Force and Fury

The Hourglass Order

@Medili Love him! Also, that's our first intro to one of the members of the Dieci Volti. Honestly, I'm considering making the first THO-related spinoff (probably not until at least the summer) centered around Constantia's assassins.

Imperium Mortuorum: A Zombie Apocalypse RP in Ancient Rome

Junia Phillipa Maxima

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Truth be told, Junia was exhausted. Her journey back to Rome has been a harrowing one. They liked to say that all roads led there. Yet, it had seemed as if all led from the great city. She could've sworn she'd been the only soul heading towards it - a profoundly unsettling feeling to be sure. It had been nearly a week's worth of stealth, sudden terror, and fighting. In her head, she'd told herself that it was just like those games of hide-and-seek she'd played with her brothers and sisters as a child, but the stakes were life or death and there was no missing that. Then, after she'd made it back to the Palatine against staggering odds, hoping to find dear Fabius and Quintus alive, an overenthusiastic sentry had nearly skewered her with a spear. She vaguely remembered her boastful jest at the the time that she knew that she looked half-dead and surely felt it but, just as surely, was not yet ready to be counted among the mortui.

She'd had a day to search and recover, but it had hardly been restful. Her dear ones were yet missing and she felt aches in parts of her body that she had not previously known even existed. Already, she had been engaged as a scout and skirmisher, her almost-preternatural quickness and stealth an asset, yet she felt the skepticism of these men on the front lines - so many of them ex-legionnaires, so many rugged and brawny, gruff and hardened. They were not unkind. They simply had not yet accepted her as one of them and might never do so. That was no matter. Junia had her part to do even if, in her heart of hearts, she had begun to suspect she had made herself into a trapped rat in the name of a lost cause. Best to burn the city, the dead, and everybody in it at this point, she thought. Flee to the countryside in small groups, and hunt down the mortui gradually. Her personal feelings on the matter weren't of much consequence, though. She would spend some days here and perhaps longer if the situation improved but, if not, she would risk herself again. Better to die trying to live than holed up and waiting to die. She'd make a break for it. She'd done so once and could do it again or so she tried to convince herself.

Casca, the ex-centurion with the bad hand, put that whistle in his mouth that she'd heard before. She knew what it meant when he blew it. Junia hopped up onto the barricade, gladius in hand, nerves on fire, scanning the burgeoning wave of mortui and trying not to project a sense of courage and belief that she did not truly feel.

The Hourglass Order

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Bianche, Verdi 27, Dami-Zept 54, 2:30 HO

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Penny furrowed her brow. Somebody had written a list of... reagents...groceries... on her course registry form. Truly, she was glad to be seated. She had stuffed the forms in her satchel without much thought, exhausted, hands full with her crutches, and eager to be off of her foot. Now, however, she had a mystery to solve. Lemon, vinegar, alum, quill... The girl blinked, recognizing something about those items. Arcel had mentioned some of them when talking about the correspondence she was to deliver for him. They would be... She paused, glancing around momentarily to see if anybody was paying her very much attention. Yes! That was it! All of these have to do with invisible ink!

She was seated at a table with her group and three others. She recognized most of them from yesterday's celebrations, including one of the other Perrench girls she'd sat with and... Leon Solaire had excused himself, along with Onarr. She couldn't help but wonder why a bit, but she supposed they had their own business to attend to and it would not do well to be nosy. This is some sort of coded message from one of my brother's people. She was certain. Anesin was beside her and Penny had thought about mentioning the list to her. Instead, all that had taken place was a handful of awkward, anxious glances over, a moment of fleeting eye contact, and a blush. Presently, the Perrench girl was busy stuffing her face in a most unladylike manner, waiting for a conversational or situational rescue. The hall was great and cavernous, filled with the hum of conversation and the clatter of cutlery. Her world seemed small, though, now: focused. Ingredients for invisible ink written on my page! Surely, that had a purpose! Was it Arcel who wanted something from her, one of his contacts, or another matter altogether?

Force and Fury's Emporium of Faces

Zheng Zǐhán

Below, you'll find the character that I've made for a theoretical roleplaying game set in a university ESL program. This doubles as coursework for EDUC2720.

Zheng Zǐhán

Zheng Zǐhán

It's good to work hard, but you need to 'work smart' too.

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19 | Male | Suzhou, China | Toronto, Canada | University Student

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ Motivated
❖ Friendly
❖ Funny
❖ Anxious
❖ Daydreamer

L A N G U A G E S

Zǐhán is fluent in Mandarin and was an avid reader growing up, though he prefers gaming to books. He also speaks a little bit of Shanghainese, as it is fairly common in the region (Suzhou is very close to Shanghai and there are many cultural and historical ties). He knows some Japanese words and phrases due to an interest in anime and its similarities to his first language.

He learned English from first grade in school growing up and was also enrolled in weekend and after-school programs, like many other children of his generation. While he has a fairly strong reading skills and a reasonable vocabulary, the profound grammatical differences between Mandarin Chinese and English can often prove problematic for him. He can read better than he can write and can speak better than he can often understand spoken English. All in all, he can get by in the language, but doesn't feel fluent and sometimes feels lost when asked to write academically at a high level in English. It can be a source of anxiety.

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

Most people would consider Zǐhán fairly unremarkable. He's somewhat good looking but doesn't really stand out. Black hair, deep brown eyes, and about 175 cm in height. Unlike some of his peers, who dress in flashy or fashionable clothes and others who just toss on whatever was on the floor as they rush off to classes, he just dresses like an everyman. He has thought of exploring a more flamboyant style, but this has become increasingly discouraged in his homeland as of late, and he doesn't feel strongly enough about it to want to rock the boat.

B A C K G R O U N D

Zǐhán grew up on the fourteenth story of a fairly exclusive apartment complex not far from the TaiHu (Lake Tai) waterfront in Suzhou. His parents are not rich, but they're fairly well off, and currently own two other units, which they use as rental properties. He has a sister, also named Zǐhán (though it is spelt with different characters in Chinese and has a slightly different, though related, meaning). She is considerably younger than him and was born after the abolishment of the one-child policy. Sometimes, because he shares a name with his sister and since his name is more common as a girls' name (though not uncommon as a boys' name), he's received a bit of teasing. He pretends it bothers him less than it really does.

In school, despite being identified as a very intelligent student, Zǐhán was not an especially high achiever, and was censured more than once for his inability to sit still in class and follow routines. In particular, he struggled with mathematics, not doing well with the rote repetition favoured in its teaching. A doctor would later diagnose him with a mild form of ADHD, but this was not widely shared due to the stigma attached in many circles. He nonetheless had their support and developed his own management strategies. Fortunately, Zǐhán was generally a good test-taker and had a strong memory, so school wasn't as bad for him as it might've been for some with learning differences.

