You can still join the RP by comment, open for two more players. Catch up from the beginning here, or whatever. This is an “urban fantasy” in an earth-like world. The characters are students at the equivalent of a community college, for the usual reasons a person might end up there instead of a more prestigious school. What are you doing here? What’s your major, something mundane or something adventurous?
~Previous~ 🏵️ ~~~
Cortellire Hall, an ivy-encrusted old brick dormitory for students at Ward Wizard Community College of Arms. New students were getting unpacked or familiarizing themselves with the environment. Returning students were either not back yet or being generally shy, tho a few began to emerge for various purposes. Everyone was too busy trying to look cool to allow the older and the younger classmen to connect, tho a few intriguing glances may have transpired. These were, after all, mostly young people, including many aspiring adventurers, and that meant wandering hearts.
The wings of the building were segregated by gender, with women and gender weirdos on one side, men on the other. In this kooky world men were not wallowing in laziness engendered in them by fawning preferential treatment as children, so there was something resembling gender parity in the student numbers, at least. There were gendered stereotypes related to professions and old-fashioned heteronormative ideas that if you let the sexes mingle too much, the resultant sexy times would detonate the universe. That only had the effect of making it easier for gay people to wallow in gayness, feeding into some other stereotypes.
But unless one was trying to get one’s gayness in gear, the middle areas of the building were the most interesting for having more variety to the student bodies. Sometimes you just want to see all the different people, hear the different voices. Who are all of you? What are you doing here?
Ilmardan found himself in the most central lounge besides the foyer, which was a similar size but more recessed in the building. Gone were the chandeliers of the room with the most need to advertise its classiness; this lounge had buzzing fluorescent lights and corkboards advertising goods and services and shows, a few desks for study, more tables for meeting or eating, and few good-sized lounge chairs and couches. Some students were getting snacks and beverages from the vending machines.
A mixed group of young people was there, more physically diverse than Div’s jocks had been. The green-skinned dark elf theater kid called out to him, “Lord elf, well met! Would you like break bread with the commoners here? Or stale vending machine cookies, at least.” It seemed like genuine interest. Dark elves were ancient enemies of light elves (for all that ancient grudges mattered in modern and civilized places), but high elves like the Erenaths were somewhat neutral in that old fiasco.
That nymph boy with curly sky blue hair was at the table as well, and that black and white terrier dogman, a cockatoo-headed woman, and two human women too dorky to seem at all threatening. It was a table of shorties, the cockatoo woman the largest in every way and still shorter than Ilmardan if the feathers weren’t included. Some of them were a bit nervous some kind of elven bad blood was about to flare up, others more oblivious.
~Previous~ 🏵️ ~~~
Ilmardan thought this looked like a much friendlier crowd, their obvious standing on edge notwithstanding. It wasn’t as if the jocks were a bad bunch of boys, and he still planned to ingratiate himself with them as much as he could, but there was a certain unwritten code of expectations among them that grated on his sensibilities. Sometimes he just wanted to exchange witticisms and catch up on gossip without having to play games of hierarchy and one-upmanship.
He addressed the Dark Elf opposite, who seemed achingly keen to impress. He’d had a bit of this from members of the other Elf kindreds before – they always assumed High Elves were rich, well-connected, culturally sophisticated and effete, and therefore to be cultivated as acquaintances and contacts. But it didn’t exactly result in firm friendships. They weren’t wrong of course, his people could be all those things quite often, which tended to make them seem insufferably haughty and arrogant when they were in full flow. He didn’t really want to come across that way, but he expected it would happen sooner or later.
“A delivery fit to grace the tragicomedies of Tazelle Fireheart herself, I’d say! How could I turn down this bounty of stale cookies and juice? Anybody fancy another, I’ll just head to the machine to get some for the table. Maybe you could introduce me to your friends here – I think I saw you, master Nymph, during orientation. Ilmardan Erenath at your service. I’ve just come over from testosterone territory back there to see how life away from the gym bunnies is going. How’s everyone settling in so far?”
Trepidation broke into relief and sleepy cheer. A long day for them, well, they don’t know the half of it. Doubtful you’d see these kids at the club later. No stamina.
“Shower us with cookie dust, my liege,” said the dark elf. People laughed and protested.
The cockatoo-headed woman spoke up. “I’m Piria, a medical imaging major. That’s Simbi. We’re from different ends of Sapiawon, and just met here.” She had gestured at one of the dorky human girls, who had reddish tan skin, dark lips, Eastern eyes under thick glasses, and a cute smile of pearly teeth.
Simbi said, “Sociology and Linguistics. I’m going to transfer to The University of Romance in two years, if they’ll have me.”
A girl dork in more familiar hues of pale pink and brown spoke next, her glasses a bit more thin, as was her whole frame. To Ilmardan she seemed like a light elf who had deformed ears, tiny eyes, and a skin curse. “I’m Ilenka, from Tsalingarad, visual communication, and this good dogman is Walter. Planning to study the Great Art, but not sure?”
The dogman said, “When you can make a little lightning everybody tells you to go be a wizard.” He wiggled his paws. Dogmen and a few other kinds of animal people were a different species from animal-headed people like Simbi. Confusing shit.
