lecture hall as quickly as possible. Although she purposefully attempted not to look anyone in the eye, anyone's glance she would catch would be met with a stoic, indifferent look. Class was over and her mind was elsewhere. She had real work to do with what little was left of the night.

"Is it something in your genes" I know that sounds like science, or maybe technocratic paradigm " but magic can be in the blood. Is it something in your will" Or is it....something from outside you? Do you draw power from the world around you? From nature" Or perhaps from a deity " of either holy or profane leanings" These are all questions of how you access your magic. These are also questions that, if you attempt to answer in class, you won't have any homework after this lecture."

The threat of looming war on a realm who's very existence was already in question, and now the 'Pro Human' protests, which seemed to be anything but Pro Human, and more Anti-Exotic, had him thinking in multiple directions. Teaching seemed to help, somewhat; the preparation and rote design of how the classes and lectures worked appealed to his naturally organized, structured mind, and helped to anchor him there.

A class near full of variously skilled apprentice mages, and a distracted instructor intent on attempting to teach a class on magic fundamentals by way of a 'field trip' to a place of fundamental 'magic'.

But there was something particularly disturbing about the protests that happened at Mage Hall. Something had attacked the protesters, and whatever or whoever it was designed the attack to make it look as though they had been attacked from someone within Mage Hall. He hadn't been able to pinpoint it's location, and had cast a wide ranging, magic dispelling field, which seemed to drive whatever it was away. In trying to ascertain what it had been, instead of finding evidence of something, he'd found a vacuum; as though the arcane fingerprint of whatever had done it had been wiped away " or as though it had never been there.

With the culprit still at large, Atticus had settled on a destination for the field trip, a place " a plane ? which defied the sterile, empty, mark left by the culprits passing: Dream. Although it could be among the more chaotic of realms, it was also the one suffused with the most raw, creative, power. He and the students would be safe within the Wards he'd placed in the classroom, Wards that even when the class trans-located into the realm of Dream, would remain. He would give more direct instructions before they left, however.

"The divisions that are evidenced in what we call the 'Tellurian Spheres', are more in keeping with what many of you probably consider to be more 'Traditional' magic, which isn't surprising. The Tellurian Spheres are the parallel of the Technocratic spheres in every way, except that they're more representative of everyone who's paradigm does not adhere to the notion that magic is simply a type of advanced, not yet understood science. If you believe it's something granted to you from a god, or other divine or profane being, you're a Traditionalist. If you believe that magic can be 'augmented', or brought to the fore through cultural rituals and the use of 'mind altering substances', you're a Traditionalist." He raised his hands up in front of him as he turned from his pacing to face the class, and clenched his fingers into fists to emphasize his next comment, "If you can feel, can will things into being, or changing, or are able to harness some kind of 'power' through what you can feel, you're a Traditionalist. Surprisingly perhaps, if you view something like Cyberspace as a plane of existence " you're a Traditionalist; this last one is fast changing with the advent of more advanced technology, however. The more 'real' existing in 'realms' like Cyberspace become, the more they closely align to the Technocratic paradigm."

The labels on the pie chart that glowed upon the transparent boards came completely into focus, letters becoming bold, slowly pulsing with some inherent light as Atticus gestured to each of them in turn, speaking each of them aloud before giving any more detailed examples.

"Correspondence, Entropy, Forces, Life, Matter, Mind, Prime, Spirit, and Time. These are the 9 Tellurian Spheres of magic. A magic user is often proficient with one, or perhaps two of the Spheres, inherently. Others can be learned to greater or lesser degrees; it's often the case that if you are exceptional in one Sphere, you are likely equally deficient in one as well " though more often exceptional aptitude is equalized not by deficiency in one Sphere, but in two. This is further complicated, of course, by the theory that there are not 9, but 10 Spheres, an idea we'll touch on only briefly " and later.? He was trying to segue into the lecture proper, but pausing, remembering to add caveats that he hoped clarify what he was teaching.

"As I said earlier, however, the more powerful aspects cannot be achieved without combining it with another Sphere, and with that we'll move on to the Sphere of Life. The Sphere of Life encompasses everything that is still living, specifically anything which still has living, viable cells. Life is the equivalent of the Technocratic sphere of 'Enlightened Biology'. It is likely, almost without exception, that when you know of a person who has the ability to Heal, or Cure diseases, or the like, that that ability is drawn from the Sphere of Life, in one of the most simple uses of the Sphere: to return a living thing to it's 'natural' state. While the Sphere of Life is often used to mitigate death, it can't directly cause it " except through a mage withholding use of restorative spells. But coupled with another Sphere, like the previously mentioned Correspondence, it could be used to " for example " teleport someone's heart from their chest." He paused there, to let that sink in with all it's grisly imagery, before he continued.

"Of course, after their heart is gone, they are only technically dead. The corpse, as long as there is some living tissue left, would still be susceptible to manipulation via the Sphere of Life. When all life is gone, however, whatever remains falls under the purview of the Sphere of Matter. Before we move to Matter, however, I will add that there are some very interesting things that can be done with Life that are not violent in nature, besides healing " such as using a combination effect with the Forces Sphere, to turn living matter into living, elemental matter. Most times I would say, 'pardon the paradox', but given the circumstances, I think it's best rather to pay close attention to it." A wan smile curled his lip, just enough to be seen. "Those of you who've been paying attention will get that, I think."

"All that physical 'stuff' that cannot be effected by the Life Sphere, anything inorganic, tends to fall under the domain of the Sphere of Matter. I'll point out now, simply because I'm familiar with the makeup of our student body that, pardon the term, Materialists, more nobly called Transmuters, are often associated with alchemy."

"Everything to do with thought, comes from the Sphere of Mind; telepathic communication, increased empathy like sensitivity to things " or decreased, though that application is rather sinister, as is can be the case with thought control, or the alteration of a being's memories. Of course, like all magic this is entirely subjective: one could grant someone 'better' memories, though they would in effect have the person become functionally delusional in doing so. The same slippery slope argument applies as well, of course, to the case with thought control; there is something inherently sinister in forced good behavior." He paused, making sure to wait until it seemed like people weren't scrambling to keep up with notes. His pauses in speaking seemed synced to his pauses in pacing. "Of course, the more something is against a beings nature, the harder it is to make them do; even a powerful Mentalist finds it extremely difficult to force a person to say, kill themselves, unless that person had given it serious consideration before hand."

"You might find it interesting to note," he was pacing again, always starting a sentence looking straight ahead as he walked, then turning towards the class as he grew into the explanation. "That most Mind effects are not governed or effected by Consensus, nor draw the same level of Paradox as other Spheres do. This has to do with the fact that every conscious being effected by the Mind Sphere responds individually, not as a part of a reality defining collective. The exceptions to that being a hive mind, which is so rare as to almost not be worth mentioning, and also single effects which are targeted at multiple consciousnesses, such as one illusion directed at a group of people. Those instances are governed as usual by Consensus. A closing note on the Sphere of Mind, and it's users: Mentalists tend to be able to do the same thing as each other, as in an apprentice could do the same as a High Mage, but the High Mage's effects would be better in some way, such as longer lasting, more detailed, and the like."

"Almost half done,? his tone was quite dry, and it was hard to tell if it was a joke or not. Fortunately for him, as was evidenced earlier, he had difficulty picking up on the nuances of humor and how people reacted to his brand of it.

"Perhaps the most important note that can be added is that it is through use of the Prime Sphere that magical effects you conjure into being can be made permanent. While some spells can be cast to persist for an extended duration, only with Prime can they be made truly permanent so that you don't have to keep reapplying the spell in question."

"Only three left, now." He murmured as notes continued to be taken " at least by those who by this point had not simply given up and were sitting either playing with their navels or drooling, looking askance. "And they should be the shortest of the bunch." Was that the first time he'd said that' He could recall if he tried, but ploughed steadfastly ahead instead.

"Everything that happens in one world is mirrored in countless others; the realms where the departed have gone, the Higher Realms, or less appealing certainly, the Pit, or some limbo like realm in between. As the old maxim says, 'as above, so below', except that the idea of it occurring above or below is somewhat of a misnomer " it's actually occurring rather in the same place, but in another dimension, as it were " hence the name of the Technocratic equivalent of the Sphere of Spirit: Dimensional Sciences. While the Sphere of Mind might allow one to experience greater empathy, it does not do so in the same way, or to the same degree as Spirit can; if Mind can be said to be domain of thought, then Spirit is the domain of those thoughts transition into emotion. Often what binds beings or events from our world to another plane is some fetter or passionate feeling associated with it here; the Sphere of Spirit is key to use when communicating or interacting in any way with something extra dimensional " ghosts, or other incorporeal beings or planes of existence. While Correspondence can be said to govern the ability to travel, via tools like teleportation, travelling across planes of existence requires a synergistic effect whose primary Sphere is Spirit."

"The only extra dimensional entities which aren't able to be contacted exclusively through use of the Sphere of Spirit, are those unique Paradox-like entities that lurk outside of time itself, and can only be encountered through use of the Time Sphere " though that is not a goal that anyone should have. As I mentioned when talking about the Technocratic paradigm with Temporal Science, the 'Traditional' paradigm fosters the Sphere of Time. Use of Time is known to be able to make time seem to contract or dilate, or even loop; every successive use of it, however, becomes increasingly prone to error or chaos " resulting in rifts to the past, the future, or diverging into multiple time streams." He paused and frowned, Brendryck suddenly coming to mind. One instance in which he was grateful and regretful to have his full range of knowledge back. "It's also not unheard of for those who repeatedly step outside of time can sometimes disappear, replaced by....something else, or other times they may return quite mad " with some information about a fate that they cannot avoid.?

Andu enters the lecture hall looking a bit different from how he looked during the last lecture. The main difference being a rather....raggedness to his appearance, as of one who has had little chance for rest or relaxation for an extended period. There is also the aspect that along with a different shirt being revealed when he opens his jacket, also revealed is loosely closed papoose baby carrier strapped across his chest.

Hearing the Professor request assignments and paperwork, he carefully makes his way to the front to deliver his assignment* and three sheets of paperwork, two waivers and a consent form. Then with a wry grin for the prof, he makes his way to a spot at the back of the hall and off to one side. There he takes a seat on the ground next to the wall which he leans back again. Once seated, he raises an ornate brass mug made from a 122mm tank shell and takes a long sip of the steaming concoction of dark chocolate and expresso with in.

*http://rdi.dragonsmark.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=31486 "Why I want to Use Magic"... Well, I guess I must start by apologizing for a misunderstanding. I have never "wanted" to use magic, to become a Magus, wizard, or whatever. I was always content with using devices made by others. Be they Magic or tech. Then I ascended. As a demi-god, even as minor a one as I am, the use of magic is now a necessary part of my new life. In figuring out the limits and expanses of the power I have that I never wanted, I have managed to leave myself comatose several times. Twice for over a week each. Learning more about the basics behind this thing called magic seems like a very good idea, that will hopefully allow me to use it with out leaving myself powerless and comatose for extended periods.

