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  1. - Top - End - #481
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    Leavenworth Smedry

    Old Man Smedry snaps his fingers with veritable zest.

    "That's exactly it, Mr. Russo! Ten points to your school House!"

    That's how things work at Ashford, right?

    "The knowledge of how to construct the canals just right so that they delivered the necessary water, the mathematical operations, the mapmaking...all this was in the control of those who were educated, of those who hoarded knowledge for themselves and kept it out the hands of what they so inaccurately termed 'them masses'. And that was how the priests and kings of Sumer maintained the power of their precious Hydraulic Despotism for centuries."

    Smedry pulls out several books from the pile, each entitled "Against Prometheus: Chronicles of the Scrivener, Volume 1: a Librarian named Biblioden". He begins passing them out for students to read: textbooks of sorts.

    "And that's the rub, isn't it? In what we term civilization in all it's forms, the ultimate source of power is derived from information! Information!" He shouts, rolling the word around on his tongue. "By accumulating knowledge, you expand your horizons, learn how to accomplish things that were previously impossible, visualize new ways of living and new ways of observing the world. The more you know, the more you are empowered to control your destiny and make something of yourself in the brief time we are endowed with.

    Thus in every society, now matter the shape or form, the ultimate–the truly meaningful!–measuring point of freedom is the extent to which the citizens of said societies can access information freely!

    And every black-hearted dictatorship, Despotism, Tyranny...and "Holy Empire" that has ever existed has taken away the freedom and autonomy of it's subjects by restricting the flow of knowledge...marginalizing people into 'classes' and 'huddled masses' and such tripe, denying them the right to learn, reserving knowledge for the glorified 'leader caste'...and distorting people's view of the world with disinformation and lies."

    He leans on a table. "This has been done before, in many forms and different techniques, but the books I've handed you here discuss a man and a order who have codified these means of control and discussed their implications thoroughly. It's a slightly different history from what you're used to...judge for yourselves it's legitimacy."

    He clasps his hands together. "But first, I'd like to put forward a thought experiment, examining the society that we currently live in. I ask you this:"

    He learns forward. "In this country...in this nation, what is the ultimate collective repository of information that exists? The final redoubt of established orthodox knowledge, from which all other collections of information are ultimately dependent on if they are to be considered..."

    He does the Air Quotes liken nobody's business.

    "...Legitimate?"

  2. - Top - End - #482
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    Lelouch
    The two of them stared at each other, both feeling somewhat superior, for obvious reasons. "Well then, perhaps after class I can interest you in a game? It's a fine way to gauge another person, be he friend or enemy, though I'll admit it's rather simple, hardly the nest of intrigue that you seem to crave." If Lelouch had a fault, and he was quite aware that he had several, it's that he did tend to simplify and characterize people a little too much.

    Light Yagami
    Light is many things, and among them is a very trim and fit young man. It's easy to forget that, given his natural quietness and stillness, but he's an athlete, a consistent contender for the national tennis championships every year since he was fifteen, and probably (assuming nobody else is above average) good enough to carry a win.
    Last edited by Cracklord; 2012-04-28 at 06:29 PM.
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  3. - Top - End - #483
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    Touma

    Touma, on the other hand, is unlucky. The game has barely started before he's hit by two balls at once, and he's out for the count.

    "Fukou da..."

    Harry

    Harry smiles politely as he enters the Principal's room, plopping himself down in a chair, and leaning back with a grin on his face.

    "Principal! Hey! You might know of me, you know, Harry Potter, Slayer of Voldemort, Snakespeaker, Magister of the Flames, and all that. Now listen, my new... acquaintance," At the word he glares at Salem, sticking his tongue out at the blonde in a childish manner, "Has informed me that we simply must attend your fine institution! Now tell me, how does one go about enrolling in such a place?"

    The entire time a sardonic grin has covered the boy's face, and he's twisting his wand, the ruins pulsating an eerie red-orange as he does so.

    Shiki

    Shiki is scribbling down notes on a piece of paper, trying to figure out what the teacher is saying.
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  4. - Top - End - #484
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    Archer
    "Keep in mind, this is all nothing like the Feudal system you are all a part of now, citizens of Brittania." He said, a little snarkily. "We make education compulsory for everyone in the Empire, to be sure we don't waste potential assets." Archer said, picking up a teddy-bear. With a sliver of concentration he creates a replica of Clarent the size of a letter opener and cuts it open, looking at the stuffing like an oracle attempting to read entrails and determine the future thereby.

    Knowledge equals power. He'd heard that one before. It was close enough, at least for the poor saps who had never had a taste of the real thing, but no. No, knowledge equaled information, just like rulership equaled authority and material equaled wealth. Power equaled power.

    It was almost amusing, how every generation would try to reduce history to a series of influences, while missing the essential fact. The Feudal system didn't work because nobody realized their was an alternative, it worked because some men are leaders, and some men are not, and in an inflexible, merit based system like the feudal system, leaders have only one direction to go. Right to the top.

    ????
    The Headmaster blinked, and when he opened his eyes, there was nothing there. Holes that went all the way through the back of his head. Even to a wizard, it's unsettling, even horrifying. He did not move, but his posture somehow intensified, becoming more electric and aware. His body was giving something off, something like an odor. The stink of hatred, clear and unreasoning comes off him in waves, enough to make you gag.