While his marks in high school weren't bad, they weren't good enough to get him into a top tier university either in the business administration program that his parents had wanted for him. As a result and also because his parents thought that it would be good for him to experience some of the world, he found himself applying to schools in Canada. He was accepted into U of T, joining a large cohort of fellow Chinese students there. He finds it comforting to be able to speak his home language and gradually acclimate to an English-speaking environment, though he also feels anxious that he's using it as a crutch and not acclimating quickly and thoroughly enough.

M O T I V A T I O N

Zǐhán wants to prove to his parents and what he feels are his naysayers that he's still the same smart kid he was identified as when he was young. He wants to live independently, experience what he can of Canada while he's here, and learn skills that will serve him well upon his return home. He's hesitant to look for anything romantic, as he doesn't necessarily intend to stay and it represents a potential complication. At the end of the day, he wants the things that most people want: a stable income, people who care about him, and interests that engage him.

I N V E N T O R Y

Zǐhán carries his cellphone with him everywhere, and his laptop is often in a satchel. He drives a 2013 Mercedes CLV and tries not to carry too much cash in his wallet. He also has a little good luck charm that his sister made for him before he left. He misses her more than he's ever likely to admit and fears that he'll be a stranger when he comes back home.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

❖ Multilingualism
❖ Sense of Humour
❖ Memory
❖ Cross-Cultural Perspective
❖ Work Ethic

W E A K N E S S E S & S T R U G G L E S

❖ English Grammar
❖ Anxiety
❖ Focus
❖ Self-regulation (especially when it comes to gaming)
❖ Lacking cultural context in Canada sometimes

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

Zǐhán's favourite games are Valorant and League of Legends. He knows that it's a bit stereotypical, but those are communities that he feels comfortable in and challenges that he enjoys.

The Hourglass Order

Morning Summaries

Zeno Zander Mozaru's Group

Zeno Zander Mozaru's Group

They arrived all at once. First it was Yimu and then it was Selio. Marlijn tried to stifle a yawn and was only half-successful. The Rettanese girl was not half as subtle as she likely thought herself, and the creak of her bed, flip of her pages, and candlelight as she'd spent half of last night reading had made it more than a little difficult for Marlijn to sleep. Then, with zero thanks and even less general etiquette, she just sat down and started stuffing her face. "When do we start learning?" she asked in an almost-demanding tone.

Marlijn Vaanse often struggled to see the worth in formality, but even she found herself irked and struggled to keep a sour look from her face, eyes sliding over to the Zeno. She had started to consider opening her mouth. Then, he did.

"We already are," he said simply. "You started learning the moment you first opened your eyes. You will only stop learning once you close them for the final time. Why, you are learning this very moment. You are learning something of my approach and philosophy and that the food here is very good. There are some things that you have already learned." He smiled patiently, "and some that I yet hope you learn - of the Gift and a great many other matters. Perhaps you will learn how to cast an illusion or manipulate liquids and gases with great skill. I shall instruct you on these things. I should also hope you will learn the value of gratitude and politeness towards Megga, who cooked the meal that you are so enjoying." His gaze fell upon the Rettanese girl sternly but not unkindly. "And learning is not only something you receive," he continued after a moment, eyes flicking up towards the stairs, "but also something you give. We are learning about you as you speak and act. We are forming opinions on you and what sort of companion you will be, just as you form opinions on the various things you may glean from a book: which will contribute to your growth and which are best discarded. Learning is all around you, in many forms," he concluded. "Give and receive it wisely. That is your lesson before we set off for the day."

It was right around then that the third member of their apprentice group revealed himself: the tall Torragonese boy: Selio. Marlijn supposed that she'd found him vaguely handsome too, though all she'd really sensed last night was a tiredness. He, too, dug into his food with great gusto, but at least he was somewhat more polite about it. Marlijn was nearly done eating and she stole another glance in his direction, noticing his eyes on her. Quickly, she looked away. She could feel his gaze, sporadically, and she tried not to blush. Zeno Mozaru dominated the table from its head, ready to dispense further wisdom. For the benefit of the latecomers, he reiterated their plan for the day and bade them prepare. Then, he rose. Marlijn rose too, making her way into the atrium and glancing upstairs for any sign of Vyrik.

He appeared just as the other two joined her and their master near the door, bounding down the steps, greeting them quickly, and snatching up some food as Zeno Mozaru led them out the door. He looked an awful mess, as always and Marlijn found herself rather unimpressed with him, after all. Still, she twisted and glanced behind herself as their group was about to turn the corner. Vyrik came racing after them and she wasn't sure whether it was a chuckle or a groan that she had to suppress.

Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight's Group

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Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight's Group

Hmmm. So with all this feast, he was going to give the rest to the poor. Leon wondered if Jomurr was the kind of guy to try everything only leaving half-eaten scraps. The matter bothered Leon, but he decided not to bring it up. It was all too early in the morning for any type of conflict.

Leon pulled out a seat at the kitchen table and lounged on it. “No clue about her. She doesn’t seem like the type to sleep in though.” Leon adjusted his bracelets, making sure they aren’t too out of place. “I’ll go wake her up if need be.”

Jomurr pressed his lips together for a moment, busy setting the table as he’d seen his servants do. While this work was most certainly beneath one of his station and talents, it was an intriguing challenge, at least. Having a thought, he paused and concentrated, pulling energy from the sunlight, the motion of wagons on the street, and the chemical reactions taking place within the food. Forks, knives, and plates flew out of the cupboards and placed themselves on the table. It was… imperfect work but, for a first time doing so, acceptable. He fiddled with the details momentarily and glanced up from his work at Solaire’s offer. “Indeed, she seems rather the ambitious sort. Charming, but… motivated - not at all the type to sleep in.” He paused. “Yes, if you’d be a good man and go take care of that, I can finish with this table setting.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Carmillia. She had just made her way into the dining room and caught the end of their conversation. Jomurr was right, she was indeed not the type to sleep in. Carmillia had already been up earlier but chose to remain in her room in order to further ruminate over what Flavius had told her.

“Good morning Jomurr, Leon,” said Carmillia, addressing each of them respectively. Leon was shirtless but she chose not to bring it up. Addressing his toned body would only fan his ego. She noticed their Zeno was nowhere to be seen. “Is Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight still asleep?” she continued.

She’d addressed him first, as was proper, and she looked to be in good spirits. This day was off to a rather good start, Jomurr decided, absence of his master aside. He cleared his throat and motioned at the letter. “Far from it, it seems. Appears that our fourth member decided to go for a little stroll late last night and Zeno Moonlight is at great pains to retrieve her.” He shrugged - “I recommend reading that at some point.” - and heaved a small sigh: nothing big and demonstrative. “Seeing as there wasn’t much in the way of breakfast, unless you’d rather eat cold oatmeal, I took it upon myself to provide one.” He gestured with a restrained sort of grandeur at the table and its sumptuous settings. “Please, be seated and partake.”

