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 C_Baize
Arrogant Bastard
Gender: Male
Location: On a mountain in California
Registered: Jan 2005
Status: Offline
Posts: 226
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 Posted Tuesday, September 15, 2009 @ 10:45 AM  
Just because I've got some stuff in my head that needs to get out... I'm going to write a bit of it, here. The posts will be disjointed... no particular order... And I don't really know how many I'll do.
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C. Baize
We'd be fighting 2nd tier Goa'Ulds, too... While we wouldn't have the glory of killing Amon Ra the ruler of a thousand worlds and terror of the System Lords, we WOULD get to fight his younger brother... Bubba Ray. Manager of the Ra-Mart, and terror of those who abuse the quarter fed riding Unas out front of the store.
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C_Baize
Arrogant Bastard
Gender: Male
Location: On a mountain in California
Registered: Jan 2005
Status: Offline
Posts: 226
|
Posted Tuesday, September 15, 2009 @ 12:49 PM
The professor's boots echoed on the tiled floor as he walked into the classroom. Well-lit and airy, the classroom had only the faintest smells of ozone and singed hair still in the air from the first class of the day, the class period preceding this one.
The students sat, alert and slightly on edge as the professor walked toward the chalkboard. His salt-and-pepper hair reached nearly to his shoulders, and he walked with a very slight limp on his right side. Not a large man by most standards, he was however, quite imposing.
The man turned and looked at his class.
"Mornin' kids." he said. His gravelly voice, thick mustache, and squinting eyes glaring out beneath bushy eyebrows. He reached up and pulled his worn leather cowboy hat off his head, and laid it down on his desk.
"Welcome to the Magical Defenses course." he said with what passed for a smile to put them more at ease. "Only 'bout half of this class is gonna be in this classroom. Th' other half is gonna be out'n the field. I've got some places set up to demonstrate how to use the skills y'all learn here, in practice. These places are safety zones, where the most powerful spells used in offense and defense will not kill, maim, or otherwise deal you terrible harm." He glared across the classroom, looking at each child and taking note of facial features.
He went to the chalkboard, pulled his wand, and waved the formulas and incantations off the board. He picked up his chalk and wrote while he said, "My name is Will Daltrey. Y'all can call me Mr. Daltrey, or y'all can call me Coach. I don't much care for bein' called Professor (though with his accent, it sounded more as though he had told them not to call him perfesser), so let's get that one right outta y'all's heads, right now." Daltrey turned back around and faced his class.
"Alright, look... I believe in bein' straight up an' honest with you kids. So let's get the scary talk right out of the way, shall we?" He sat on the corner of his desk, his faded jeans riding up a bit on his boots, and his sleeveless denim vest opening a bit to reveal Runic inscriptions on both his boots and vest. "So here it is... Kids, there are things in this world that want to do harm to you. There are critters that would love nothin' more than to hurt you, or kill you, and eat you. There are mages in this world who want to use you to do terrible things. Look around you... look at yer fellow students in this class... " he paused so they could do as he instructed, then continued, "it's even possible" he paused again, "that one or more students sitting with you, today, could turn out to be one of those mages who would use you to do terrible things."
When he paused, he looked genuinely saddened.
"So," he continued, "Here's lesson number one. And y'all might wanna write this'n down, and remember that I told you this." Daltrey waited for the children to pull out pens and pencils and situate their paper for writing. "When someone speaks, you listen, an' listen carefully at what they're saying. Keep yer ears sharp for the things they say an' how they say it. Keep yer eyes sharp for how they move an' what they do when they're talkin'. An' most important... keep your wits sharp so you're not easily led down a dark path. Yer wand is a powerful tool; it can be a powerful weapon, but that's all secondary to keepin' yer eyes and wits about you."
Daltrey walked back to the chalkboard, and drew a crude drawing of a wand.
"Basics." he told the class.
"This," and he held up his wand, "is the basic tool of nearly every mage."