    He himself is much the same, breathing shallowly and rapidly, face twisted by an almost comical look of revulsion, lips curled in disgust, nose crinkled as is about to gag. Then he shudders, and meets your gaze with his eyeless face. "I hate this place." he says, and while he might direct the words at you, he's not talking to you. "This prison. This world. This reality, this life, whatever you want to call it, I can hardly stand to be here. It's the stink of your souls, if there is such a thing. I feel saturated by it, covered in it, sinking under the wait of it all. I can taste it on the air, vile corruption rotten all the way through, and every moment that I do, I fear that I've begun to be infected by it, that it will start on me next."

    He said, his voice shaky, a fleck of spittle on his chin. He seemed quite unaware of it, though it was difficult to tell. He's mad. Not just insane, insane people forget how to tie their shoelaces and mumble to themselves a lot. He's on a whole other layer. "And then you come in here, so proud, so cocksure, and act as though I can't see. Like somehow I could possibly miss the stink of corruption and heresy all over you, BONE DEEP?" With a jerky, spasmodic movement, he twitches too his feet, his body stiff and shaking as though going into epileptic shock. He's bitten through his tongue, a part of you dispassionately notices.

    "YOU THINK YOU CAN HIDE IT FROM ME?" He yells, raising a hand as though to seize the front of Harry's robes, then collapses back into his chair, shuddering as he does. He blinks, and his eyes are back. He looks around vaguely, confused as a sleeper awaking from fantasy to find the world is not as they remember it and trying to figure out what just happened, but the scent does not go anywhere. Because the spirit may have passed on, back to it's primary host, but the hate is still there. Something wormed it's way into this man's mind, leaving an imprint of itself behind. Bloody foam is drying on his lips, and his eyes are blood-shot, and when he looks at you, you feel just a hint of what was there a moment ago on the surface.

    Professor Trelawney herself could not misinterpret the signs, this was not a good place to be a wizard.

    Souske
    He raises an arm. "Well, the absolute power is the Emperor and the families, so... The State? But I mean, surely people wouldn't just believe things just because they are told them. I mean, you're telling me this, sir, but I don't know if I believe you."

    It's strange, but he looks almost familiar, or at least hauntingly similar, to someone Smedry has seen recently.

    Beast
    "Now, this is to be a computer period, so tramp over to the computer labs and try and figure out what I told you to do. If you're really stuck, then I suggest you open an encyclopedia and look some of the words up." He says, then sits back. When they don't get up, still confused, he lets out a low, grumbling roar from his chest start to build. That gets them moving.

    If he's rubbed off on Smedry, well, Smedry's rubbed off on him.
    'C'est la vie' - Such is life.

  5. - Top - End - #485
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    Harry

    Harry didn't flinch. A man without eyes was nothing, nothing compared to a man who split his soul for want of power. He stared coolly into the blackness of the Headmaster's eyes, and brushes his suit down, before shooting a glance towards his Servant. His eyes demand an answer, daring her to admit it. Because if she had done what he believed her to have done, it would not end well. It never ended well when Harry was angry.

    "... Corruption of my soul, eh? Didn't expect you to catch that, of all things. It's a bit odd, really, considering how very few people there are left in the world who know of such things." He's staring at the man, vivid green into the abyss of emptiness, curiosity and amusement twinkling in his eyes. "You see, I'm not here to 'corrupt' anyone, and my brand of heresy takes a different form then the one you're used to, Principal, or is it Headmaster?" His eyes shine with power and madness as he leans in closer, his grip tightening on his wand, while flames and death burn in his vision. "It's not your polite, easy to understand heresy. It's fire."

    His wand is pointed directly at the Headmaster's head, and his teeth widen into a mad grin, power expulsing itself out of his wand, as the runes that cover it hiss and pop with small sparks, and the acrid smell of sulphur pours into the room as Harry begins to channel his energy through the small piece of wood, breaking laws of reality and magic as he slowly but surely pours fire into something that should not be able to contain it, not in a hundred years.

    "I suppose, Headmaster, that if I fire my wand in here it will taint you with my 'heretical nature', will it not?" His tone is casual, and he adjusts his glasses as he speaks, before looking at the man as he would at a friend, happiness in his eyes and a grin on his lips, "And that just wouldn't do! Now, all I ask is that me and my... acquaintance can attend this fine institution without too much trouble! Wouldn't that be splendid! Because the other option isn't so easy, you see." The casualness he had been holding for the short speech drops immediately, and his tone takes a more sinister turn, sounding as if his throat was made of fire itself, his words licking the Headmaster's ears with their heat, slowly heating up his very essence as the boy stood before him. "And while it will be very fun for me, I assure you that your... magnificent visitor won't enjoy it very much."
    Last edited by Terry576; 2012-04-29 at 01:03 AM.
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  6. - Top - End - #486
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    The Cunning Man
    Once upon a time there was a very poor charcoal-burner, who lived in a tiny cottage at the edge of the black forest. The woods were untamed, and mocked the so-called manifest destiny of man, for the forest had existed long before men had come to this land, and it's darkened depths had beheld secrets and dark imaginings it would be better not to think of. The woods today are poor things. Trees there were old as trees can be, huge and grasping and black as sin.

    The real woodcutters went in teams, and carried rusty iron swords at their belts. The forages stayed close to the fringes of the woodland, never straying far from the open spaces. Even there, picking up fallen branches and kindling, one could feel the oppressive anger of the trees. Occasionally, one would think they caught a glimpse of something terrible, but on second glance there was always nothing. Just the deep green shadows and the brush of leaves on the wind.

