The freshmen were at last rewarded with cheap but nice sandwiches, chips, cookies, and cola at the cafeteria. The professor was probably supposed to be coming around to them individually, but succumbed to anxiety of her own, and slouched in a corner. That meant some amount of freedom again to talk to whomever one desired. Ilmardan was beginning to get the idea of this place. Some students were from families too poor or too practical to pay for the tuition at fancier schools, some were orienting themselves toward careers that didn’t require a full four year degree, some were taking practical classes to support jobs they had elsewhere or to try branching out into something new. But most noteworthy, some were here because they were scandalized. Black sheep, the kids you don’t have high hopes for anymore. Punks and dropouts. Ilmardan saw the graffiti, the radical flyers stuck to the walls next to advertisements for concerts and art shows and dubious supplements and school events. What kind of mess might one get into, in such a place? What was he going to try to do with his time here, socially or academically, really? Was this a purgatory or a slacker’s paradise?
If you’re starting to get any new ambitions, have yer guy think about ’em. If you just want to socialize for other ends – planning the club trip or whatever – get into that. And if you want to time skip, I’ll add more to this post to facilitate that…
–
Ilmardan turned over the prospect of the next three years in his mind. Ostensibly, yes, he was here to learn illusion magic, and he genuinely did want to do that. But he was under no… er… illusions that three years here would turn him into the greatest archmage of deception the world had ever seen. That would take centuries, should he stick with the ambition, and thus far he had never been all that good at sticking with things. In the life of an elf three years was as the blink of an eye, and yet… well, there were other things to amuse oneself with first. Why did he come here if not to see the full range of peoples and races and ways of life the world had to show him, and to get away from the stifling confines of elven society with its endless rules and protocols and expectations of elegant comportment and civility.
He knew – how could anyone in his position not know – that his privileged upbringing and family connections insulated him from the political struggles of his nation and this one. He had the luxury of switching off and letting the chips fall as they may, should he so choose. But that rankled somewhat. He felt he should really take more of an interest in these things, given how important they were to everyone here, but he sensed that the situation was a lot more nuanced and complicated than he was aware of. He felt the best course of action here would be to watch and learn quietly until he better understood the truth of it all.
Besides, Kaldonia had promised to show them the night life and the supervised team bonding session was already proving rather tedious. Since there were no spells to learn for a few days he might as well kick back and relax – besides, the night suited an illusionist, did it not? Where had that lizard-Madonna got to? After locating her in a particularly sticky-floored portion of the cafeteria, talking to a pair of emo gnomes dressed in black, he began to make plans for their jaunt.
“You’re our local guide, it would seem, Kaldonia, where is the best club to unwind after hours, and who do you think we should take with us on this epic quest? Any promising corporate dungeons in need of a good clear out?”
The gnomes got all shy and flustered and mumbled incoherently. Kaldonia said to them, “Don’t worry; we’ll do Dustcovers this weekend. I can’t wait.” Then she looked back up to Ilmardan, clearly glad to have proven useful to the cool guy. “Just Div, Josh, you, and I, so far. That’s a classic four person party, isn’t it?”
It was ironic because adventurers were all dudes. Everybody knew that. Ladies just didn’t have the wanderer’s temperament, and became champions of settled places instead. Of course, soft touches of any gender might be found in noble courts or halls of commerce – might be more her speed. (This world has big stereotypes; no indication Kaldonia didn’t believe them.)
“If I brought some cotton balls, gauze, and antiseptic, I could be the healer. You’re the wizard, Josh is the rogue, and Div is the fighter. It’s all so perfect.”
Gnome One said, “eeheheh hm…” Gnome Two said, “yes, indubitably, heh, ahem…” and flipped the bangs out of his eyes.
“Sounds like just the blend we’re after”, said Ilmardan, “First pick of the loot to our lizard healer here! Do you think we ought to stock up on adventuring supplies before heading out? Pick up some fancy armour to impress the denizens? Have a couple of pre-potions to get us in the mood?”
Ilmardan then realised that he was no longer at home, and his meagre scholarship probably wouldn’t survive repeated abuse on nights out.
“Or is cover too expensive and our budget won’t stretch further than a few rounds of drinks?”
He then tried to change the subject so they wouldn’t think him cheap. It wasn’t quite the elegant volte-face he imagined it would be.
“What is Div’s weapon specialism anyway? Zweihander? Polearm? One of those newfangled electronic mancatchers?”
“Stylish armor is a must. Pre-potions if you’re feeling robust. If you look good enough, the cover is nothing… Div is practicing body magic, weapon of choice is classical grappling. Some men just have to get in there with hands… Say, are you staying in the dormitory? They pair you up with someone at random. It’s all too exciting for me.”
Okay, let’s stop by that interesting little boutique we saw on College Road later this afternoon. I think they were having a sale on corporate branded armour pieces, and they might even have some interesting second-hand scrolls I could check out. I’ve always been slightly old-fashioned with that. Most wizards these days download their grimoires from the web, but I’ve been stung too many times with dodgy translations and typos in the spell text. And our grappler might just find some brass knuckles or a caestus or two. I look forward to seeing him get up close and personal.