Carmillia showed no particular reaction when Illanaq was mentioned. Having understood more of Jomurr’s temperament, she chose to respond to him first before heading for the letter.

“Perhaps the stress of our new environment has gotten to her,” she said. Carmillia then chose to change the topic. “This is… quite a feast, Jomurr.”

Jomurr tried not to look too pleased with himself. “Yes it is, isn’t it.” He took up a serviette and affixed it around his neck, about to seat himself before there was a knock at the door.

“Here, let me get the last of the food” Leon mentioned as he walked over to meet the boy’s last delivery. He handed him one of his own lemon tarts as a tip. They didn’t need it in the first place. Before the boy had much chance to respond, Leon closed the door and swung around with the food. “Breakfast is served.”

Jomurr took his seat at the head of the table, making sure to grab the correct cutlery for his appetizer before starting. “Right, thank you, my good man.”

Carmillia eyed the small feast that adorned the dining table. Hotcakes, tarts, ham and the like, even an entire pheasant. It was unlikely that the three of them could ever finish half of what was present. “You have my thanks,” she continued. With her gratitude given, Carmillia reached out for the note and scanned its contents.

“Ah, indeed. It’s ours to eat, so let’s, ahem… I believe it’s ‘dig in’, you commonfolk say, yes?”

Carmillia refrained from raising an eyebrow at Jomurr’s playful jibe. The young Belzaggic man was in a far better mood compared to the day prior, possibly due to the fact Illanaq was no longer present.

“Lets,” she said.

Leon needed no more invitation. He swung around back into his chair and commenced ‘digging in.’ On the contrary, Leon kept his eating very reserved and polite, making very little mess at all. You could call it practice from the odd meeting with the Doge. But Leon knew how to act around the higher class and rather enjoyed beating them at their own game.

Mirroring Leon, Carmillia stuck to etiquette. Life on the streets had taken the skill away from her but it was second nature for her once more, having reacquired the habit from constantly interacting with nobles on business ventures.

For his part, Jomurr Ikon the Third was utterly chuffed to bits at this glorious display of etiquette. He would yet make respectable members of society out of this lot, a shirt or two notwithstanding. He dared think of himself as their guide to high society - a mentor figure in his own right, leading them down a path of… Oh my, he thought. That would not do. Leon was quite the polite eater, but he was holding his glass with his pinky finger unraised. You always raised your pinky finger when drinking. No matter, he counseled himself, it was a work in progress and, in the grand scheme of things, a relatively minor offense. Presently, the performer’s finger did pop up and Jomurr hid his grin behind his glass. Good show. “So, I suppose you’ve read the note,” he said to Carmillia, after a few moments had passed. Jomurr glanced up at the clock. “We should be heading to master Zemana’s shortly. Perhaps we shall leave some food for the others if they come here first? Likely they will be famished.”

“Yes, I have,” she responded.

Though it was entirely possible for Illanaq to make a reappearance, something told Carmillia that they would not be seeing the Rettanese for the foreseeable future. She considered the Rettanese’s disappearance to be a stroke of good luck. Not only did it serve as a hint regarding the Traveler, they no longer had to deal with someone antagonizing Jomurr.

Carmillia jumped at the opportunity Jomurr presented her. As delicious as the food was, she’d already had her fill. “Yes, I’m sure they would appreciate it if we kept some of the food for them. As for Zeno Zemana, he’s likely waiting on us to make our appearance and it doesn’t seem like Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight will be back any time soon.”

“Are you ready as well, Leon?” she continued.

“I’m ready to go any time.” Leon tossed his other unfinished lemon tart in the air and caught it. He then began walking off toward the door.

Carmillia's eyes quickly flicked between the shirtless man and Jomurr. As usual, Leon behaved as though he was oblivious to his surroundings. Whether or not it was intentional, Carmillia had yet to determine.

“Shall we, Jomurr?” she asked.

Had she gone ahead of him behind Leon, Jomurr would likely have thrown a fit at being disrespected. She sighed inwardly, even with Illanaq gone, she was still going to have to act as an intermediary between these two.

Jomurr scowled. Artists. And the man wouldn't even put on a shirt… His right eye may have twitched ever so slightly, but he composed himself quickly. There was no intentionality behind it, he believed, unlike with that little beast of a fireblood. "Oh yes, please," he offered, providing only the subtlest hint of disapproval in his tone, "I suppose today is opposite day." He cracked a smirk at the uncouth absurdity of it all and nodded in Carmillia's direction. "Ladies first, at the very least," he chided Leon, disinterested in actually picking a fight of any sort. "Remember your better sense, man!" And, with that, Jomurr was - more or less - ready to go.

Zeno Hamir Zemana's Group

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Zeno Hamir Zemana's Group

At Eun-Ji's offer of help, Hamir Zemana merely chuckled. "Oh, haha, no need, my dear girl. All that is required is that you seat yourself at the table with young master Hohenfelter here and prepare yourself for breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day, I always say - wakes the brain up, and you're going to need your brain!" He paused, busy working a frying pan over his stovetop, drawing and expelling thermal energy to even out the cooking. "Tan Keoulean, right?" He asked, but it wasn't really a question. "I remember having scallion pancakes from there once upon a time." Her cleared his throat and concentrated for a moment, whisking over to a nearby cauldron, peering in, and stirring it with kinetic magic as he hustled back to the fire. "I've done my best to recreate them here," he grunted. "Hopefully they live up to your expectations."

Manfred, for his part, reached out with a hand as opposed to a kinetic grasp and pulled a chair out for Eun-Ji. "If it's half as good as this potato omelette, it'll make your day." He avoided meeting her eyes, but managed a brief smile before going back to his plate.

The trio had barely had the chance to get settled with each other when their attention was grabbed by a commotion on the stairs. It was Mayu, and she was headed for a painful fall. With his years of experience and naturally quick reflexes, the Zeno reached out and drew most of the kinetic energy from her, seamlessly redirecting it into a whisk he had going in a nearby bowl. The fall... wasn't that bad. He shot his other apprentices a cautionary look not to laugh at the poor dear thing and they didn't seem the type to anyways.

“G-good morning everyone. T-today looks like it’s going to be a wonderful day!” said Mayu awkwardly. Her cat, which truly, the Zeno had sensed from the outset, hopped up on her shoulder and she looked horrified.

"Indeed," replied Manfred, and there may have been the hint of a smirk on his lips, but it was hard to tell. "Seems your secret kitty agrees."

