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diatu2021-10-11 10:34 am
magicademymods) wrote in diatu2021-10-11 10:34 am
Entry tags:
October Event Log
They bring an artifact, which apparently is draconic in nature, and to that extent, they ask to speak to Professor Ire regarding it. Naturally, the good Professor agrees, joining them on the Walk. Within one second of his arrival, golden chains of magic lash around his neck -- one from each of the visitors, who then begin to tighten them.
For those brave souls who wish to engage the foreign wizards, know this: they are powerful, strangely so, with an odd force behind their spells and defenses that explains how they are strong enough to corral a dragon. They show no emotion, they feel no pain, and they will not let their attack on Ire fade for a second. But this is their weakness: much of their power is bound up in that attack. Their focus is primarily on the dragon, and so they do not defend themselves by simply slaying all who oppose them. They have one mission and one mission only. They have assistance, though. One of them has opened a portal, allowing hordes of devilish imps to run loose, heedless of the damage they might cause. These imps are sharp-toothed, sharp-clawed, and terribly quick, and they desire only to hurt and kill. Of course, the students of Diatu Magicademy are no cowards, and no pushovers; spells fly in response, explosions fill the air and singe hair off those too close, and the battle is sudden chaos worsening every minute as more imps pour out of the portal and more students race from every corner of the campus to join the fray.
That question receives a partial answer when the entire island of Ascelion drops six feet straight down. The drop is faster than gravity, as if something is in fact trying to pull the island down -- which means all people and all things upon it fall slower than it descends. The impact that comes when the island suddenly stops, and stops its inhabitants a moment later, is bone-jarring. Items shatter and snap across the island, canals overtop their channels and pour water onto the streets, bruises and sprains and breaks from the sudden blow are not the worst injuries inflicted. Then the island begins to lurch about like a Valhudor student after five straight days of partying, spinning and twisting and jerking around in midair. Students tumble to the ground in droves, exposing themselves to the imps as the tide of battle suddenly shifts. And shifts somewhat back, as the Professors arrive on scene, their powerful magics making up for the loss of support from the students. Tumbling, pitching, tilting, whirling, but the battle rages on still. Run away or fight, or simply try to help however you can...
Grieve did not account for two things. First, Diatu is a ridiculous place. And second, he forgot that the Magicademy has one more sets of defenders. First one imp dies, cut in half by a sword stroke too swift for the eye. Then another, impaled by a spear which withdraws like the flick of an eyelash. Then a third, smashed ruthlessly as if by a giant's fist. Three allies arrive, to turn the tide: Ballet the Land Whale, wielding her sword; Tango the Land Dolphin, master of the spear; and Waltz the Land Wholphin, coming into her own as a student of the warhammer. With their ability to swim through the ground effortlessly, the cetaceans can strike at the imps from surprise and safety, which is all the forces of Diatu Magicademy need to begin pushing back! If you want to take out a wizard, close the portal, or sever the spells that bind Ire, now is the time to do it!
The wizards have been taken into custody, though it's probably futile; when the dragon's magic released their minds, they were only confused and baffled at their situations. They likely remember nothing. Ire is all right. Despite the pain of the attack, he's honestly touched that the school rallied to his defense. But the students, the Magicademy, the city -- all of them have suffered from being shaken like the fruit pieces inside a gelatin getting slapped. Injuries, some critical, and property damage, often extensive, spread out in waves. That was a pretty rough time of it. But at least now you can breathe. Right? RIGHT?! |
no subject
Aziraphale isn't anywhere near the commotion when it starts, but Ire's roar interrupts his lunch and sends him searching for the disruption, fearing the worst.
By the time he arrives anywhere near the scene, there are imps everywhere. His first instinct is not to rescue Ire, but to put a stop to this immediate danger and protect the other students.
Holy water probably won't work against these imps, and it isn't really worth the risk with beings like Crowley and that Beetlejuice fellow around--so he calls upon lessons studied over two years ago to prevent something just like this:
He's not nearly fast enough with binding glyphs, not for his liking, but he's not interested in killing (even terrible imps). Instead, he draws glyphs, fighting off the imps as he works until he can lure one after another into his traps.
Tilt and Fall
The ground falls out from underneath him and he feels momentarily that hangtime of one of those ridiculous carnival rides, or of a certain coyote realizing there's no cliff underneath.
There's enough time to fear, but not enough time for much else.
He's aware of the ground approaching and then, briefly.... nothing.
Face bloodied and wrist broken, it's a miracle he's not dead. Or not a miracle, because he doesn't recall casting one, at least not for himself. He may have tried to cast one generally into the magic academy, but he's not even sure it succeeded with his powers dampened here as they are.
His head is pounding and the world spins in front of his eyes as he tries to right himself. The wings he had instinctively opened feel unfamiliar and in the way.
Confused and dazed, he's not sure what is happening, if this is a good omen or a bad one, but he needs to help people. He needs to find his people.
Victory and Aftermath
He sees their heroes turning the tide and musters some strength and focus to attempt to help with the portal.
Afterwards, staggering around the school-turned-battlefield, he tries to assist the injured, all the while very clearly looking for someone.
tilt and fall
Unfortunately, it's hard to draw a glyph while you're falling through the air.
He hits the ground hard, hissing in pain...only to find Mr. Fell doing the same. This sure is frustrating, isn't it. He offers a hand, biting his lip to hold in another exclamation. Oh, this was a painful one.
"How are we supposed to do anything without stable ground?"
no subject
Was the falling earth attack theirs, or one of the enemies'?
"Quite," he agrees, looking around at the utter chaos around them, head spinning as he tries to get his bearings. Pain and suffering is palpable in the air, and the urge and need to help people overtaking his confusion and injury. He realizes he expects Crowley to ride in as would-be rescuer; the fact that his demon isn't here leaves him deeply unsettled. In a moment of annoyance, he kicks an imp before it can bite them. "And now I'm afraid we have more injured and fewer combatants. If those imps keep coming, we may quickly be outnumbered."
no subject
"We need to intercept them more efficiently. I might be able to craft a trap."
He crouches and starts to draw a glyph, only to be forced to fend off an attack.
"...can you hold them for a minute?"
Aftermath
Noa is not particularly one for direct combat, but that didn't mean he wasn't out there anyway. He had Adelai take full advantage of the army of penguins at the little Emperor's call, and in the meantime had been casting as many fantastics as he well could in order to distract and disorient the applicable opponents.
(Illusions weren't really doing much for the lot leashing the dragon after all, but it was great for everything else)
Still, no one gets out of that unscathed, and he's currently....sitting. Just for now. Just for a bit of air.
He feels like he did something to his arm, but he doesn't really want to move to check it. Seeing Aziraphale, he gives a small wave with the other arm. Can't quite manage a smile though. Things hurt a bit much. Ow.
no subject
He stops next to where Noa is sitting, but cannot bring himself to kneel or sit himself. Frankly, he's afraid he may not be able to get up again.
If only his miracles worked better here. Noa's pain could be gone in a wave of his hand, but Aziraphale's spent too many miracles over the course of the battle and the gentle touch he places on the top of Noa's head will only lessen his pain, not repair everything.
"The worst is behind us now," he says the platitude more on instinct than anything, though he fears this is really only the opening salvo in a bigger later assault. "How are you?"
no subject
"...I think I might have broken this," he grimaces, looking up. "...It doesn't hurt as much though- ...Your doing?"
Warcry
"Hey, are you holding back?!"