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School of Magecraft, irrespective story: Problem Pixie

He walked into the court, head held high, and hair pulled into a braid for this formal occasion. He wore his traditional robes, with his favorite boots underneath. His tail twitched a bit in anticipation, and his ears were held down, so as to prevent them betraying his excitement. His hands curled and uncurled, the wicked claws teasing the flesh on his hands. He ran his tongue over his fangs, slightly cutting it. The blood only heightened his tension.

“Headmaster Michael Reede…” his Queen began, “you have been called into this court so as to inform you of the influx of magical births that have reached teaching age this year.” Mike nodded his head in agreement, figuring already of how to arrange his near-full classes. “You are aware of this responsibility, correct?” she continued.

He bowed deeply, and answered, “Yes, My Queen. I understand.” As he was standing back up, he felt eyes watching him. Looking to his left, he saw the unmistakable form of a Shadow-Guard. Sniffing discreetly, he noticed the sure lack of scent, unique to once-dead: one who has been killed, but their grave renounced, bringing them back to life. It was said to be done only in the most serious situations. This lack of scent is truly unnoticeable to all but naturally inclined mages.

“I trust you know about the new Blood Mages?” she asked. Mike’s head whirled; Blood Mages are the rarest of all magical births! Their abilities were practically limitless, so long as there was a focus of blood. Mike himself was an example of this: he spilled his own blood, and all was possible through sheer willpower. “I…” he started, “I… did not sense any red births, Brooklyn. Can you tell me their light?” He glanced to the Shadow-Guard, who was eyeing him suspiciously. His eyes snapped back to Queen Brooklyn, who was looking at her daughter. She looked back to him, “We thankfully have all whites, in this round. I know you still feel…” She trailed off, not wanting to mention Vixen; who was Mike’s best student, and had gone rogue a decade ago.

Mike must have shown his thoughts, because Princess Brooklyn stated, “He was a good Mage, but we are still looking for him. You need not be concerned. He will—” “He will be killed, Brooklyn. I will do it myself, if need be,” Mike interrupted. “He was my responsibility, and I failed. The Order knows, and so do you.” He was clenching his fists, and the blood was peppering the carpet with red stains. His tail drooped, and his ears followed suit.

“Oh, let the Order continue chewing on their loincloths!” Queen Brooklyn shouted. Her daughter’s eyes were the size of the moon, and her mouth hung open. Mike’s reaction must have been similar, because she continued, “Well, you know what I mean. Vixen isn’t your responsibility anymore. He ceased being your problem when he attempted to take my life.” She looked down, at her robes. Mike used a bit of magic, and could see the ugly scar through her belly.

“Anyway, this is beside the point. I’ll let my daughter inform you of the details of the mage births; I have an import errand to see to.” With this, Queen Brooklyn stood up, and bowed to Mike. Then she turned and left the room. When she left, her daughter began, “There are two red mages, siblings. Both are light, and they show skills in Natural Magic.” She gave Mike a funny look at this comment, and he grew a little confused. Then she continued, “After the Blood Mages, there are a few Elementals, and I believe a Techno. After this, there are mostly ungifted who seek training in the ways of war.” Then she too stood up to leave.

“Good day, Headmaster Mike.” She bowed, as her mother did, and turned away. “Ah, Mother left her Shadow again…” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “It’s time to go, Ms. Reede.” Mike’s brain began to whir as he prepared a comment that he was a male. Then he caught movement from the Shadow-Guard.

“Ms. Reede?” he asked. “The only Ms. Reede I have known in a long time has been my—” He stopped in thought. Then continued, “The only Ms. Reede for the last several hundred years… has been…My sister.”

The Shadow-Guard was already walking away. Mike shouted, “Wait! ‘Ms. Reede,’ I need to have a word with you!” He was running to catch the Shadow-Guard. As soon as he got there, the Shadow-Guard gave one great shove to his chest. The wind flew from Mike’s lungs. This move would have stopped the heart of any other Emonticon. However, Mike hadn’t had a heart for the last five-hundred years.

When he stood right back up, the Shadow-Guard looked slightly surprised, and when he took a full breath, her eyes widened. She pulled her arm back again, and when she thrust it forward, Mike grabbed her arm and pulled her into him.