Kurbis had first made a shy appearance this morning, skulking between hiding places and getting the lay of the land. He once again appeared, his big orange face peering skeptically out from beneath a Virangish-style recliner. Zeno Zemana let out a bark of laughter at this. "Haha, nice to see the little fella," he declared. "With two of them, I doubt we'll have much trouble with mice. Now, why don't you sit down, child. The Perrench Toast is just about finished."

No sooner had he said it than there was a knock on the door and both felines made themselves scarce in their own separate ways. On the other side were... a pale, pretty Perrench girl, A posh-looking Belzaggic boy, and... Leon Solaire himself.

Sienna Afraval's Group

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Zeno Sienna Afraval's Group

Penny hurried down the stairs, managing to feel at once excited, contrite, and physically wretched. Upon catching her first sight of Onarr, she blinked. Ah, so there is a real human being under there! Truly, she liked Onarr greatly, even at this early juncture. Despite their exhaustion the night before, the girls had briefly gathered in the same room and talked for a few minutes as they lay awake in bed in their nightgowns. One of them had joked that perhaps Onarr was actually some fay creature under his helmet, or else a ghost. Alas, he was just a particularly small boy with... a lot of hair, a charming smile, and what looked like a handful of burn marks - she hypothesized from an experiment gone wrong, perhaps.

The girl completed her thank yous and listened as her master outlined the day's activities. Definitely a two crutch sort of day, she decided, feeling more an invalid than usual. Yesterday had already prodded at her limits and she was not looking forward to what today might do to them. Then, however, Onarr had a question: "Would there be any courses you would recommend for us to do?"

At that, Sienna paused, placing her fork back on her plate. "What an eager and excellent question, Onarr." She smiled appreciatively if not a touch indulgently and her expression presently turned pensive. "If I were to offer one piece of advice before the fact, it would be this: choose at least one course that you're passionate about - that you truly want to do and that you could see feeding into a lifelong calling. Then," she added, furrowing her brow for a flicker of time, "choose something that's a risk: one that you're less familiar with but possibly intrigued by - one that'll help expand your horizons." She paused for a moment and nodded. "Hmm, yes. That's what I'd say."

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A Tour of Campus

It was... quite an eclectic group that made its way about campus. Eight groups, truly, for the Biros were divided into eight informal 'collegia', each headed by an Arch-Zeno, the Zenith, or the Paradigm (who did not actually travel with his students on account of his greatly advanced age).

As they walked, their college administrators spoke. They started in front of the Aquiline Fountain in the center of the Grand Plaza, and soon made their way to Balthazar Hall, where much of the school's administrative work took place and where most all of their courses in the languages and academic stream were to be held, as well as a handful from the arts stream. They were led to Medeville Place, where a great greenhouse - nearly two hundred feet high and temperature regulated through the use of the Gift, acted as home to flora from all across the known world. They were shown the Treacle and Habregon Buildings, which housed laboratories for the natural sciences, chemists and alchemists, a grand telescope for viewing the stars and planets, and a runecrafter for the sealing of magics into mundane items. Next was Indigo Theatre: a grand performance venue for orchestra, drama, and receptions, along with smaller and more intimate performance rooms. Some might've marveled at the Sanz-Petterel Clocktower with its massive, faintly glowing clock face depicting hours, days, months, and seasons, sculpted from gold, ivory, and lapis lazuli. There were the noble, merchant, and 'everyone else' dorms, and the Biros were shown their rooms and entrusted with their keys for the night after this one.

Flagging in energy and attention, perhaps, they reached the Grand Library of the Magical Arts and the Mundane. They scarce had time to marvel at the ten stories of tomes, maps, scrolls, and scientific tools, much less the fabulous central atrium and the star-shaped glass dome one hundred-fifty feet above their heads - the largest of its sort anywhere in the world - and they were ushered onwards. The stylish facade of Blackbriar Manor seemed almost to welcome them in with its stone chimneys, great bay windows, and cozy nooks and fireplaces, yet they skipped it for the time being. Finally, the exhausted students reached Arc-en-Ciel Hall, with its gorgeous rainbow stained glass windows and cavernous lecture halls. It was here that their tour ended and they found themselves inside of one of those very great spaces, course registry papers thrust into their hands.

"A moment of your attention," called a voice from the podium at the far end. It was none other than Zenith Upta's, and the way that it boomed inside of their skulls made clear that it was magically enhanced. "We will be taking a recess of one and a half hours so that you may enjoy a luncheon." Two sets of double doors opened at one end of the hall and dozens of finely-liveried servants strode in, pushing hand-carts piled high with a buffet. This, they began presently setting on a series of tables. "Dare I say this would be an excellent opportunity for you to get to know some of your instructors and your fellow students." She seemed almost to meet all of their eyes as she spoke, whether through magic or simply as a practiced speaker, one could not be certain. "After this, we shall reconvene at 4:00 Dorrad and you will be given the opportunity to learn more about some of your options at this, your home and school for the next five years. For the time being, however, you are dismissed!"

At these words, twenty five long tables appeared seemingly out of nowhere, set and ready to be eaten at. The setting out of the buffet had concluded as well, and all that was left was for students to find their places (for all tables were labelled by Zeno group even though the Zenos themselves sat separately, with the other faculty), help themselves to some food, and do whatever it was that they were going to do.

Required Courses Registry

Elective Courses Registry

A Summary

1) Students received a brief, summative tour of campus, including the dorms, technically off of campus proper
2) They received course selection forms which they are to fill out. Perhaps they'd like to see what their peers are taking.
3) There will be speeches with detailed course descriptions after lunch if people want to wait that long. However, they can approach faculty after eating or explore a bit of campus since they have ample time.
4) All four of our groups are sharing the same table. The four NPC groups also listed on the spreadsheet are seated at one of the tables beside theirs.
5) Please ensure that, by the end of this posting cycle (Saturday), I am made aware of your course selections.

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Imperium Mortuorum: A Zombie Apocalypse RP in Ancient Rome

Junia Phillipa Maxima

Junia Phillipa Maxima

Description: Juni's a tall, athletic woman in her later twenties, with dark wavy hair and brown eyes. Despite a couple of small scars picked up along the way, she's somewhat good-looking, I guess, though that's hardly a concern for her at the moment. She used to dress quite well, but, well... a zombie apocalypse is a zombie apocalypse and practicality comes first. Romans used to be practical, back in the Republic days. Remember those good ol' times?

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Social Class: Equite

Nationality: Roman, from a rather old family with a fair bit of Corinthian heritage somewhere back in their gens.

Personality: Junia's generally sharp, decisive, and quick on the uptake. She's known in particular for her scathing tongue and competitive nature and this can definitely rub some people the wrong way. She'd like to say that she doesn't care, but she does. Generally, she picks her targets and can read a room well. There's a rambunctious playfulness there too, but it's taken a back seat during these dark times. Junia can stand on ceremony if she needs to, but she'd rather not. She both can and prefers to make people laugh, though her jokes sometimes have a barb and she doesn't always respond well to being on the receiving end. In general, she's a reasonably moral individual and a hard worker, especially when she senses that her work will be rewarded.