I think they did put me in the dorms, yes. That will be an adventure all of its own. I hope they don’t put me with someone sweaty and unhygienic. Yeah, I know, elf being all prissy with cleanliness, talk about a stereotype, but we have sensitive noses!
“You never know about the senses of others. People presume my kind have a poor sense of touch, but no, we are very sensitive. Our clothes are close-fitting to keep the scales from rustling.” Kaldonia patted her black dress, which had lacy frippery over a long, corset-like core. “But that is funny to consider. Don’t get stuck in a tiny room with Div; sileni love to work up a sweat.”
The deal was struck! The compact was sealed! Ilmardan already had a few adventurous comrades to keep the realm of books and bureaucracy less dreary. They’d go shopping that night, and to a club besides.
The tour resumed and was as dry and dull as one might expect. Kaldonia was telling the truth about dorming being too exciting for her. The last stop on the tour everybody except for those in student housing were dismissed, and she left, as did Josh. Made sense for city people to not be in student housing – they might be able to just walk from home, or take a bus. Yet surly unnamed elf was still there, as were Div and a collection of other randos.
It was evening in the city. They were surrounded by the shadows of buildings like purple cut-outs against an orange sky, the amber of streetlamps began to light up the world closest to them – spotlights for the creatures willing to live after dark. The teacher gave way to an older student – a puffy ginger human with over-sized transition glasses and a cornflower blue windbreaker.
“I’m Loren, an assistant RA at Cortellire Hall. It’s one of three dorms the college owns, and the only one taking new residents – like you. Follow me. It’s a few blocks from here.” With no ceremony, he turned about and set off down the street. It was a hill, growing steeper by the block, which would eventually descend to Downtown – tho of course they didn’t go that far.
As they walked, they were all looking at each other like, oh god, who’s my roomie going to be? The building itself was known to be coed, but the wings of it were segregated into boys and girls, with ambiguous types lumped in with girls. Of those young men, who the hell would Ilmardan be stuck with? WHO WOULD IT BEEEEE?
Of the boys there was Div and Rude Elf and Humuk, a fat and a slim guy of a swarthy northern desert people, some tall weird loner of the same race but admixed with an unnatural ancestor lending him silver eyes, the floaty nymph, two skinny goblin punks, three samey depressive-looking brown-haired human nerds, a cool roguish blond human, two more cool roguish humans with very dark skin, a green-skinned dark elf on the dorky end of theater kid fashion, several more jocks including four humans of various far-flung races, a violet-skinned ogre, a dwarf, an eastern man who was clearly part angel, a boar-headed man, and a leopard-headed man, two western men with long hair and demonic tattoos, an eastern cowboy, and a small, scholarly-looking dog-man of a bulgy-eyed terrier breed in black and white colors.
(should i randomly roll or go with the dramatically obvious choice?)
Loren led them down a side street, parallel to the campus and at a lower elevation. Bushes of hydrangeas and roses and rhododendrons loomed from every building’s walled garden, and Cortellire Hall itself was brick with an unhealthy covering of dark green ivy. Loren let everyone know they’d need to hold the door open for the next person until all were in the lobby, then gave a perfunctory speech about rules of conduct. No parties, blah blah blah…
(Apologies for taking so long to get back to this – real life impinging for a bit, or some such tedious thing)
Ilmardan looked over the hall with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. He knew that human structures tended to be functional and blocky, built less for aesthetics than those of his own people and lacking the kind of soaring architectural ambition that might make them at all interesting. This was taking bare bones functionality to a new level, though. Probably why they had tried to hide the thing with all this ivy. He expected its magical resonances to be similarly blunt and unappealing, and would not prove disappointed on that score. Still, there was always a way to bring beauty to the most unpromising of spaces. Ilmardan doubted he’d have the budget for that many cut flowers and avant-garde art pieces, however.
So this was the communal living part of going away to college. The bit the sitcoms portrayed as an endless parade of hi-jinks, pranks, amusing misunderstandings and bohemian bonhomie. Ilmardan doubted this would be entirely his experience, but then again life did have a habit of delivering up whatever seemed narratively appropriate whenever it was most inconvenient for him. At the very least if it all turned out abysmally he’d have the pleasure of being able to complain loudly behind his room-mate’s back to anyone who would listen. All things considered, another elf of some kind would be the easiest on his delicate sensibilities, though the major kindreds did tend toward lurid extremes of political and philosophical contrast, so it wouldn’t take a doctorate in predictive magicks to foresee some blazing rows ahead. Humans were an unknown quantity. Orcs were anything but an unknown quantity, and he really didn’t want to experience their legendary lack of person hygeine up close. There weren’t enough cut flowers in existence to mask that kind of smell. A fey or celestial might be interesting, and as for the therian folks they did have some fabulous patterning that might brighten up the place – though he very much hoped they would take care of their own shedding should it prove an issue. He soon realised he was just reeling off the lazy stereotypes that came quickest to hand. Perhaps unsurprising for one from a much less cosmopolitan region, but unfair to the others at this early juncture. Whoever it was, of whatever ancestry, might actually surprise him. Though he did draw the line at picking up sweaty orc undergarments from the floor.