Ammy entered class, appearing through the doors, not opening them, but walking through them, trailing little motes of sunlight. She'd placed her Barrington Codex on the Professors Lecture Desk as well as the Waiver D5 Form to be collected with her homework. She gave a silent smile to Professor D'Arcstorm as if in some small, hidden satisfaction that her Codex was indeed still intact and not a collective pile or rubbish.

She headed for a seat roughly in the area Fliss sat in and left space open in case the young woman wanted to compare notes live. Ammy then began to listen to the lecture and groaned. Her muzzle parted and words tumbled out in a low growling whimper.

"Not more bloody spheres..."

She rubbed her face, peered at Professor D'Arcstorm through splayed fingers with one golden eye and just resigned herself to a flurried storm of note taking. Her mind wandered just a little. Whatever happened to, Repeat after me, Fizz, Bang, Pow, Your Hamster Is Now A Cow" The good ol' days of transmogrification with Magus Colten. Wonder if he ever finished that self propelled cheese grater...

Ammy's mind snapped to the lessons sharply hearing how the Tellurian Spheres seemed to function a bit like the theory of Lupinossai magic. She made some notes to research and cross-reference for the future. The example he used for teleporting the heart from a persons chest brought a slightly disturbing, yet very satisfied smile from Ammy's muzzle. Past favorite during war time for her as a battle mage at one point in life? She quickly shoved her features into mock horror trying to not offend or sicken nearby students.

The exposition on the Transmuters had Ammy grinning and she couldn't resist giving a slight demonstration for those close enough to see her. She simply held her metal mechanical pencil and her white fur was suddenly the same grey metal color, rigid and spiny. It'd smooth out and return to normal as she'd touch the wood of the student desk she sat at and her clothing became wood grain and very fine, yet hard. She let her clothing return to normal and took more notes.

There were so many notes to take and she was curious to see what questions would be asked today. The Entropy Sphere though had her contemplating family matters deeply and she wrote her son's name, Merlin, repeatedly, on a piece of paper, over and over again as she thought on all that Professor D'Arcstorm said. Probable Outcomes was something she'd never asked her son if he could catch glimpses or see as he struggled with his daily life of living with the power of Chaos in him.

Bastion turned in his Codex and his Waivers, or whatever they were. He was pretty sure no one would miss him if something happened anyway; it would just be slightly less of a burden on the system if he vanished through some magical gateway.

Whatever. It didn't matter.



Why do I want to learn magic" Why do I want to be a Magus"

That's easy, so I'm not forgotten. I know that's bad, but I don't know if I care anymore. I was forgotten here, at some orphanage. Say what you like, about how I wouldn't know if that was the case - I was quite young - but it's one of those things, when you know you know something, you know" Well, I know that - that I was forgotten. And no, I can't tell you how I know. I just do. But I figure, magic in some ways is synonymous with power, with renown, with larger than life figures.

I know that sounds stupid, sounds petty. But at least it's honest.

I don't know if Dragons Gate Orphanage was open when I arrived here, but I only got there like a few months before I aged out. I had a brother, the records show at least, when I got here. But he, ok honestly I don't know what happened to him, if he was adopted or ....I don't know. Some Company sends me money, once a month. It's enough I can live, I like to think it has something to do with him. It probably does, probably they killed him, or crippled him, and I'm listed in some paperwork as his beneficiary or something. Anyway, whatever, I know you're not my shrink. I was in a lot of places, I guess, before Dragons Gate, bouncing around, enough that I can't remember many of the people I lived with at them, and I doubt they remember me.

My point is, if I make my name big enough, no one will be able to forget me again. No one will be able to just walk away. That's probably not a good enough answer. But that's what I've got.



Bastion waited for the lecture to be over, spending the time during it taking notes as usual, and doing sketches of some of his fellow classmates. He half scowled at Layla when she met his somewhat dopey glances with an uncharacteristic smile - he suddenly felt as though he hadn't captured her essence at all, on the brief sketches he'd made of her while in class.

At least all the other students remained relatively true to form.

He found himself looking again at Felicity, but turning away and raising his hand to ask a question just as he would have been 'caught' as it were.

"So, Professor D'Arcstorm, these Spheres we keep talking about. I wanted to ask, are they like ....the same painting, done by two different artists" Like, the way the Technocrats and the Traditional mages look at things" Does that make sense" Or like, two covers of the same song, maybe? Is that better" Cause they're both trying to say the same thing, describing the same things, right' Like both sets of Spheres are really the same spheres, but seen by different people?" And suddenly he found himself at the bottom of a hole, looking up - metaphorically that is.

Atticus was well aware of everything going on in, and going into or out of, his classroom. That being said, it was rather difficult for Andu to hide much of anything, just due to the general increased attention that his size drew - although the emergence of the dragon did draw a curious and interested glance in particular. In addition to his own mundane senses, several objects were warded near the back and sides of the class to amplify his voice so that he sounded closer, with similar wards set up so that he could hear students from the back even if they didn't have a powerful voice.

The only reaction that he gave to the somewhat obvious reaction to the use of Spheres, whether their reaction was audible or a visual one painted across their faces, was a raised eyebrow and slightly bemused look as he lectured. He didn't have the heart to tell them outright at that point that they weren't done with Spheres yet.

'Interesting,' he thought, as Bastion asked his question, 'the boy is paying attention to something other than the girls in class.'

"Yes," he gestured to Bastion, "That's actually quite an apt metaphor. That being said, some may wish to take a moment to consider that there being 'more Spheres' is quite a subjective comment, which is fitting for Arcane Theory. Are there more Spheres, or are these simply the same Spheres, from a different point of view?" His gaze shifted from Bastion to Ammy for a moment, offering the rare hint of a smile, quickly obscured again as Felicity's hand rose.

"I'm not sure, Ms. Storm, if you can appreciate how complex a thing you just said, and with that in mind, I hope you don't mind that you were definitely partially correct." His tone wasn't at all condescending, in fact there was, perhaps, a small note of admiration for her assertion.

"The innate mage I think you're looking to exemplify, could be termed a 'will worker', which is a mage that typically doesn't use spell completion items like you mentioned. That doesn't necessarily mean they do it without training, some Will Workers, or Willbenders, however you wish to call them, receive quite extensive training. An untrained mage is more generally referred to as a 'wild mage', or 'wild talent', when they have the ability to cast without training. Now, those are only the difference in definitions, but the real 'fun' comes with the last part of your question." He'd emphasized the word 'fun' quite strongly, it probably wasn't as evident when he lectured how much he enjoyed talking about the Craft.

But it was evident in that one word, just then.

"Ok, from you're example we'll say we have 'Joe the Healer'. When Joe casts a spell, he doesn't necessarily know he's using Life, or Prime, or Entropy. Joe might only be trying to heal someone; the concept of Spheres is actually one step removed from what casters directly use; there could be, or rather are, several different types of healers, but not every healer has the same aptitude with the same Spheres. All of them, I would think, would have access to Life - unless what they heal is mental, in which case they would use Mind instead of, or in conjunction with Life. Now, all of what you just said - the effect you listed the mage, Joe, having - could all be done with access to one simple Sphere: Life. It might take a powerful caster one shot using only Life to heal someone of the ailment you mentioned, whereas it might take a lesser caster repeated castings of a like spell, some of which might fail and have to be done again. But a lesser caster with access to the three Spheres you mentioned, Life, Prime, and Entropy, could probably heal a person as well as a very powerful caster could with only Life. Of course, that same powerful caster with access to those three Spheres would again dwarf our intrepid hero healer, Joe."

"To offer a little more insight into why I say this, Life can perform....all levels of healing, besides curing death, I believe, by itself. Prime isn't needed for the creation of antibodies, and in fact, you'd need the Life Sphere combined with it to create anything at all that was organic in nature; Prime enhanced antibodies though could exist more potently, or more numerously than those more regularly created, thus making the effect more powerful with that addition. Entropy, of course, could be used to help to change the efficacy of the effect, making it more likely to work, or work quickly, or making the disease more likely to be vulnerable - there are literally countless variations you could work off of." He had to stop himself short to make sure he didn't confuse things.

"As to the last part of your question: could all of those be used without the user realizing that's what they were using" The answer, unequivocally, is yes. In fact, it's quite likely that even a trained caster might not realize they were using those Spheres; it's very much a matter of the degree of their training. There are a number of places, or people that a person can go to to learn to cast spells. Casting spells is relatively easy." He leaned back on the desk, hands on either side of him, planted flat on top of it supporting himself. "I aim for more than that; I want to teach you why magic works the way it does - and after you start to learn that, you might not need an instructor to cast spells. At least not basic ones. I will add that it's a path you've definitely set foot upon with the question you just asked. My apologies, that was almost a lecture in and of itself. I hope that clarifies some?" He glanced around the class, from student to student.

"If there are more questions, either from the base lecture or diverging off something I just said, now is definitely the time to ask."

Ammy did her best to stifle any laughter though a few sympathetic groans escaped hearing Fliss. Puberty was such a nasty time for mage, at least in her experiences. She raised a furred hand to ask a question as well. When called upon.

"My curiosity is quite similar to Fliss'. Why is it that many accounts or legends when read indicate the talented as not knowing their power till they hit puberty' Is it due to hormones" A more mature brain organ' Better Chi flows" Accumulated self awareness in the larger gears of life's clock" Or do most of these Spheres react like Sith Force powers and just feed on volatile emotions?"

Bastion had been sitting, listening, studying the professors face as he lectured them, and couldn't help but note his seeming amusement as he began to answer Felicity and Ammy's questions.

'...equally woeful ways of finding out...' is what he'd said, and Kincaid almost snorted as he began to hastily sketch in his pad as he listened. What the hell did that mean, anyways" He couldn't help himself, he was roughly sketching a boy and girl talking, full profile, face to face. The girl was looking coy, her fingertips shielding her lips as she smiled at him; he was looking back at her, with his best faux debonair candor - not having yet noticed that the crotch of his pants was bursting into flames. Bastion thought about eventually signing the picture once he'd finished, the amusement would be hard to deny. He worried about how exactly the picture would be transmuted into real life, though; would it manifest from thin air, two people with that taking place, or would it somehow manifest it in the world already around it' Like, if he - Bat - were checking out some chick, would his pants burst into flames"

He coughed, once, then twice, and cleared his throat sheepishly.

He'd just wondered if it could be considered a Coincidental effect if the girl you were checking out also had an affinity for fire.

"Alright," he said, mentally adding, 'enough of that.' As soon as that thought had finished, a litany of profanity raced through his head as he closed the notebook. Had he said that aloud? Ugh. Time to focus again.

As if in warning that change were imminent, the lights of the class room began to fade. The majority of the light left came from the transparent boards that were set down at the very front, casting illumination back almost to the walls, but not quite. All the students, and their professor were cast in the light, which for some odd reason refused to throw shadows, but the back walls of the room were left in darkness.

"I am aware that the darkness will tempt you to sleep, but it won't last long," Atticus had stepped to the first seats as he spoke, arms outstretched as if to touch the unseen walls, as if he were feeling them. After a moment he began to turn in a circle, tracing something invisible perhaps, that only he could see. He kept turning, kept moving his hands, as though he were inside an invisible sphere. A dull gray flash of light erupted from him, faster than a cameras flash the room was illuminated again, if only for a moment. For those who'd been looking, the walls of the room were now very certainly gone - replaced by darkness that had refused to reveal anything in the sudden flash.

