Since every student of Ravenwood can't be The Young Wizard:tm:, I like to imagine all manner of professions which both alumni and current students like to pick up to make use of their mana for the sake of contributing to their homes, other than immediately becoming scholars
Various inventors guilds that have popped up and collaborated with each other for all manner of creations to benefit the lives of civilians (or, just for the sake of testing the boundaries of knowledge).
Wizards working in local infirmaries and having small medical practices, coming up with unique ways of using healing magic to help magic and non-magic users alike.
Effects specialists, who make use of their powers to help with shows at venues such as Fireglobe Theatre and play around with illusory magic for entertainment purposes
Of course, wizards like Boris Tallstaff who work within local libraries as archivists and assistants– restoring older texts and helping scholars retrieve information thanks to magic sorting systems.
Spiral researchers-- those who study the flora and fauna, and look into the ways magic impacts them. Particularly those who know about the song of creation, seeing the ways in which traces of it can be found in natural settings as a recurring trend, and what this means for the spiral and those living in it.
When the diviner gives up, they’re frustrated. They scream into their fist with anger, their lips curled in a petrified snarl as they drop their tool or weapon of choice with a bitter tinge to the twitch of their fingers. They tried so hard too, and yet it was all for nothing because they can’t get one single thing right, and they’re not surprised if they hear faint, muffled laughter around them. With hot, frustrated tears and sparking twitching fingers that grab at their head as they recede into themself, all of the feeling draining away in a whirlpool until they’re numb, and they just don’t care about the world crashing around them.
When the thaumaturge gives up, it’s with an empty panic. They collapse and stare into nothing and for once do nothing, strangely enough without the usual restlessness. They watch the world around them descend into chaos or never change at all, and a rush of cold creeps through them glacially, making their lungs burn with it. They breathe out, and it feels like they breathe their magic out with it, the white cloud shimmering as small blue snowflakes of magic flutter in the wind. The focus on the metallic slivers of their magic, and everything else feels like it’s falling away as they let go.
When the pyromancer gives up something in them dies. That brilliant spark in their eyes dims, their shoulders slump just enough to make them feel small, they hang their head. Their shaky exhale becomes a noxious cloud of smoke, burning up their throat and out their nostrils and mouth like a bad cigarette, a bitter cigar to chew on. Embers rest on their tongue, and they feel it poison them, racing through their veins with a faint flash of adrenaline. Their own magic urges them to get up, hurting them with no other option, but they shake their head, helpless.
When the necromancer gives up they collapse, a puppet with its strings slashed suddenly, barbarically. They barely break their fall, letting their limp joints crackle and hurt, sure to bruise. Their eyes darken to black sightless voids, and their heart beats frantically for life. But that’s a battle, the death wizard is on the fence,waiting to decide whether to just stop, or let their heart beat on, to get up. They move stiffly as they push themself up, their neck perilously bared as they sit up, lean all their weight back, and wait.
When the conjurer gives up they smile grimly, because they knew everything lead to an end, and this was theirs. They have an intuition for these things, because knowing the future isn’t all tea reading and tarot, because nothing works that way. Maybe now wasn’t ideal, but they were still ready, a cold sinking feeling in the middle of their chest, the despair clouding their thoughts. Their goodbyes were already said, because the just know these things, and cannot stop them. They gave up a long time ago.
When the theurgist gives up they don’t want to. Their practicality as a healer screams at them, their compassionate humanity screaming back, because they cannot stand to lose patients, they cannot stand to have blood on their hands in a way they can’t clean off. With their shaking hands and hesitancy, they know what must be done. Theurgists don’t give up unless it’s a life they could save, because letting go isn’t something the life school teaches. Yet they still have to learn it someday
When the sorcerer gives up, they don’t accept it. Denial shakes the words spilling out their mouth, the unmeasured syllables becoming thoughtless pleas and pathetic cries. They’ve transformed from the calm mediator to a wizard overwhelmed with emotion, for once reminded that they’re still a student. A balance wizard is someone dedicated to the equilibrium of the Spiral, someone entrenched in realism as they quest forward into life. Now they see no other option but to allow themself to yield, to fall in, spiraling through a void-like air inside themselves. They try to accept what they’re doing, and fail.
