09-15-2017, 12:47 PM
"Mr. Ok Dongja, you have been found innocent of all charges by the High Council."
Dongja was back in the Council Room, standing nervously with Ogong's staff around his back. The entire Council was staring at him. The boy could've sworn it was near afternoon (yes he had waited outside that long) but here it appeared to still be morning.
"As such, you are to be released from Dalaran custody, effective immediately."
The boy sorcerer twitched a smile.
"You seem unimpressed," the old man and presumably leader of the High Council chuckled.
"Um."
Truth be told, Dongja was still extremely nervous, no matter how kindly this old man seemed to be, or how much Dongja would love as a teacher. That Mordenkainen figure was imposing and possibly evil, depending on the situation. And plus, there was an anvil here. Whoever thought of a talking anvil ought to be locked up. The old man cleared his throat.
"However, due to safety concerns regarding your recent outburst – or, your friend's recent outburst – of magic usage, you will be assigned a Master, a member of the Mages' Guild, to train under."
"Excuse me, sir? Mr., uh..."
"Dumbledore," the old man said, a twinkle in his eye.
"High Chief Warlock Dumbledore to you," Mordenkainen snapped.
"Just Dumbledore is fine."
"Uh, Mr. High Chief Warlock Dumbledore, sir," Dongja mumbled, "I already have a master. Master Barley. I don’t really know where he is – I assume he's home – but I don't really want to leave him."
"Whether you accept the tutelage of your master is your decision," Dumbledore explained, "As a gesture of kindness to you."
"Oh." Dongja fidgeted. "Thanks."
"You're quite welcome," Dumbledore replied, "My apologies for any inconveniences this misunderstanding has caused. I truly hope you manage to fix this mess."
"No, uh, no problem."
"My shiny platinum ass, no problem!" Yeo-Ee-Pil snapped, "You kept us here for a full two weeks, and made us sit on a bench for a day!"
"Is that how long it has been?" Dumbledore mused, "We really ought to recalibrate the temporal dislocation fields, would you tell Maintenance to fix that?"
"Of course," a woman said, appearing out of nowhere.
"You are all dismissed," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat.
"Oh, HELL, no, you ain't heard the last of-"
Dongja reappeared in a small room with several wooden benches. There were people sitting on them, waiting patiently for something. In front of Dongja was a desk, which was in front of a lady in the grey clothes Dongja had seen earlier, who was in front of a glass wall, engraved with the symbol of an eye and three lightning bolts descending from the bottom eyelid.
"-me. Hey, where are we?"
"The High Council of Dalaran has dismissed you," the woman said, clicking away at some sort of contraption, "You are in the lobby. Your assigned Master is waiting for you outside."
"I guess they heard the last of you," Dongja smirked.
The sentient staff was about to smack the shit out of the boy for his snark, when suddenly huge doors that Dongja had not noticed flew open behind him. A small figure appeared. Very small, in fact. He must have been about three feet tall. He had creases in his brow like he was permanently frowning. He was mostly bald, but what hair he had left jutted out in a large fan-like tuft behind him. Three spikes shot out from his chin, resembling spines on a deadly beast. He was wearing the Oriental robes Dongja was used to seeing. In fact, he had seen this man before.
"Master Millet?" Dongja exclaimed.
"Hey, kid, long time no see," the old man said, stepping forward and giving him a brisk pat on the arm, "I heard you broke your hon. So? Are you hanging on inside, or is someone else in there?"
"Oh, Ogong's not here," the boy said, glad to see another friendly face, "I'm Dongja."
Master Millet blinked twice and sighed. "Oh, you really must be fucking joking this time, Omni."
Dongja was back in the Council Room, standing nervously with Ogong's staff around his back. The entire Council was staring at him. The boy could've sworn it was near afternoon (yes he had waited outside that long) but here it appeared to still be morning.
"As such, you are to be released from Dalaran custody, effective immediately."
The boy sorcerer twitched a smile.
"You seem unimpressed," the old man and presumably leader of the High Council chuckled.
"Um."
Truth be told, Dongja was still extremely nervous, no matter how kindly this old man seemed to be, or how much Dongja would love as a teacher. That Mordenkainen figure was imposing and possibly evil, depending on the situation. And plus, there was an anvil here. Whoever thought of a talking anvil ought to be locked up. The old man cleared his throat.
"However, due to safety concerns regarding your recent outburst – or, your friend's recent outburst – of magic usage, you will be assigned a Master, a member of the Mages' Guild, to train under."
"Excuse me, sir? Mr., uh..."
"Dumbledore," the old man said, a twinkle in his eye.
"High Chief Warlock Dumbledore to you," Mordenkainen snapped.
"Just Dumbledore is fine."
"Uh, Mr. High Chief Warlock Dumbledore, sir," Dongja mumbled, "I already have a master. Master Barley. I don’t really know where he is – I assume he's home – but I don't really want to leave him."
"Whether you accept the tutelage of your master is your decision," Dumbledore explained, "As a gesture of kindness to you."
"Oh." Dongja fidgeted. "Thanks."
"You're quite welcome," Dumbledore replied, "My apologies for any inconveniences this misunderstanding has caused. I truly hope you manage to fix this mess."
"No, uh, no problem."
"My shiny platinum ass, no problem!" Yeo-Ee-Pil snapped, "You kept us here for a full two weeks, and made us sit on a bench for a day!"
"Is that how long it has been?" Dumbledore mused, "We really ought to recalibrate the temporal dislocation fields, would you tell Maintenance to fix that?"
"Of course," a woman said, appearing out of nowhere.
"You are all dismissed," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat.
"Oh, HELL, no, you ain't heard the last of-"
Dongja reappeared in a small room with several wooden benches. There were people sitting on them, waiting patiently for something. In front of Dongja was a desk, which was in front of a lady in the grey clothes Dongja had seen earlier, who was in front of a glass wall, engraved with the symbol of an eye and three lightning bolts descending from the bottom eyelid.
"-me. Hey, where are we?"
"The High Council of Dalaran has dismissed you," the woman said, clicking away at some sort of contraption, "You are in the lobby. Your assigned Master is waiting for you outside."
"I guess they heard the last of you," Dongja smirked.
The sentient staff was about to smack the shit out of the boy for his snark, when suddenly huge doors that Dongja had not noticed flew open behind him. A small figure appeared. Very small, in fact. He must have been about three feet tall. He had creases in his brow like he was permanently frowning. He was mostly bald, but what hair he had left jutted out in a large fan-like tuft behind him. Three spikes shot out from his chin, resembling spines on a deadly beast. He was wearing the Oriental robes Dongja was used to seeing. In fact, he had seen this man before.
"Master Millet?" Dongja exclaimed.
"Hey, kid, long time no see," the old man said, stepping forward and giving him a brisk pat on the arm, "I heard you broke your hon. So? Are you hanging on inside, or is someone else in there?"
"Oh, Ogong's not here," the boy said, glad to see another friendly face, "I'm Dongja."
Master Millet blinked twice and sighed. "Oh, you really must be fucking joking this time, Omni."
Quote:4949/7500 words (MS Word).
- Meet the Council of Dalaran
- Be assigned a Master
- Train
- Train some more
- Train even more
- Earn respect of superiors
- Be admitted into Mages' Guild
![[Image: 665000_mcninja_by_cavenglok-dch0qt5.jpg]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/3590/f/2018/193/c/8/665000_mcninja_by_cavenglok-dch0qt5.jpg)
Odd hours. Call for appointment.