closed Asdrúbal My Beloved < 333 PV

Atlas proceeded quietly through the dimlit area, his broom slung over his shoulder as he seemed prepared for what's ahead without knowing any deep details—the castle at this hour seemed like a different creature as it was more restrained and mute as if someone bated its breath. His footsteps were quiet as he moved not wanting to disturb the silence but his mind seethed with questions. Prat had been tight-lipped about the reason for this meeting, he only instructed to bring a broom and meet at the History of Magic classroom.

It was not uncommon for students to be creeping around at this hour, but Atlas had not expected it to be a prefect that was behind it and that in itself reassured some of his worries. But, surely, if a prefect is involved, they were not doing anything that terrible… right?

As the young boy turned the final corner he spotted one person waiting in the shadows by the classroom and even in the darkness, there was no confusing the silver arrow broom that the prefect had. He was waiting there and that provided an additional boost to the young boy's speed. "Prat," he whispered as he came to a stop beside him. He adjusted his grip on his own broom and glanced around the dimly lit corridor before lowering his voice further. "I made it. So… what’s this about?"

His gaze flicked towards the satchel the boy had and seeing the odd lumps bulging against the fabric he became suspicious. The Slytherin prefect had a pink hat and sunglasses?
This caused his brow to furrow in puzzlement—which grew, but he said nothing...not yet—instead he straightened up and waited for Prat’s response.

@Prat Pass | @Aly Salinger | @Clark Baird | @Landon Matthews | @Piérre Marchonné

He was only wandering the corridors when he saw the rather hideous, yet rather tall figure that reminded him of himself. Nay, he was not talking about the gargoyle. He was talking about the Prat. "Well hello." He said with a kawaii voice, contorting his face to appear as if he were blushing and he aimed his two pointer fingers at each other as if they were pointing at one another and jabbed the finger tips several times. "Prat. I did not think you were cut out for this type of thing." He said simply, returning his voice to normal.

He looked at Atlas and winked. Well, he expected it from the former prefect mostly because the boy was literally willing to break rules just to go explore the forbidden forest to find an ancient treasure he was told about.

He wondered why they were wanting to interfere with the History of Magic class or with the gargoyle, but why leave them be when he could be responsible for the funky destruction of a class that so dreadfully bored him. You'd think that magic history would be fun but it, to him, felt like he was sitting through a biology class and wanted to dose off.

The destruction was only fitting, so he'd go ahead and crash the party and join them.

Broom: None
Stats: Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 10 | Strength: 0 | Wisdom: 7 | Arcane Power: 6 | Accuracy: 8

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Calming Presence in Effect: Figaro & Mischief-Makers Affected

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Hey Not-Amy :P Aly,

This involves a certain History of Magic classroom.

I have a time, date, location, and instruction... bring a broom.

~ PM

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Outfit: White t-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants | CC: #1f5cc6 | Words: 499 | Graphic by Sage Willows
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Earlier in the week, Prat had come to Landon and explained that breaking into the History of Magic classroom was a Hogwarts tradition and Landon had been convinced to join. He wasn't one to break the rules, but if it was traditional? That meant that there was a historical background to it and Landon loved the idea of contributing to something that had been a tradition for a while. But Landon didn't really know the whole plan here and that made him hesitate a little.

Anxiety welled up in Landon's gut as he grabbed his Silver Arrow and started to leave his dorm. He had never left his dorm after curfew before and he couldn't help but feel nervous about breaking the rules. Still, Prat was somewhat a friend, and Landon trusted him. If he said that this was an old Hogwarts tradition, Landon trusted him. Plus Prat was a prefect so... he wouldn't do anything to get them into trouble, right? But that didn't mean that he didn't feel anxious about that sort of thing. He had never been one to break the rules.

Landon gulped a little before sneaking out of the Hufflepuff common room, trying to be as quiet as possible. He clutched his Silver Arrow tightly as he crept toward the History of Magic classroom. He worried that he would get caught on his way there, but he tried to stay silent as he moved. Landon did feel a little bit of excitement about getting to fly. At least, he assumed they were going to fly since Prat had instructed him to bring his broom. He didn't know many details though, and he wasn't sure what would happen once he got there.