Face-to-face, he looked into her eyes. They were exactly the same deep blue as his were. They also had the accented eye line, unique to a particular race of Emonticon; a very rare race at that. She pulled her arm back, and snapped him in the jaw with her knee as she flew back. Her ears were back, and her tail swiped side to side with aggression.

From out of nowhere, she procured her blade. When she came at him with a death-blow, Mike sidestepped, and brought his sword out of its scabbard. The metal colliding rang heavy in the air, and a small explosion of sparks showered the ground beneath them. She came at him with another blow aimed at his neck, and he barely dodged.

Through this, he brought his hand up, and knocked the blade out of hers. Faster than she had anticipated, he had her blade in his hand, and she was flat on her backside.

She looked up, and immediately got to her knees. Her head hung, and her hair, uniquely cut as a Shadow-Guard member, created a small clear space on the back of her neck.

“Do it.” She whispered. Her hands were on her knees, and she hung her head. “Take my head.” Mike raised an eyebrow, but he knew she wouldn’t see this: “I will do what I must.”

The blade fell, the wind whistled. For one moment, Ms. Reede’s body tensed up, feeling her death at hand. Then the blade struck the ground. She jumped, and looked up. “You mean you aren’t going to grant me the respect of dying honorably?!?” Mike just laughed, “What, and lose my sister again?” The Shadow-Guard hardened her gaze, and spat, “I have no blood family!”

“Evelyn B. Reede, you are my blood sister!” Mike harshly whispered. “You were killed before my eyes in thirty-five twenty-four!” He placed his sword back in its scabbard. Then he sat down on the floor. Evelyn shook her head, “How did you know my middle initial?” she asked.

“B. stands for Beatrice, grandmother’s older sister. Mother named you Evelyn after our Father’s mother.” Mike’s shoulders slumped, and his tail and ears drooped. “I visited your grave for five hundred years…” His voice was hardly more than a whisper, “For five hundred years, I would visit your grave, sing you Mother’s old lullaby, and say that you were the best thing to ever happen to our family. Every day, without fail, I would do this, Evelyn.”

“Pixie,” she whispered. “My name is Pixie.” Mike looked up to see her sitting right beside him. She was looking at the ground. “Brooklyn’s family kept track of my grave for twenty years before I was revived. Just to make sure they chose the right grave.” She was looking at her blade, which was embedded in the floor up to its hilt. “The Guard took me in. After some rookie missions, I was given a seat on the Shadow-Guard. There I stayed for about five years. Then I was given the rank of Her Majesty’s personal Shadow, after showing my stuff.”

Mike stood up, “They couldn’t have picked a more worthy individual, from what I gather.” He held out his hand, and Pixie took it.

“What do you say we invite you to the School for a round of blade-training?” Mike asked.

Pixie looked concerned, but slowly nodded, “Looks like I could use some practice.” She looked again at her blade. “I heard the Queen’s going to step down soon, and the Princess already has her own personal Shadow. Some wild young thing by the name of ‘Jester…’”

Mike nodded.

With this, Mike stepped toward the entrance to the Court. “Care to join me?” He smiled, and added, “…Little Pixie?"

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School of Magecraft, part five: An Understanding

After the class was dismissed, Mike held Marcus back for a second. Gemini stepped a bit closer to hear what they were saying. “Good as new, huh? I think I can agree to that one,” Marcus was saying, as he eyed his fixed arm with a look of fascination. “So…if you are, as you say, a great deal older than me… Just how old are you?” Mike just shrugged. Then looked him right in the face, and said, “Five hundred and twenty-five. My birthday was a few weeks ago.” This comment shook Gemini to the very core. Most Crocians never even made it to one hundred and fifty, and yet she heard that the Emonticon lifespan was smaller than that, almost as small as a human lifespan…

Marcus seemed to be just as shocked. “Th-then how are you so…so…young looking?” he asked. Mike had no readable expression, but he said, “I have a gift. A rather painful gift, really. To tell the truth, I can live practically forever. Not that I’d want to…” His expression turned to one of thought. He then shook his head, “Yeah, I have a gift. I am a Blood Mage. I have been training in swords for the last four hundred years, by our time. You had no chance,” he said, pointing at the thin scar on Marcus’ arm.

Marcus nodded, and sat up. Then he bowed his head to Mike. The bow was returned.