A silvery wristband had appeared on each students desk as the flash had gone off, and each of them appeared to be connected with a tether to the students seat - though if one tried to follow the tether from wrist to desk, they would find their search to be infinite.

"Slipping the leash," he murmured, but the emptiness surrounding them seemed to magnify his voice, "will return you to this room, where it is now; it will also provide me with a way to pull you back, should you stray. Without this," he held up one wrist more clearly to the class, "you cannot proceed further. I'll give you all a moment to ready yourselves, then we'll disembark for the umbral realm called 'Dream'.



((OOC: Hey everyone, I tried to let the last bit drag out, just to make sure there were no stragglers that wanted to get something in. This is kind of a 'last call'/setup post for the next little bit. I'm going to automatically assume with my next post that all students put the bracelet on, unless you've told me otherwise. While there are inherent dangers I think I've provided every chance to mitigate, both through the bracelet thing, and by Atticus planning on providing personal protection, there are still dangers: the characters themselves, ie, you're as dangerous to your own characters as you would be in the, um, 'real' not real world. Hope that makes sense. Just pretend it's like Nightmare on Elm Street, and try real hard not to die in your dreams. :p ))

Ammy listened to the explanation to the questions. Catalystic nature of magic indeed for how it manifested. She felt the shift and hum in the classroom. How could she not' Her senses, her alignments, not to mention the discussions often with Atticus himself when they found time about many things that would make most heads swim had every hair on Ammy's body stand. Well that explained the release waiver and the caution.

Fliss may noticed for the first time that any coolness or awesomeness Ammy ever had accrued in the young woman's eyes may have bled a bit. The word Dream connected to any thing remotely touching realm travel had Ammy twitch. She glanced at the silver wristband. Dreams could kill. Dreams could shatter, haunt and leave you one side of the sleeping land and something else in your mind in its own nightmare. Similar places as the Dream realm she'd been to, how was by random happenstance or miss-fortunate disaster.

Still though, it was a field trip. Her dreamscape had rather recently undergone a challenge, a war and she'd won. Any immortal soul that blindly trusts a few centuries settled was prone to things that lurk deeper. Ammy did her best not to think on those things as she slipped on the wristband.

"Just a dream. Just a dream. What will be will be just a dream. Take with you the power that it is just a dream. Just a dream." She did a soft, slow whispering cadence.

The darkness that surrounded the class as they waited was dark, save to Ammy for a pair of violet eyes and the ghostly outline of an Ebony Helmet. "Just a dream...

As darkness seemed to descend upon the room, Bastion looked up to the only remaining light source - the boards that the professor used. As he did, several of his pencils began to slowly roll across his desktop and dropped with a soft clatter to the floor. He stooped to gather them up, and when his head cleared the top of the desk again he noted the bracelet laying there, seeming to gleam in the darkening chamber, reflecting what little light remained perhaps.

His drawing pad was open to a sketch he'd been doing of Ammy and Felicity before the darkness began to settle. He closed it now as he further examined the bracelet and, seeing the others slipping them on, followed suit. That was when he completely zoned back into class, and what Professor D'Arcstorm had been saying. He'd only been able to see the two girls in profile view anyway, the rest of it he was drawing from memory. He did get a better glimpse of Andu, though, and that fellow certainly seemed upbeat about the field trip.

Dream sounded at least like the kind of place that would have unique vistas and sights that would prove memorable enough he'd be able to draw from them, to draw them.

"Every sentient thing can access Dream inherently, even things not normally sentient, things only awakened through shrewd use of the Mind Sphere, can access Dream. Correlating to this connection with Mind, is the fact that Dream is a highly mutable realm " it can literally be changed with your thoughts. Some of you," though his arms maintained the same open pose the for moment, he glanced around the class again, taking careful inventory and looking at the now open space around them. "I have not in any way tried to probe or invade your minds, yet, Dream reacts," he paused nodding to the storm around them, that was now lighting the clouds more frequently. They seemed to be going down, and as the flashes made everything more visible their decent seemed to slow " probably to alleviate both terror and motion sickness. "If I am not mistaken, I would read the classes thoughts and feelings as both fear....and wonder."

Suddenly they were out of the clouds, with the flashes of red and purple now going off high above them. Below them lay a long coastline, one side land, the other an ocean, each the apotheosis one would expect from each of those simple words. Land and ocean both sprawled as far as the eye could see to either side, the former a vast veldt fringed by wild forests and snow capped mountains in one direction, the opposite direction skirted by a long dessert who's dunes were fringed by sparse almost tropical trees that eventually gave way to jungle. The latter, the ocean, a wild mix of light inviting blues in the miles near the shoreline, giving way to deep, dark greens further out, until it's surface became like a mirror for what was above it.

"Though there are native cities within Dream, we will be journeying to the coast, and though I am hesitant to say it because of the connotations in most realms, the beach. Where the water washes the shore is where things can be molded the easiest, and we won't run as high a risk of meeting natural citizens; that would be something better suited to a second visit." Their descent would still take several minutes at the rate they were now falling, if falling was even the appropriate term. "If you wish to stand, and move about to look closer, you may. The bracelets will extend to follow you, and it is quite impossible to leave the classroom until we have finished travelling."

He extended his hand and one of the De-lights drifted near to it, and cradling his fingers under it without touching it, seemingly by making come-hither motions, the mote drifted closer. He examined it. "One ruler, a queen," his eyes narrowed, 'dreams of power." He gestured the mote away, and drew in another one, examining it in kind. "And a soldier dreams of a time," his face softened for a moment, "Without war. He dreams of peace. Children dream of," he'd drawn yet another one, the first two motes floating away, one 'popping', "Imaginary friends " the games they'd play if they were 'really real'." And from soft to sad, his face changed again. He steeled himself against errant, alien emotion, and pushed that mote away too. He addressed the class as a whole, again.

"Each of you are awake, so none of these are yours. The motes which you've conjured in previous dreams have all gravitated upwards, and upon their release, have been adopted into the greater realm of Dream itself. However, for each of our dreams, there a multitude of dreamers who dream something similar. Now," his voice took on a more instructional tone, "The De-lights will not harm you, even those which are....darker. Upon contact, they will burst and be added to the Dreamscape. But, you can manipulate them, as you've seen me do. I use my hands to frame, in my mind, the exertion of my will, but I have readied something else to aid you in your assignment here." The ends of the bracelets seemed to grow more slack, the middle of their length pulling together into a form that was attached to the middle of the cord between bracelet and where it was secured to the class. The forms which they took on were those of circles, which appeared to have an intricate network of webbing within them. "As you might recognize, these are the appropriately named 'Dreamcatchers'. Though you may find hidden enjoyment in it, there is still a lesson here; use your dreamcatcher to seize one of the De-lights " it's webbing will allow you to capture one without it bursting. Not just any will do, though. Find a dream that speaks to you, one you recognize. Perhaps a hope you wish to share, or a fear you wish to conquer. Capture it within the dreamcatcher, and hold on to it until the rest of the class has likewise settled upon one."

His eyes raked the skies and field around them, noting the thousands, upon thousands, upon -thousands- of motes which drifted. He couldn't help a small smile which involuntarily tugged the corner of his lips upward.

"Though you have nigh infinite variety, and I encourage you to explore it, if you notice the rest of the class returning, I also encourage you to abandon being fickle." Each student would see upon closer examination of the De-lights that though they appeared to be no more than a glowing mote at first, when they neared the skin " or the Dreamcatcher ? almost close enough to burst, a miniature world appeared within them, in all the detail and grandeur of Dream, and though from their point of observation the students would be able to tell how each one was not 'real', they each contained that same bursting vitality that the rest of Dream shared.

Layla hesitated when the wristband appeared on her desk in the classroom. Given that she already feared that the Company owned her, she worried about someone having blatant control of her through a shackle on her arm. After watching some of the other students place their wristbands on without hesitation, she felt guilty for her negative viewpoint. The Professor had never done anything hostile towards any of them and seemed to only want to help and teach them. Remembering her excitement at the possibilities of magic just a few moments before, she picked up the wristband and placed it over her hand, securing its tether.

As they had moved through the clouds, she loved watching the small glimmering fireworks of the red and purple dreams, seeming to explode out and dissipate into the darkness. Once the Professor mentioned nightmares, she wondered if the purple colored ones were dreams, while the red ones were nightmares. Maybe it was even the reverse.

When they descended by the coast, she instantly became enamored with its surrounding beauty. Lush forests, snow topped mountains, soft mounds of soothing desert sand, and a tropical jungle rainforest with the calming ocean waves within view. Her own daydreams of a private ocean vacation were interrupted when the Professor mentioned cities within the Dream realm, including their own natural citizens. "How is that possible?" she began to wonder. She then smiled, silently mocking her own limited logic. She did not question the reality of traveling to this world of Dreams, but the thought that it could be its own nation filled with people and cities had been pushing it.

She was soon distracted by the De-lights of soft specks that floated through the air of the field the classroom was nestled in. Watching their instructor analyze the moments of dreams in the De-lights he found, she noticed his sadness at what secret he may have shared with the moment. She suspected that was the cause for their assignment. But she had her own assignment to maintain, information gathering for The Company. Her iriginal mission had been to spy on the instructor and anyone of note in the class, but this field trip opened up a whole new world of possibilities. Excited to see what she could find in the dreamers" subconscious, she hoped she could learn a few secrets to use for her own gains or to blackmail them with later. By the time Professor D"Arcstorm had created 'dreamcatchers? out of their tethers, she was quick to begin her search of the De-lights around them.

While one of her classmates opted towards the water and another stayed by the classroom, Layla took a few steps towards the openness of the field with the forest beyond. One of the De-lights seemed to hover around her, undoubtedly due to the current she was creating from her movement. Slowly bringing the makeshift net up to the floating particle, she carefully caught it within the delicate webbing. Focusing on the De-light, it seemed to grow around her, enveloping her through her mind's eye.

In front of her, a woman sat with a little boy and girl as they cuddled with her and she told them stories. Layla could see that they shared the woman's black hair and blue eyes and looked exactly the same age. "Twins", Layla thought to herself with a smile, not wanting to speak inside the moment in case she shattered it from the inside and ruined the lovely dream.

The mother continued to tell the children a story about Knights and dragons, Lords and Ladies, elaborate castle dinner parties, and campfire sparring. Layla soon became enthralled, listening intently and laughing along as the mother playfully tickled her children as they filled in parts of the story as if they had heard it countless times before. Layla would have loved to stay in that moment forever, but the story was interrupted by a man behind them. "Honey, I'm home!" he said in a funny accent. The mother and Layla both turned around at the same time to see the man, but as they looked to the doorway, it and the whole room began to fade out of focus as if the dreamer was waking.

Layla returned to the field, holding the De-light in her dreamcatcher. "No," she said defiantly to herself as she shook the De-light out of her net. Once she let it go, she watched it slowly float up and begin to mingle with the others. She looked down at the ground a moment, as if trying to erase the silly thought of a loving family from her mind.

After searching for another target, she carefully collected one mote as it bounced along in the air on its own little path.