Finally, Landon made it to the History of Magic classroom and his pace slowed as he took in all of the people already there. He knew Prat, but he really didn't know many of the other people. He then stifled a groan when he realized that Clark was there. Clark was someone that Landon didn't trust in the slightest, nor did he like him. Landon didn't know Clark well, but he knew that Clark was trouble. He was always in trouble and... well, Landon remembered when Clark had punched a friend of his and he clenched his hand around his Silver Arrow a bit tighter. He really didn't like Clark.

He sighed before looking toward Prat. The other boy was carrying silly pink things and Landon raised an eyebrow. He glanced around the motley crew of boys gathered so far and frowned. What could they possibly be up to? He offered the group a nervous smile. "I'm Landon Matthews," he said since he didn't know a few of the people there. It was only polite to introduce himself.

Landon held his broom close, almost like a safety blanket, as he finally looked at Prat again and sighed. "What is the plan here?" he asked, his voice low to prevent them from being overheard.

If there was one thing Aly Salinger had recently found herself quite unable to resist, it was the promise of adventure, especially when said adventure came with a bit of late-night sneaking out and rule-bending. She'd picked up the ability to foul her arse off over the last two years or so, and with that had come the addicting sensation of adrenaline pumping through her veins just when she had assumed she was about to get caught and skated off scot-free at the last minute. Whether it was tiptoeing into the Forbidden Forest only to be caught by a prefect who neither stated his title nor gave her detention, or pulling off a perfect cob on an opposing Seeker, there was nothing quite like it.

Getting a mysterious letter from a friend, albeit one she hadn't interacted with much in almost a year, was a new one for her, but no less exciting. Though she'd half-chuckled and half-frowned at the mention of a certain instance that had happened in History of Magic class earlier in the week - how had their history professor, someone who literally made a living off of memorising names and dates and the like, managed to confuse the name Aly with the name Amy? They didn't even sound alike! - the rest of the note was intriguing enough to pique her interest. Plus, the signature - PM - left little doubt as to who had written it, as they needed to be a sixth-year to have known of Professor Lennox's little slip-up, and there was only one with those particular initials. The phrasing of Piérre's letter made it sound like he wasn't necessarily the planner of this little outing, so Aly was wary but expectant of other people being in attendance to... whatever this was. And so the Ravenclaw dressed in her darkest clothing, packed up her satchel - full to its magically extended brim with various useful items - and made her way to the meeting place outlined in the note at the requested time.

Her keen eyes, darting around in the near-dark as she was not going to advertise her presence here to any nearby prefects or professors on patrol by waving around a lit wand or lantern, spotted the huddled group of male mischief-makers while she was still far down the hall. She heard their whispers moments later, and as she drew closer, examined the lines of their faces in the shadows: four she didn't recognise - some of them dressed in odd clothes for the adventure she'd assumed this to be, such as a pink hat and too-big glasses on one, and plaid flannel pants on another - and one she did, the tallest of the group, if only by a little. (In fact, though appearing to be much younger than Piérre and Aly herself, two of them bested her in height - what were they feeding the underclassmen these days?!) Her footfalls as light as she could muster, though not nearly as light as some of the others', she slipped into their small circle and tried to act as though she belonged there.

Nudging Pi with her elbow, she announced her presence in a low voice: "Piérre. Long time, no see. What's all this about?", casting her gaze around the throng of mostly-younger boys with a teasing half-grin on her freckled face. "You taking up babysitting now?" And with a glance to Prat, she guessed, "You look like the ringleader of this merry band of loons, or at least the one with the worst taste in accessories. I'm Aly, and you are...? Care to share?"

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Wednesday, 26th March; HOM Classroom

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"I made it. So… what’s this about?"

Prat had barely stepped his way towards the classroom when Atlas approached him in the middle of the night, if Prat was any less tense he'd have jumped out with a trigger finger. "Patience Atlas" Prat replied, his voice a blend of calm and careless. "You'll know soon enough, let's wait for others to get here first." He glanced around the room as they waited for others to make haste on the time. Night was only so long and he could stay away from his bed only for so long. The flickering torches always cast eerie shadows across the walls, they had a different ability to them. The ability to make these used paths seemed so mysterious at night was beguiling. The very ambience and demeanor of these pathways was so different during the day when compared to the silent veil of night.

The wait was not in vain for the duo, for soon enough, the sounds of footsteps coming towards them grew wider. These ones however unfamiliar to Prat. A small, almost pitiful figure emerged towards them. It's face as ugly Small as he was.

"Well hello."
"Prat. I did not think you were cut out for this type of thing."