    Ones heart would be beating by then. One would know that the spirit of the forest had been stirred, and that it hated you, and that it hated everything the hand of man did to it.

    But wood had to be gathered, and so men braved the trees every day. And every night they returned, and the forest receded a little bit. And, sometimes, when one didn't stumble out of the woods at twilight, a few words would be spoken spoken, but a search party would not go out, and he would be forgotten, because to dwell on the fate that awaited those who pushed the forrest too far was to lose all courage and be unmanned for all time.

    This charcoal burner had married young, as was the custom in those times, well before the woman had realized the limited nature of his abilities, and she had been taken by the Red Death shortly after. He had remarried a widower who had lost her husband the same way, and his new wife often ill-treated the children, for reasons she kept to herself.

    The lord who owned the estate the charcoal burner was allowed to live on was not of a generous nature, and so there was barely enough to go around. Desperation does troubling things to a mind, and the charcoal burner began to entertain thoughts of murder, feeling it was kinder they died at his hands then the slow starvation. For it had been a lean summer, the harvests meager to the point of near famine, and winter was coming.

    Summer had waned early that year, and the heat had drained out like water running out of tipped glass. The two children, burdened with a weak father and a bullying mother, had learned to rely on themselves and each other at a young age, and so made do, but they sensed something was coming.

    Winter came, and the Charcoal burner knew what was coming. The harvest had been poor, and so he had not enough to buy grain. Before the end of winter came, they would starve. And so he resolved to settle matters, took his axe, and told the children they were going wood-chopping.

    In older, more honest times, old men who realized that no more work could be coaxed from their old bones and that they had become a burden on their loved ones would make that claim, then go out into the snows to die, but such conviction was absent in the heart of the charcoal burner. And so he told his wife of his plan, and the two of them resolved to take them into the woods and leave them.

    If not for Hansel, they would have died. But he had overheard his parents' conversation, and comforted Gretel. That night he slipped out of his house, and filled his pockets with white stones smoothed clean by the river.

    North of the land they had lived and died on for countless generations but would never own, the land rolled in a sea of hills and dales, studded with messy copses, outriders of the deep woods that lay unbroken to the South. Few settlements had been risen there despite the fertility of the land. For none wished to live beneath the shadow of the woods.

    But as they went into the depths of the trees, Hansel dropped a little white pebble here and there on the mossy green ground, as the wind picked up, and the the overhanging branches waved lazily, trailing against their shoulders and snagging their clothes. Eventually, they came to the end of the path, and the two children found they really were alone: their father had come as far as he could force himself to do so, mumbled an excuse and was gone.

    Down into the gorges, the light faded quickly. Creepers hung down from overreaching branches, looped like nooses. The earth sank into a sticky swamp of clutching mud, studded with decaying leaf matter and crawling grubs, and the air became hot and sweet even as the winter chill cooled the high moors beyond the treeline.

    When the sun passed its zenith the darkness in the hollows intensified, turning from leaf-green to nightshade. Bird-chatter rang from the boughs, panicky and urgent. The trunks of gnarled trees creaked, and furred creatures scurried through the roots, trembling with the coming of dusk. Gretel began to sob bitterly. Hansel felt nothing, but he did his best to comfort his sister. Even then, he was not a man to tremble all curse his fate, but to stand firm and stare it right in the eye.

    From the beginning it had always been Hansel and Gretel, and Hansel always knew best.

    Their parents had little use for two children such as them, their poverty and ignorance not to blame so much as their own mean natures. Gretel was kind and sweet-natured, a face and heart moulded for goodness, purity, and gentleness, who would share her meagre portion of crust with the wild creatures that surrounded their hut dwelling heedless of Hansel's warnings in her naivety of animals and their savage nature; the brother who was strong and smart and protected his sister with every fibre of his being, who resolutely followed the paths of righteousness.

    Gretel's gentle, passive spirit would have been no match for the hard nature of their parents, but she had her brother, reaffirming that tomorrow would be a new glorious day to live and serve the Lord. "Your tears are wasted, sister." He said, his soft voice at odds with him somehow. "A path remains open for us. Have courage." And so he was strength enough for both of them, and fortune was with them. That night, the moon was bright, a bone fishhook glowing in the dark above, and Hansel waited till its cold light filtered through the trees. He took his sisters hand, and half-led, half dragged her back the way he came, the woods seeming to sway around him, until he came to their home. They crept through a half open window, without wakening their parents. Cold, tired but thankful to be home again, they slipped into bed.

    The next day there was no pretense. Their father grabbed them both forcibly, and dragged them out into the woods, offering no lies and paying no heed tot heir struggles, simply taking them to the end of the path and abandoning them. Hansel had not eaten his bread, however, and he left a trail of crumbs behind him to mark the way. But the little boy had forgotten about the hungry birds that lived in the forest. When they saw him, they flew along behind and in no time at all, had eaten all the crumbs.

    This time there was no hope, no way back. This time the two of them were truly alone in the cold, dark woods.

    The woods were haunted with every sort of malign creature. It was an evil place fit only for weres and dwarrows and nightgaunts and other fell spirits. So they wandered, without direction, seeking a path, but any hope faded. The woods seemed to have rearranged themselves, the trees moving, and in no time they were well and truly lost. On they walked and walked, till suddenly they came upon a strange cottage in the middle of a glade.