Brief Backstory: The second oldest of five children (and first of three sisters) born into a middling equestrian family that has a long martial tradition and has always hovered right on the edge of noteworthiness, Junia was drawn to games and sports from an early age, often tagging along with her older brother, Fabius Phillipus Gratus, and later chaperoning her younger siblings to the ball courts. She has always enjoyed being active and is a legitimately talented athlete, particularly with regards to the games of Harpastum and Trigon. Few of the women in her part of the city have ever been able to hold their own against her on the courts. Of course, it is rare for a woman to be so involved in athletics, but it serves as an outlet for her ample restless energy, which could not find expression on the battlefield like it did for her brothers and husband.

When the plague hit, she was in Sicilia at the invitation of a prominent fresco artist and, unofficially, as a participant in an informal ball tournament. Her skill, despite being unable to earn her any sort of living, still noteworthy enough as a hobby that it had been recognize. Her husband, who had given her leave to go, remained in Rome with her young son. In her heart, she has given them up for dead, along with her sisters and beloved older brother, but she makes a show of keeping the faith and holds out perhaps a sliver of hope that they will be reunited. She isn't optimistic, though.

Equipment: Junia has a mule and it carries a bag full of her possessions, including a fair bit of coin, some jewellery (including a pendant from her husband), a couple of balls, flint, clothing, bandages, needle and thread, a fishing net (which she doesn't use very well), and a couple days' worth of food and water. She has a long spear (pilum) that is her go-to weapon for dealing with...undead issues, a shortsword, and a handful of daggers. If it really comes down to it, however, she'd prefer to run rather than fight, or to hide if she senses that running is not an option.

Skills: Junia's a woman... in ancient Rome. When it came to anything martial, that was strike one, two, and three against her. Still, though never formally trained as a fighter, she's about as good as one could expect a member of her sex to be. Tall, athletic, and quick, she's learned how to hold her own. Early childhood sparring, for fun, with her brothers equipped her with the bare fundamentals of sword and spear. She's added quite a bit to that out of necessity since the plague struck but hasn't quite reached the level of a trained soldier, despite her natural aptitude. For what it's worth, she's a damned good ball player and can sing and play a couple of instruments at an acceptable level. More importantly, Juni is frighteningly quick and agile when she needs to be. She can sew quite well too, can cook, and knows how to look after children and a camp. She's never been much interested in literature, but is literate nonetheless. She can be a ruthless liar if it's for a good cause.

The Hourglass Order

Jomurr Ikon III

Jomurr raised an eyebrow and smirked. "My good man, I know nothing whatsoever of Zeno Zemana or his apprentices, though I've certainly heard of the Iovinas and Hohenfelters." He pursed his lips for a moment and shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out once we meet them. It can't be helped. For now -" He pulled out a chair and rested his weight on the back of it. "-Let us simply relax and enjoy what we can of this feast. What is left shall go to the poor, as Oraff-Zept would will it and as is our responsibility as gentlemen."

That he was in a rather good mood, Jomurr could hardly deny. Perhaps it was the excitement of it all, perhaps it was the opportunity to provide for the others and meet his noble obligations, and perhaps it was simply the absence - however temporary - of that beastly Rettanese girl. Then, he paused, a second absence coming to mind. Taking a couple of steps, Jomurr furrowed his brow and craned his neck in the direction of the steps, positively unlordly for a moment. "By the by -" he half-twisted to regard Solaire "-you haven't caught sight of Miss Carbonneau yet, have you?" Normally, Jomurr would've sent a servant to fetch her but, alas, there were no servants to be found here. He had decided that he could respect Zeno Moonlight, but this was an issue that they truly would need to discuss at some juncture. Instead, he composed himself and decided to wait for the performer's answer.

(Interacting with @Jumbus & @Animus)

The Hourglass Order

Chapter Three: Decisions, Decisions

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Morning dawned over Ersand’Enise much as the previous morning had dawned. Dew covered the lawns of the university grounds, fresh off of their first trim of the year. It sparkled on the leaves of maple and palm trees alike. Owls closed their eyes. Seagulls circled overhead and geese honked and fluttered - engaged in their usual jousts on Hedda’s Lake. Of the tenebrous fog that had held the city in its grip the previous night, there was no reminder. Sunlight filtered in through windows, roosters crowed, and the business of the day had already gotten underway as merchants and vendors bustled about the marketplaces and thoroughfares, setting out their offerings.

For most students, their first night as apprentices in the City of the Bells had been one of sound sleep. They had been so tired as to have had little other option. As the light hit their slumbering faces, however, most of them awoke. Others were pulled from their sleep by the smell of breakfast being prepared: the crackle and sizzle of eggs and bacon, the bubble of the cauldron, and the warm, rich aroma of steam, salts, and baking bread rising from the kitchen. Still, it took the bells for some. As the hours of Shune gave way to those of Oraff, they raised a great, clanging cacophony of welcome that may have snapped some of the young Biros back to their entrance the day before. It simply could not be slept through, much as some may have put up brief but spirited resistance. Besides, this also marked the limits of their mentors’ patience.

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Zeno Sienna Afraval's Group

Penny Pellegrin

“Up!” shouted Sienna. She literally had a dinner bell - for breakfast - and she was ringing it. Penny buried her head under her pillow momentarily, hair a birdsnest, aches and pains from an entire day on foot only partially subsided. Knowing Sienna as she did, she wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman had separate bells with separate pitches for each meal. “Morning!” the Zeno shouted. “Well into morning! You don’t have to shine, but you need to rise!”

Penny groaned, very much not shining. She lifted the pillow slightly and cast about for her housemates, but she was evidently the last one left in bed. She could hear the thump of footsteps on the stairs and the creak of the floorboards. Oraff lift me, she begged out of habit. She sat up and extricated herself from her covers, mouth cavernously dry, nightgown sweaty, and… yes, she believed that those were period cramps starting up. Lovely. Icing on the cake. She groaned and flopped back down for a second before kicking herself free of her covers and rolling out of bed in a single motion. She pulled on her gloves, grabbed a crutch, and stumbled over to one of the bedchamber windows. Pushing it open, she found herself fairly thrown awake by the distant noises of Parade Street. Blessedly, Sienna Afraval’s townhome did not front upon a major thoroughfare, but it was close enough that the sounds and pungent smells made their way over, after a fashion.