The nymph said, “Keires, visual communication. I lost most of my skills floating around the sky for a few hundred years. This new technology is amazing, and my airy head is primed for learning – I hope!” Nymphs had a strange quality of going torporous that put the lazier elves to shame. Keires was surely being literal in all that.
“That just leaves me!,” said the dark elf, “Ereddin Riddeth, Liberal Arts, with all the performing electives I can get. You simply must be majoring in some school of sorcery. Do tell!”
Ilmardan was secretly delighted to be mistaken for a wizard. Despite his, albeit basic as yet, magical knowledge this didn’t happen as often as he’d like.
“You surmise correctly, Master Riddeth. School of Illusion Magic. There’s plenty in the world that could do with a bit of glamour, sorcerous or otherwise, and I figured it might as well be me who brings it. Speaking of which, your cookies…”
Ilmardan went over to the machine and selected the best-looking ones he could see through the slightly dirty glass. The best proved average at best, and the resulting feast seemed less impressive than he’d hoped. Oh well, it was the gesture that mattered. He returned to the table.
“It strikes me” he began, “that with so much talent in visual communication, the arts and theatre, someone here should get a crew together and put on a show before the semester is out. I doubt we’ll be able to get Medical Imaging in there, but we can always try, no?” Wasn’t Lietwyn Sandalfoot from this city? maybe one of his livelier comedies?
Well, maybe for the future. I don’t suppose I can interest any of you in a trip to a local Adventurer Bar later? Some of the gents from the other side of the building are heading off and I promised them I’d go with. Not sure I want to spend the evening talking only about bench presses and protein shakes and the like”.
Ilmardan’s cookies joined the dubious bounty on the table and had at least one taker – Piria, who snapped cookies in her beak like a proper parrot. “Thank you!”
Keires said, “Who knows what tomorrow will bring? But I shall devote my studies to motion graphics, and will not be of much use for a show… Adventuring? I don’t know. It all seems like a trap. I’ve avoided dying romantically for a long time now, and should like to keep it that way.”
Piria and Simbi put hands over their mouths &/or beaks, softly chuckling in embarrassment at the suggestion they could go among the bold dancing boys at that kind of club. Ilenka said, “That does sound interesting.”
“I’ll learn an adventurer’s art, but the lifestyle is too bold for me,” Walter said. “Do you think, Ilmardan, that when you have mastered illusions, you will perform them among rugged heroic types?”
Ereddin smiled coyly, letting the others talk. Perhaps one of those dark elves who looked up to high elves as royalty. They had been long ago, after all.
“I’m a firm believer that heroism doesn’t automatically imply rugged”, said Ilmardan, “Adventuring is hemmed round with all kinds of stereotypes and presumptions, but in this modern world of magic and mechanisms it’s really not the big guys with swords who run the show anymore. I certainly prefer my creature comforts to muddy sojourns in tents on blasted heaths and in the dark beneath the world. Why can’t we have both! Besides, the best adventurer I ever met was a three foot water sprite with an eye for tactics and a mean number in elemental magicks. Appearances can be deceiving. Except mine, of course, all my illusions are to be trusted without question!”
“Oh well, offer’s always open if you change your minds. I think we’re meeting in the main foyer at 7.30.”
Eyeballs communicated with eyeballs, seeking, questioning. Would you be there? Would you? While voices laughed it off.
Ereddin said, “I’ll believe your illusions… There are a lot of illusionists in performing arts. Think you’ll take to the stage?”
It’s true. Illusion tended to be the province of theatre or espionage, with little in between. The most obvious third option was academia, training future spies, thieves, and spangled leotard-havers.
–
“It’s possible. I haven’t really thought about what to do with my art, I just want to see how good I can get first. But I doubt there are too many applications for it in, say, industry or high finance – that lot don’t tend to even bother to cover up their dodgy dealings.
I’m not sure I’ll be sticking around in this place for too long after I graduate, though – thus far the locals have seemed strangely stand-offish and judgmental. Or maybe that’s just me.”
Simbi said, “I’d love to hear what you think of the locals after going to the club tonight. Let us know.” She smiled and blushed.
Ereddin said, “And if the locals don’t favor you, there is always the cosmopolitan crowd here. Or anywhere you go!” It’s true. And the adventurers at the club were bound to be cosmopolitan indeed…
The lounge had a back door that opened into a garden even more dimly lit than the one in front of Cortellire Hall. The door opened with a blast of musty city air. A guy came in with dark sunglasses and a partially smoked unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, the blond rogue from earlier. At his side now is somebody new to you, perhaps a higher classman – a lanky goblinish with mushroom-colored skin and scruffy white facial hair, his hair in long knotted locks. The goblinish was a total knave, with random metallic teeth, wearing an exotic silk night-robe open at the front over sweaty-looking rumpled pajamas and cartoon-faced slippers, jewels around his neck and on his fingers. His violet nose curved up from his face like a plantain.
The knave said, “Say you’ll come to my game. We need new blood in this deal, and I just know you’re it.”
Cool guy said, “No commitments, but I’ve never said no to a game.”
“Fucking fantastic. You’re my dogg.” The knave punched the rogue in the shoulder affectionately and shuffled off, past the table of nerds. He didn’t spare them a second glance. He clearly ran in cooler company, such as that was.
The blond guy did nod to them, and Ilmardan. Behind those sunglasses, were his human eyes looking at you?
–