[I]Althalus[/I]

Luckily for Mar, Althalus was sound asleep when she untangled herself from him. She hadn't needed to use such caution. The only thing that would have woken Althalus up was physical pain, and even then it would have had to been particularly violent. As such, while she was getting ready Althalus was still asleep, and when she left he didn't stir. While it was uncertain if Lunar had succeeded in it's duty of obliterating all memory of last night, it certainly hadn't failed in making the Assassin sleep like the dead. For several minutes after the Naga had left, he remained asleep and spread eagle. Then, he rolled over in his sleep and bumped against the wall. The mask, loosely hung on the hook anyways, fell off. It hit Althalus in the side of the head, brining him to a wakefulness with remarkable speed, even if it was bleary-eyed and with a headache. After some sounds that might have been words if he hadn't been mostly asleep, Althalus deduced that he wasn't being attacked and fell back to the ground. While he was trying to muster the will to actually get up and not just succumb to a headache and early morning tiredness, he noticed that some parts of his body(most notably his chest) were warmer than others. As if someone had laid on them.

He decided not to think to much about it, as it cost valuable mind power that could be used to force himself to get up. A few more moments passed before he picked himself off the ground with a groan. Thinking back to last night, he was disappointed to find that he still remembered everything quite clearly. Even the nightmare and the failed murder attempt. "Great. That plan failed..." He muttered, giving a dirty look towards the flask. The previous owner's claim had obviously proven true, as it was still full. Glancing around he noticed that Mar was gone. Judging from the normal hangover headache, she hadn't hit him with her tail last night, but had seen fit abandon him to his sleep. He appreciated that. There was also a drawer nearby that hadn't been there before. Wandering over, Althalus was surprised to find that not only were there clothes that fit him, they would be fine for wearing armor over. Even if he had still trusted the College after the events of last night, old habits died hard and he wouldn't have been walking around without his relatively light armor on. It would have felt unnatural, to put it mildly. 

A few minutes later, Althalus emerged from the hole that was the front entrance of Mar's and his room. Wearing clean clothes(hidden by is armor) and without his mask this time, he headed to the Dining Hall. Maybe if he was lucky the Psychomancy bitch wouldn't be there.

[u]Uicle[/u]

Almost as soon as the Feast ended, the curse kicked back in. For about half an hour it was as if Aarem was trying to make up for lost time. Things went wrong in rapid succession, from door handles falling off, to him slipping and falling, to tables and chairs being rotten and falling apart at his touch. Standing still didn't help either, as bits of stone would fall off, or something would ricochet, and hit him. So, Uicle just got as far away from people as he could and waited out the storm until things went back to his normal. It was a good thing no students slept near him, otherwise they would be kept up all night by the sounds of crashing and breaking and the curse generally making his immortality hell. Still, he managed to get the worst of the dents and scrapes off of his armored form, and began preparing for the first day. Given the events of last night, it certainly looked like it was going to be an interesting year. Uicle hoped that it was just appeared that. Interesting when one was dealing with magic usually resulted in lots of destruction and chaos. 

Which was exactly what the College [I]didn't[/I] need right now. Archmage dying, new Headmaster, Eania and Djarkel likely preparing to pressure the College to choose a side in their stupid war, the College didn't need any more problems to add to it's already sizeable list. These are the thoughts that occupied Uicle's mind as he patiently went through a series of pencils, the curse deciding it would be funny to break everyone he tried to use, physically or magically. He was used to it by now, and the act had long ago ceased to frustrate him. That didn't make it any less irritating however. 

So it was almost a relief when the Gargoyle Annabeth and Ssarak had chosen as a guide contacted him and told him that they were coming. Setting down his newest pencil(which broke as soon as he placed it down) he waited for the two of them to enter what was designated as his bedroom, even though he never used it for sleeping. A plain room, with only one window and no decorations. There was a desk(which showed clear signs of repeated and sever repair) and the chair he currently sat in. For obvious reasons, Uicle didn't have anything that wasn't necessary.

 As the Gargoyle opened the door and ushered his visitors in, Uicle said, "Good morning Annabeth. I'm pleased to see you're still with us after the...unexpected, events of last night." He turned to Ssarak. "I don't believe we've met yet. I'm Uicle, as you probably already know if you were here last night. Pleasure to meet you. Please, both of you, have a seat. Now, how can I help?" Without looking down he said, "Greg, no chewing on my staff." There was a huff of defeat from behind Uicle's desk, and his Golem dog walked around to the front and sat in front of Ssarak, looking at him expectantly.