Maerath
Maerath is deep in study in the main room of the Library, thick musty tomes dot the shelves, all hand-written save a few gnomish texts imported from the far east and a few wizardly tomes crafted with magic. The central open space rises four floors above the reading room and scriptorium, its ceiling covered with an immense crystal kiosk which magnifies the light but keeps out the damp harsh air of Drell. Everburning torches adorn the walls every few feet, further adding to the smooth light.
Squeekie scampers about on the shelves, careful to not disturb it's contents in search of morsels of food he never finds.
Yodwin the Blue, ancient even by elven standards, peers down his long nose at the squirrel's inane activities but makes no comment. Apparently he's accustomed to the various diverse familiars many of the students and teachers keep as companions.
"Maerath Iliandil?" Yodwin's creaky voice calls out, "I saw you came in late today." Apparently he's mocking you, for the library is otherwise devoid of students. The winter session hasn't begun and most of the students are nearly as diligent as you are.
"I found this old tome on pre-Empire history. It's practically unintelligible and the style is atrocious. It's Olde Dwarven, I think. I don't recognize half the runes, but the ones I do recognize seem out of place. It isn't in the library's catalogue, so you can take it with you." Yodwin's pale hands flutter over the cover of the massive dusty leather bound book and he seems to have trouble setting it down gently.
"Perhaps you should go out and get some fresh air."
Yodwin leans on his cane and stumbles unsteadily toward one of the alcoves alongside the scriptorium, Most likely he's off to take one of his regular naps.
Arana Perivai
Arana watches the elderly librarian hobble off and peeks a glance at the manuscript. Even with her impressive linguistic talents, it's indecipherable. It doesn't seem magically altered, but looks can be deceiving.
The cover of the book, while hard to discern even in the crystalline focussed light from the kiosk, is carved into the leather and seems like some stylized symbol of a dragon, or a wyvern. It's far too faded to make out the colors.
KithKalin Khaladuar & Keith Kinain
The sun's painful rays aren't getting any better and you and Keith have a choice of travelling a half mile uphill, against the wind for the free breakfast put out in the cafeteria for the students or walk a half block for the really cheap hot meal at the portside tavern, Dorac'z.
Dorac'z door is wide open, even in the cold. The innkeeper, Bormin, keeps a roaring fire blazing all year round and doesn't fear the cold. He sees the two of you walk in through the front entrance and he gives a hearty bellow of hello.
"Good morning, O Princes," Boramin mockingly calls out while setting two steaming plates of scrambled eggs and blood sausage down on the bar. "Too much of a party last night? I heard the guards actually had to club some of you boys about."
Boramin's massive red beard is tucked neatly into a leathern apron and while he isn't meticulously clean, his cooking skills more than make up for any lack cleanliness in his establishment.
The two of you try to reach weakly for your coin pouches, but Boramin makes a negating wave.
"Your money's no good here today, young sirs.
"Watch, I think I've got it mastered now!"
Boramin's brow furrows in concentration and he stares at a saucer of steaming gravy laid out on the hearth. His two dark red eyebrows come together, crawling like caterpillars, his face darkens two hues beyond their normal ruddy brown and his ears start to become almost as red as a mating salmon.
He lets his breath out expulsively. "Didja see it? It moved, at least a half knuckle toward the edge! I'll master this yet!"
He makes a bit of small-talk and then takes off to tend another one of the regular morning bunch.
OOC: Yup, it's going to take awhile to differentiate these two because the names are so similar. Don't change them though, I like the alliteration on both.
Rallyn
After the night shift, you're exhausted. There were a few brawls last night, some of the students even had to be forcibly detained. While there's no jail per se on the island, Serbanas the Weaponmaster agreed to keep the two young men in his hut until they'd calmed down. Both of the human youths had paled at the sight of the half-orc weaponmaster... they were probably sober before the guard had even left the room.
You watch the elf lad, Sildarin out of the corner of your eye. One of the young rowdies last night had implicated Sildarin in one of the fist fights, but Sildarin looks untouched. He probably was innocent.
You make for the library, hoping it will be open today. The last few days, Yodwin has been closing it early.
& Sildarin
One of the students, Rallyn, also a guard for Drell, comes across the courtyard and watches you for a few moments, then walks away briskly with an intent look and a smile on his countenance.
You nap briefly but it's far too cold to be enjoyable. You stand and stretch, thinking about shadow fencing a bit more when you see Serbanas stroll across the courtyard, two roughed up students following him sheepishly.
Serbanas, a half-orc, is impeccably dressed in a sleeveless black tunic and a unpatterned black kilt, a long rapier on his waist and a rucksack over his shoulder.
The weaponmaster espies you in the yard and calls out a greeting.
"Hello, Sildarin, How timely!
I have these two students under my care and I must run an important errand. Would you do me the favor of taking over and delivering these young 'men' to Rallyn of the guard? They have sobered up and recanted their evil ways. Tell Rallyn they've been suitably punished and they realize dueling and brawling should only be done while sober and serious."
Serbanas smiles a wicked grin and glances meaningfully at their hands. Each one bears a long red welt, characteristic of a painful disarming technique, done with the flat of a rapier. Neither of the students looks you in the eye.
OOC: Phew! I think this points everyone together and drops a few hooks. Sorry for any delay.
I should also point out the Academy is practically empty. Aside from yourselves, the entire island is about 100 living souls at this time.
