A Busy Day at Peckenpaugh

[peckishmods]

at peckenpaugh today

what's up?

Unfamiliar folk start arriving at the crack of dawn, and by breakfast there’s a whole pop up tent community on the Eastern Quarter just at the edge of the quodpot pitch. Curious students aren’t quite driven away from the encampment, but neither are they permitted to snoop around. All across campus this morning, berobed wizards wander, taking samples of this and that, stopping to talk with local denizens both human and not.

An explanation doesn’t come until the morning announcements: the Bureau of Magical Beings is, as promised, setting up on campus. This is for safety as much as investigative purposes as school administration continues to work to identify and eliminate the strange invasive plants that spread across campus over the weekend. In addition to BoMB agents, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has also sent along a few aurors who specialize in “this sort of thing.” Though Ms. Kwan doesn’t bother explaining what “this sort of thing” is. What she does mention is that while the BoMB and DMLE are here for student safety, students are under no obligation to answer their questions, and if they have concerns they should report them to their Heads of House.

Second and Third period are cancelled today to make room for a voluntary Q&A session in the school auditorium. Interested students and staff may attend to meet BoMB and DMLE agents, ask a few questions, and learn a bit about what safety precautions are being implemented. The assembly goes on for about an hour and a half, during which time students are introduced to several new (or not so new) faces:

• an ancient and high ranking BoMB Agent and preeminent Magizoologist named Al Falco (some may recognize him from the magikinetic sculpture race, or as a name that frequently shows up in their Magizoology textbooks)


• a younger BoMB official overseeing fieldwork, Agent Ford Taurus, who promises his name is not fake


• Dr. Malia Fernsby, a high-strung-seeming cryptobotanist


• Bigfoot herself, Beefy


• several aurors whose names are never given ⁠— including two surprisingly young-looking ones simply referred to as “the specialists”

By lunch, Mothgardeners learn of their newest addition, and Valkyrie Horvat is tasked with escorting him around campus. And boy does Rex have a lot of places he wants to hit up…

All in all, it’s an extremely busy day on campus, and classes wind up a little lackadaisical if they happen at all. That said, while skipping class is fairly easy, actually leaving campus during class hours proves difficult: there’s a DMLE checkpoint at the eastern bridge and the aurors stationed there know you should be in class right now.

volunteer slots!

Echo Ellerby helps translate for a frustrated Muscheron being interviewed by a BoMB agent, and it actually goes pretty well! Apparently the Muscheron have dozens of stashes of hoarded goods underground all over campus, but the little toadstool is pretty sure they cleared everything out of the one beneath the Stump before they moved. “Allza good, allza got. Acorns t’zacorns, nothing for hims to eating there… prozabz’lee.”

A redheaded auror, one of the young “specialists” from the morning assembly, approaches Trudy McGilliguddy before lunch and asks them to show him where their magic party spirit throws their magic parties. You know. The ones the adults can’t find.

Whether or not Trudy was forthcoming, Audrey Poke spots the Specialists up by the Falls later in the afternoon, talking to Pocket. It’s the first sighting of one of the party bugs since Friday night and she seems happy to talk to them, but she looks noticeably run down.

While on the central green, Viola Warbeck spots one of the two specialist aurors ⁠— a tall curly-haired fellow ⁠— trying desperately to find some cell service. “What? No. Of course I’d tell you if it were a Hell situation. No. He can’t bring his camera if it is.” When the specialist notices Viola eavesdropping, he shoves a graze subscription box into their hands and tells them, “Safety first,” before going on his way. Inside, there aren’t snacks, but a collection of protective items: a satchel of purified salt, bundles of dill and sage, an iron spoon, a vial of water, and messily scrawled instructions for a complicated Charm that dispels “Anonymity.” Whatever that means.

[CHARACTER E] spots a string of Muscheron trying to sneak onto a table in a BoMB tent, where they’ve gathered a pile of rocks that kind of look like cicada shells. Some more than others. [CHARACTER E] throws the Muscheron a bone with an Accio behind the back, which nets the Muscheron a treasure trove of stones and [CHARACTER E] an interesting missive: Central Appalachian Paw Paw Reserve abandoned. No sign of struggle or flight found. Agent Oxford still MIA. Request assistance.

[SEVERAL STUDENTS] may have the opportunity to help Rex out with a few things today, as well...

how this works!

⬥ Because so much is going on today, we wanted to provide everyone with an IC/OOC to react, interact and scene.

⬥ Under the Morning Assembly header your student may ask any question they like of Ms. Kwan, the Heads of House and the represented BoMB agents and aurors.

• Please limit yourself to one question at a time. You may ask more as they are answered.


• You may address questions to specific people.


• All in attendance will answer to the best of their ability provided the questions are pertinent to the assembly.

⬥ Rex is surreptitiously trying to open some cicada shells, but, he explains to those interested, he can’t hold all the memories himself ⁠— it’s too dangerous. You can sign up under the Help Rex Out header to request a cicada shell.

• Doing this obligates you to open a cicada shell and carry its memory. We will get back to you in a few days with your memory. You are not obligated to return the memory, but it is an option.


• If your character is already carrying a memory, they cannot take on another.