Atticus had been paying careful attention to each of the students as they left the boundaries of the class and began to explore the world of Dream, and more specifically the De-lights that they were now experimenting with. They had all taken to it so well.

Because Dream was so very unstable, so easily shaped by one's mind, it was important for travellers to maintain control of existence around them. This was most easily achieved in one of two ways, the first being the traveller actually willing existence to bend to his or her will; the second being assuming someone prefabricated mental construct of Dream. The students were doing the latter " a practice generally deemed safer.

Felicity's words took him by surprise, proving the deficit in his teaching abilities " that he had neglected to pay attention to her, specifically in her absence when usually she was among the first to ask a question. He turned quickly to her, mouth open to answer, when his eyes narrowed. A hand rose to his face, index to temple and thumb to cheek, and his eyes narrowed as he looked not only at her, but the space all around her. The space around her was Thin, and the thoughts that had been metaphorically eating at her had been literally eating at the world of Dream around her. The construct that Atticus had chosen to present the world of Dream in was designed with the intent of limiting contact to a certain type of Dream. Now Atticus recalled a comment Felicity had made about being a wild talent, with some irony. Her unharnessed ability here, in a place chosen specifically because it so well replicated with its mutability a wild talent's ability to bend the laws of physics, had caught the High Mage by surprise. The construct he had prepared, in the area directly around her, had been weakened " allowing a small rift through which unintended energies entered.

A wave of energy pulsed from his hand, only reaching the boundaries of the former classroom walls, and the De-lights were all expelled from the class itself. Returning his focus to Felicity, he strengthened again the construct around her in his mind, just in case she should rail against it again " knowingly or unknowingly.

"How 'wrong', Ms. Storm?" His eyes narrowed, and though his emotional compass was rusted solid, the needle briefly quivered towards pride at his student's perception. His voice was even, inviting her to explain the source of her moral dismay, as he had considered something like this happening " though the student who voiced the concern surprised him, in retrospect he realized it shouldn't have. "Before you reply, however, I will answer your query: no, this is not a mandatory assignment. This is meant as something for you and your classmates to enjoy, although," he glanced towards the other students. He wanted to approach each of them, comment, ask questions, but first this weighty issue did not only deserve, but needed to be addressed. "I fear the lesson I meant to illustrate, which you have done without meaning to, has been obscured by the inherent mysticism of the land " which is also my own doing," he murmured those last words, not softly, but to himself. She would have heard him, as well as any students not too engaged. "And which I also now fear is the source of some misapprehension. Ms. Storm, please. Voice your concerns, as elaborately as you will; do not let them build."

He would get to each of the others, and perhaps they would also turn from their reveries long enough to take notice of the concern upon the face of either their classmate or Professor. Atticus felt strongly that a student should never have to question the ethics or mortality of a task or experience set upon them by a teacher.

Curiously, a few De-lights managed to resist his effort to drive them from the classroom ? but they were few in number compared to the multitude which were outside. They were also the ones focused entirely around Andu, as though his presence preserved them somehow from the High Mage's expulsion.

The professors gaze had locked onto her following her comment and he held it there while she explained her grievances. His face was a mask of stoicism; he had not been offended or off put by her suggestion that what they did was immoral. But it was like he said in many of their classes, regarding magic: it was subjective.

"Many of my contemporaries," he thought of the Gardner Knights, especially the Black Rose. "Would perhaps think that you judge me too harshly, although I do not believe that was your intent." He finally broke his eyes from her and cast them back to the rest of the class, still experimenting in Dream. Again raising a hand to his temple, he granted himself sight beyond human bounds, not using magic but manipulating Dream to allow it. He more closely examined the rest of the students, their expressions, and beyond that felt the pulse of the Dreams caught in the dreamcatchers, through the tethers to the class. He allowed himself a brief invasion of his students privacy, much as a parent might invade a child's: for their own good. His only purpose was to ensure the rightness of his assertion regarding his other students.

"I will," he began, "address this as simply, and specifically as possible to you, since it hasn't been long since I've spoken to your father." He'd begun to use contractions, usually a sign of his mechanical distance from the living breaking down. "It would be easy for me to assume, and know easily, the dreams of your father - not all of them, but some of them." He gave her no time to compose anger against that, "It is my belief, my certainty, that he has dreams for you; dreams of graduation, of a family of your own perhaps, of your happiness. These, I believe it is safe to say, are not private dreams, and as a father he likely wears such on his sleeve, as I believe the saying goes." Of all the things he was least sure of, it was the last colloquialism. He did not know Johnny Storm well as an entire person, but the facets he had been exposed to or was able to know, his heroic background coupled with his being a father, were two things Atticus was familiar with, if only vicariously.

"Not all dreams are private, Ms. Storm, though I concede many are. I hope it is a case of misunderstanding, and you do not think so little of me as to think I would encourage such behavior." He gestured towards Andu.

"The dreams of orphans, I think, are openly shared with those who would give them succor; like prayers hoped and wised, but left unspoken." He maintained his position beside Felicity, but to Ammy he gestured, and though to the Lupinossai's perception she may be further away, from those within the class she seemed only right outside it still.

"And some dreams are simply meant to be shared, but with only a few to whom they have special significance." He could not, or would not, delve too deeply into Ammy's. "One such has Lady Spiritor found," his gaze focused again on Felicity.

"And you are right to say there is a wrongness involved in prying into such dreams. You might disagree with my assertions regarding your fathers dreams, saying that those are different - and they are, but they remain dreams. Dream is a place of all dreams, but that does not mean that all dreams are accessible from this one spot. Thus was my goal in bringing you specifically here. I did not, however, anticipate your visceral reaction, nor how it would strain the construct I had prepared to allow all of you to easier view Dream. Keep in mind, again, how I referred to the mutability of this place. I know not where your mind wandered, to what worry or fear, but know - and find solace - in the fact that it has no place here. Even the dark dreams that are found among these De-lights are open, their dreamers seeking purchase away from those things that make them awaken in the night to cold sweats; in viewing those dark dreams, the darkness is shared - not like a contagion and passed on, but spread thin - and made more bearable, allowing the dreamer more peaceful repose."

"You, and the rest of the class, will notice as well, that no two of you are able to see the dreams that another of you is looking at. What is shared with one, may very well be private to all others; the ability for two to regard the same De-lights, in my experience, is unheard of. Those viewing would have to be connected on a number of personal levels, with each other, and with the person who's dreams they viewed." He gestured to Layla, "What she sees in dreams, it is generally impossible for others to see, unless the initial viewer's subconscious manipulates the Dream around them to make it visible. For the sake of your statement, I believe that would be something that could be argued to be subjectively wrong as well."

"Does this at all alleviate your concern, Ms. Storm?" He gestured more openly to the field around them, "This place which I've brought you to, my class, my students," if ever his voiced neared emotion, it did now, with a touch of pride directed towards all the students, "Does not foster the type of dreams you fear to invade upon, nor will I teach any of you at this level of study how to find them. Only ill would come of that lesson. Additionally," he gestured once again to the fields, "These are far from all dreams," the hint of a smile creased his cheeks, "Dreams are infused into every part of this realm. Every part." He would leave it there, vague; to offer more invited too much exploration, better to leave them uncertain what the rocks, trees, grass, or sky might hold in secret. "Such dreams as raise your concern are guarded by things native to Dream, but they can also be Warded - both from here, and from the waking world. It is a thing which can be learned." His tone explained that last statement, if not his words. Things that could be learned, he offered to teach.

It was probably becoming increasingly obvious that Atticus was not a man for simple answers. But he did try.

"For all intents and purposes, you are correct Ms. Storm. What you can see and feel, here, in this part of Dream, is only perceptible to you or others, at the discretion of the Dreamer. In regards to warding dreams, yes, this is a thing which can be taught, and which I am willing to teach; however, warding someone's dreams without their consent is no less invasive than spying someone's dreams uninvited or unwelcome, as" the look he fixed upon her, looking down the bridge of his nose just slightly, would have been more suited to someone who wore glasses. He would have been looking over their lenses. "I am sure you are aware."

Atticus slipped hand into his robe pocket, and withdrew a glassy sphere that fit neatly in his palm. As he lifted his hand, and opened it, the glass took on a more ethereal quality, like a will o' the wisp. The De-lights bore many similarities to the object Atticus had withdrawn, and as if like called to like, the light began to flicker and dance in his palm, rising up and floating as if on a breeze to slowly join the De-lights. His eyes closed momentarily and he took a deep breath before opening them, once more apparently scanning the students in the field, and turning back to Felicity.

"Your hesitation, and the reason behind it are quite laudable, Ms. Storm," he spoke perhaps a little softer, and gave a matching, quiet nod; more than a nod, it was an acknowledgment, a credit towards her ability at self-actualization. "I assure you however, now, you will find at least one De-light to which you need not fear 'invading'," he stressed the word in a way which made it sound it didn't belong, "More than one, I am sure, that you will be welcomed into - in a way which might only make sense to you after you have perceived the dream." He hadn't meant to steer away from the discussion of warding dreams, but felt that, while they were in Dream, the class was not necessarily devoted to that one concept alone, and should not focus too heavily without returning to the fundamentals.

He raised a hand to his cheek, index finger to his temple, thumb grazing the line of his jaw. As he spoke, though his voice never rose in volume, he could be heard in all areas the students explored Dream; he manipulated the raw stuff of Dream to change the laws which governed the distance over which he could be heard, making him sound much closer to them than he was as he lectured.

While Fliss and their instructor debated morals and ethics, something Layla genuinely had no interest in, Layla was fixated on the De-light she had caught.

It revealed to her a blonde performer, singing and dancing happily on stage. Once she finished her routine, the infinite audience before her erupted into applause, hollering its adoration upon her. Smiling, waving, blowing kisses to her fans, the performer bowed several times before making her way to the curtain to go back stage. The cheers from the audiences slowly faded, muffled as she let the curtain close behind her, revealing only an empty backstage room. No cheering "backstage pass" fans. No supportive band mates. No loving friends or family. She turned around and quickly threw open the curtain hoping to see her adoring audience again, only to find the expansive space empty as if no one was ever there.

Layla released the dream, allowing the De-light to follow the others floating around her in their unseen current through the air. She understood what the Professor meant when he described them as 'small fragments of dreams that exist only for a moment before the dreamer realizes that they dream". She imagined the poor woman would jolt awake at the end, not being as lucky as Layla had been to easily cast it off. Although she had sympathy for the performer, Layla could not relate as well to her plight. She wished above all else to stay out of the spotlight.

Venturing out a little further, she caught another De-light. Within this one, a red headed woman appeared to be lost within a hallway with no windows. Several doors surrounded her, though each time she spun around to see behind her, there seemed to be more doors than before. Trying desperately to get out, the woman threw open one of the doors and was temporarily blinded by a white hot light that seared her skin as if she was standing next to the sun. Slamming the door closed, she turned and went to the door behind her. Quickly rushing to open it and find her freedom, she was instead greeted by a shadow filled darkness that seemed to engulf whatever was beyond the door, even rising into the air. Before she had a chance to close the door, the dense cloud of shadow began to leech into the hallway with her. Long ribbons of blackened violet began to reach out. As they grabbed her, wrapping around her arms, she opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She continued to scream in silence as she was pulled into the doorway of darkness.