He turned to the side and opened the top drawer on his desk and dropped his wand in the drawer. "The wand is your focal point. It helps a lot with yer spells." The students were writing, finding the gravelly voice of Mr. Daltrey compelling, and commanding attention.
"MANUCENDIO!" Daltrey yelled.
The children jumped and a few squealed when he yelled the spell's incantation, and a ball of flame appeared between his outstretched hands. He waved his hands and dismissed the spell.
Daltrey walked around the room as he spoke. "The wand is not the source of yer magic." he said. "The magic comes from within each of ya. Y'all are gonna learn how to focus that magic. With yer wands, an' without yer wands.
"Without yer wands, the spells may lose a little power, because the wands focus all that power from within, an' gives it a good way to get out an' do what you want it to do.
"Here's yer first exercise in this class." Daltrey walked back toward his desk, "Accio wand." he enunciated the incantation and his wand flew as if it had a will to return to its master.
He dropped his wand on his desk.
"Ever'one pull out yer wands, and put 'em on yer desk in front of ya." He waited until the children had done as instructed before going on. "Y'all're about to learn yer first wandless spellcasting."
He had their undivided attention, now.
"First thing ya do with this spell is visualize wisps of something... these're called tendrils... you visualize these tendrils extendin' from yer hand out to yer wand. Now, visualize those tendrils wrappin' around yer wand. Now say the words.." He stretched his hand out toward his wand and said, "Accio wand" and his wand, again, flew into his hand.
"The reason I'm startin' y'all off with this spell is that many times, the first thing that happens in a wizards' duel is that one wizard is disarmed, and y'all have to know how to get yer wands back should that happen, and it's either too far, or otherwise in a place you can't just reach out an' grab it.
"Children.. begin." he said.
As he walked around the classroom, helping students, the sounds of the incantation filled the air. A few students were able to cause their wands to quiver on their desks, and at least one student sent his wand flying through the air in the opposite direction. Daltrey smiled, this was one of the parts about teaching young witches and wizards that he loved best.
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C. Baize
We'd be fighting 2nd tier Goa'Ulds, too... While we wouldn't have the glory of killing Amon Ra the ruler of a thousand worlds and terror of the System Lords, we WOULD get to fight his younger brother... Bubba Ray. Manager of the Ra-Mart, and terror of those who abuse the quarter fed riding Unas out front of the store.
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C_Baize
Arrogant Bastard
Gender: Male
Location: On a mountain in California
Registered: Jan 2005
Status: Offline
Posts: 226
|
Posted Tuesday, February 23, 2010 @ 07:30 PM
As he walked into the dimly lit room, he took note of the simple desk near-center of the southern wall. The small rectangular garbage can beside it. The wooden chair behind the desk. The large window in the north wall, and in the center of the room, a man. The man was bound by handcuffs, and the handcuffs chained to a steel link in the floor. The manacles on his ankles were chained to the same link, ensuring he couldn't run or move very far. He was sat on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, looking a bit confused by everything around him.
Frank Bennet smiled as he saw the bound figure. It wasn't a smile that spoke of good will. It was the smile of a hunter having caught his prey after a long chase.
"Thought you could run forever, didn't you, son?" he said in his almost southern accent, it was more a statement than a question. "You sure as hell led us on a merry chase. 9 years, old boy. Or near enough."
The bound man looked into the face of his interrogator, "What is wrong with me? Why can't I think straight? You've drugged me, haven't you?"
Bennet chuckled softly and told him, "You don't have to pretend with me, pal." He turned and pointed to a patch on his fatigue top, the patch showed a straight line, tapering at the top with a lightning bolt and 3 wavy lines to either side of it. "Third battalion, MI... magic infantry. Lieutenant Colonel Bennet."
The military officer walked behind the bound man, and around to the front. When he returned to the man's line of sight, he had a wand in his hand. It looked like it might be black walnut wood. Well-worn.