    Gretel, in her kindness, would never have known to save herself from that Witch in the Black Forest; it was Hansel that had seen God's will be done and sent that bride of evil back into the flames from whence she came. He had smiled as she burned, with the satisfaction of one who has found their purpose.

    Hansel had died long ago, but something had lived on. Not his soul, that had passed in smoke and flame, as his eyeless face revealed. Not his body either, which was dust on the wind, but in the absence of both, he was a symbol, a sentient archetype from the realm of dreaming wrought from he hands of the Sandman to give definition to something that had always existed. Hansel was gone, but his hate remained.

    Hansel hated.

    The body The Cunning Man had chosen as his primary host stood up, brought back to life by the Cunning Man's return. He wore it when he needed it, though he spent most of his time drifting the twilight world of dreams, spreading himself like a dark cloud over the town. Hatred went where hatred was welcome, and Hansel could worm his way into any who would let him in. He did not stretch, or do an of the mannerisms a human would do. He simply turned his eyeless gaze to his latest subject.

    Blood ran down the mans chin, sparkling in the candlelight. Hansel watched it trickle. He took no pleasure in it, for it indicated only damage and not the certainty he'd hoped to gain. The chamber was silent, broken only by the wheezing breaths of the subject of his attentions.

    He ran an expert eye over the bruises on the mans face. They were purple and yellow and black, like rain heavy storm clouds on a winters sky. His lids were dry with crusted blood, and his teeth lay in the ground about him like pearls lost from a string.

    He felt no pride. He felt no savage satisfaction in the elimination to the purity of humanity. The man was just a lump of gristle and bone, held together with rolls of fat, coupled to a head full of stupid, naive ideas.
    He didn't even blame him. The world was a hard place, and the powers of corruption were subtle and old. Whereas those like this wizard were simple and possessed of crude tastes.

    "Anything else you'd like to confess?" He asked, absentmindedly wiping some dried fluid off his knuckles. The figure didn't even offer a groan. Hansel nodded. He had been thorough. If the man had known anything else, he would have offered it.

    The Holy Grail War. The promise of a wish. Seven Magus'. And already, he had killed at least four prospective candidates with his own hands, as well as a dozen lesser magicians. But more would come, and he would kill them as well, until none remained at all to come.

    Hansel stepped out into the forgiving darkness, the pure night where only God's eyes watched. The fire caught quicker than he expected, the small house he had rented with gold smoking and glowing before Hansel had made one full circle around with his torch.

    Then he heard the screaming, and he knew his work was done. Now it was time for that boy Harry Potter.

    He was the reason Wizards hid from the world, afraid to reveal themselves. He was the mind behind the mob, that burned them alive, and screamed for blood. He had been at Salem, stood beside Hopkins, and corrected Juan de Torquemada's technique. He was Hansel Brandt.
    'C'est la vie' - Such is life.

  7. - Top - End - #487
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    Leavenworth Smedry

    "Mr. Raoden raises an excellent point." Smedry points out, not noticing Raoden's tampering with one of his self-defense teddy bears. "A Compulsory education system is quite the thing...for teaching the citizenry of this empire all the things that it's rulers deem proper."

    Bit of sarcasm there too.

    Opening up the cutesy-wootzy bright blue teddy bear reveals fluff interwoven with a series of glass granules containing strange liquids. At the very heart of the teddy bear, there is a a strange clock-like device, a rounded ovoid made of interwoven, interlocking, slowly shifting pieces of glass. The various layers are transparent, allowing you to see the core, which contains a sliver of glowing, warm sand. The whole thing is connected by a pull cord to the bright paper tag on the outside of the bear

    This perhaps is your first encounter with Silimatic technology. The principles of it work contrary to known science (which lacks proper literature about the intriguing properties of numerous types of sand). But at the same time, it intuitively makes sense, unlike, say, a circuit board, and you can puzzle out a few of it's functions. The central object is some kind of charge that provides power to activate the glass granules scattered through the teddy bears fluff. What it'll do after that you're unsure of.

    But the strangest thing is...you can Trace it. Trace it easily, in fact.

    There are other teddy bears of different colors. So, check out another one, test them later, or pull the tag of the one you're holding mid-class and see what happens?

    %%%

    Meanwhile, Smedry decides to respond to Souske.

    "And well you shouldn't, my dear boy! Especially not without thinking it through!"

    He steps forward slightly.

    "I make no bones or broth about this–I'm not here to provide a 'neutral, objective' view. I've certain viewpoint and opinions, and I'm here to talk about them and persuade you of them. And if people muster natural disagreements with my views...I don't mind at all: we can have some lively debates!"
    He squints at Souske, and puts on his remaining pair of Occulator lenses. Beneath their red-lensed view, Souske's face leaps out in greater profile.

    Nattering Nixes, that boy was shooting off some primitive guns at that ruckus with Archer and the demon butler! Hmm, not too bad of a fellow. Keen mind. But is there something else about him...?

    "And as to your first question, Mr. Souske...the State, in my personal biased opinion, is connected. But not every facet of the empire of this country is concerning with regulating, organizing, and controlling information. There is one governmental institution that preoccupies itself with such things. A public institution, innocuous, yet pervading everywhere. A institution of twisted individuals that controls whether information is legitimate or not, accepted, or rejected as 'lacking in citation'. An institution that has perfected the art of cataloguing and arranging information to the sublime heights of bureaucratic terror. A group of people whose most notable statement is a stern order to..."