Prat's voice deepened as he understood there was no way out of this now. He could make clark run away or he'd end up jeopardizing the whole thing. "Clark" he snarled, eyes narrowed at the sight of goblin boy who had unwelcomely inserted himself into their midst. "What do you think you're doing here troll face? It's way past your bedtime." He demanded with his gruff voice.

He felt a twinge on annoyance at the audacity of this child for thinking he could just join them and not having to leave. With a grunt, he sighed and turned away, dismissing him for the moment. "Fine" he said over his shoulder "stay if you must, but don't get in the way."

His eyes flicked towards the new addition to their little gathering, marked by the arrival of Pierre, followed closely by Landon. Now Landon wasn't like the rest of these, Prat had to gaslight the boy just to make him agreeable and still Prat was completely sure if he'd show up. The boy seemed a little too goody-two shoes for something like this. Only a well spun half-truth could've made this possible and fortunately for Prat, his arrow in the dark struck right. Greeting the both of them with a nod.

Prat was surprised when another name he wasn't expected came to the side,

"You look like the ringleader of this merry band of loons, or at least the one with the worst taste in accessories. I'm Aly, and you are...? Care to share?"
.
"Prat" he replied curtly "And the...accessories aren't for me." He jerked a thumb in the direction of Altas- well not Atlas but his fault for standing in between him and the gargoyle. "It's a good look for him, but we can do so much better" he laughed a little.

"Now that Pleasantries are over" he said, hands going back into his satchel "here's the plan."

With a grunt, he pulled out several massive cans of spray paint, their content was the shade of vibrant pepto-bismol pink. The color he'd come to hate during his stay in france. This was a little callback to that plastic hell he had endured. With a dramatic flourish, he too removed the oversized glasses and pink hat he had brought along. Handling the former to Atlas and the latter to Pierre.

"i've brought what i could" he said, voice low and serious. His eyes sweeping over the already inflated assembly of Mismatched Hogwarts students. None of them had the faintest clue of what was happening. With a sense of urgency which only seemed to contradict the absurdity of their situation, he handed the remaining of the students these paint cans.

"For the gargoyle, Make it Bonita!!" he said before asking both Altas and Pierre to get that hat and glasses on it's head while he began painting the Gargoyle, without waiting for others to follow his lead. As the first burst of Paint hit the gargoyle, Prat began making his strong aggressive features into gentle ones, painting on him several bows and a few tiny hearts. As the paint spread over the huge being, it became less intimidating to look and began looking rather hilarious. For the final touch he ended his work with a small "Asdrubal my beloved <333" signature on his canvas.

For a moment he wondered what was waiting for them once this was done, but slapping that thought aside he continued to give the guard a nice change of decor. After a while, relishing in his art project, Prat turned to the rest of the group, "Now remember, when you're done here, fly out the window. Leave no trails or footprints with this paint around you." He didn't want anyone trailing this back to his dorms.

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@Atlas Anderson @Aly Salinger @Clark Baird @Landon Matthews @Piérre Marchonné

Inventory

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• Silver Arrow (+3 to all stats)
• Enchanted Satchel, with paint inside
• Stats: Wis 7 (w/o broom)

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Silence had finally settled over the vast, wide corridors of the old castle. The only sound that could be heard was the soft crackling of the flames in the torches that illuminated the walls and stone floor, giving the scene a warm orange hue that flickered among the shadows of the night. The strange and ugly Gargoyle was asleep, or as asleep as a Gargoyle could be. Which means that the horrific and colossal statue stood motionless and inanimate, silently guarding the entrance door to the History of Magic classroom. The shadows cast on his horned figure made him look even more frightening. Even with his gaze fixed lifelessly on the framed windows in the wall in front of him, it seemed as if his eyes threatened the stars that lit up the sky outside.

But the night silence would soon be broken by the rustling of clothes and the murmur of young voices approaching. A few minutes passed, until finally, the shadows that had gathered at one end of the corridor took shape and one of these small figures, dressed in robes displaying the proud green of Slytherin, was the first, perhaps the boldest but for Asdrúbal the most incautious of them all, to approach. Soon, the young prefect would realize his mistake. With such audacity that only a fool could ever demonstrate, Prat Pass had committed the grave crime of wanting to express an unrequited love for the monumental and magnificent Gargoyle. What had been the worst decision of all, not even Asdrúbal could say, perhaps his heart of stone was too limited after all, but pink was definitely not his color.