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School of Magecraft, part four: A Cold Lesson

Mike didn’t see the anger pick up. Nor did he expect to turn back around to a drawn blade. With this situation, he let his instincts take over. “You want a fight, kid? You now get to prove yourself,” Mike said. The anger, hot and wild, turned to a cold, calculated focus. When he listened, he could hear the whispers between students, could hear their hearts beat with excitement, and he thought he caught the scent of pheromones…but not Emonticon pheromones…one of the Crocians, perhaps? He could hear every word, every breath. He could also smell the adrenaline in Marcus. He could practically hear the thoughts run through his head.

A glint in Marcus’ eye caught Mike’s attention. The twitch in his hand was more than enough warning. By the time Marcus’ sword was in strike, Mike was already dodging. The sword passed through thin air, whizzing right by Mike’s ear. Without mercy or compassion, Mike brought his sword up, and severed Marcus’ arm halfway between the wrist and elbow. With a quick slice, he then cut both kneecaps.Marcus fell to the floor. Mike looked down at him, and softened his gaze.

He put his sword away, and picked up Marcus’ amputated arm. He pulled out his knife, gave it a quick toss, slitting his palm, and put it away. He then smeared the blood from his cut hand onto the open flesh of the severed arm. He swatted Marcus’ other hand away from the wound, jammed the severed arm into the open flesh of the rest of the arm, then he focused, willing his blood to put the arm back together. After a few seconds, the wound was reduced to a cut, then a thin slit, and finally reduced to a small scar.

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School of Magecraft, part three: Mike's Surprise

“Listen UP!!! I don’t know what you expected, and I don’t care,” he began, “This class isn’t about caring what you think. Caring for your feelings is not part of my job. My job is to make sure you will survive in a combat situation.” He was pacing back and forth in front of the class. The man, if that was what one would call it, was supposedly the teacher of this class. It didn’t make sense, how this thing could ever know a thing about war, when all he did was sit in front of this classroom full of gaping eyes. He quickly looked over at Gemini and Tigris, both good friends of his. They were looking at the short thing with a look of interest, as if what he had to say meant anything…

“…and how about you, little pup?” the teacher asked, pointing his finger at Marcus. His smile showed a firm kindness, which was lost on him. Gemini could tell that Marcus hated being called condescending names for any reason, which was why she made it a point to let people know, before they could make that mistake. Apparently, this message wasn’t made clear to this thing.

Marcus stood up, towering over the teacher. This teacher seemed to be like a little pet dog compared to Marcus’ height. He looked down at this “teacher” that went by the name of “Mike”. Mike merely raised an eyebrow, as he looked up at Marcus. Then he smiled, turned around, and said, “Great! We have a volunteer. Now—” Marcus cut him off by putting a hand on his shoulder, and turning him back around to face him. The humor in Mike’s eyes died immediately. He tilted his head slightly, and asked, “Is there a problem?”

Marcus couldn’t stand it any longer, “Yeah. There is a problem: you.” Mike raised an eyebrow, “Funny, kid. Real funny,” and turned back around. He seemed so sure of himself. As if he knew what he was talking about…“Anyway, I’m going to show you how to perform—” Marcus had drawn his blade, and was pointing it at Mike. The rage pent up in him was evident, and that’s just what Marcus wanted. Mike should know what’s coming. “You talk a great story, but I still can’t believe they have you teaching this class! As if you know war!” Marcus whispered so only Mike could hear.

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School of Magecraft, part two: Muse's Meeting

“I sometimes wonder, my boy, if you should be here. You obviously know how to handle yourself out there,” Muse said over her glass of iced tea. “It’s not exactly like you have no other choices, right?” She had her cloak’s hood pulled back, and the morning light shined on her face through the mesh net on the porch window. Mike merely nodded, his hair swinging slightly back and forth in the process. Muse continued, “I want to know; why do you stay in this school?” Mike looked at her for a second, and stated, “I like teaching the students. I like knowing they would have a better chance in the world out there.” He finished that statement with a melancholy stare outside. Luxury looked from Muse to Mike, wondering if their relationship wasn’t just headmistress to teacher. Perhaps it was more like mother to son…

“Besides,” Mike commented with a sly grin, “who else can teach your supernaturally gifted students?” They all shared one bout of laughter, and Luxury just shook her head in amusement. Smoke had a thoughtful look on his face, and Gizmo looked at him in encouraging love, even though she knew he wouldn’t see her; he was staring into space. Smoke knew what to say, however. “I would like to say,” he started, choosing his words carefully, “that there hasn’t been a teacher quite like you for as long as I have been here.” Muse nodded, and Mike looked down at his untouched tea. Pyro looked thoughtful, and nodded as well. Cryo tilted her head, looking at Smoke in agreement. Chris, over in the corner, also looked like he agreed. Luxury sometimes wondered what brought them together. They didn’t seem like the kind to become friends with each other easily. Yet, they also seemed to be as brothers. Muse looked like she was going to say something, but instead, took a drink off her tea.