"You are having trouble thinking of a spell to get yourself out of your current situation. I'd tell you to forget about it, but you already have. You're under the effects of an American variation on the Confundus spell. It's persistent as long as it's not dismissed. So... tell me... Why'd you do it, old son? Why'd you help those sons of bitches?" He looked hard into the bound man's eyes, "Was it the money? Did they pay you, well?"
The man scoffed at the accusation that he was a simple and low wand-for-hire. "You would not understand." he said, his Spanish accent nearly imperceptible.
"Enlighten me, senor Montalvo. Tell me why you helped them." Bennet told him.
"Why?" Montalvo asked, "What difference does it make to you? I've made no secret that I helped with the attacks, you know I'm guilty, and we both know what happens, next," he said, "You execute me for my crimes."
"Nah," Bennet started, "not necessarily."
The officer went and retrieved the simple chair from behind the desk and planted it in front of the prisoner. Sitting backwards in the chair, and facing Montalvo.
"I guess you could say I'm a student of wizarding history. I like to know who. I like to know when. And I really like to know why."
"Fine," Montalvo said with a sigh, "it's your dime, as you Americans say."
"I was married. Long time ago. I married a young woman from a little village in Afghanistan. Not a fanatic. Not a zealot. She, and even her family did not even mind our religious differences."
Montalvo had a wistful look in his eyes as he dug up the memories, "She was a beautiful woman. And she bore me a fine, strong son. And a beautiful daughter. She was pregnant with our third child when we went to visit her family in Afghanistan. They had what passes for a party for her, and we were all in her grandfather's house. Laughing and enjoying ourselves and being with each other."
The wistful look died from his eyes, to be replaced by a sadness, "and that's when we heard the shouting and the shooting... The Americans had come to our village in search of someone... they kicked in my wife's grandfather's door, and we all ran into a back room, and put a table up to hide us."
He no longer looked sad, but angry, now, and spat out, "and then they used a shotgun and blew the door to the room off the hinges and kicked it in." Montalvo turned his head to the side and down to show Bennet a scar across his scalp, "A piece of something... I don't even know what... flew in and caught me in my head... I stood up... just in shock and fell over the table as the Americans ran in and threw a grenade behind the table. It was a very thick table. The fact that I fell over it is what saved my life, but not my foot." He shook his left leg a bit, and freed his leg from the middle of his shin up from the prosthetic foot manacled to the ring in the floor.
"My family... my wife's family... they couldn't get out from behind the table in time. My wife, my children, my unborn... all dead because you Americans acted on ... how do you say.... 'bad intel' I think is the term."
He looked at Bennet then, "Your... ehhhh... psyche officer. He tried to convince me it was a terrorist's grenade that killed my family. But I know what I saw. I know what I heard. When I contacted your state-department, they 'extended their deepest condolences for my loss as collateral damage in the efforts to locate a known, wanted global fugitive.'" He said as though reciting something he'd read over and over again. "And then they offered me money to compensate for them... like money could wash away the love for my family, and the hurt of their loss. Your government has much to learn." Montalvo bowed his head. Signaling that whatever should come next, he was done humoring this man with his story.
"I see," Bennet said. "Wrong place.. wrong time. And you're angry. I understand. I can even sympathize. But that don't excuse the amount of death you've been party to, Montalvo. But I ain't here to execute ya. I'm here to bring ya in."
Bennet exited the room and came back in with a plastic case. He opened it and pulled out a thin neck collar, "I know you Euro-Wizards have Azkaban and those damned dementors. We don't do that. We have a regular prison for Wizards and Witches who've gone criminal, and a magical inhibitor collar that will keep you from using magic to escape. Or for anything else." Just then, his radio crackled, "Sir! Colonel Bennet! Come in!"
Bennet grabbed his radio and keyed up the microphone, "What is it, sergeant?"
The voice on the other end yelled, "Incoming, sir! Fast movers!"
Bennet's head snapped around to look at Montalvo.
The bound man quirked a smile and shrugged.