• We will prioritize players who do not have cicada shells already on this, but will also give shells to those who already have a shell on another character if demand is low. HOWEVER, we ask that you limit yourself to one cicada shell requested from this particular venue.


• It will take us a few days to get back to you with your full memory as we need to sort who gets what and write the content. :)

locations!

⬦ MORNING ASSEMBLY: Second and third period are cancelled today to make space for a voluntary assembly in the auditorium. Students can stop by to get an introduction to the BoMB Agents leading the effort. After an explanation of safety measures being taken and requests for students to report anything interesting or concerning to their Heads of House, questions are taken.

⬦ HELP REX OUT: The seer-prince of the Lepidopterites needs your help! His pockets are just overflowing with cicada shell stones, and he thinks they need to be opened and possibly returned to their owners, but he can’t take on all the memories by himself. If you are willing to accompany Rex around campus, over the next few days he will be completing the water rituals at each of the four Houses to open shells. Fill out this form to claim a shell:

<b>NAME:</b> Who is claiming the shell <b>ORDER:</b> Which order would you like to complete your cicada shell in, given the chance? Just list Houses. <b>FAVORITE NPC?:</b> Do you have an NPC you particularly love, human or animal? Let us know. We may or may not provide you with a memory involving that NPC.

⬦ AROUND CAMPUS & ELSEWHERE: Campus is buzzing with excitement now that so many visitors are running around. What did you get up to today?

⬦ OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!

Comments

HELP REX OUT: Aristotle

[arisahn]

NAME: Aristotle Ahn! Another helpful boy.
ORDER: Deeplurk, Wilgulch, Mothgarden, Thorntrail!
FAVORITE NPC?: Lancelot Purcell. Althea Greatheart. Bearigold.

Aris gets a cicada shell...

[peckishmods]

Aristotle receives a cicada shell with just one step already completed, so he runs it through Wildgulch, Mothgarden and Thorntrail. Getting a familiar feeling, then hearing voices, and then, the next day, with Rex in tow, experiencing the memory in full:

Rain falls in frigid cold sheets, buffeting Aristotle's face as he sprints through the storm. Impenetrably dark, it's a wonder he knows where he's going...but, no, this place is familiar, isn't it? After what seems like an age of running in the rain, he throws open a heavy oak door and steps into...the old victorian: Peckenpaugh's library lobby.

With a swish and a flick, he dries his clothes, but the cold still hangs on him. Unseasonable this late in May. Unnatural, of course, because he knows the witch who'd conjured the storm. Or, well, the person who owns this memory does.

He — Aristotle, and the eyes he's seeing through — set a large squirming shoulder bag on a side table to more easily remove his coat. A squished gray-and-brown face pokes up out of the bag's opening, a pug puppy, hardly a year old by the looks of it. Aristotle reaches a large hand to gently wipe water from the pug's nose.

And with that, Aristotle's moving again, from the old Victorian's atrium into a side room where the computer lab should be. A few computers do sit on two long tables on one side of the room, but they're so old as to be hardly recognizable as the desktops that fill the computer lab today. No, the room is instead filled by tables and chairs, and plenty of open space for students to move around. At the front of the room sits Caleb Qualls, looking tired, looking despondent, but still very much alive.

"Mr. Qualls, I've gone over those glyphs you designed. I made a few—" Finally, a voice. One Aristotle will recognize. A little younger, a little less confident, but unmistakable.

"Lancelot," Mr. Qualls looks up from whatever it was he was examining and, with effort, fixes a smile on his face. "I haven't been your teacher in, what, twelve years? You've certainly surpassed me by now. So, call me Caleb. I insist."

Aristotle is looking through the eyes of Lancelot Purcell, and if Aris is not mistaken, those eyes mist slightly at Mr. Qualls's words. "Caleb, I made a few changes to your glyphs. For security, longevity, mostly." He walks as he talks, as he often does between classes and during Duelling & Fencing meetings. It seems little has changed. When he reaches Mr. Qualls's desk, he unfurls a large piece of parchment with an incredibly complex glyph drafted out. "Here, and here, you see? And...every ten years, it'll need to be recharged, but provided it gets the blood it needs...it's foolproof."

Mr. Qualls picks up a pair of thick plastic-frame glasses and slides them onto the bridge of his nose, examining the young Mr. Purcell's adjustments with a discerning eye. "I knew we brought on the right consultant," Mr. Qualls murmurs his approval, then tips his chin up to stare Aristotle — no, Mr. Purcell — in the eye. "No opinions on the blood component?"

"Plenty of opinions on the blood component, sir, but considering the circumstances..."

"Exactly, Lancelot, thank you."

Something fizzles up, burning, like a hundred sparklers lit in Aris's chest. There's something Lancelot wants to say, but he's afraid. Aris can feel it, that hot burning anxiety, worry, fear. "Why does it have to be you, sir?"

Mr. Qualls pulls his glasses back off and laughs, but the sound is mirthless, airy. Pain has darkened the skin beneath Mr. Qualls's eyes, cut deeper lines in his face than the ones that were there already. "They took my son from me, Lancelot. Only makes sense that the same blood that opened it locks it all away, again."

There is so much guilt and worry tied up in this memory that the feeling of wanting it gone is almost overpowering. Aris doesn’t want it, but perhaps neither does the man who gave it up? Maybe, though, it’s important that he remember.