Late to Class (semi-on)

Arabella shifted her head as a slight golden, yellow glow grew beyond her eyelids. She exhaled softly, her coppery-curls cascading down, momentarily enshrouding Arabella in darkness. However, this brief respite wasn't to last as a glass-shattering squeal pierced Arabella's ears, a lancet of electrical pain drilling deep into her head.

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" Arabella shouted as she quickly stood up, banging her knees on the bottom side of the desk, her mist-grey eyes widening at the sudden pain that shot through her legs.

The ear piercing squeal continued unabated, and Arabella growled, one hand still rubbing her newly bruised knee, and cast a murderous glare at the source of the noise. No wider than the palm of her hand, there was a circular object, made from solid oak. Numbers were carefully engraved on the surface, filigreed with silver leaf telling the hour of the day, though the source of the scream was a small, manlike figure, spellbound to the wooden block, his upper arms pointing sky-high for the minute hand, while his legs pointed down at the six for the hour hand. The reason for his scream was from the tiny spear that was pricking his left buttock, set to break the surface of his skin as soon desired time was reached.

Arabella removed the small spear, and the bound imp immediately quieted down, and she grumbled "Gods, six in the morning, whatever possessed me to get a class first thing in the morning."

Arabella stiffened and muttered, "Oh yes, that's right. Grandmother, that's who. Said I wouldn't get my inheritance unless I went on to university."

Twining her fingers and raising her hands overhead, Arabella stretched and snarled, "It took a week for me to wash off that mothball smell..."

Arabella stiffened as she slowly became aware of an acrid, if pungent odor. Her gaze dropped back down to the clock, and she saw a small, brown pile underneath the imp.

"Oh no!" she swore, "the clock's running behind..."

The young woman darted into her closet, and she pulled out several garments, muttering as a small pile slowly grew, "No, can't wear this, I still haven't got the blood stains out...and this smells like fetid ilithid...bright pink with chartreuse stripes?"

Finally, though, the woman put together an ensemble that while it was far from the height of fashion at least wouldn't drive one blind. Arabella moved back to her desk, the long purple robes trimmed with silver at least giving her ease of movement than the more traditional corset, blouse and skirt gave.

Arabella sighed as she looked down at the assembled papers, and thought, Damn it, fell asleep again. I'm going to have to ask Professor Edwin for an extension on this assignment. Ever since that incident with the Bare-Skin Rug, I would probably have an easier time asking a baatezu if he would be willing to part with his fingernails.

Arabella shook her head, and thought, Wake up girl, your going to be late as it is. You can grab something to pick you up as you go to class.

The young woman searched the room until she saw a large, brown canvas bag in the corner and picked it up, stuffing her papers into it. Arabella moved toward the door of her room, and stopped to cast a final glance at her room.

"Nope, that's everything. At least I finished that paper on Ethics of Love Potions last week..." Arabella said to herself, and exited the room.

------------------------------------

Arabella slid into a chair at the back of the small classroom, hoping her instructor hadn't seen her. Taking a quick glance, the young woman saw that there was a small box already on her desk, and a deep croak reverberated from inside it. Looking closer, Arabella saw two bulbous brown eyes staring back at her.

Oh no, I forgot today was the quiz! Arabella thought mournfully before a voice broke her concentration.

"Um, present ma'am?" Arabella said automatically.

A laugh swept through the class, and a stern, contralto voice said, "Behave class. Mrs. Wycliffe, do you realize that this makes it the fifth time this semester you were late to my class? One more absence, and I will be forced to drop your final grade by one full letter grade."

Arabella felt a bright warmth flush her cheeks, and she quietly said, "I'm sorry Professor de'Arnise. I won't let it happen again, I promise."

"See that you don't," said the stern voice, and this time Arabella lifted her head to stare at her professor. She took in the page-boy cut of the woman's vibrant red hair--Reduces risks of it catching fire a past lesson supplemented--and the soft, intelligent doe-brown eyes of the woman as she glanced at the class, the hourglass-shaped figure hardly hidden by Professor de'Arnise's voluminous robes.

