Less than a full moment after the question was asked, the curious imp drops to his hands as feet and crawls low across the table, tail waving behind it, wide eyes looking up at Ethodi intently. Head slightly angled and body language that could only be described as awe. Vendril Couldn’t hear the telepathic words it shared with the naga.
He was going to make it. The tailing end of the procession was within his vision now as he ran down the street. They were not yet all at the academy. He found new hope and energy in seeing it, for the people he was seeing were clearly of his mother’s homeland. He knew this instantly. They had proudly brought home with them, displaying their significant style and traditions like a badge of honour, holding onto them firmly as his mother had. They were solid and strong people, of mind and body. Vyrik may have been biased though, being half Eskandish himself. His mother had romanticised her homeland to him and the beauty and purity of its people. If fate had not sent him here, that’s where he would be right now.
The men were in trousers and tunics, whilst the women dressed in strap dresses made of what he imagined to be local Eskandish wool and flax. The odd wealthy individual who walked amongst his country men of all standings, stood out by the silk and gold threads that ran through his clothing or the foreign jewellery that adorned hand and neck. Then there were the furs of different animals, and if what he was taught was true, each animal was either once a beloved companion or a fierce foe now honoured in death.
It was partly why Vyrik had liked to collect feathers. That and how he longed to fly and be free like a bird.
With his new found energy he began to draw. He used the sounds of his destination to power his muscles to get him there. He started to feel light and was making great leaps in no time. That was when his stomach decided it had had enough. He was forced to end one of his jumps early so he could get rid of what he hoped was the last of last nights alcohol on someone’s doorstep. His throat stung and a putrid taste hovered on his tongue. Oh how he really need to start studying chemistry seriously.
He looked up and noticed he was in a fancier district. The houses had balconies and some of those had people in them who eyed him suspiciously. He shrugged it off and took to running and leaping again. Drawing even more this time to make for lost distance. He was growing so close now but also so was the end of the ceremony. It seemed as if the last of the Eskandish stragglers were about to be sent through. He could almost make out the names being called. Bystanders and joyous onlookers were now an obstacle in his way, growing denser as he grew closer. Vyrik was forced to leap higher, jumping over people’s heads now. Landing, running and then jumping again.
Then...
It all happened so fast, he was finally there, he just hand to land and he would have made it. All the students and powerful teachers were gathered here before him. He was struck with awe by the sheer amount of people and excited energy buzzing within the grounds and great buildings as he flew through the air. As his feet touched the ground he was utterly startled by the person appearing before him seemingly from thin air. Preloaded with energy and without time to think he simply expelled instead of slowing himself, shooting up into the air where an unexpected vibrant display of light power immediately went off right near his face, accidentally or deliberately he did not know. This sent him careening off to the side blinded and shaken. He half expected to hit a wall but instead was sent spinning over a balcony after it bashed into his thigh. But before he went tumbling to the elevated floor he felt body on body contact.
First fear of utter embarrassment had him. He was at the back, surely no one would have noticed. WAIT! Did he just knock someone off the balcony!? How high up was he? Is anyone else up here with him. Eyes still stinging and blurry he frantically reaches out in the direction of the body he may of hit.
Vyrik was on his way to join the end of the procession until he had to stop to throw up. Fearing he would miss the ceremony he started leaping to catch up. Startled by someone appearing in his path he launched up high to avoid a collision where a late light display intentionally or unintentionally went off in his face sending him careening into a nearby balcony blinded where he knocked into someone, potentially sending them over the edge.
Opportunities for interactions Stepping out in front of him as he races in. Creating a light explosion near/in his face Aiding who ever he bumped into on the balcony (may be more than 1 person) Protecting Vyrik from any angry ppl still on the balcony Talking to him later when he gets down.
As the conversation began, a shadow imp brought out Ethodi’s correct order. Snacks included. His full eyes bouncing back and forth between the two patrons even after he put everything down. When it was done he still didn’t move. Watching the two like one might watch an interesting play unfold.
“Travellers, daughters and sons of houses great and small, eager learners, we have decided to receive you. From the moment that you pass through these gates, you will no longer be Torma - the uninitiated - but Biro: students of the magical arts. Over the next five years, we will be ever at your side, helping you to grow and learn, to become women and men worthy of the names and reputations that you bear. We expect that most of you will return to your homes and your duties enriched in knowledge, ability, and spirit, but it is our hope that some of you will remain here and join the ranks of the Zenos. Whatever the future may hold for you, let us entrust it to the will of the Pentad. Now, without further delay, I welcome you, on behalf of every member of the Academy of Thaumaturgy, to Ersand’Enise.”
—————-
“Oh shite! The ceremony.”
A young man let out a startled groan, waking to the sudden realisation of the sounds he had ignored earlier. Bells ringing, people cheering, a cacophony of instruments in the distance. On top of that was the still hush it left behind, an absence of the nearby white noise caused by the usual hustle and bustle that should be there. Either of these anomalies should have alerted him earlier, it should have raised an internal alarm or warning. It was after all the whole reason he was here in this distant strange foreign land. But, as soon as the sounds assault his ears he had muffled them, choosing a peaceful sleep instead. Now sense had found him and panic set in.