Penny blinked, took a deep breath, and closed the window. Ten minutes later, she was downstairs: nightgown swapped for a light dress and hair thrown into a ponytail. Her three fellow apprentices were gathered around a table along with their master. “Good morning.” She curtsied slightly, her voice an awful croak. “Morning, Miss Pellegrin,” replied Sienna, and there was a hint of disapproval in her tone. A pang of guilt and anxiety seized the girl. Perhaps she had been a bit too rambunctious the previous evening. She had not made a good account of herself. She would do better today. She swore it by Dami. There was a plate set out for her, with bread, eggs, and bacon, as well as a tall glass of water. She glanced around. A couple of others were still finishing up but, mostly, it was crumbs and scraps. “Thank you,” she said, quickly taking a seat. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Yes, no worry,” replied the Zeno, “well, thank Serrio too.”

Penny blinked. She hadn’t even noticed the small, heavyset man by the washbasin. He was humming and scrubbing some pots.

The girl rose, chair making an awful clunking screech as her body pushed it back. “Thank you, Serrio!” She chirped, starting to try a curtsy but thinking better of it as she nearly stumbled.

"You are most welcome, milady.” He bowed his head slightly, flashed a smile of professional courtesy and went back to his scrubbing and humming. Penny sat back down and pulled herself up to the table, making a bib of her napkin and stuffing some eggs scrambled into her mouth. Delectable!

“Now, where were we?” Sienna started up. “It was the day’s schedule, hmm?”

She was met with affirmations from the others. Penny blushed and smiled at them, sorry for having held anything up but ...oddly trusting of this group, despite one of them having snored last night.

“Yes, so today you’ll have a tour of campus and the relevant parts of the city. You’ll receive your course selection sheets and…” She pursed her lips. “I’m afraid there will be further speeches.” Had their Zeno just rolled her eyes? “Every talking head needs to have his word, I’m afraid. Play nice. Some of them may actually have good things to say.” She stopped for a sip of water. “After all of that, there will be a brief service at the cathedral - mandatory attendance, I’m afraid - and we’ll meet back here by 3:00 Rezain for dinner and to discuss your course selections. I’ll be off to Balthazar Hall to hand those in by 3 Shune the next morning, so be prompt with them. Any questions?”

Zeno Zander Mozaru's Group

Marlijn Vaanse

Marlijn was up rather early, but well-rested. The small Rettanese girl who she’d shared a bedchamber with - something ‘Pan’, she thought - was quiet and… Marlijn wasn’t sure, but she’d sensed a degree of purposeful aloofness, even hostility. She’d barely acknowledged their Zeno, buried her nose in a book the entire night and, well… that had been that. It had bothered Marlijn. She could pretend that it hadn’t, but it had. Typical greenlander. The Torragonese boy with the long, solemn face had been more polite, at least, but little more interactive. Vyrik, the one who she’d thought of as a street urchin, and who’d done precious little to dispel the image, seemed like a bit more fun. Technically he was probably beneath her, especially in social station, but… this was a place where ability trumped such distinctions. Plus, he wasn’t bad looking, current presentability aside, and what was wrong with a little fun on campus?

He’d certainly had plenty of questions for Zeno Mozaru the previous evening, and Marlijn remembered the answers. The Zeno had nodded, businesslike, with a hint of a smile, and told the boy that life was not a sprint. Still, “Address me as Zeno Mozaru. I have bedchambers prepared for you at my home, where you’ll stay two days each week, when not in your dormitories. You will soon find out what we will learn, but the first lesson is patience.” Marlijn had giggled at that, and somewhat at the delivery. She sensed that this Zeno had more humour to him than he let on. Dimly, she recalled that he had a special love for the Kinetic and that he had “been practicing here since well before you were born.”

Zeno Mozaru had sensed the tiredness of the group yesterday, so dinner had been a low-key affair. Breakfast was similar. By the time that Marlijn had made it to the dining room, it was laid out and the Zeno was seated at the head of the table, food already half-eaten. A heavyset woman of what she imagined was Belzaggic extraction shuffled past, carrying an empty pot towards the washbasin. Marlijn nodded in greeting. “Good morning, ma’am.” The woman bowed slightly. “Good morning, milady.”

“Marlijn Vaanse, meet Megga Jorbaz. She has been with my family since we were children and was nice enough to make the trip here.”

“A pleasure,” Marlijn replied.

“Nice meeting you too, dear. Now sit and eat before the food gets cold. I worked hard on that.” She hustled off with her pot.

Breakfast was sausage, pancakes, and eggs with hollandaise sauce. She fairly gobbled it down and Zeno Mozaru, while polite, did not stand on ceremony either. Within minutes, both were done. “Megga is… quite the cook, Zeno Mozaru.”

He smiled, a hint of warmth twinkling in his striking grey eyes. “She’s a gem,” he agreed. “Now, for the day’s agenda.”

Marlijn blinked, somewhat nonplussed. “Are we to wait for the others?” she inquired, but the Zeno merely glanced up at a cuckoo clock on the wall that his apprentice recognized as being of Kerrreman manufacture. “They have ten minutes. Then, the day shall begin with or without them. You will quickly find that I am not here to hold your hand if you will not make the effort.” He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a kerchief and she noticed that he already had his boots on and his staff leaning against the wall nearby. “You, however, have.” He smiled in a professional way.

Marlijn nodded, glancing up the stairs. It was… rather early. Zeno Mozaru was strict, then, perhaps a tad judgmental. She took a sip of water and cleared her throat. “Right, the day’s agenda. Sorry for my interruption. What will we be doing today?”

“Orientation,” he replied simply. “You’ll have a tour of campus, there will be some speeches, and you will worship in the cathedral. You should receive your course selection documents and I expect we will discuss those following dinner. I will need them by the next morning. You wouldn’t want to miss out on your classes, now would you?”

“No sir.” She shook her head. “I’m ever so excited to learn.” He smiled in return, briefly, with only his lips, as he usually did. Then, there were footsteps on the stairs and Marlijn craned her neck to see who it could be.

Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight's Group

Jomurr Ikon III

Jomurr Ikon rose from his bed. He had slept later than was his custom, but it was not an indulgent hour. He had insisted, of course, on his own lodgings, and the benefits had been felt by all who mattered. That was how a leader led. Leon Solaire also had also been granted a private bedchamber as a result. Sweet, ambitious Carmillia had been stuck with that beast of Fireblood, but he was working on a solution for that issue as well. Jomurr’s mind was constantly on the move, constantly looking for solutions. That was how a leader led. Mayhaps I could get her exiled to the attic, he thought wryly, truly wishing it were so. He had not come here seeking conflict, but he was of no mind to back down either. In fact, the notion hadn’t even occurred to him. One does not prostrate oneself before the rabble. You either break them, as with a wild stallion, or you put them down, as with a diseased rabbit. In any event, there were plenty more where she’d come from.