Can you pretty please do headcanons for a Death main with Myth secondary?
Thanks to @french-wizard, @echoscream96 , and 2 anons, who also sent in the same request! (school masterpost)
Death wizards with a Myth secondary are far too morbidly curious for their own good.
They’re nosy, the type to go a bit too far in their studies, look too much and not even realize they’re in too deep.
Cyrus doesn’t really scare them, especially back when Malistaire was teaching. Now Cyrus tends to ignore necromancers and the fact that they exist.
These necromancers start getting strange dreams. Ones about pain, about the slow suffering, the grim march, about clawing and screaming as they’re dragged down into the force of magic they started out with.
They dream of deaths. They dream of the deaths of strangers, and have an innate knowledge of when, where, why, and how it happens. It could be strangers, it could be friends, lovers, peers, teachers. It could be themself.
They are so very afraid, but they just can’t stop now. They go deeper, search for new companions and methods of divining the future. They just don’t know when to stop.
halcyon: (adj.) a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful
example from Merriam-Webster: the halcyon days of youth
(link to ask prompt)
A group of seven wizards are seated on various logs and stumps around a stone ringed campfire in the dark woods of Grizzleheim. The group consists of one representative from each school, exploiting the system by switching in useful schools and such, using their numbers and diversity to their advantage while trying desperately to save thee Spiral as quickly as they can before too much damage is done. For now they rest, the night stretching on and surrounding them.
The storm wizard is the first to speak in a while, finding strength to function much easier than most, used to spending night after night working and studying in their school’s workshop. They look up from the little device they’re toying with and speak. “You know, when I was a kid I would spend hours trying to create things. Arts n’ crafts, drawing, melting together new toys, whatever.” When they pause, their companions look around, puzzled. They had never interacted so personally before. “One summer I built myself a treehouse. I didn’t have a shitty childhood- most diviners don’t- but that little treehouse was my own private workshop, kinda. I still think about how I’d just nap in the sunlight and dream up new things to make.” They look to the side then, as if embarrassed.
The ice wizard glances at the diviner and pulls their heavy cloak in on themself, talking quietly. “Won’t surprise any of you, but I read a lot as a kid. I would hole up in my room, nesting like a dragon in blankets and stacks of library books and read thousands of them. It was…” They yawn. “Quiet. But I loved it. I don’t know how I got from there to here, but it’s been hell- all of us have been through hell- and I’d give anything to go back.” After they speak, some of the others shift uncomfortably.
The fire wizard gets off their stump and kneels by the fire, placing their hand in and pulling out a blackened ember the size of their fist, their hand unharmed. “Well, I was the type of kid who give most parents and guardians heart attacks. Always running off to a new adventure, collecting bumps and scrapes like it was my damn job. Even with all that, I’d be a kid again anytime. Even if it hurts, I’d rather be some stupid kid than risk my life every day. Not that you guys aren’t great, but the circumstances suck.” They sigh and let the ember drop back into the fire with a spray of sparks, sitting back on their heels now.
The death wizard just leans against their stump, a quiet, bitter laugh falling from their lips as they start. “I spent most of my childhood hanging around old folks.” They pause and scowl when the life wizard at their side laughs. They elbow the theurgist harshly and continue. “Some were my relatives, some weren’t. I took care of ‘em, health issues, getting around- sometimes just listening. It’s part of why I wanted to be a necromancer, I guess- listening to all those stories from people who are probably dead now does that to a kid.” They look off into the darkness of the woods. “And same about the whole ‘this is shitty’ thing.”