The enormous demonic wings adorning the Gargoyle's back revealed the first sign of movement as Asdrúbal shook them lightly. Then came the sound of stone scraping against stone that echoed through the dimly lit hallway as he stretched and retracted them and his eyes, which until then had seemed devoid of life, took on a menacing red glow. His large, monstrous claw clenched into a fist and opened again before capturing the young Slytherin by his collar. With a slow but deliberate movement, Asdrúbal the Gargoyle held Prat and lifted him off the ground, leaving him dangling, his small human feet hovering just inches above the ground.

With his strong, muscular arm, the Gargoyle brought the small offender closer to his face. A slow smile spread across his hideous and grotesque features, a smile that was merely the display of long, pointed teeth, a grimace that held anything but amusement. “Fly. Out. The window, you said?” Came his raspy, thundering voice full of menacing sarcasm, before his blood-ruby eyes found the broom in the boy's possession and a low chuckle echoed in his chest, “Is that why you bought your little stick with you?”

Asdrúbal acc:
d20(10)+10=20
Prat eva:
Took -4 because of the surprise element. Surprise!
d20(1)+7(-3)=4

Forgetting how his once undeniably intimidating presence could be affected by the eye blinding pink bows and hearts Prat had offered him, Asdrúbal turned his attention to the remaining delinquents that dared disturbing his nightly existence, “I liked his suggestion. Should he be the first to try?” Asdrúbal asked them, slightly shaking the boy who was still hanging from his hands, his eyes shining even brighter. Was it amusement, what could be read in them? Or would it be a reflection of his veiled wrath? One thing or the other, it was quite evident that The Gargoyle was in a mood to play. Too bad for them, isn’t it?

Information you may need to escape:
Asdrúbal stats:
Sta: 20 | Eva: 10 | Str: 15 | Wis: 15 | ArcP: 0 | Acc: 10
- Per each -250 damage made, Asdrúbal loses -250 stamina and also -100 strength.
- To escape his grip, Prat (or any of you) must have a Strength DC superior to Asdrúbal's strength stat.
- Asdrúbal may choose to throw release Prat and grab another of you. But he has two hands, so he can always choose to hold two of you instead.
- I'll give you three more rounds, before I start to roll for Melisande's appearance.

Is it a curse to find myself in trouble with Clark?

It appears that time was not squandered following Atlas' debut after Prat told him to wait and that he would find out soon enough. When Clark Baird arrived on the scene, he found Prat and Atlas at the crime scene. "Well hello," he said, and Atlas' expression instantly changed when he saw the boy who had made his debut. "Oh for fudge sake, we are in trouble if he is here—" he said to himself, "—this 6-inch thing is nuts." He wanted to express this aloud, but he refrained from doing so.

He winked .. Ew

Rather than entertain anything, the young Slytherin rolled his eyes. He would be wasting his time amusing himself with the boy's absurd gesture. In contrast to the three students present, another student made their debut and appeared to be in his later years. Atlas may have seen him in the hallways or somewhere else. He had seen many individuals while he was a prefect, but it was difficult to identify who they were. "Former prefect." he said. The slytherin boy could only acknowledge with a nod. "What a colorful assortment we have here. What in the world could we possibly be planning with such a respectable and honorable collective?"

"Ah, Honorable collective? I'm not sure why I'm here, okay? He was interested enough to come and assist Prat in his antics, but his tone was tinged with sarcasm, anger, and a hint of sassiness. "And it seems dumber is here.. so let the fun begin I guess," he said. In any case, it wasn't pretty at all. Perhaps Clark's wink had irritated him even more.

Just when we think the "honorable collective" is complete, here comes another one...

Atlas was unfamiliar of this particular individual because the school was too large to know everyone's name and face; even throughout his prefect time, the majority of people were still unknown to him. How courteous of him to introduce himself as Landon Matthews. He then asked what the strategy was, and the young lad felt a great deal of pity because it seemed like they were just a canvas as he was.

Last one?

Another one arrived; her name was Aly, and she seemed like a sweetheart. The poor little soul had no idea what they were doing, but it appeared that they had signed up for it. Funny,

Now the fun begins.

The second Atlas laid eyes on the pink spray paint, he knew nothing good would come of this.