Luxury took a quick glance across the “meeting room” to see what was on Nyte’s mind. He was silent, as usual, but she could see his ear perked to hear the conversation. Luxury took a quick stock on the people in this room, all Muse’s favorite students, at one time or another. Most of the people here were teachers, and former students. Her best friend, Mike, was the supernatural magic’s teacher, as well as one of the many non-magical combat teachers. He was a great deal older than his looks. He looked to be in his thirties, but he was over one hundred years old, at least. She got the sense that he was older, but she didn’t ever press him to tell her his exact age. Pyro, as his name suggested, was a pyromancer. He and his sister, Cryo, made up the elemental branch of magic. Truth, over in the far corner, was another non-magic’s teacher, and worked with firearms. Supposedly, he was a crack shot aim with any weapon, but Luxury hasn't ever seen him in action.

Smoke was a teacher of non-magical hand-to-hand combat, and was also a student of Mike’s to learn how to control his “other self”. He had a secret relationship, which everyone knew about, with Gizmo. She, as it is said, liked Smoke a little more than being just friends. Her hair covered her right eye, as usual. She sometimes looked as though she was hiding something behind that curtain of hair, but Luxury never asked about it. She is Alexis “Luxury” Schrade. She also teaches non-magical combat, as well as having a touch of shifting, with which she is working personally with Mike.

A comment shook Luxury out of her thoughts. “…Another student. Do you think you are up to it?” Muse asked, gazing out the window to the tree line, where her students were training. Mike nodded, and spoke, “Sure. I just want to know, who is he…or she, and where does this student come from?” Muse looked a little hesitant for a second, and said, “His name is Marcus Flynt. He’s a Crocian. He is one of the first three to ever come here, to this planet. Do you think you’re up to it?” Luxury wondered for a second, and then she knew; Crocians were those people that looked more human, and were known for being very tall. They were from a planet that Gizmo had only just found. A planet, she knew, to be named Cross.

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School of Magecraft, part one: Nyte's Practice

Mike came at him, claws brandished, and a look of insanity in his eyes. Nyte watched carefully as he ran full speed at him. Mike swiped high, aiming for his throat, and Nyte back stepped. A fist like a bundle of claws flew straight at his chest, and Nyte sidestepped, leaving the hand to continue flying. With Mike overbalanced, Nyte gave him one blow to the back of the neck, knocking him down to his face. From the ground, Mike chuckled, “The maniac would have been knocked out cold, and you didn’t even use your speed. Well done.”

Nyte hardened his gaze, and then smiled. Mike stood up, and dusted himself off. “What do you say to calling this a day? You’ve made fine progress.” Nyte just nodded, and fixed his sleeves. Mike walked to the bench where he had left his shirt and bag, and picked them both up. As he put his shirt on and changed his shoes and gloves, he commented, “You know, we’re going to have to get to your speed eventually. You know you can be faster.” Nyte nodded. As he picked up his own gloves, he replied, “I know, but sometimes, I just can’t. I try, but it’s like I just can’t.”

Mike thought about that for a second, remembering his early days of Blood Magic, now long past. He had felt the same thing when he had just started, and couldn’t accomplish the level of magic he was trying to get to. He nodded, and stated, “I know how that feels. I was like that when I was young…or rather, younger than I am now.” Nyte gave him a funny look, and went back to changing his gloves. As Mike stood up, and shouldered his bag, he heard Muse’s voice in his head, as if she was standing right beside him, “Mike, I need to see you in my office, as soon as you get done with Nyte. Bring him with you, if you have to.” Mike nodded, and said, “Nyte, come with me, Muse wants to talk to me, and I can’t send you back home just yet.”

With that, Mike began walking down the street, with Nyte walking beside him.

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Just a few crappy pictures I have on hand. I'll be updating and adding more as I make more.

I have quite the list though....