Arabella had to suppress a chuckle as she saw that once more a large portion of the boys were staring raptly at the instructor, while a sizable portion of the females glared daggers at her.

Well, that's what you get for picking the youngest teacher to lead the Equinox rite, Arabella thought, Druids and their sky-clad rites. I still think it was Dr. Cernd's way of staring at the co-eds.

"What we call magic is an energy that pervades everything. Every rock, every plant, every animal..." Professor de'Arnise's words echoed in Arabella's mind, bringing her attention back to the present once more.

"As such, magic can be controlled, channeled, much like wind may be harnessed by the sails on a windmill to drive the large grindstones," Professor de'Arnise said, "Yes Dylan, you had a question?"

A young man rose, running a hand through his thick black hair, "Um, yes, Professor de'Arnise. No offense, but we already had this in Remedial Spell-Crafting. This is nothing new. What, if anything, does this have with these frogs on our desk?"

Nalia arched an eyebrow, and replied, "Yes, Dylan, you have heard this several times before, but it is worth repeating until you can say it in your sleep. Magic, when improperly used, can cause great havoc. Now, you have had it reinforced time and again about how necessary it is to properly phrase your spells, to rigorously follow through the same ritualistic motions, to have the proper ingredients for one's spell."

Arabella nodded, remembering the endless strings of words, the never-ending lists of ingredients, and the seeming haphazard gestures required to cast her spells, each one different from the last.

Nalia continued, "What you will learn, though, is that all of these are just crutches, unnecessary in its own way."

A stunned whisper rippled through the crowd, and Dylan raised his hand once more, and stated, not waiting for Nalia to call on him, "Um, Professor de'Arnise, what do you mean unnecessary?"

Nalia grinned at the stunned reaction, as she proceeded with the lecture, "Consider, if you will, various spell-casters. From the orc shaman waving is bone-rattle, grunting and swearing in his porcine tongue to the stately, formal affairs of the elf, speaking in tongues older than the rise of man, from the hedge-wizard needing eye of newt, and wing of bat to the capering gnomish prankster, speaking in endless babble. All work magic, all can cast similar spells, and yet the end result is the only commonality among them. The gestures, the words, the ingredients, all are focuses for your concentration. Given enough strength of will, you can surpass the...limitations...commonly associated with spells. Mix and match methods if you will, and theoretically, cast spells by will alone."

Nalia's lips quirked in a smile, "That is where the frogs come in. By this point in your education, all of you have successfully passed the "Turning a Frog into Prince" spell. Today, you shall re-cast that spell, but with one major difference. You will not be using any magical reagents. You are limited to gesture and word alone."

A hushed silence fell throughout the crowd at Nalia's pronouncement. She chuckled, "It isn't as hard as it sounds. Mrs. Wycliffe, since you were the last one to class, you will have the honors of first try."

Arabella blushed once more, but she responded, "Yes, Professor de'Arnise. Um, what am I supposed to do without any reagents, though?"

Nalia smiled, "Very good question. What you do, as hard as it may seem, is proceed through the spell as you normally would. Remember those endless classes where we required to be able to tell various items by their texture, their smell, even their taste?"

Arabella grimaced, "Yes, sometimes I still wake up with the taste of gnoll bile on my lips."

"Very good," Nalia stated encouragingly, "Just let the memory rise to the fore in your mind, and grasp it as you normally would. However, don't think twice about the fact you don't have the 'proper' ingredients. Just imagine you do so. Once you successfully grasp this fact, then you will find yourself able to substitute ingredients as you will, and if you are potent enough, not even needing them in hand to enact your magic. So, Mrs. Wycliffe, show us how its done."

Nalia's lips quirked, "Or how its not done."