    Here, Smedry's face turns grim. "Be quiet. And in my personal opinion and viewpoint, this institution is..."

    Suddenly, he smiles. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. And besides, sometimes it's better to show things rather than talk about them!"

    He places a book into one of his pockets, a book that couldn't possibly fit into a normal tux jacket.

    He clasps his hands together. "Now then: I've a proposal to make! Who would like to go to the library for a class trip! There's a very interesting thing in the Ashford archives that I'd like to show you, if you're interested!"

    Gary Bell

    Gary shamelessly starts looking over Shiki's shoulders to see what he's writing.

  8. - Top - End - #488
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    Harry vs Hansel

    Salem stares into Hansel's eyes dumbfounded. "You...how."

    He was there, it was him who came and found the Witches to be executed but that was three hundred years ago. He's not resurrected by fouls magics like herself he just simply is. Which leads her to one conclusion.

    "Heathen! Lying demonic filth!" She snarls as she charges forwards towards the Witchunter, the force of an entire mob consumed by mass hysteria channelled through her tiny fists.

    ***

    History

    Alex shrugs her shoulders. "Personally I prefer to avoid looking at more books than strictly necessary."

    ***

    Gym

    Mr. Oliver blows his whistle as the game comes to a close. "Well done, now we start the proper curriculum with Track tomorrow so class will be on the field. Now go hit the showers."
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  9. - Top - End - #489
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    School Admissions Office
    Hansel had left only hate within the headmaster. Nothing more, nothing else. The same hate that those of Salem had once invited into their midst in fact, which Salem had recognized as much as anything else. It was the same hate that could turn friends and neighbors into a screaming mob demanding blood and hysterically screaming wordless hate, that could inspire peaceful men to kill those they'd never thought of for no reason that any could articulate.

    And that was all it was. Hate could not protect him against the mob. Hate gave the man no special protection, taught him nothing he did not already know, allowed him no insights he did not already possess. It clouded his judgement, but did not . Hate would make him fight, but wouldn't show him how. No, Hansel was dangerous as he infected more and more, only when the mutterings began, and the mob found torches and pitchforks, and, as Hobbes had promised long ago, the weak teamed up to kill the strong.

    Shirou
    "Library? Do you think so? I mean, libraries aren't very private. Wouldn't they keep them in the archives, or something like that?" Shirou said, honestly surprised. He thought he was missing the point, only for his teacher to tell him not only is he correct, but that he's insightful and praise him for it. "Well, if you're sure. Do you mean the school library, or the public one in town?"

    Archer
    He uses his intuitive grasp of all constructs, magical or otherwise, to understand as much as he can, which is a lot, but not everything. Certainly not enough to reverse engineer it. He shrugs, picks a single crimson thread from his coat, and, using the tiny sword as a needle stitches the teddy back up with small, careful strokes, doing such a good job that only careful observation would reveal it's been opened.

    Then he perks up. That's another change from the history he went through. Wasn't that interesting, it would appear he did manage to influence Smedry in their brief conversation. Unfortunately, none of his targets are here, so he can't arrange an accident.
    'C'est la vie' - Such is life.

  10. - Top - End - #490
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    Leavenworth Smedry

    {Huh. I thought it was Souske that was talking to Smedry. Ah well.

    So I suppose that Smedry saw Shirou also during the dust-up with Archer and Sebastian.}

    "I meant the school libary. "Smedry clarifies. "It will be small and safe enough for our purposes. Public libraries–"

    He shivers for a moment.

    "They're much, much more dangerous than you realize."

    Smedry straightens the hem of his tux jacket. "Now then. Let's head off to the library: it should be safe enough, but be cautious. And take one of the Teddy Bears with you. If there's an altercation, pull out the tag and throw. Hopefully, we'll all be able to learn some things..."

    He raises his eyebrows to his assistant teacher. "...of vast importance for our future."

    He frowns as he looks back and forth between Archer and Shirou. When viewing them through his Occulator Lenses, their images...'waggle' a little bit.

    There's a connection between the two. Archer didn't mention this young man when talking about the two people he had to kill.

    Smedry decides to keep thinking about this.

    Archer

    [You sure? If Archer can replicate complex magical weapons, why can't he replicate explosive teddy bears based on intuitive glass technology? Technically it's no more complex than a hand grenade...except that they're all 'non-lethal'.

    Except for the 'stuff-eater' teddy bear. And that only harms cyborgs.]

  11. - Top - End - #491
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    Souske
    "I did. But you're still not safe." He replied, his tone absolutely shameless. Souske saw himself as doing a job, and had no conception of the rules and norms outside his own purview.

    "This morning, I broke into your locker as part of my routine follow-up. I found this." 'This' turned out to be a delicate piece of scented paper, where a short letter had been composed. The hand writing was exaggerated, with loops and flourishes, and given the pink ink and glitter it gave a decidedly feminine vibe. Souske had pulled on gloves to ensure he did not tamper with the evidence.

    "'Hey beautiful, I can't stop thinking about you.'" He read aloud, so that incidentally the entire class could hear the highly private contents. "An obvious threat at your person, he's attempting to wear you out by putting you constantly on your guard, and also a sign of desperation. I believe the writer may be emotionally unstable, like many of the assasains used in the arab states. A fanatic. You are not merely his target, you are his obsession, so he tries to get close even when an attempt on your life is not in progress."

