Saint Joseph School

"Morning Laurel, London." A short pause. "Mal." The girls had each gotten a bit of a nod in greeting, Mal did not.

When he'd first joined the band, Timothy had made a point of only coming to practices on the days Mal had not. Two reasons, really. The first a lot of people could get behind: he was ...

Original intro, 2006-07-26

A touch of magic runs in the Bastian family. Timothy's father, Roger, is a motivational speaker. His inborn magical gifts allow him to inspire others to work towards their greater potentials. Roger's father, Wilbert, was a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman. He used ...

(( This happened back in late April, a couple weeks after Timothy enrolled in Saint Joe's. ))


Timothy slipped into the small practice room, closing the door behind him.

The school day was over. He'd pulled up the schedules for when the rooms were in use and this afternoon was clear, so nobody ...

Timothy looked out across the bay. Independence Port. He was standing on the roof of a tallish building, near the water. It afforded a good view of the ships coming to and from the docks.

The place felt both familiar and foreign. He'd been on this rooftop before, nearly two years ago. Or rather ...

"Hey. I'm Timothy."

Hi Tim!

"I prefer Timothy, actually."

Oh, sorry. You're new, right?

"Basically. I've only been enrolled for about a week."

What do you do that got you sent here?

"I'm a mage. I'm good with illusions and weather, and with messing with people's minds."

Um... messing ...

"Timothy Bastian?" A tough, middle-aged black woman wearing a dull green blouse and faded jeans had emerged from the office as another sullen teenager was leaving. Timothy grimaced and quietly followed her into her office.

"Please, take a seat." She gestured to a simple, uncomfortable-looking chair ...

His head really hurt.

That's what he first became aware of as he started to wake up, the headache. It wasn't the worst one he'd ever had, but it certainly ranked. Had he been drinking or something? He couldn't really remember. He forced his eyes open.

There was a woman with pink hair sitting in an ...

Timothy stood with Barj in the storeroom in the back Montgomery's Cupboard. Around them, Whisper had traced out a circle. She moved about the space easily, casting wards and raising protections. Normally, Timothy would have been able to sense some of the flows of magic happening around him, and he ...

Timothy stifled a yawn as he walked across Kings Rows' Ariete Plaza and approached Montgomery's Cupboard. He hadn't been sleeping well lately, but it wouldn't do to advertise the fact. He opened the door to the establishment, then stepped inside and glanced around. There were a half dozen or so ...

Timothy closed the book and set it aside, sighing. He glanced over at the bed, where Barj lay quietly, likely sleeping. It'd been three days now, and while MAGI had been able to stabilize Barj, they hadn't even begun to figure out an actual solution to their problems. They hadn't found Ashley either ...

His head was pounding. Or maybe it was throbbing? Whatever it was doing, it was making it hard for him to think or focus. It took him a while to realize that his eyes were closed. Slowly, he worked them open.

"Barj!" A brown-haired boy came into view. His vision was too blurry to really make him ...

"Bal'Xanathartes." Timothy said the name quietly, almost to himself, without really consciously thinking about it. That was who it had to be, to put this kind of fear into Barj. He quickly tried to teleport himself and Barj away, but found his attempt blocked by magic.

The demon's cruel smile ...

"I think we found it, Timothy."

"Yeah." Timothy looked around the chamber they'd just entered, deep beneath the city. "About time."

They were each dressed in hero attire: Barjnal in his red and white spandex and showy cape, Timothy in his blue and teal leather stealth suit. They'd been descending ...

Timothy turned a page in the dusty manuscript, then skimmed through the text on the following page. He paused partway through, turning to consult the notes he had jotted down on a piece of spare paper. He picked up his pen and scrawled out a few notes, then resumed his perusal of the text. The tome ...

(( Updated for Timothy's departure. ))