The myth wizard yawns, stretching across a horizontal log. “I don’t remember a lot from being a kid.” They say casually, staring up at the stars and resting with their arms crossed behind their head. “I spent a lot of time in my own head or by myself. I played pretend and created worlds no one else could see. I liked books too- not as much as you-” They gesture with a slight tilt of their head towards the ice wizard, who smiles tiredly. “But I read my fair share. And that’s it. Just a lonely kid in their own head. I like it better now, really. There’s something nice about having no responsibilities when you’re young, but being able to do magic and make my own choices seems like a good trade for having to save the worlds every once in a while.”
The life wizard sits with their legs crossed over each other, enjoying the moment they’re having. “I climbed a lot of trees, mostly. I would’ve loved a treehouse, but I didn’t try to build one or anything. I spent some time gardening, on my own and in school programs. I liked making things grow, watching the flowers bloom and being able to take care of them.” They smile, a little wistfully. “It was nice to know something depended on me, I guess? I’d go back in a heartbeat, but I’m pretty okay with helping you guys instead.”
The balance wizard is the last to speak, their hands shaking slightly as they blow into them for warmth. “I mean, I guess I did all of that. I was always busy, whether it was taking care of people, going off by myself and getting into trouble, reading, playing pretend, or just making things.” They pause, burrowing their hands into their robe’s pockets. “I’m just- I’m not like the rest of you, and you know that. I don’t fit into any normal school, so I gotta balance it out. So I guess it makes sense, thinkin’ back on it, as a kid I didn’t really have a goal or just one hobby or whatever. But I had fun, and it was easy being a kid. But now,” They look down. “I’ve learned that the easy thing isn’t always the right thing, so I wouldn’t ever go back.”
Silence falls over the group and gradually they move, now huddled together in one misshapen pile of exhausted wizards. They sleep away the night until the sun rises again, and they continue questing to save the Spiral.
Hiya! I'd be interested to see headcanons for Myth with Balance secondary when you have time.
Heck yeah!! This is an awesome combination, tbh. (school masterpost)
The thing is, conjurers with balance secondaries are just plain tired.
They’ve been morphed from an innocent, eager to learn novice to a cynical wreck of a wizard who hates studying.
So what do they do? Probably sign up for a tour of the balance school in Krokotopia. Why? Because it means a whole week of no actual school and plenty of opportunity for relaxing in the sun.
They probably stay for way too long. But hey, they’ve got a super good tan (if they can tan), and they’ve picked up some balance magic.
When they finally come back, with all the faux confidence of someone who slept in and came to class an hour late with an iced coffee in hand, they learn some great news.
Professor Drake has to cut down on their homework so they can study their secondary.
They’re super smug about this but don’t tell other conjurers because half of them probably cheated off their work at some point and their competitive streak is dangerously large.
They’re more fun to be around now, and they love telling the younger wizards about their adventures in Krok. They become friends with Arthur Wethersfeild and tutor the young sorcerers, assisting any who have secondaries in myth and helping them cope.
They’re not great at healing, but they try anyway!! They enjoy being able to help out their teammates, or keep their minions around longer.
Their sandstorms are a bit more powerful than they should be. Chunks of rock churn around in the storm, launching the rubble into their enemies with a terrifying precision.
They’re just a calmer person now . They don’t worry about assignments or people’s opinions, because now they’re more at peace. They understand that their path is to know and learn from the past, and strive to make the present and future more just for people like themself.
Sure!!! Warnings for death by fire and such!! (school masterpost)
The necromancers with fire secondaries are… energetic to say the least. The slow, almost grueling pace of death magic can make them impatient, and a poor necromancer.
With competitive streaks a mile wide, they look for another kind of magic that proves their strength as a wizard. Something that shows they can do well.
They’re usually prideful of their work, and won’t stop until they prove their less than supportive peers in the fire school wrong.
Usually when they start learning, they’re… not that great, to be honest. It’s all the doom and gloom, the heavy darkness of their magic that dampens the flame. They have to nurture that warmth, give it their strength and power and determination. They have to prove themself, and some day they’ll be holding that flame in the palms of their hands even in the darkest shadows.
Sometimes they channel more dangerous emotions, their anger and jealousy and grief. Then, the fire in their spells goes dark. It becomes a flowing black river of flame, incinerating their opponents and anything that is in their way until nothing is left but ash and bone, and sometimes they’re too glad to have won to feel guilt.