    Ignoring the disbelieving stares of most of the class, Souske goes on. "'I know you heard this all before but please just take a moment to read this letter....I have been the most foolish, ignorant person for the way I have been, but I have to tell you how I feel.'" Souske shook his head. "Now he loses his earlier confidence, and is trying to disguise his threat. It's an admission of guilt, his own inability to kill you. However, he is coming to a decision. It's clear he won't hesitate in the future."

    "I take it you understand how serious this is?" Souske says, leaving the remainder of the letter unread. Apparently, he didn't find it relevant.

    Tim Drake
    When he decides that this is not going to resolve itself, he walks over to the bar and waits for the girl to follow. "So did you know him?" He asks, getting right to the point.

  12. - Top - End - #492
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    Default Re: (Twi) Twilight XI: School Days

    Hansel vs Harry

    ((So did Salem just kill Hansel? That was really anticlimactic.))

    ***

    All classes

    The bell rings signalling lunch. You're now free to go get food and do whatever you please for a few hours.

    ***

    Souske

    Bella blushes a little but doesn't take the letter. Her eyes glaze over as Whispered tend to when they receive their visions of mecha technology. "You have interfered in Operation Ugly Duckling twice now. Inform Mithril that a third incident shall meet with dire consequences."

    She then shakes her head as she comes to and storms off as though she had not just issued a threat and displayed knowledge she really shouldn't have.

    ***

    Tim

    "I did. He was a great asset to our cause." She says as she adjusts her shirt to reveal a charm around her neck showing a dark purple "V" the sign of Zero's Black Knights, rival terrorists from Area 11. If she's showing this to you she must have mistaken you for one of them.
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    Smedry

    "...We'll meet up in the local library after lunch, then! Always investigate sinister goings ons on a full stomach, I say!"

    Gary Bell

    Gary walks out with Shiki, and eyes him meaningfully.

    Extremely meaningfully.

    Incredibly meaningfully.

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    Default Re: (Twi) Twilight XI: School Days

    Salem & Harry v Hansel(?)

    ((I took it as she just killed the Headmaster, making Harry and her position kind of... strenuous.

    "Oh hey we just showed up and killed the person who controls your school! Also we are enrolling."))

    Shiki

    Shiki stirs restlessly, before turning his piercing eyes on Gary. "What?"

    Touma

    Touma leaves the gym quickly, already heading to eat, still worried that he may run into someone he knows - even tangentially.
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    Souske
    For a moment, just a moment, Souske looks confused and mystified. Why was she talking like that? And what the hell was project 'Ugly Duckling'? Could it have something to do with why he was guarding her? And how had she guessed his designation when he had done such a good job infiltrating and impersonating the student body?

    "You're still not taking the matter seriously!" Souske shouts after her, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of storming out of a perfectly good controlled environment when you have just been informed that an attempt on your life is in progress. If this is what feelings and emotions did to a person, making them take unnecessary risks (like walking unguarded through a school corridor) he was glad they were hammered out of him by the KGB.

    Then he reaches into his school satchel, and removes a case of gleaming black chrome, like a briefcase designed by ferrari. Opening it with two dry snaps, he begins to assemble something that could be compared to a fire-arm the way the most precise and specific surgical instruments must have a stick somewhere in their ancestry. Destro manufactured. Point this at anyone, or even think too hard about pointing it at anyone, and you would leave only a faint red mist, a ghastly mess, and a certain amount of paperwork.

    Then he shoulders the weapon, and stalks into the corridor after her, ignoring the fact that he was still in math class and the teacher probably wasn't appreciating what he was doing. Ensuring her safety is paramount, even if it means subduing her, tying her up and locking her in a closet. Lateral solutions were often the best.

    Tim Drake
    "Put that away. Never show it to anyone you're not sure of." He said, a tiny bit harshly. Well, that made things a bit easier, didn't it? Bruce always said when you take advantage of an opportunity like this, let them draw you in and fill in the blanks.

    He leaned in close, his voice a harsh whisper. "We didn't enter together, so we're not going to leave together either. I'm going to finish my drink, then I'll walk out the front door, and wait for you. When you've made one more circuit around the room, follow me. We'll talk there."

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    Gary Bell

    "So? Are you on the run from someone?" Gary asks Shiki. I mean, C'mon: didn't he remember what Gary quietly asked him 30 minutes ago while he was concentrating on a series of complex class topics?

  17. - Top - End - #497
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    Tim Drake

    "Zero isn't dropping the Elders a hundred every week each for us to be playing spy games. Unless there is a raid no one will touch us here." The girl explains.

    "Kallen Kouzuki. You are?" She's one of the better known Black Knights. Well renowned for her piloting skills and her custom Mecha the Gurren. She has proven to be able to best even Knights of the Round in open mecha combat, it's unusual that Zero would place such a valuable operative so far from his home territory in Area 11.

    ***

    Souske

    As you follow behind Bella down the halls you are intercepted by a rather thin boy. None the less walking into him hurts far more than it should considering his size. "Souske? My name is Edward Cullen. I'd like to have a word with you?"

    The person who signed the letter to Bella. A direct confrontation seems unnecessarily risky but this assignment has been very unusual so far. He probably knows something you do not.