After spending some time freshening up, he dressed in his finest clothes - understated but impeccably fashionable, as was his custom - and decided to make his way downstairs. The Zeno’s townhome was much… cozier than what he was accustomed to, but he believed that he had risen to the challenge with the stoic grace expected of one of his station. At least it would only be for two nights each week. Then, he could return to more suitable company.

However, upon making it into the atrium, Jomurr was struck by the stillness and silence of the place: a little island of such among the growing morning bustle of the city. He scowled, displeased, and made his way towards the dining room, past the Zeno’s strange Nashibansek art pieces and… had she called these ones ‘dreamcatchers?’ It had struck him as positively Hexaic. “Master Zeno?” he called, careful not to raise his voice to a brutish level, but there was no reply. She was, in fact, nowhere to be found.

At this, Jomurr’s mood soured precipitously. He had expended a great deal of emotional effort on feigning and perhaps even attempting to develop a degree of respect for this common foreigner who titled herself a master, yet she could not even be bothered to rise before her students. It irked him in a deep, profound way, for he had looked greatly forward to studying under the tutelage of some wise master and, instead, had gotten… whatever Fades-in-Moonlight was. He took a moment to compose himself, wondering if, at least, any of his fellow Biros might be about. Before he could truly commence his search, however, he noticed the note. He plucked it from the table and held it up to read.

‘Dear Students,
Sorry for being scarce this morning. I’d wanted a better start, really. Anna must’ve decided to go walkabout last night after her little blowup and she hasn’t come back yet. As you’re reading this, I’m probably dragging her out of some seedy inn or hollow under a roadside tree and giving her a good tonguelashing. Expect us back soon. For now, I’ve talked with Zeno Hamir Zemana, two houses to the right. You’ll join his group until I’m back. If you’re hungry, there’s porridge in the pot which you can warm up and macaroons on the covered tray in front of you.
Luna’

Jomurr looked up. There was indeed a covered tray. He let his face go slack. So the problem wasn’t Fades-in-Moonlight, it was that beastly girl. He felt, at once, a pang of guilt for having judged the former, and a deeper, burning sort of dislike for the latter. It was clear that she would be an active detriment to not only his, but also his fellow apprentices’ experience here. He set his face, marched to the doorway, and looked out onto the street. “You!” he called, “I say, you!” Jomurr would be damned if he was going to heat up porridge. He now felt a degree of sympathy for his instructor, but they would certainly need to have a discussion on cuisine once they reunited.

The boy he was calling stopped midstep and twisted to face him. “Me?”

“Yes, man, of course you.”

The boy furrowed his brow and Jomurr realized that he was being rather uncouth. “Apologies for my rudeness, but would you like to make two corona?”

The boy blinked and his face lit up. “Absolutely, milord.”

Jomurr nodded. “Good fellow.” He reached into his coinpurse and pulled out… one neskal should do, handing it over. “You see that bakery down the street?”

The boy nodded.

“Go there and fetch for us a loaf of pumpernickel bread - sliced, three hot cakes: the ones filled with bacon, cheese, and spinach. Then three custard and a half-dozen lemon tarts.” He paused. “Don’t think I should offer such indulgences regularly, but fetch yourself one too. Such are the rewards of working for me should you continue in my employ.” He pursed his lips in a polite sort of acknowledgement. “Then, six fine slices of smoked ham from the butcher’s shop, a pheasant, and some steamed yams from that vendor over there.” Yes, Jomurr supposed. That should do for three people and perhaps provide something for dinner should the Zeno not return by then. As the ranking member of the household, it was his job to provide for the others and also to be prepared for any eventualities. It was a duty that he took with the utmost seriousness.

The boy blinked. “I shall need a cart, milord,” and Jomurr regarded him dimly. “You’ve arms, haven’t you?”

“Well…yes.”

“You’ve a perfectly good pair of legs too.” Briefly, he considered the girl from the opening ceremony who made due with only one. “My point is that you can make multiple trips, and a bonus might just be in it for you if you’re prompt enough. Now hurry up. I grow weary of this procrastination and I hunger.”

“Uh, right, of course -”

The door closed, Jomurr Ikon the Third unable to bear, for a moment longer, the boy’s common simplicity nor the pungent stench of the street.

“M-Milord,” his new employee stammered to nobody in particular.

Zeno Hamir Zemana's Group

Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau

Manfred was up at the crack of dawn, by habit. There was something peaceful about watching a city awaken: the way that the sounds and scents grew, how natural ones gave way to human ones, and that moment when morning light first broke over the rooftops.

He decided to bathe and to read. Kurbis had hidden under his bed for most of the night, prickly and bothered by his new surroundings and the presence of another cat, but Manfred was happy to see the little orange pumpkin out of his hiding place. The cat rubbed up against his shins, arching his back and letting out a loud cat noise. The Kerreman bent down briefly to rub behind his ears. “Guten Morgen, mein kleiner Kürbis,” he whispered, careful not to wake his roommate. More cat noises - happy ones - followed.

He was in the middle of buttoning up his shirt when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Manfred finished as quickly as he could, pulled his boots and jacket on, and followed them down.

That his present accommodations were… somewhat exotic had come as no shock to the Kerreman. His Paggonian chambermate had seemed quite at home. There were bright, pastel colours, arches, and lattices everywhere. Vines snaked up colonnades and there was an inner courtyard and platforms for lounging. The table, however, was a table. The kitchen was… well-appointed to say the least and, Manfred quickly found that he was not alone there. Zeno Zemana was hard at work with a number of ingredients. He not only had a wood-fired oven that he was presently using a handful of simple spells to stoke, there was another contraption with a sort of steel grate over heated coals. The apprentice could feel his master manipulating the thermal energies: intensifying them and evening them out where needed. Suffice to say that the process intrigued him. “Ah!” Zeno Zemana half-turned. “Welcome, welcome!” He cleared his throat, glancing between Manfred and the table. “Please, have a seat, my boy. Breakfast is on the way and, dare I say, it is the most important meal of the day.”

Manfred obeyed. He blinked and sniffed, taking in the aroma as… multiple meals began to take shape. He had never seen the Gift used in this way - at least not with such skill - and he nearly smiled. Perhaps the Zeno was wise to his musings, for he half-turned again. “Eh? You like it, apprentice, huh?”

Manfred nodded. “It is intriguing.”

“Mmm,” replied the Zeno, busy measuring out some spices. “Mhm.” He nodded. “The Gift isn’t only for fighting,” he grunted. “Oh sure, it’s plenty good for that, but one can create beautiful things - beautiful things - if he’s open to it.” Zeno Zemana paused. “Hey, boy, grab that pot that’s done boiling, will you? Set it down on the stones over there.”

“Yes, master Zeno.” Manfred made haste to do so and his master continued. “When the others are up, we’ll talk more about the day. There have been some...unexpected changes, but I want you to eat well first. Food is for the spirit as much as the body - gets you in the mood to learn.”