When they cast poison, it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Instead of a chilling pain that spreads, the slow draw of death coming ever closer, now it burns. Now they feel it in their stomach and their throat, they claw at their mouth or what is close enough to it, and if they’re lucky enough for it to kill them, they will burn from the inside out, leaving nothing but a hollow, charred corpse, like the skeleton of a house ravaged by wildfires.
Pyromancers with a myth secondary want a challenge.
They’re tired of the relaxed, unorganized pace of the fire school, and want hard rules. They want to learn in a way that they know is regulated and strict, something that will help them in life, and in dealing with difficult people.
A lot of the conjurers think that the fire wizards won’t take it seriously, that they’ll goof off and get kicked out by Professor Drake within minutes, and sure that happens once or twice, but the ones who care, the ones who want to learn no matter what, they stay. And they succeed.
Professor Drake is always testing, snide remarks plentiful as he waits for the pyromancer to explode, giving him any reason to kick them out and hopefully expel them. But the fire wizard is trying to learn to be better, and they want to learn from Cyrus. So they don’t give in.
They improve in ways that would have never changed under Falmea. Their handwriting becomes more and more legible, they never turn in anything with a burn mark, they actually go to the library regularly.
They probably start actually drinking water as opposed to existing off of unhealthy drinks and weird hydrating potions. It’s just something they picked up as a way to stay healthy, a tip some random myth student gave them on their first day
When they’re studying they prefer to do it by candlelight, usually keeping the (usually cinnamon or vanilla scented) candle lit with an almost frustrated flick of their fingers.
In their social life they suddenly become more serious, more prone to listening to their peers and friends, now knowing that they can offer help in both school work and in life.
They smile more, even as the bags under their eyes darken and grow bigger. They’re finally challenged, and they engage in school like they would a battle, learning new strategies and maneuvers all the time.
Their favorite myth spell is probably celestial calendar, but before that they really enjoy using stunning spells, a precursor to their lingering fire spells to ensure their enemy won’t fight back.
They become wiser, and through all the hardships and challenges they become more dangerous. Suddenly that reckless firecracker of a pyromancer is a tamed, yet still roaring, flame. Suddenly they’re prepared to face the hard things in life. They’re prepared to win not only the battles in life, but the war too.
Do you do headcanons for the professors also? I’d like to see some Cyrus Drake headcanons if you do :D
Sure!! I’m willing to do them for all the professors (that you’d encounter in arc 1, I’m still in Dragonspyre. save me.) I don’t want to bash characters, but Cyrus Drake is bad and I hate him. Might just be because I don’t think he’s got any redeemable qualities and also the way he’s written is intended for you to hate him, so here we go.
Cyrus Drake reads trashy romance novels.
He tells people that Malistaire left them to him but he’s lying.
He regularly has his younger students be messengers and send them to Ambrose with recommendations for expulsion and it freaks the students out when they realize. (like he does to the young wizard after the laundry chore quest)
Always assigns summer projects.
A majority of his assignments are essays, but he also has his students copy summoning sigils and such from textbooks.
Never recommends extra books but will take you down a letter grade for only using the school textbook as a source.
He WILL assume you’re cheating on your test if you even look at anything besides your test, and will call you out on it in front of your peers and make you come back after class to re-take it.
Has it sunk in that I dislike Cyrus ‘Teacher that reminds me of Every Horrible Teacher Ever’ Drake?
He never yells. Never raises a hand to a student.
But still, the way he says things. There’s that slow, unimpressed drawl that makes you wanna run away and prove yourself in the same moment.
The inane tasks that he makes the younger students do, where you don’t defend them, don’t tell them that it won’t change a thing, won’t make him respect them as wizards, as people.
He will tear your confidence down until half of the Ravenwood-taught conjurers don’t even want to battle because they haven’t been taught magic properly.
They’ve only been taught that no matter what they do, it won’t ever be enough.