    ***

    Touma and Shiro

    As Touma leaves the gym he happens to bump into Alex. "Ah, just the grumpy stick in the mud I was looking for. Still want to help me out?"

    She points further down the hall to Shirou walking away from the History room a little too fast. "Go try to suck up his magic. I think he's the guy who summoned the Red bastard who tried to get me last night."

    ***

    Archer

    You feel a slight drop in mana around your summoner. Something nearby is siphoning off his power, which is indirectly rather bad for you.
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  18. - Top - End - #498
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    Maka and Soul

    Maka and Soul go to their gender appropriate showers and change back into their usual cloths. The then head towards the Cafeteria. They could meet up with Kidd their as well as get something to eat. Soul was starving. However before they do Maka reminds Soul of their obligations as they go and pick up Mikala and Boomer from their classes.

    Kidd, Liz, and Patti

    Kidd gets up along with his weapon partners as he leaves Smedry's classroom after thanking him for an interesting lesson. Though he does recommend that Smedry get rid of the teddy bears as they upset the symmetry of the room. After he leaves he briefly remembers that Light wanted a word with him. Well if it was important enough Light would seek him out. After all, he caught Light's interest. Now he just needed to keep it. Hopefully this would allow Kidd to get close enough to him in due time that they could take his soul. The Kishin egg that it had become was a little unsettling as he never consumed a human soul at all.

  19. - Top - End - #499
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    Leavenworth Smedry

    "Mr. Raoden: is something the matter?" Smedry inquires.

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    Light Yagami
    Light was not looking for Kidd, because Light Yagami did not believe in taking chances. He liked a rigged game. He liked to be backed up by Sebastien and Misa at the very least, particularly when dealing with someone who had the potential to end his reign of terror. Unfortunately, Sebastien was with Misa, and he was alone in the school with Ryuk, who delighted in cryptic nonsense, and was very little help. And while ultimately he only ever did rely on himself, he still preferred manipulations from relative safety, the stakes intellectual then placing himself in actual danger.
    Archer had been a wake-up call. People here did not play the game that he was used to, they were far more direct and blunt, and were willing to act on suspicions rather then absolute proof. They had no respect for the laws of men, and that made them, in their own way, far more dangerous then even L. Because he had understood the framework that L had operated on. This was a game he knew nothing about, not who the players were and not what they wanted.
    But he understood enough to know not to put himself at risk, and that if they weren't going to play his way, he'd have to play their way. Which he was willing to do. They had no idea of the enemy they'd just made.
    When Kidd does find Light, he's showered and dressed, standing in a crowd near Shirou. The boy was so good and hopelessly naive that even Kira couldn't find anything to merit his execution. He'd do perfectly as a human shield.
    Then he waited.

    Lelouch
    He walks out into the grounds, picks a spot in the sun, and sets up his chess set. It's not a nobles, not ivory, no myrrh, no gold or gems or any decoration at all. It was functional, even utilitarian, and well worn by use. He makes a few quick, efficient movements, then taps the black king. He didn't need to look at the board to set it up.
    "We have forty minutes. Why don't you show me?" He asks, leaning back. "Your intelligent, and confident, and quite capable, but I wonder if you can lead."
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    Archer
    "Just a premonition. Probably nothing to worry about." He says vaguely. He looks around the room, then shakes his head. "Well, I'll meet you there. Just got to pick a few things up before our field-trip." Our field-trip a floor down and two corridors to the left. Nothing but the best at Ashford.

    With that he walks out of the room, and makes his way towards Shirou. Fortunately, this is a problem that isn't a result of the divergent time-line. Which means he already knows what to expect.

    Shirou
    He certainly doesn't look like a dangerous wizard trying to kill people. Indeed, he has an appearance of the slightly confused affability of a cosmic plaything that Touma can probably sympathize with.

    Beast
    He doubts any of the students learned anything, but nobody ever does on their first day. Now he'll be in a position to find out which students want to learn, and which ones don't.
    'C'est la vie' - Such is life.

  22. - Top - End - #502
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    Maka and Soul and Smedry

    Boomer was in the Gym class with you. He follows with you, complaining about how much he misses his island on which Dodgeball is a capital offense the whole way up to the History wing where Mikala waits outside of Smedry's classroom.

    ***

    Beast

    Abagail calls you as class lets out. "I got some good news and some bad news."
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    Leavenworth Smedry

    "This is a savage place, Your Majesty." Leavenworth says in a sagely tone as he saw the Free Kingdomers walking up. "Take care, and do not reveal yourself."

    He grins. "But at the same time, you must uphold the honor of your title, and be brave and dignified at all times, standing up for the principles you believe in...although I think they give you detention in this school if you do that."

    "Understood, Mr. Raoden." He replied to Archer, then whispered. "It's quite important to listen to one's premonitions. Historically, ignoring those things leads to disaster, especially when prophecy is involved. Call me for assistance if you need anything."

    Nothing but the best at Ashford, eh?

    Oh, you'll be surprised. You'll be very surprised.

  24. - Top - End - #504
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    Harry

    Salem backs away from the now dead Headmaster as Hansel's possession fades away and he goes on to make more trouble for our mages on a later occasion. On the desk (now with some light blood splatter), sit two class schedules one for Harry and Salem Potter. He managed to enrol you before his untimely demise at least.

    "We will have to dispose of it. Please tell me there is a nearby lake." Salem says all too calmly.