Arabella bit her tongue, not allowing Nalia's playful words to distract her as she stood up from her desk. Hesitantly, the young woman reached in and grasped her frog, almost recoiling at the touch of its slimy skin on her hands.

Stop that, its just a frog... Arabella chided herself, putting the frog on the top of her desk.

Taking a deep breath, Arabella closed her eyes, her hands starting to weave before her, an eldritch utterance escaping her lips. Her left hand dropped to where her ingredient satchel normally would be, but bearing Nalia's statement in the back of her mind, Arabella imagined the flake of human skin, the long thread of hair that would be needed to give structure to the final shape, and the silk cocoon symbolic of change itself.

Arabella slowly felt the magic take hold, and she exhaled as she was about ready to release the mystic forces under her control. As Arabella felt the final flare of growing magic, she suddenly let out a loud yelp of pain when her leg suddenly cramped.

Reaching down to rub the tight muscle, a bright, white light momentarily filled the class, then disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Arabella stumbled backward as the sound of splintering wood filled her ears, and a dull gray shape rose from the top of her desk to the top of the roof.

Once the last rippling black dots left her eyeballs, Arabella groaned as she saw a large, granite-grey column in the place where her desk formerly was.

"I believe the spell called for a handsome prince," Nalia's humor-laden voice said, 'Not a handsome plinth."

Arabella then felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and saw her instructor gazing reassuringly into her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," Nalia whispered, "I did the exact same thing my first time as well. Heh, except earlier that day I had bit my tongue...don't try spell casting with a lisp..."

Arabella shifted her head as a slight golden, yellow grew beyond her eyelids. She exhaled softly, her coppery-curls cascading down, momentarily enshrouding Arabella in darkness. However, this brief respite wasn't to last as a glass-shattering squeal pierced Arabella's ears, a lancet of electrical pain drilling deep into her head.

YAY!!! a vignette from bri!

The ear piercing squeal continued unabated, and Arabella growled, one hand still rubbing her newly bruised knee, and cast a murderous glare at the source of the noise. No wider than the palm of her hand, there was a circular object, made from solid oak. Numbers were carefully engraved on the surface, filigreed with silver leaf telling the hour of the day, though the source of the scream was a small, manlike figure, spellbound to the wooden block, his upper arms pointing sky-high for the minute hand, while his legs pointed down at the six for the hour hand. The reason for his scream was from the tiny spear that was pricking his left buttock, set to break the surface of his skin as soon desired time was reached.

Arabella removed the small spear, and the bound imp immediately quieted down, and she grumbled "Gods, six in the morning, whatever possessed me to get a class first thing in the morning."

urm...interesting alarm clock...can you get the imp made to look like...you know, george w bush??? or bill gates?

Arabella stiffened as she slowly became aware of an acrid, if pungent odor. Her gaze dropped back down to the clock, and she saw a small, brown pile underneath the imp.

URG!!! Tempus Crapit!!!

"Oh no!" she swore, "the clock's running behind..."

or has a stomach problem...

The young woman darted into her closet, and she pulled out several garments, muttering as a small pile slowly grew, "No, can't wear this, I still haven't got the blood stains out...and this smells like fetid ilithid...bright pink with chartreuse stripes?"

i see that little imoen is still around...

Arabella sighed as she looked down at the assembled papers, and thought, Damn it, fell asleep again. I'm going to have to ask Professor Edwin for an extension on this assignment. Ever since that incident with the Bare-Skin Rug, I would probably have an easier time asking a baatezu if he would be willing to part with his fingernails.

edwin, and a bare skin rug...is he practicing his erotic assaults again...

"Nope, that's everything. At least I finished that paper on Ethics of Love Potions last week..." Arabella said to herself, and exited the room.

suddenly got a mental flash of sandra bullock in love potion number 9...