In a similarly jarring manner as when she was interruptedly pulled from the first De-light, Layla found herself back in the field, just as their instructor began speaking to them. She continued to hold onto the speck in her dreamcatcher. "Oh, no," she began whispering to it, "I'm not letting you go. You're perfect." The Professor instructed them to "find a dream that speaks to you?. This one spoke to her, but not because she related to the woman in the dream. She related to the shadows. Layla loved the darkness and everything that it symbolized: power, fear, mystery. It symbolized everything in her life, which was just the way she wanted it. Satisfied with her catch, she made her way back to the classroom while she listened to Professor D"Arcstorm continue his lesson.

As the humidity collected on her skin, she began to wonder just how far they could go in this plane of existence. Could she turn it as dark as she wanted, as dark as it was in the woman's nightmare that she now held onto' Maybe she shouldn't even try. What if that was what Professor D"Arcstorm referred to as 'desecration", a fate "worse than evil?"

On her way back to her desk, Layla had a scowl on her face. While it would have been in keeping with her previous demeanor, this time it was due to her quiet contemplation and confusion over this malleable environment. As she walked through the field, it may have been merely a trick of the light shining through the dew, but it almost seemed as though her shadow was a little darker than it should have been and lingered just a little too long along the blades of grass it covered.

If there was one thing that Bastion seemed designed for, it was to be a stumbling, bumbling, affable source of paradox - in the contradictory sense, not the magical sense. He'd noted the tension rising on Felicity's face as the field trip had progressed, but as soon as the wonders of the Dreamscape unveiled themselves to the senses of the students, he'd been rapt. No effort or attempt was made for pencils, pens, or papers; his eyes had been on the scenery as they'd descended from the clouds, only had they returned to Professor D'Arcstorm as the classroom had again settled into a somewhat more natural environment, except for the De-lights of course.

Like Felicity, he had lagged behind the rest of his classmates, but unlike her it had nothing to do with moral reservation. Although he hadn't reached for the implements of his art, he had been keeping a keen on on everything and everyone, trying hard to memorize what he could; he ached to sketch them now, but the only way to do so would result in him passing up the opportunity to explore this strange place. He'd paused again in proceeding in his exploration as he heard Atticus address the class. While hearing the professor but not listening, he began to experiment with the 'mutability' of the realm by manipulating the tether that rode his wrist. As the professor talked, his tether began to writhe and shift as though it had a mind of it's own, the the dreamcatcher which was in it's line snaked into the air like the head of a cobra and wove back and forth; it ceased as soon as it had begun, and changed into something more resembling a lasso - still with the dreamcatcher element intact.

Finally the professor stopped talking, and not hearing an admonishment to stay within the bounds of the classroom, he finally ventured outside and began the task of examining the dream fragments, the De-lights.

The first De-light that he 'caught', though not the first he paid attention to by far, was of a mother cuddling with her two children as she told them stories; the children seemed to be similar in age, and both had their mothers characteristics at least - dark hair and blue eyes. The three of them continued to cuddle, until a new character entered the scene - tall, blonde hair, and the same blue eyes as the rest of them, and the lines around his eyes and mouth - though slight - were wrinkles which could only be caused by perpetual good humor. 'A family,' he thought, 'Whatever, good for them.' There was something familiar about the man though, he was sure he'd seen him somewhere before. Around the campus, perhaps.

He suddenly felt like Peter Pan peering in windows, and full of jealousy and self pity. He bid the dreamcatcher release the De-light - failing to notice the benign pulse of light that travelled the length of his tether when he did so. He looked elsewhere, and found another.

A red headed woman sat on the lap of a seated statue which was shaped to resemble a medieval knight. Her arms were looped around it's neck, and her head lay against his chest. Suddenly the statues fingers flexed, and though his face was shrouded in some sort of pseudo dream induced darkness, Bastion was sure the thing - the man - had yawned. The woman, whoever she was, seemed to jump in his arms, looking up into the veiled face with a smile that managed excitement despite the fact she was obviously half asleep. Tiredly the woman looked up into it's - his - face, and asked if he were coming to bed yet. The statue seemed to nod and it rose to it's feet - the woman still in it's arms as she relaxed back into sleep against his chest. As the statue-man took a step forward, his face moved into the light and....the Dreamer must have woken. The image wavered and vanished, leaving only the remnant energy of the De-light caught in the dreamcatcher, which Bastion again released and moved on.

There were thousands more De-lights flitting about in the air, some floating, some moving as though they had a mind of their own. He'd find one that spoke to him enough to return to the professor with it, of that he was sure.

Atticus ventured to the edge of the classroom, hand again rising to the side of his face. He didn't use his mundane senses to perceive his students, and he didn't need to ? not here. The sight and sound of them was as near to him as he willed it to be, his subtle manipulation of the Dreamworld imperceptible to the senses of others, as it only effected himself; it was important that the students bear in mind that the world around them was fluid to their will. If they felt the iron rigidity that he imposed upon the chaos of Dream to maintain it in a state that gave them the sense of normalcy with which they now experienced it, it might feel that much less mutable to them.

The tethers which connected all the students pulsed with a myriad of colours as their dreamcatchers snared errant De-lights, with the intensity of the pulse's light having a corresponding intensity to the intensity of the De-lights which the students experienced. Atticus was aware of every pulse, through every tether, from every student. Some things he deliberately waited to explain, having a firm belief that there must be an imposition of law in the form of linear learning; to explain to them the dual nature of the tethers would detract from what they focused on now, and there was nothing sinister in it. The chaotic energy of Dream threw off energy in the same way that a fire throws heat and light, with the notable exception of it being a far more inexhaustible energy; like a fire, though, the whether the light was used to see, or the heat used to cook, would not determine if the energy itself was emitted and transformed into something else, continuing on in it's endless cycle.

It was a lesson he longed to give, but it's relevance would have seemed questionable at the moment: the necessity of the creation of Dreamfire, of having to explain it was the only fire capable of working Worldstone. Literally a lesson for another time. But he couldn't help but be aware of it as the class progressed, as each pulse of light made it's way along the tether.

"What does it feel like" Is it rough' Smooth' Is it dry, rough, sharp, soft, or wet' Reach out with your mind, don't say the answer out loud. Feel it in your mind. Now, what about smell" Is it new or musty, fresh or old" Perhaps sharp, or simply sterile" Perceive it with all your senses, go slowly, time doesn't matter here, there's no rush. Now, I want each of you to focus," he began again, going over his entire mantra again a second time, and then a third, each succession becoming more hypnotic, encouraging the students to delve deeper into their De-light.

"Feel each of your senses taking in the thing you've chosen, and when you've absorbed as much of it as you can manage, when it fills you so much that you know it as well as you know yourself, pause," he took a breath, and paused as well in his speech. "Then exhale, exhale through all of your senses, let your eyes and ears project into Dream the shape of your focus, let your sense of touch give it texture " reach out and mold the thing as it takes form, if you must; the very air around us here is modelling clay of the mind. Even if it should be sterile and have no smell, instead let your exhalation breath your focus into existence." The entirety of the last message was as a whisper to each student, sounding as though he were close to them, quietly encouraging each of them in turn " though he never left the spot he stood.

"Though I may strive to teach you to know thyself, I will never teach you to doubt thyself. I know you are capable, each of you, even if you stumble, you will succeed." His voice was soft, but firm, and sounded just within earshot of each student. "Now, we will begin with," he paused, but only for a moment, before the first student was called upon, "Yes, you're more than ready; go ahead, feel it manifest, show us what you've focused on." The idea of 'us' was subjective, as he was the only one not deeply focusing on a De-light, at least until some of the students completed the task.

((OOC: Just a note to everyone, there's no one in particular I was thinking of when I had him indicate someone to begin ? it will simply indicate whoever actually posts first. ))

As Layla made her way back towards the classroom area, she thought about the Professor's instructions to focus on something tangible in the dream. She thought that was a little awkward, given that her focus of the dream was darkness, and that probably wouldn't be able to be created in their setting very well. There was the redheaded woman, but Layla really had no interest in her. But, there was one other thing of note in the dream. Just as she got to the row where her seat was, she paused and looked around, making sure she'd have enough room. She took a few steps back and closed her eyes, beginning to concentrate on the door that the woman opened to the darkness.

From inside its thick wooden frame, the door was a good six feet tall and a few feet wide, though it seemed slightly wider than the standard doors she had become accustomed to using. Despite it being inside a hallway, Layla could have sworn it had been exposed to the elements for decades. She was unsure of what type of wood it was, especially considering its coloring seemed like it had been long lost to the sun, giving it an almost gray hue, but it did not have many striations or knots on it. It was just a simple, solid, wooden door.

Taking a small step, Layla leaned in a little closer to inspect it up close. Some of the jagged wooden fibers were warping out slightly, giving a rough texture to the door. She held up her hand, feeling encouraged to touch the door in order to get a better to build on its creation, but thought better of it, not wanting to get some imaginary splinter stuck in her hand. She'd be feeling the pain of that for a long time, assuming that if you get a splinter in a dream, you get the pain in real life.

Layla focused back on the assignment. After letting her hand fall back down to her side, she leaned forward with her eyes still closed, continuing to visualize the door in the dream. After inhaling deeply, she did not smell much on the old worn door, except for a faint scent of staleness that reminded her of opening a door to a room or closet that hadn't been opened in years.

"Can you hear it' If it's not making a noise, could it' What would it sound like?"

When the red-haired woman opened the door in the dream, it didn't make a sound. But, by looking at it, it definitely appeared to Layla to be one of those eerily loud creaking doors, where every fiber seemed to bend, break, and crack as it swung on its groaning, rusty hinges. Even its door knob seemed like it would cause a grating sound as it turned on its spindle. The dark, almost blackened knob contrasted against the gray wood. Only the light hints of copper tones on its faded engraved designs revealed it must be bronze. The engraved designs carried over onto its matching plate. She smiled to herself, only now noticing the small skeleton key hole hidden in the scrolling designs.

She reached out to touch it and was startled to feel something smooth and cold on her fingertips. While recoiling her hand quickly, her eyes shot open, looking down to see the antique bronze knob. Much to her amazement, the door from the dream was standing in its frame a little more than a foot from her, next to one of the classroom desks. Staring at it up and down, she walked around it cautiously. The back was a mirror image.

Layla looked around to her peers and the instructor, half proud of her creation, and half embarrassed that others might have seen her do it.

Ammy had rejoined the class, the voice of Proffessor D'Arcstorm a whisper in her ears as it was with the other students, instructing, explaining and encouraging the next step of the lesson during the field trip. The slightly dense field of air dogging her steps and hovering behind her, soft thumps of booted feet as it followed her on to the classroom floor. She missed the sound of the thumps as her golden eyes drank in the 3D chess set of Andu, enjoying the details of each piece and the three tiered board. Layla's door begged for Ammy to open it and go inside to explore the unknown, take up the old mantle of the weapon she once was, throw caution and parenthood to the wind and revel in glory of hot young blood and adrenaline. The feather Fliss held drew curiosity from Ammy as if she were the fabled cat in the story about curiosity and demise. Ammy took her turn and hoped that fashioning something simple from a child wouldn't be looked down upon as naive.