    ***

    Smedry, Maka and Soul

    "I'll be fine man. We should probably get some food though. We only got an hour to eat." Boomer laughs rubbing his stomach.

    "You three go on ahead. I have some questions for Mr. Smedry." Mikala says.
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    Touma

    Touma shrugs as Alex speaks, and jogs over to Shirou, waving at him casually. "Hey! You! Wait up!"

    He stops in front of him, and extends a hand with a shaky grin, apologizing with his eyes for the awkward moment. "Kamijou Touma, I'm... new here, and you look like a guy who knows his way around."

    And yet the hand he extended was a dangerous hand - one that dispelled the magic it touched.

    Shiki

    Shiki had not remembered. The nerve of him, right?

    "...No, I'm not. I'm just... inclined towards solitude, I guess."

    Harry vs Hansel

    Harry turned away as Salem lunged towards the Headmaster; he'd seen her win in that manner once before, and had no desire to see it again.

    Besides he had work to do. The office was wrecked, and a few Reparos would definitely not fix it up in time. He sighed, and flicked his wand, murmuring an ancient incantation, one long lost to the midst of time and space.

    "Sefydlog." The room whirled around him, broken bits and pieces repairing themselves at a remarkable rate, and he grinned as everything was placed perfectly together once more, before he turned around once more.

    "Not sure about that. We're brand new here after all - I doubt that there is a lake. However, no need to fear!"

    He walked up briskly to the body and tapped it; once, twice, three times, murmuring under his breath as he did so, his eyes devouring the empty container of a soul, until he stepped back, and grinned.

    The body was a watch, a nice one at that. He picked it up, and tossed it at Salem, before picking up the papers and walking out.

    "Here, have a gift! Sorry for the short notice, it was the only thing I could find!"
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    Gary Bell

    I know, right?

    "Really?" Gary asks. He blinks for a moment.

    "Are you sure?"

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    Harry and Salem

    "Hold it we're not alone..." Salem warns Harry as he storms out the door and into the path of a keyblade wielding anthropomorphic mouse.

    "I am sorry. You seem like a good young lad but this is how it must be." The Mouse sighs as he points the blade threateningly at the boy who lived.

    ***

    Smedry

    "Mr. Smedry. I need to know about your mission." Mikala demands as she barges into your classroom.

    "King Boomer is a danger to himself within the confines of the palace. In a place controlled by the Librarians..."
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    Beast
    "Of course you do. Well, as long as it doesn't make anything too much more complex, and it's not classified secrets I'm not allowed to know, best tell me now while I'm alone and don't have any unimaginative students to terrorize." Beast says jovially. "And please tell me you'll get some sleep tonight. You sound tired, and you're not doing anyone any good working yourself beyond fatigue into exhaustion."

    Archer
    He felt the drop in his reserves the second it happened, two corridors away. Suddenly, there was nothing to take from Shirou, and he was running on empty. He gritted his teeth as he slumps against the wall, and fights back the urge to pass out. It wouldn't do any good, indeed, the opposite. What he needed was to find an alternative source in the next ten minutes, then see what could be done about reversing the situation.

    Shirou
    "Well, I try." Shirou said, taking the hand without any display of guile whatsoever. He seems so trusting, so complacent, so utterly without complexity you can't believe he's anything more then he appears, until he flinches away from contact with you as though he'd been stung, then stares at his hand in horror.

    "What... what have you done to me?"

    Hansel
    The Cunning Man had spread. Not enough for an angry mob, no, not for a long time, but enough that violent crime went up almost by half as mad, half-hysterical people violently assaulted each other for the crime of being different and thus under suspicion. Hansel targeted witches, but even he only got a small fraction of the real article. Most were just poor, defenseless and unwisely superstitious.

    But it didn't matter to him, and so it didn't matter to those he infected with his hate. Hansel had trusted to a higher power when he was alive, Caedite eos. Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius, and those who acted out his anger? Well they didn't care. They just had violent impulses, and enough hate to find the courage to act on them.
    'C'est la vie' - Such is life.

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    Leavenworth Smedry

    Leavenworth gestures her over to where a clunky radiator is humming: if there are wire taps or anything of that sort, the noise will mask their conversation.

    "I don't intend to raise a large ruckus: it's just a basic infiltration to gather information–and educate my classroom about the hidden aspects of their world (after I make sure it's not a major library installation, of course). There's a girl in this school that the librarians have created to bring all the powers and magics that eluded their control..."

    He pauses dramatically.

  30. - Top - End - #510
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    Leavenworth Smedry

    Leavenworth gestures her over to where a clunky radiator is humming: if there are wire taps or anything of that sort, the noise will mask their conversation.

    "I don't intend to raise a large ruckus: it's just a basic infiltration to gather information–and educate my classroom about the hidden aspects of their world (after I make sure it's not a major library installation, of course). There's a girl in this school that the librarians have created to bring all the powers and magics that have eluded their control..."

    He pauses dramatically.

    "Under their control!"


    "To be more precise, her name is Bella Swan, she has brown hair and is rather...dopey, and skin contact with her is ill-advised. In fact, as soon as you find Boomer, you should tell him that for safety's sake."

    He frowns at Mikala's concern for Boomer.

    "Do you think he'll do something foolish? I would have thought that loosing his kingdom to the librarians would have made him more thoughtful about acting before thinking."

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