He was supposed to be there, he was supposed to be a part of it. Would they not let him in if he was late. Why was he even late. Where was he.
As he breathed he could taste the air. It was thick and musty with the bodily scent of sweat and a tang of ale. A weight rest heavily upon his chest, warm and suffocating, pinning him to the soft mattress bellow. Black silky tendrils of hair danced across his chest as he shoved it aside. He groaned softly from the exertion, freeing himself only to find more restraints entwining and tangling with his limbs from the other side. With a bit more care he untangle the limbs entwined with his own, gently placing them back with the body from which they were attached. The womanly figure murmured as he did but did not stir, he could not see her face for it was half buried in a pillow and concealed by a mop of unruly red hair.
“Ohhhh shite.” he groaned.
Caught between these two seemingly unconscious woman he began to carefully sit up. He had to squint his eyes as they adjusted to the bright light peering through closed shutters and dancing upon the unsettled dust of the room. His head was throbbing, and the room began to spin as soon as he came to stand, causing him to nearly trip over a busty brunette passed out stark naked on the floor beside the bed.
“Oh shite, oh shite.” he grumbled regaining his balance and scanning the room with a faint franticism for his missing clothes. If he got out of here quick enough, where ever here was, he could still make the end of the procession. Nobody need know he nearly missed it. Oh how he wished he had a gift to cure hangovers, although right now even the thought of drawing made his stomach twist. Looking around he decided he would also like to know what happened here.
His belongings were soon spotted in the corner of the room, crumpled clothes, a small satchel and a pair of sturdy worn boots piled beneath a chair. He stumbled over towards them before noticing the two long lithe golden brown legs barring his access. His gaze rose steadily up the body parts to come upon an exotic woman in her entirety. A layer of multicoloured sheer shaw’s were draped over her form offering a (if only very slight) modicum of modesty. Jewellery adorned her wrists and hung low in her neckline, her blonde hair was fashionably fashioned in curls and a tower above her head. A pleasant smile touched her lightly painted lips while her emerald eyes bore into his soul with an intoxicating playfulness.
She was.... familiar.
“Ahh shite. Hh, how much do I owe?” Vyrik began to ask, making assumptions about the beautiful woman before him and fearing he had bought more than he could afford. He could not run away without his clothes... could he? It turned out he was only half right. ”Owe?” she asked raising her eyebrows in amusement as Vyrik planned his exit strategy. The beautiful elder woman rolled a delicate hand over to expose a small familiar coin pouch attached to a snapped string. It was not his yet it was also strangely familiar. It jingled with wealth as it bounced in her skilled hands. ”Nothing.” she continued.
“Oh shite...” he groaned yet once again, looking upon the small fortune he must have given her last night? yesterday? He couldn’t remember when. It didn’t matter now. He knelt before her and tried to fish for his clothes until he heard her whisper four simple little words into his ear. Words that that had the power to make him miss the ceremony.
”I... still... owe... you.” her voice was drawn out and held the sultry seduction of one who knew the power of her words and exactly what she was doing. Vyrik’s clothes remained exactly where they were for at least another hour, and it was even later after that before he finally ducked his head out under the doorway and made his way back into the streets of Mudville. ”We’re even now.” a sweet honeyed voice called out to him through a closing door, the womanly words kind but absolute. Vyrik couldn’t be sure if they were. Or even what there was to be even about. He was pretty sure he just had the night of his life but sadly couldn’t remember a thing about it.
The streets he realised were still empty with everyone being at the ceremony. It meant it wasn’t quite over yet. Vyrik, looking worse for wear, still somewhat dazed, confused and hungover, was standing out in the near empty street alone. Little did he know just how bad his appearance was. He was aware only by the pain but had not yet seen the black ring that supported his left eye or the large bump that had grown on his head. Both due to a beating he hadn’t a chance to try recall just yet. “I. I, think I just had an amazing night... but now I need to get to the academy.” He said aloud to no one in particular, perhaps himself, as he started jogging down the street regretting his life decisions with every thudding footstep. A procession wound its way, dual file, down the Godsroad, flanked on either side by lines of heraldry stretching into the distance. If he was quick he could just catch the tail end of it. But that would require an exertion of force he just didn’t feel he had...
Wakes up in a Mudville brothel hungover, battered and bruised after a big night he cannot fully recall. He is delayed by a house hostess for apparently having done something for them. Vyrik races through town to catch the end of the ceremony.
@Dark Light the inclusion of Mulsum as a warm drink with sugar and milk is fun, i wouldnt think to add either to a spiced honey wine. Did you find a version of the recipe that simmers or boils the spices in? cause Id love to see it, ive only made the drink myself as a overnight infusion drink.
You got given @LiegeLord‘s tea 😜 Sorry, I realise I didn’t make that very clear
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Expendable
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imia
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