Ammy closed her eyes and took a slow centering breath. Her minds eye settled on the frozen scene before her, decisions being made and discarded on what to bring from the dream until she had her answer. The strongest thing that stood out to her senses the most besides her daughter was the blanket. How could she not recall it'

Five days of walking 5 months pregnant, through stores with Fleety to find the right hue of dark orchid purple to go with the deep pink in a yarn weight that was warm but soft like my own fur to comfort Ruby on cold days. The feel of the yarn kept me company through the long nights of discomfort when Jake, Mabel and Ruby wouldn't settle down for a week in my belly and all I could do was lay around and crochet that blanket for my sweet little daughter to come. The first day seeing such warm, living colors swaddling my human child for warmth while her siblings fought to be cool with their natural born fur. A blanket that had mamma's weight and smell to it, the right kind of weight that let her know mother held you and feeling of softness like fur. The whispery rustle of it as it moved over wood floor or carpet, the little crinkle cracks as it made tiny pops of static electricity. The smell of my daughter on it no matter how many times it was washed and the well frayed and fringed look it was now getting from being her princess cape.

As Ammy recalled, dialed in and relieved memories from her senses just by the sight of that blanket, the orchid purple and deep pink striped yarn blanket was soon draping over her shoulders, neck and outstretched forearms that she held out as if holding the blanket. Her muzzle twitched a bit as her eyes remained closed.

The smell of mud, grass, weeds and endless days of sand and beach mingled among the smells of Ruby and the blanket. The scent of bird feathers with a light, almost ticklish yet sneezy like haze to it floated over her nose. The smell of cinnamon candy, clove soda, and a hint of stolen perfume from her own closet tied things together in her minds eye and she looked in that De Light from the blanket, a gift from mother to daughter to the very worn and well loved stuffed toy dog Ruby held. So well loved that it was a solid shade of gray no longer a two tone husky that was once named Tin-Tin. A gift from her eldest daughter to her youngest daughter, the scents on the toy bring sharply to mind Myrlene. Her eldest child, wild, strong, stubborn like her mother, proud and successful. Always dogged by chaos as well, the stalwart companion of the little winged hellion was Tin-Tin. Any adventure she was on, the poor thing was drug through, dropped, tossed, rolled in or lost once, maybe twice but always recovered. A decent weight for a stuffed animal, enough to let a child feel they owned a real puppy but never enough to grow too tired from carrying but more than enough to sock a sibling in the muzzle if annoyed. The curly tail was extra curly, having thirty extra stitches to sew it back on after a mishap with a pretend pirate raid while someone was trying to hide mamma's fabric scissors. Tin-Tin had been washed so many times little of the original faux fur was left, and yet the smell of fire, ash, metal and leather oil pervaded. The little thing had seen it all in the family, from happy days to dark nights. Myrlene believed nothing could harm the person who held Tin-Tin. Tin-Tin the Brave, last seen with her grandson Calcifer Spiritor. That was the sand and the ocean she smelled, she remembered that day. He had dropped it in the water the day ...

In her held out hands, a very worn out, well loved on Siberian Husky stuffed toy about two feet long and bare of most fur, very gray from a hard life of being loved on, appeared. It's scratched up clear blue eyes gazed into eternity in a forever look of friendship and happiness. It's tail curled unnaturally tight as the the seams from repair showed quite well with the fur mostly rubbed away. Behind her though, that slightly thickened air began to solidify behind her into something towering and darkly armored.

....the Ebony Knight ambushed us during our family vacation and took Calcifer as a shield and hostage, to force me to watch the cruel Champion of Chaos to just walk away while I could do nothing. The sun couldn't shine at all on that black armor, it just seemed to be soaked in like a black hole letting nothing out that struck that surface. The air around the being was winter in the middle of a sunny summer beach. Glowering violet eyes that felt like a wall slamming into me thrown by a tornado. His voice echoing and rattling from the armor like a bag of bricks shoved into a washing machine. Armor that was smooth but burned hot then cold to the touch when I came to blows with him and the tail he had, tipped with that ceremonial dagger shaped like a silver scorpion stinger that filled the body with ice cold venom. I got too close to him and gagged on the stench of the rotting lich king he had defeated and unceremoniously took up residence in the tainted dead city. A palpable, spine crawling hum and pressure to the air whenever he gazed or walked me way. The white hot pain of his thorn like lance picking apart muscle and bone of my shoulder the day we met again ...

Behind Ammy now stood the Ebony Knight in full, unnerving detail. Clad in black armor from head to toe that soaked up light, reflected nothing and held metal work long lost to the ancients before man lived. A long, feline tail flowed behind the Knight, armored in jointed masterwork marvel, tipped by an ornate silver scorpion stinger that dripped a viscous liquid of amber color. Violet eyes burned with intense intelligence and malice at it looked down from it's 7 foot height upon the diminutive 5'7" height of Ammy. A long, wickedly sharp, thorn like lance was held fast in one hand that seemed to tug on the mythical and wondrous if it got too close. The Ebony Knight said not a word as it shot a gauntleted hand forward and wrapped fingers around Ammy's neck lifting her off the ground. Ammy opened her eyes in a moment of startled panic, the stuffed toy and blanket fell to the ground as she twisted like a snake, grabbing onto the armored fore arm in pain as she felt the hot burn from the arm to face the person holding her. She saw the Ebony Knight, her eyes went wide in fear and surprise. The Ebony Knight tightened his grip on her neck making her grunt and choke. She gave his check plate a few kicks as she pulled her mind under control from the panic like a tug of war game.

You cannot be here. I see you. I feel you. But you cannot be here. I know the real you. The real you is not here. Not now, not ever. No longer more will you be either. You're dead, shadow. Dead. Dead. You will hold no more power over me or my dreams. Come, face who you really are ...

The Ebony Knight squeezed harder, creaking of bones being heard from her neck. Ammy forced in a breath and shoved a burned hand out to touch the face plate of the Ebony Knight's helmet. Her eyes half closed from the pain and mostly from her trying to focus on something in her mind.

Before her was her alchemy laboratory in the Alchemist's Fire. Shelves arranged neatly and with care, showing a categorical masterpiece any one suffering OCD would kill for. Among the vials, bottles, potions and canisters of reagents was a space cleared. Sat squarely between vials of Dragon's Bane, Wolf's Bane and Eldrich Nettle sat a cube of clear crystal. 2 feet by 2 feet by 2 feet cubed, it sat and captured the light perfectly, refracting it into rainbows in her workshop, save where light struck the suspended severed head within. Delicate bone structures would say it was a Lupinossai of a desert species, used to hot weather and prone to losing weight often from consumption by magic or disease. The skin was dark grey, gaunt, frail as if the person had once been a promising youth but had thrown away life and vitality for something powerful and draining. A lifeless grimace of acceptance or perhaps a sneer of unanticipated defeat was slit along the muzzle showing white, young teeth. Black hair, long, showed leaching of stress in the white that flowed from the crest of the head to the still black tips of the hair strands. Long, delicate canine ears, notched and scarred from a life of being bullied all framed the staring, lifeless amethyst eyes that seemed to look into the soul and mock it for every flaw it had. This is the Ebony Knight she knew, the pathetic thing that had reached too far, done too much and had brought the doom of her upon him as she held his head free from his body as it toppled from the 200 foot balcony with her only remaining arm. He took her arm, she took his head. Fair trade.

Ammy's hand, seared onto that visor, flipped it up to reveal the suspended head in that cube of crystal, proving that the death of the Ebony Knight was the reality that she remembered. The Ebony Knight crumbled to dark, iron sand, dropping her and the crystal cube to the floor to join the blanket and the stuffed dog toy. Ammy gasped for air and rubbed her throat as her blistered hands began to slowly heal. She didn't look up at anyone. How could she? How should face anyone eye to eye flat on butt, with a child's blanket, a kids toy and the dead eyes of a grizzly war trophy she'd only told her wife and husband about staring at them all. Perhaps it was time she got rid of the head.

All the Dreams he looked at appealed to him, but not like what he was thinking about. Using Dreams to conjure something appealed to him, too, but not if it had to be something from one of the dream shards " not when he had anything at all that he could create here. It was like the ultimate sketch pad, one that could take a thought or an image directly from the mind and manifest it into 3 dimensional moving artwork. He was sure it was only artwork, and that it wasn't real. Fairly sure, at least, but that was a huge digression.

The thing he'd been thinking about had been in his dreams " well, dreams and reality. It was something he'd spied in the air above the marketplace, and sometimes hovering elsewhere in the city. It was like a suit of armour, black in a way that seemed to drink in the light rather than just refuse to reflect it. Not all black, there was some white filigree in places, most notably in the center of it's chest where he was almost sure there was some kind of flower characterized. The armor was huge as well, near seven feet tall he was sure " though that kind of detail was always imperfect and existed only in his mind. He'd never been close enough to the one that existed in real life to be able to determine it's size.

Suddenly the black knight was in the Dream with them, manifested accidentally, equally by Bastion's attention to his daydreaming, and his inattention to the class coming to an end.

At a height that was only challenged by the Minotaur, and just barely, the Knight cut an imposing figure. It's armor was highly glossy " a corruption of it's true self, and the way it was seen through the eyes of Kincaid. The white flower which adorned it's chest, a rose, seemed to pulsate with a light from within. Most eye catching of all was it's left arm which ended not with a hand, but with an armored talon ? a gauntlet of razor sharp blades. It's head raised and regarded Kincaid and the rest of the class with an stare, and to look into the veiled pits of it's eyes was to look into the heavens and see endless dead space in which the stars, the galaxies, and the cosmos float.

Jerking awake after their extended daydream, Fliss automatically clutched for the dream, which didn't seem to have come with her. The dreamcatcher had, obviously, but she was quick to remove it, leaving the delicate piece on her desk as she packed her bag to head out. As fascinating as the field trip had been, it had left her uneasy. She needed to talk it out with someone.

Layla's head fell forwards slightly and her eyes shot open. She immediately lifted her arm to see if she still wore the armband tether, then rubbed her wrist in its absence. Only because she was facing forwards, she noticed the instructor was missing. She didn't really care since he seemed like if he got left behind anywhere, he'd probably be able to fend for himself.

After looking around the room to make sure everyone else had returned safely, she sat for a moment, trying to remember the last addition to their Dream world. She had only briefly seen it before the professor abruptly dismissed class, but it was enough to draw her attention. She had thought she had found the ultimate darkness in her De-Light, but the black knight seemed to be even darker as its armor absorbed all the light around it. She had noticed the white rose emblem on its chest only because she thought it was a shame to disgrace the darkness with its light contrast.

Her thoughts then turned to who made the form; the pathetic little artist in the back of the class that she sometimes caught staring at her. Wondering what kind of De-light he had found to warrant such a creation and why he would care about such a thing, she began to wonder if he was a little more dark than she gave him credit for. She glanced at him briefly, developing an idea.