The military man dropped the collar and grabbed his wand in his left hand, and jerked his sidearm out with his right. He flourished his wand and pointed toward the exposed north wall and shouted, "Proteg..." but was unable to finish the shielding spell as the wall exploded inward, sending him reeling backward until he tripped over Montalvo's outstretched footless leg.
Bennet brought up his sidearm and it went flying from his hand, along with his wand as three of the robed wizards and a witch yelled "Expelliarmus!" and sent Bennet sliding across the floor and coming to a sudden stop when he impacted with the desk, knocking it against the wall.
A witch flourished her wand at Bennet, "Stupefy!" she yelled, and paid him no more attention.
One of the wizards swept his wand toward the doorway, "Prodortego maximo!" he yelled, and a powerful magical screen covered the entire opening.
Another of the robed, masked wizards ran to Montalvo, "finite incantatum!" He said forcefully, while pointing his wand at Montalvo.
Diego Montalvo felt his mind instantly clear, magical knowledge suddenly unblocked and flooded back in to fill the empty spaces in his memories.
"Finite incantatum!" the same wizard pointed his wand at the shackles binding Montalvo's wrists.
Nothing happened.
"Alohomora!" He yelled.
Still nothing.
"Destructo!" he yelled, and brandished his wand like a hammer.
Nothing happened.
Clearly frustrated, he walked in a circle and kicked a piece of debris, cursing in Arabic.
"Just cut it! Like a torch!" Montalvo said.
Just then, bursts of light splashed against the protective spell shimmering at the doorway, but the spell held.
Then the loud report of an automatic weapon sounded, and the shimmering shield showed small dimples appearing across its surface.
The wizard attempting to free Montalvo punched his wand like a knife, thrusting forcefully, "Foco maximus incendio!" he snarled.
A thin blue flame sprouted from the tip of his wand, and he used it to heat the links on the shackles holding Montalvo.
As the shielded door showed no signs of wavering, the soldiers outside began firing at the walls to break through that way.
Montalvo inhaled sharply as the smell of searing flesh assaulted the nostrils of his savior.
"I'm sorry, Diego, I'm so sorry!" he said, but kept cutting.
"Montalvo strained against the shackles, and stretched the nearly melted chain to its breaking point.
Bullets and eldritch flashes started coming through the wall and another wizard rushed there and cast another shielding spell. He cast it just barely inside the room so the soldiers outside would be unable to see their attacks would be futile.
The witch who had incapacitated Bennet grabbed Bennet's wand from the floor and threw it to Montalvo.
He swung it like a hammer at the floor around the ring holding his shackled foot, "Destructo!" he yelled, and a little over a square foot of the floor exploded into the room beneath it.
"Accio wand!" he yelled, and his wand flew into his hand from inside the desk.
"Cover him!" Montalvo yelled as he pointed at Bennet.
"Finite!" he said, while flicking his wand at Bennet, releasing him from the Stupefy spell.
Bennet stood up and faced Montalvo. He held his chin up, waiting for the inevitable killing curse.
"I'm not going to kill you, amigo." Montalvo said.
"At least not yet. Not like this. You're a warrior. And a man of honor. I respect that. We might meet again, on the field of battle. I'll kill you there, in honest magical combat. Adios." He nodded toward Bennet, tossed the soldier's wand on the floor, and then disapparated.
His companions followed suit, and the shielding spells went down immediately when the two wizards holding them up disapparated.
Bennet's unit rushed in the room, to find only their commanding officer present. "Are you okay, sir?" a sergeant asked.
"Yeah... Yeah I'm fine. Seems we have an intel hole to plug, and a terrorist to recapture." He walked over and picked up his wand, and then his sidearm. He holstered them both.
"Nothin' we can do here, now, sergeant. Call in a helo, and let's get back to Echo."
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C. Baize
We'd be fighting 2nd tier Goa'Ulds, too... While we wouldn't have the glory of killing Amon Ra the ruler of a thousand worlds and terror of the System Lords, we WOULD get to fight his younger brother... Bubba Ray. Manager of the Ra-Mart, and terror of those who abuse the quarter fed riding Unas out front of the store.
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