"See that you don't," said the stern voice, and this time Arabella lifted her head to stare at her professor. She took in the page-boy cut of the woman's vibrant red hair--Reduces risks of it catching fire a past lesson supplemented--and the soft, intelligent doe-brown eyes of the woman as she glanced at the class, the hourglass-shaped figure hardly hidden by Professor de'Arnise's voluminous robes.

Yum!!!

Well, that's what you get for picking the youngest teacher to lead the Equinox rite, Arabella thought, Druids and their sky-clad rites. I still think it was Dr. Cernd's way of staring at the co-eds.

dirty old man...

from the hedge-wizard needing eye of newt, and wing of bat to the capering gnomish prankster, speaking in endless babble.

ah yes...but a spell without TURNIPS???? Hardly worth casting, in my humble opinion... you know, that reminds me way back...

"Very good," Nalia stated encouragingly, "Just let the memory rise to the fore in your mind, and grasp it as you normally would. However, don't think twice about the fact you don't have the 'proper' ingredients. Just imagine you do so. Once you successfully grasp this fact, then you will find yourself able to substitute ingredients as you will, and if you are potent enough, not even needing them in hand to enact your magic. So, Mrs. Wycliffe, show us how its done."

COOL!!! Virtual eye of newt, imaginary toe of frog...

Taking a deep breath, Arabella closed her eyes, her hands starting to weave before her, an eldritch utterance escaping her lips. Her left hand dropped to where her ingredient satchel normally would be, but bearing Nalia's statement in the back of her mind, Arabella imagined the flake of human skin, the long thread of hair that would be needed to give structure to the final shape, and the silk cocoon symbolic of change itself.

love the spell description!!!

"I believe the spell called for a handsome prince," Nalia's humor-laden voice said, 'Not a handsome plinth."

oh...so the whole story was about a pun...or a lisp...

prince
plinth...

Arabella then felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and saw her instructor gazing reassuringly into her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," Nalia whispered, "I did the exact same thing my first time as well. Heh, except earlier that day I had bit my tongue...don't try spell casting with a lisp..."

One can only shudder at the potential for chaos...

great one!!! very funny!!!

Hi, Bri! Nice to see an offering from you as well!

Arabella shifted her head as a slight golden, yellow grew beyond her eyelids. She exhaled softly, her coppery-curls cascading down, momentarily enshrouding Arabella in darkness. However, this brief respite wasn't to last as a glass-shattering squeal pierced Arabella's ears, a lancet of electrical pain drilling deep into her head.

golden, yellow... what? Seems to be a word missing there.

The ear piercing squeal continued unabated, and Arabella growled, one hand still rubbing her newly bruised knee, and cast a murderous glare at the source of the noise. No wider than the palm of her hand, there was a circular object, made from solid oak. Numbers were carefully engraved on the surface, filigreed with silver leaf telling the hour of the day, though the source of the scream was a small, manlike figure, spellbound to the wooden block, his upper arms pointing sky-high for the minute hand, while his legs pointed down at the six for the hour hand. The reason for his scream was from the tiny spear that was pricking his left buttock, set to break the surface of his skin as soon desired time was reached.

Arabella removed the small spear, and the bound imp immediately quieted down, and she grumbled "Gods, six in the morning, whatever possessed me to get a class first thing in the morning."

I want that kind of an alarm clock.

Arabella stiffened as she slowly became aware of an acrid, if pungent odor. Her gaze dropped back down to the clock, and she saw a small, brown pile underneath the imp.

"Oh no!" she swore, "the clock's running behind..."

Well... maybe I don't want that kind of alarm clock...

Arabella sighed as she looked down at the assembled papers, and thought, Damn it, fell asleep again. I'm going to have to ask Professor Edwin for an extension on this assignment. Ever since that incident with the Bare-Skin Rug, I would probably have an easier time asking a baatezu if he would be willing to part with his fingernails.

Hahaha! Well, she seems to be a looker, so that should help getting an extension from Professor Edwin... he's a bit of a sucker for pretty ladies.