Layla stood up and began gathering her supplies. Ignoring the homework assignment from their teacher, she was more focused on the assignment The Company had given her. She would have to fight in a cage match, unless she could find someone to take her place. Her only concern was that it would be a fight to the death and, as a result, something she'd much rather delegate to someone else. As she threw her worn leather knapsack over her shoulder, she glanced at the boy once more. She smiled at him, then turned and proceeded to leave.

As she made her way out of the classroom, there was a slight disturbance at her feet. It would have easily gone unnoticed unless someone was actually looking for it. It almost seemed as though her shadow was a little darker than it should have been and lingered just a little too long over the linoleum flooring it covered. It would have made her life so much simpler if the darkness from her De-light had merely followed her out from the Dream world. Unfortunately for her, that was far from the case.

Horizon Amphitheater. Mage Hall. Academy of Bristle Crios. It had been some time since their last class, the regular curriculum having been interrupted by protests on campus and throughout the rest of the city as well. At the request of the administration, Atticus had had to attend seminars on cultural empathy and sensitivity training, the results of which were likely to be subtle at best. An errant remark he'd made, loosely worded, had sparked controversy among the alumni, casting him in an unfavorable light. The hiatus of all classes had given him ample time to reflect, but he preferred shorter periods of introspection punctuated by extended periods of external focus. Now in the brief period before class started, Atticus was afforded yet another brief flash of introspection as he realized how his time away from teaching allowed him a more objective view of what he'd been doing. Not only that, but how that new objectivity would change his teaching method.

Before the students began arriving, he began loading notes onto the transparent boards. Questions, lists, diagrams, and definitions covered three entire boards " and would immediately be transcribed into any Codex's opened during the class, as was noted in the top right of the central board. He would offer a smile, his version of one at least, to students as they entered, but otherwise keep about his work until the notations were all loaded onto the boards.

The last subdivision of Arcane Arts we will be studying: that which draws from and manipulates the unliving, (not to be confused with undead " the unliving pertains to that which was never alive) primordial energies, and that which draws from and manipulates the living (in this rare case, the 'living' also includes the undead). The former is routinely thought of as 'Sorcery', the latter as 'Mysticism'.

What is Sorcery"

Sorcery " A Way of Looking at the World"

Schools of Sorcery: Aeromancy " Air & Wind Cryomancy " Ice & Cold Divination " Determining Past or Future Events Electromancy " Electricity & Magnetism Enchantment " Imbuing Objects with Arcane Energy Geomancy " Earth & Rock Hyrdomancy " Water Pyromancy - Fire Spectramancy - Light Summoning " Transporting via Arcane Energy Transmutation " Changing Matter

What is the 'best' School of Sorcery' How many schools can I learn"

What is Mysticism'

Mysticism " A Way of Looking at the Self"

Mystic Spheres: Animism " Talk With & Mimic Animals & Plants Alteration " Shapechanging Channelling " Adjusting the Physical State Healing " Restoring Health & Energy Meditation " Adjusting the Mental State Mentalism " Power of Telepathy Necromancy " Cause Arcane injury, Commanding & Creating Undead Sensitivity " Aura Perception Spiritualism " Communicating with, Creating Spirits

What is the 'best' Mystic Sphere to focus on'

The Curious Case for Wood Wood " Dead or Unalive" What about Hybrid Magic"

Combining Sorcery & Mysticism

Spellcraft & Design: What Are the Factors" Invocation Time " How Long Does it Take to Cast" Range " How Distant Do I Need to Effect" Duration " How Long Must I Maintain the Spell" Area " What Amount of Space Must the Spell Effect" Effect " How Intense is the Effect"

Notice to Students " This Material Will Be Covered During the Final Two Lectures.

The last line was underlined just as the last student sat down (barring any latecomers), and he stepped in front of the lectern and leaned back against it just slightly. Atticus cleared his throat.

"Homework assignments given during our last class will be forgiven if you haven't completed them, or will count as bonus credit if you have." He took a moment to scan the students, gauging their reactions, before continuing. "I have a fair degree of certainty that this will be the portion of the class you were likely looking forward to the most. Students, welcome back to A&M Theory." A slight smirk betrayed him as he considered, briefly, the implications of his phrasing. What part of the class might they assume he was talking about, if they hadn't read the boards" Why, the end, of course.

"Just like the rest of what you've studied here, it's important to note that the definitions you'll learn here are only a frame work " by their very nature, they change according to the practitioner's subjectivity." The class had settled down faster than he anticipated, either eager to learn, or eager for the bell and the end of term in general. 'No matter,' he thought. He had never considered that he might have been in some way obsessed about his teaching before, had not considered it until his counselling. He was put off by the notion that the class itself was subject, but when the counselor had drawn the parallel between the subjectivity of his students to the class to the subjectivity of Arcanists and their spellcraft, there was little he could say to argue. He was resigned to teach the class according to his own, he hoped objective, point of view, and let the rest fall to the students for their interpretation.

"We're going to jump around a little bit in the syllabus now, so while that-" he gestured to the notes on the transparent boards, "Provides a basic outline for what we'll be doing, the actual practical work is going to be done a bit more out of order. First, as you can see reading down through our to-do list, there are two main categories of magic listed: Sorcery & Mysticism. Both of which have already been loosely defined up there, along with their subcategories. Before we go any further, I'll field any generic questions you have about what?s in your notes, but I'd prefer to keep the elaborations brief, if possible. The notes should provide us with a more than level playing field, as it were."

"Feel free to read into the term 'playing field'," he was moving back behind the lectern now, "Because we're going to play a game. The rules are simple, and I'm familiar enough with all of you to know that you're all more than capable of playing. Simply put, you must either define " through explaining the phenomena seen or encountered " a spell that you've seen, heard of, or read about. You don't have to list a 'name', you can call it anything you wish " many casters 'customize' their spells by giving them names, but many have quite common core components. A magic missile is a magic missile is a magic missile, whether made of fire, light, or water. The other option, and this is my preference," he paused for a moment, not for drama, though it did seem to heighten for a moment. "Is that you cast a spell yourself, preferably something which we can discern in some way; don't try to claim you've cast a Divination charm and then proceed to simply make something up." His tone was very dry, with a vague hint of amusement.

Ah, well, this part was easy. Even though she didn't consider what she did as particularly spell-casty, Fliss was definitely at home with this. She waited for the inevitable pause, raising her hand to volunteer herself as the first demonstrator. Getting to her feet, she shucked off her clothes - for reasons that would become only too clear in just a few moments - revealing that, like her father, she wore a skin-tight bodysuit beneath.

"Nobody panic, I've got this under control," she promised, and quite simply combusted.

Every inch of her set light, from the tips of her hair to her ankles, though she thoughtfully left her feet free from flames to avoid damaging the floor. Through the flickering brightness, her features were still discernible; she had become, to all intents and purposes, just a fire person of some kind. She held the flame for about a minute, fluctuating the heat and intensity just to show off, really, before absorbing the fire back into herself. The body-suit was untouched, proof that even if she'd been wearing her uniform, she wouldn't have been nude after going to flame. This was her innate skill, her born power, and even though she hated it at times, Fliss was beginning to learn why her father enjoyed being what they were so much.

"So ....pretty obviously, it's Sorcery, and even more obviously, Pyromancy," she said with a grin. "It doesn't really have a name - I guess The Human Torch is already taken, so feel free to name it if you like." She shrugged, biting her lip. "And ....I'm gonna get dressed again now."

Blushing, she pulled her clothes back on haphazardly, throwing herself back into her seat to hide her face behind her hair. One moment of confidence, and now she just wanted everyone to forget she was there.

It had been a long break with much that had gone on during the hiatus. Ammy slid into class on time as usual, but that was about all that was usual for the Lupinossai. She was often distracted, golden eyes half meditative on something inwards and she was absorbing information it seemed by periphery accumulation. Her codex open, she viewed the updated content for today's lecture, then leaned back and listened to the lecture by Professor D'Arcstorm. The promise of others demonstrating spells or describing what they've seen was amusing to hear.

Ammy gave a smile seeing Fliss' pyromantic display, just like her father and gave a smile as well seeing the shape changing Layla performed. She had no comments on either students ability to do magic. Had this been a much earlier time and she still inclined to be a teacher perhaps it would be different, but now times have shifted, sands swirled and callings had her attentions and instructional insight consumed. She was a student as well, so she was happy to enjoy some laziness.

Once Fliss and Layla were done, she slid from her seat and approached the front of the class to take a turn. Prior bouts of worry and self doubt shredded, gone, loss like melted ice to the fires of something burning long and bright in her seeking out a beacon calling to her among the stars. This bled into her an unshakeable confidence of old as she turned and viewed the class.

"When I first took the class, I was full of doubt and concern with what I was and could do or if I could continue to do anything I used to do. If that sounds like a confusing cadence of words, then allow my energy to speak the rest clearly for me."

Ammy no longer spoke now and held out her hands. With a fluid motion of a dancer, she began to move side to side and shape the air with her hands into a ball of brilliant yellow sunlight that filled the class with summer warmth. She'd pause in her in movements, holding the ball out in her palm out to face the class to see it was indeed small ball of pure sunlight she held. She'd then clap her hands together, smashing the ball of sunlight and they'd see her entire body coated in steel. She walked among the class so they could see every detail on her was steel, and not some magic armor but the fact she'd just transmuted fur, cloth, hair, and skin into steel that moved and flexed just like their non-metal components could.

She returned to the front of the class, made several pulling, drawing motions from her chest outward as if pulling string. The steel left her body forming a solid, intricately made steel staff that she then drove into the floor. The metal vanished as around her four slim pillars of stone rose to frame her. She touched the stone pillars changing each one to a different element, one diamond, one water that stayed in a pillar shape, one a swirling column of air, the last a pillar of pure, dark shadow.

Once the pillars were changed she made a single howl, and everything melted her from body, leaving behind a growing form as she became and eastern dragon with scales the color of black, white, orange and gold like that of a Koy Fish. Her long serpentine tail slithered through the pillars, snuffing, snapping, shredding or illuminating them into oblivion. Ammy then coiled her dragon body and flew straight up with no wings, to erupt into a burst of a fire ball that rained phoenix feathers.

The feathers floated down to the floor, swirled in the stirring breeze of something breathing and slowly formed a funnel cloud in front of the class. The feathers spun faster and soon became a blurring mass that popped with sparks of blue electricity into the form of a dark tanned woman with white hair and golden eyes. Ammy stood before them, human, still clothed as she had been, held out her left arm and raising her right arm slid a small knife from her pocket along her forearm to show a bleeding cut before the class. She put away the pocket knife and spoke. "Buum" A slight golden aura surrounded her right hand and she slid it over the injury leaving behind no cut, just blood that she wiped away.

She'd stay in human form a bit longer as she'd speak about what she'd done with a slight, inhuman pant of heavy breathing.

"You have witnessed multiple uses of both Sorcery and Mysticism. I will do my best to dissect for you what my spells were. As to any names for them, I have none. I just know them and they are, they exist.

My first spell drew heavily upon Spectromancy as I called upon my connection with the Sun to produce sunlight in the classroom.

The second spell was Transmutation mixed with Prime Energy to change my clothing, fur and skin to metal without any metal upon me to use for the transmutation equation.

The third spell combines Geomancy and Electromancy to control both an element and shaping that element by dealing with its unique lattice and grain structures to produce intricate details on a solid metal rod.