Ilmardan waited quietly to see what the capricious gods of fate had chosen..
(capricious, eh? dice it is… 01-Fat Northern, 02-Slim Northern, 03-Silver Eyes, 04-Floaty Nymph, 05-Goblin Punk 1, 06-Div, 07-Goblin Punk 2, 08-Brown-Haired Nerd 1, 09-Brown-Haired Nerd 2, 10-Brown-Haired Nerd 3, 11-Cool Roguish Blond Human, 12-Humuk, 13-Cool Roguish Dark Human 1, 14-Cool Roguish Dark Human 2, 15-Green-skinned Dark Elf Foppish Dork, 16-Dwarf Jock, 17-Foreign Human Jock 1, 18-Eastern Angel Jock, 19-Foreign Human Jock 2, 20-Boar-head Jock, 21-Foreign Human Jock 3, 22-Leopard-head Jock, 23-Rude Elf, 24-Foreign Human Jock 4, 25-Violet Ogre Jock, 26-Demonic Tattoos Longhair 1, 27-Demonic Tattoos Longhair 2, 28-Eastern Cowboy, 29-Dog-Nerd, 30-Alone; they had odd number of dorms…. Survey says…. Interesting result. Will reveal later…)
Surely someone would get the music blasting and have everybody sliding around the hardwood in bare socks and sunglasses in no time. The learned where were the studies, the kitchen, the dining room, the mail room, the manager’s office and quarters, the laundry, etc, on the first floor. They all got little envelopes with room numbers and keys inside. The keys would mechanically unlock rooms, and via a magic rune, unlock the front and back doors of the building as well.
The second floor was the end of the tour, because the layout of it was purported to be identical to all but the top floor, and Loren didn’t feel the need to escort everybody directly to their rooms. (edit to add, forgot to mention→) Each wing had a number of tiny rooms plus one shared showering facility, with lockers and multiple toilet stalls. The men’s wing and women/weirdos wing mirrored each other. Very few guys and gals were able to pair off before they were released to get to their rooms, because the halls were too crowded to coordinate it all.
At last, freedom! First the gender separation, then people heading to their rooms, to bump into whoever they were stuck with. Ilmardan was on the top floor, near a disused ballroom that was indefinitely locked, and his room had an unusual layout. It was central, overlooking the courtyard of the building, with a view of the little lane they were on, through a big round window with elaborate black partitions like a stained glass they forgot to color. The window was out of proportion to the rest of the room, suggesting the walls were placed there well after the initial construction to subdivide a grander room into multiple tiny dorms.
There were two beds, but as time went on, it became clear, this was the last room and for the odd man out. No roomie!
–
Well well, thought Ilmardan, they’ve either decided that I’m far too important to cram in with someone else or too much of a bad influence to allow around others. Or they just flat-out forgot, which seems much more likely with me. Either way, a bit of privacy could be a distinct advantage. Unlike the communal showers, which might prove rather embarrassing. Ilmardan made a mental note to learn some kind of concealment spell as soon as possible that might help ward off awkward interactions in there.
His mind wandered back to the disused ballroom. So had this place been a hotel before the college bought it and turned it into what it was today? Maybe he could find a key somewhere and explore it? Turn it into some kind of getaway or spot for secret meetings and assignations? Perhaps the runes of opening on the keycards could be recalibrated to get the doors open? Perhaps there was a course in practical utility magic that might help him do that? Or, failing that, a pair of bolt cutters.
He placed his travel bag on the bed and began to unpack the few things he had brought with him. Most High Elves had a habit of surrounding themselves with all kinds of frivolous clutter, but Ilmardan always traveled light if he could manage it. There was no point in lugging half the cosmos from place to place, after all, if one could avoid it. He folded his spare robes and shirts and trousers into the small wardrobe, placed the handful of books he’d brought on the shelf and picked the bed he liked with a good view out of the central window. Perhaps the comings and goings would be of interest. He took his fancy messaging crystal out and placed it on the nightstand. His parents had made him download a cantrip to keep them informed of his whereabouts, and he thought he’d probably best send a quick update to keep them out of his hair.
It seemed a shame to let that second bed go to waste, so Ilmardan decided to push it over next to his bed and create a makeshift double, which he tested out with a very satisfying few minutes of sprawling across both like a starfish. Comfort is very important, after all.
So here they all were. Orientation over and still some time before things got going. Ilmardan decided to step out into the afternoon and see where people were gathering and what was going down.
The possibility this wasn’t a coincidence did linger with him. Having hung out with the others for a few hours, he was beginning to suspect he was the most financially privileged person in the school. His parents could have made a donation for a favor, tho it was hard for him to imagine them making such a considerate gift. The messaging crystal was the closest thing to mobile phone technology so far, tho the downside was it couldn’t interact with mundane phone lines. Strictly for elites. He didn’t have a lot of friends on the network – nobody in the City at least.
The makeshift double could use an expensive comforter or two to really work, but until the seam has a few minutes to wear into your side, it’s nice to be able to lay down to your full height without bumping head or footboard…
(to be continued in next post tomorrow)