"Nope, that's everything. At least I finished that paper on Ethics of Love Potions last week..." Arabella said to herself, and exited the room.

Ethics and Love Potions? Those things can't be in any way connected...

Arabella felt a bright warmth flush her cheeks, and she quietly said, "I'm sorry Professor de'Arnise. I won't let it happen again, I promise."

Nalia as a professor... can't imagine... maybe at her sixties... but that I DON'T want to imagine...

"See that you don't," said the stern voice, and this time Arabella lifted her head to stare at her professor. She took in the page-boy cut of the woman's vibrant red hair--Reduces risks of it catching fire a past lesson supplemented--and the soft, intelligent doe-brown eyes of the woman as she glanced at the class, the hourglass-shaped figure hardly hidden by Professor de'Arnise's voluminous robes.

Arabella had to suppress a chuckle as she saw that once more a large portion of the boys were staring raptly at the instructor, while a sizable portion of the females glared daggers at her.

It is Nalia, yes? Not some other de'Arnisse?

Well, that's what you get for picking the youngest teacher to lead the Equinox rite, Arabella thought, Druids and their sky-clad rites. I still think it was Dr. Cernd's way of staring at the co-eds.

I think that they should fire Cernd...

Nalia smiled, "Very good question. What you do, as hard as it may seem, is proceed through the spell as you normally would. Remember those endless classes where we required to be able to tell various items by their texture, their smell, even their taste?"

Arabella grimaced, "Yes, sometimes I still wake up with the taste of gnoll bile on my lips."

Ewwwww...

Arabella bit her tongue, not allowing Nalia's playful words to distract her as she stood up from her desk. Hesitantly, the young woman reached in and grasped her frog, almost recoiling at the touch of its slimy skin on her hands.

Stop that, its just a frog... Arabella chided herself, putting the frog on the top of her desk.

Frogs are cute. Think, I would find the 'Turn Prince into a Frog' as much more useful spell.

Once the last rippling black dots left her eyeballs, Arabella groaned as she saw a large, granite-grey column in the place where her desk formerly was.

"I believe the spell called for a handsome prince," Nalia's humor-laden voice said, 'Not a handsome plinth."

Arabella then felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and saw her instructor gazing reassuringly into her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," Nalia whispered, "I did the exact same thing my first time as well. Heh, except earlier that day I had bit my tongue...don't try spell casting with a lisp..."

That's ridiculous, Bri! Such awful puns! Shame, shame on you!

Hi, Bri! Nice to see an offering from you as well!

Hi Theodur!. I did promise that I would try to make something for here. After my day yesterday, let's just say I wasn't in the mood writing for the Delainy module or some such, and went with something light-hearted.

golden, yellow... what? Seems to be a word missing there

Edited

I want that kind of an alarm clock.

I would have to slay the person who thought such would be a good idea. I spent the night with someone who had an alarm clock much like that, and they were able to sleep through it

Ethics and Love Potions? Those things can't be in any way connected...

Heh, I would think such alchemy would require it

Frogs are cute. Think, I would find the 'Turn Prince into a Frog' as much more useful spell.

Plus you can supply sophisticated restaurents with frog legs...*has this image of bullywogs in wheelchairs*

That's ridiculous, Bri! Such awful puns! Shame, shame on you!

Yes, you may lash me a thousand times with a wet noodle...

YAY!!! a vignette from bri!

*waves a hello at UUF*

urm...interesting alarm clock...can you get the imp made to look like...you know, george w bush??? or bill gates?

Funny, I mentally had this picture of Clint Eastwood for it myself.

edwin, and a bare skin rug...is he practicing his erotic assaults again...

It was more for a Temporal Carpetweaving class...

suddenly got a mental flash of sandra bullock in love potion number 9...

Sandra who?

One can only shudder at the potential for chaos...

great one!!! very funny!!!

I'm glad you ike