Pink Paint... sunglasses and pink hat? Was this what his life has come to? Prat was certainly in his element with this plan and he was also unfazed by what they are doing. Previously he'd flirted with the line of rule-breaking from time to time and now he is vandalizing a living gargoyle. He wasn't really in his usual repertoire but still, he had come. Against his better judgment and on the flimsiest of pretexts Prat had spun and Atlas had shown up, his broomstick was in hand and his name was already tagged to this little midnight misadventure...

Atlas shot Prat a withered glance when the pink monstrosities were shoved in his direction, but did not say a word. He was going to stand up and depart, but something was drawing him in about how appallingly out of hand it was all being. Watching Prat do what he does on the gargoyle—and whatever more chaos he did—was like viewing a train wreck made entirely of glitter and poor decisions. Horrific yet somehow admirable. But the second the Garlgoyle moved, all the excitement evaporated.

Asdrúbal's eyes flared to life, Atlas's whole body bristled. His instincts screamed for him to run, but he stood frozen, not as the gargoyle spoke words, voice gravelly and dripping with scorn, picking up Prat like he weighed no more than a quill. “Fly. Out. The window, you said?”

Atlas’s stomach dropped.

The gargoyle's massive hand engulfed Prat', lifting him up like he was swatting a fly or heaving him off the Astronomy Tower for sport. The whole scene was so utterly dreamlike that Atlas really did believe for a moment that he had to be dreaming—some hallucination-induced punishment for sneaking around foolishly after hours. But no. This wasn't a dream. The low, thunderous laughter. Atlas had not even been aware that he had clapped his hand closed around his wand until the gargoyle stood looking directly at him. At them, anyway—the rest of the group. And then with that disgusting, dripping-with-glee-in-spite-of-me question.

“I liked his suggestion. Should he be the first to try?”

Atlas stepped forward, just as slightly. He did not want to raise his wand but he gripped it tighter and forced his voice to stay calm.

“Let’s not be hasty,” he said coolly, his eyes darted to Prat and the Gargolye's eyes. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to offend your… aesthetic. In fact, I think the hat really brings out your sass.” He couldn’t believe those words just came out of his mouth. “I mean, sure, pink isn’t for everyone,” he went on as he walked backwards slowly like he was walking tightrope, “but it’s a bold statement. Shows confidence and Rebellion against architectural conformity. Maybe even... flair?”

The absolute bullshit that was coming out of his mouth would have made him laugh but only if his life wasn't hanging on the line. But he was running on all cylinders in his head. Distraction, buying time and it was all he could think to do. If he attacked, the gargoyle could crush him. If he hexed it, it could be an even bigger damage. So he played chance on flattery and reason instead

“You don’t want to crush him,” he said calmly. “Think about it. You’ve already scared us all stiff and no one's ever going to mess with you again. You win.”

And if that didn’t work he had his broom was close and prepared to be mounted.

But Atlas didn’t let that show on his face. He kept his chin up, daring to meet Asdrúbal’s gaze. “Let him go,” he said firmly. “And I promise, we’ll leave. Quietly. No more paint.” A pause. .“Unless you want us to finish the look, beautiful.” he gave the gargoyle a flirty smirk.

@Prat Pass | @Aly Salinger | @Clark Baird | @Landon Matthews | @Piérre Marchonné

He stared at the four and got bored, now turning to look at each of the brooms. He was pretty sure he heard, a few moments earlier, someone saying his name and calling him a wolf? "Dude, I'm not a wolf! I'm a goblin! Do I look flea ridden and hairy to you? I don't have a snout either! Why am I a wolf?"

Clark smiled broadly as he looked at the taller, yet younger boy's attempt to be gruff. "I see why you are so mean now Prat!" He declared proudly. He turned towards Atlas and winked, before walking uncomfortably close to Prat and began whispering. "Atlas and I have the same swim wear, different colors for May 12th. He's gonna be wearing red flippers, red googles and red swim briefs!!!" He cackled manically. How he wanted to break someone, but honestly, he had no idea how negatively or positively it would be taken by either Atlas or Prat, he just hoped it was negative.

He looked at the paint and the brooms and murmured. "Well. Look whose planning on ditching me here! Why wouldn't you tell me to bring a broom!?"

He seemed to want to find something to hyper fixate on as all he was doing was just standing around. The bastard, Prat, could simply find himself falling to the ground for all he cared. But then again..

Clark walked forward and spoke. "I'll take Prat's place." A noble sacrifice on Clark's behalf. If the jerk did not want to be friends after this, god, Clark was gonna kick his ass.