The fourth spell was Transmutation and Geomancy combined making the metal into stone to allow me to use Geomancy to erect the pillars.

The fifth spell was Transmutation and Prime Energy again to handle lack of certain elements in the equation to produce four pillars of four different elements with just stone.

The sixth spell was pure Alteration to allow me to change into my dragon form.

The seventh spell was Channeling allowing me to reclaim and channel the energy I spent on the prior spells back into my body to allow the eighth spell.

The eighth spell was a complex variation of Alteration by using Summoning to move my dragon from into the sky, Transmutation to change it into a cloud of phoenix feathers and finally the Alteration and somewhat Healing aspect to reform me into the human before you.

My ninth spell was simply healing the wound on my arm the I inflicted."

Ammy took a moment more to breath and compose herself. "What I have shown was not done or demonstrated by any means to discourage or flaunt abilities. It is a demonstration of someone who has finally come to love herself and found forgiveness in a land lost long ago. It is possible for many to do multiple spells from multiple divisions and subdivisions. Do not use me as a standard, for a celestial soul that is part of the fallen creation is gifted in working energy and doing much with it. I am deeply grateful for being part of this class and the courage it has given me to break free and be who I am."

She'd bow to the class, and return to her seat, her form shifting back to Lupinossai as she sat looking drained.

Bastion stood up. He was nervous, shaking slightly, and focused entirely on the Professor. He hated being the focus of any kind of attention, especially in class. Especially when it came to his magic, or whatever the hell it was. He didn't even know if he belonged in this class, except that he found it interesting, and the field trip had provided some interesting visuals. As far as that goes, the class by itself had provided some interesting visuals. Not just today when the students were putting on their displays, but the student body in general: the Lupinossai, the Minotaur, couple of attractive young women - and so what if one of them was more than mildly psychotic" There were pictures of all of them in there, especially Felicity and Layla. There were lots of those two, though at one point in his sketches all the images of Layla suddenly stop. Probably had something to do with the fact that she'd abducted him, or tried to at least; she wasn't really a girl, she was like a sack of cats wrapped in a hot girl costume.

"I'll go!" He swore inwardly as soon as the words left his lips. Too loud. Maybe it was his own head, though. He was a quiet guy, having to speak loud enough to be heard in the class wasn't his thing. In his own ears, it felt like he'd shouted at the professor. For a second that felt like an awkward eternity, he stared rather dumbly at Atticus, then suddenly bent to grapple his pad and pencils from his seat and shuffle down to the front with all the grace of a buffalo.

"I just, uh," My god this is a nightmare, he thought, "I have to kind of show you what I'm doing," he spoke to the professor as he tried to compose himself, casting a slightly apologetic look at the class - except for Layla who he still deliberately avoided eye contact with. "It's not like, flashy, or, I mean, I guess it could be," he shook his head, as if to clear it, and finally stood before Atticus. He panned between Atticus and the class, sketch pad clutched to his chest so that its pages were open for everyone to see. He began leafing through it, from front to back. Dozens of miscellaneous pictures, then onto some around campus, and the class. Sketches in and around Rhydin, some down by the docks and the fountain, several inside the Red Dragon Inn. More of the class, some very detailed renditions of their field trip - and one of a knight clad in black armor except for a white rose on it's chest. The majority of the sketches that were people in the class were skewed in numbers towards one person in particular, and every time another one came up, Bastions face quite fittingly burned. "Finally," he gave a sigh of relief, once again looking up from the pictures to the professor and class. "So, none of those were signed; you probably didn't notice but I left myself nowhere to sign them." It was true, he hadn't. They were all shaded so that there was no real appropriate place for his signature - not if he wanted it to be at all legible. "And, it's gotta be my name signed for it to work, so," he was flummoxed. "I'll just show you." He leafed to a picture of a door - the background of the door was vague, it just stood in the middle of a white page. He panned it around to everyone in the class, then dropped the pad to one of the table tops, and set to drawing something. The pencil scratched somewhat frantically across the pad, but each stroke was strong and deliberate. In only a moment, he held it up again, to show that he'd penciled in the rough features of the room - from the students point of view. Transparent boards, podium, table, even a slight shading to add depth to the back wall. There was room in the bottom right, which was still empty white paper. "So, no living things," he gestured with his chin down to the paper, "That's why, not signatures on the other," he felt like he was rambling. "Anyway, it works like....this." He turned so he was facing the front of the class, students at his back, cheated slightly away from the Professor. He held the pad up with one hand, bracing it on the inside of his forearm, and signed his name, with a sharp dot of the 'i' and a crisp slash underneath.

Something twisted, visually, at the back of the room on the wall behind the transparent boards. A doorway, clearly reminiscent of what he'd depicted in the picture he signed, had appeared there as though it were naturally part of the architecture, though by its design it clearly was not.

"So. That. I don't know what it is, like what kind of magic. I don't know what to call it. That's one of the things I was kind of hoping to learn, here. I can do it with all kinds of things, though, but doors are easier." And safer, he added silently to himself. "That's why I don't do it with, you know sign that is, all my stuff." Because I don't know what it's doing, if it's bringing things to me, making them from scratch. Everything about both of those explanations is wrong, isn't it' So, can't there be....something else?

It was as if he heard the voice of the Professor in his head, as though it were speaking solely to him, Mr. Kincaid, where does that portal open to?

"I don't know that, either," He answered aloud, and somewhat miserably, pausing to look back at the professor as he made his way back to his seat.

Praise from the professor was rare enough that Fliss could feel herself preening a little as he commented on her display. She felt a little bad for Bastion, hoping he wasn't going to get into too much trouble for inserting a door to nowhere in the classroom wall, but the professor's continuation on her pryotechnics distracted her. Spectromancy" She frowned thoughtfully. It had never occurred to her to try and use just one aspect of her flame. Was it even possible to separate the heat from the light, and vice versa" That was sort of fascinating just to think about.

The question put to the class made her smirk. She had a little brother and sister - family arguments had taught her there was only one answer to a question like that. She raised her hand, waiting to be called upon before she spoke.

"There is no best or worst," she said with the authority of the eldest sibling in a family. "What works best for one person might be terrible for someone else. Defining schools of magic into best and worst is an argument waiting to happen. It's all subject to personal perspective."

"I agree," Layla said when she was called upon after Fliss.

She leaned back in her seat and continued, "I almost view Sorcery as offense and Mysticism as defense. True, you can use both offensively or defensively, but primarily, Sorcery affects other things versus Mysticism affects the person. For example, offensively, someone could do more damage if they created a tornado that rips across an entire continent versus if someone turned himself into the Hulk. Defensively, sure, I could protect myself a little if I made an ice shield or put up a wall of fire or something but, depending on the attack, I may be way more protected if I turned my skin into diamond armor or something fantastical like that."

"Depending on what someone's preference is, they might prefer one over the other. Offense or defense," she concluded.

Just like a girl with straight hair wishing for curls and a girl with curls wishing for straight hair, she longed for what she didn't have. Since her abilities seemed more Mystic in nature, she wished she could do Sorcery and devastate a whole city or something equally impressive. "I'd be way more important to The Company then," she thought.

Ammy found the discourse about what was deemed best for a practitioner a twisted, Pandora's Box with neatly crafted Schrodinger Cats tucked into every nook. The point of what was best being very subjective was true within Ammy's own mind as she reviewed briefly her attempts to teach her children the arts of weaving magic. However the relabeling Professor D'Arcstorm presented; taking the Layla's two sides of a coin definition of Attack and Defense to be rolled, drawn out and rewoven as a thick strand of infinite possibilities with Combat and Utility had Ammy staring at the boards behind Atticus. Centuries of study from several continents, realms and life times and not one of her teachers placed the dichotomy of magic in such a way.

Ammy gave a small sigh and a slightly audible face palm as she feels truly like the proverb 'Always something new to learn'. Though now her mind was ticking and picking away at what could possibly be considered Utilitarian Combat spell" Then again the Codex shimmered and winked with the lectures topics for next class and she felt maybe that was a topic worth exploring then. She hadn't noticed how far off in thought she'd wandered until she saw students walking past her and leaving the class. She blinked a few times noting the lecture was over.

Ammy tossed some of her crimson hair over her shoulder and began to pack her Codex away to leave, mind already a swirl with logistics, council meetings and the trip back home again. She noticed a slight glow from a page on the Codex and saw she had a message from Atticus. She leaned on the table and looked it over. Necromantic Sphere" One of her spells? She felt something ill root in her stomach as she wondered perhaps some of her varied lives did take root within her soul. She nibbled on her lower lip and closed her Codex tucking it into her shoulder bag, then she moved to the front of the class to politely await her turn to speak with Professor D'Arcstorm about something she'd done, her mind worrying over the magic performed, nervous and unsure of what was necromantic in the display.

"Your first reaction, Lady Spiritor, I'm sure will be to refute my observance, but I ask only that you give it consideration." He began speaking when the room had dwindled down in size. Only Ammy and Bastion remained, and it appeared as though he was going to address Ammy first, and leave the young man hanging as it were. It was on purpose, as he intended to take longer to decipher just how Bastion was using his conjuring; he had the vague notion that the boy was playing a type of roulette, and had thus far been lucky in not conjuring anything which he could not put down. Without training, that might not always be the case.

"Your display was exceptionally complex; following it was like watching a skilled gymnast, seeming to glide effortlessly from bar to bar, their body going through a formulaic series of convolutions. I use this analogy because a gymnast in mid routine has little time to give thought to the construction of the bars they use, or what they're connected to; they're just a stepping stone in the greater overall performance." One of the transparent boards sprang to life, glowing softly like a screen, the image fading on until it showed the displays of magic that had been given earlier, cycling quickly through them until it came to Ammy. Atticus's eyes seemed incandescent in the light of the screens, burning a brilliant blue as they scanned back and forth, controlling the playback of the Mage Eye spells that warded his classroom. The scene paused on the Seventh spell she had cast and played through it in slow motion, then sped up again until it reached her explanation near the demonstrations end. Ammy was speaking:

"The seventh spell was Channelling allowing me to reclaim and channel the energy I spent on the prior spells back into my body to allow the eighth spell."

Atticus paused for a moment, regarding Ammy with an arched eyebrow.

"The terminology you use there, 'reclaiming', is not suggestive of the Channelling sphere " and neither do I think you misspoke. I wonder, Lady Spiritor, if by chance you have been availing yourself of Necromancy, albeit touching on the negative plane which powers it through some sort of sleeve of positive energy, perhaps." He stared considerately for a moment, recollecting tidbits of earlier conversations with Ammy. "If you are open to the suggestion, I believe it may explain some other phenomena for you; if you were unknowingly exposed to entropic fields, and had been using those kinds of effects while subconsciously weaving spells to protect yourself," he fell silent, and shrugged.

"I could delve deeper into your arcane weaves by means of a reaving dispel, but I don't know that that's necessary. The manner in which you're using it, if you are and if indeed it is accidental, is certainly not malign. I am just raising it to your awareness, that you may better ward yourself."

"Mr. Kincaid," the professor looked up towards him, back towards the door the boy had made, then to the boy again. "I'll be with you in a moment.?