Manfred suppressed a scowl, wondering what those unexpected changes could be, but his master did not seem to be in poor spirits, so he assumed that they weren't of much consequence. “Yes sir.”

The Zeno nodded, working a whisk over a pan. “I think the older girl’s already up - Eun-Ji, yes?”

Involuntarily, Manfred cast about for her. “Yes, Eun-Ji, sir.”

His master smirked, perhaps following Manfred’s gaze. “Saw her earlier,” he remarked. A hint of a conspiratorial grin crossed his leathery face. “Pretty young lady, eh?” He laughed. “And a handsome young lord, haha!” The Kerreman could feel the colour rising in his cheeks, so he quickly changed the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, master Zeno, what is on our agenda for the day?”

Zeno Zemana was busy sprinkling something onto what looked like a lump of dough. He twisted after sliding it into a wood-fired oven. “Oh, you’ll get the tour today. Yes, that’s it. Another group's joining ours. Their Zeno had something come up. Lots of speeches too.” He sidestepped over to some bottles, plucked one out, and began mixing its contents liberally into the pan. The smell was amazing. “Choosing courses,” the Zeno continued, “A big mass in that cathedral for you Quentics - I’ll be headed to the temple of Vashdal with Karim - but I’ll meet up with you later. Give you some advice about your classes over a nice dinner if you need it.” He paused almost reverently, as if picturing ‘dinner’ in his mind’s eye, and remembered to crack a smile. “Haha! Sound good, my boy?”

Manfred nodded, pensive. “Yes, master Zeno. Very much so. Thank you.”

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Course Selection

OOC: Later in the day, as they are seated in the grand lecture atrium of Arc-en-Ciel Hall, the Biros will receive their course selection papers. They will receive brief explanations from the instructors of those courses on what they will learn (you will DM me if you want more info). They must choose their courses, sign the papers, and hand these in to their masters before 3:00 Shune the next morning.

Required Courses Registry

Elective Courses Registry

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The Hourglass Order

Thank you, everyone, for getting in your second round of posts and welcome to our new member, who'll be catching up this week. The first part of Chapter Three has been posted. There's no need to respond to this one unless you want to. It's mainly there to be read and for reference. The next part will be going up in about an hour and that's the part that matters. Stay tuned!

The Hourglass Order

The Hours of Dami and Ipte

An uncomfortably warm Stresia day had given way to a cool night, the way that days often did at this time of year. A fog had rolled in across the city, granting it an almost ethereal feel. Streetlamps glowed faintly within it, ghostly globes of light shimmering in the darkness. Voices could be heard in the arboretum and clusters of shadowed figures filtered through the streets. These soon went silent. Candles and lamps flickered in windows. One by one, they winked out. In contrast to the roiling, colourful sea of sound and motion that had gripped the city mere hours earlier, a stillness and darkness that was… almost eerie descended over Ersand’Enise.

Presently, a cart clattered solemnly down Parade Street, its owner busy sweeping up rose petals from the day’s celebrations. Geese nestled in the banks by Hedda’s Lake and lesser birds hunkered in the tree branches, clustered together for warmth and protection. The eyes of owls snapped open and their nocturnal hunts began. This would be a good night for them. The Grand Plaza was crisscrossed by rats, roaches, and other scavengers. The city’s cats and foxes had already been active, but the fruits of human excess had left more than enough detritus for all animals to profit.

Ersand’Enise had gone down for rest - blessed rest - and yet, there was one holdout: a mystery impossible to ignore. Ancient and gnarled, the Forked Tower loomed above the rest of the city in silent sentry, seeming almost to lean depending on the angle from which one gazed upon it. A lone light blazed in its uppermost window, slicing through the fog and shadow. What was taking place there so late into Dami’s hours, one could not say. It was only clear that something was.

Eight cloaked figures made their way through the darkness, their footsteps strangely inaudible. Threads of energy writhed and snaked around them: krakens’ arms visible only to one highly trained in the magical arts. These reached into homes and businesses, probing them, slithered into bedchambers, libraries, and privies, searching for something. Nobody would remember them the next morning but, for hours, they scoured the city. Then, they disappeared, back behind silent keeps, stoic pines, and tenebrous towers. It was unclear if they had found what they were looking for. Flags lay limp in the listless, shimmering air. Horses whinnied with soft unease in their stables. As Dami gave way to Ipte, the city slept.

Yet, just as there was more to Ersand’Enise than the academy, there was more to the city than what existed within its walls. On beyond the Forked Tower, the silent streets, and the cloaked figures lay the coast, where the plummeting temperature had called forth pounding waves that bashed against the cliffs and breakwaters.

The light of Cap de Bon Port reached out like a great, ghostly arm into the distance, guiding sailors brave enough to navigate the shoals by night. Caravels and galleons creaked tiredly at their moorings, barnacles reaching out from their sea-worn timbers with feathery tendrils to feed on the nighttime bounty of the ocean.

In the shadow of the light, at the convenience of the ships, lay a collection of huts, inns, and warehouses. There were no streetlamps here; no cobblestones or towers. They hunkered together around the harbour that made the city wealthy: essential to it and yet not part of it.

It was through here that a lone figure walked, a tall, crooked wizarding hat perched atop its head. To all the world, she might’ve looked like any other girl her age: a student out for some ill-advised fun or adventure in Mudville, but to one deeply versed in the magic of alchemy, she was a human inferno. Catecholamines and norepinephrine blazed within her mind and coursed through her arteries. That the day’s festivities had not gone well for this student was plainly evident. Yet, it was clear that she had a purpose for being here beyond mere anger. She, too, was looking for something. The light at Cap de Bon Port arced across the ramshackle collection of dwellings that sheltered around the harbour, its aged bronze bearings letting out a keening groan of metallic frustration as they continued their endless orbit.

The student stalked along the muddy streets, eventually turning off of them. A brisk breeze blew up by the coast. Waves pummeled the limestone cliffs and spray reached up to lick at her face, but she saw it: tall and thin and elegant. A slice of the purest blackness, absorbing all light, as if cut from the very fabric of reality itself: it waited by the coast, in the shape of a beautiful man, arms open in welcoming embrace. Excited, still burning with the emotion of the day and determined to make right that which she viewed as wrong, she began running to it.

There were precious few souls awake at this hour, even in Mudville, but one or two had noticed the student, so out of place here, so burning with energy. Had they followed her - had they looked her way, they would’ve seen her start running. They would’ve seen her disappear beyond the veil of mists and, sometime later, felt the cold sting of the wind as it blew that mist away. There was no girl, however, who emerged from it. There was nothing but the crash of the sea, a chill in the air, and a dim glow on the horizon.

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