Morgan: Here is the second chapter in record time, because my life is a
limp, pale, motionless thing that I only spend time with by watching it die
in my hand.
Chuchiru: They're not speaking to each other right now.
Morgan: (gets big shiny eyes) Eep-- (gushes tears)
Chuchiru: Bwahahahaha!
Morgan: You mock my agony? Eat pain, otaku fanboy! (hits Chuchiru with giant fish)
Chuchiru: (from floor) I am confused--
Morgan: Good!
* * *
Ashnod slipped into the room that had the number specified by his schedule, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible. No one else was inside, so he plopped down in the nearest seat angrily, letting out a sigh as he threw his books on the paint-stained table. At least he got to start off the day with art.
"It's hard the first day, sometimes," said a voice from behind him. Ash whirled reflexively, skipping his chair around in a circle.
"Whoa, take it easy!" The man was tall and had bulky shoulders, with big hands and a youthful face, dressed in rather casual clothes. He couldn't have been more than thirty, and he looked cheerfully at the tiefling. "Jumpy at our new school, huh?"
"How did you know?" Ash replied. His tail flicked nervously.
"Well, I've never seen you here before, and I think I'd remember someone like you for sure." There was no insult in his words, just a friendly invitation to talk. He had laughing brown eyes and matching hair, which was interrupted only by a small bald spot at the back of his crown.
"Yeah, I-- We just moved here a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh? Where're you from?"
Ash shrugged. "Luskan."
"That's a long way off. You go to the wizards' academy up there, then?"
"The Hosttower of the Arcane? Yeah, but-- Well, they couldn't teach me much."
"Oh, really? Regular little genius, then, eh?" The man put his hands on his hips, inserting a teasing tone into his words.
Ash flushed slightly, not deigning to mention that he was, in fact, probably more intelligent than everyone at this school put together. It was a simple fact, but he didn't like to discuss it because it seemed like bragging. "Er, actually, it wasn't them so much as it was me." He liked this man, who he already assumed to be the art teacher, and wanted to be as friendly as possible; however, spilling his guts about his past was a bit awkward when he was talking to someone he didn't even know.
The man almost seemed to read his mind. "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry!" he said, smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Name's Kelvin, Kelvin Griffinheart. I'm the art teacher here at Waterdeep High." He wiped his hand on his dungarees and held it out to the boy.
Ash took it, shaking uncertainly. "I'm Ashnod Darkling; but everyone calls me Ash." *When they call me something civilized,* he added mentally.
"Well, pleased to meet you, Ash. I hope you like art--I try to run a fun classroom, but I don't tolerate troublemakers. Not that you strike me as a troublemaker!" He added the last bit hastily. "I just want to lay down the rules. You'll have a few required projects, but most of your time will be your own to do whatever you want with. Something physical, though--save your music and your poetry and stuff for literature class."
"I don't do that much writing," Ash lied, embarrassed as he though of his own poetry at home.
"Maybe not, but if you can work clay with that tail, you'll be a star student in here." Kelvin rapped his knuckles on the table enthusiastically. "So," he said, seating himself in another chair and wrenching the conversation back around, "what were you saying about Luskan?"
"Oh," Ash answered, confused momentarily, "there weren't any skills I could learn there that really make that much difference. I'm not, um, really a mage." He bit his lower lip slightly, showing his vampire-like fangs.
"S'too bad. We don't have that many magic-users in this school, for some reason. At least, not in the last four or five years. We have some kids in the primary facility downtown who show some aptitude for the arcane, but there are only about eight high-schoolers in any of the magic classes here. Eight of our eleven wizardry instructors are on sabbatical because they're not needed. The only ones left are the evocation instructor, the abjuration master, and Mistress Enalia, the sorceress."
"You--you have a professor of sorcery?"
"Of course! Didn't Luskan?"
"No," Ash replied. "That's why I left."
"Ah," Kelvin said, understanding. "Now I see. Well, you'd better make sure that you have Enalia's class, then. She's really good at her job, I've heard, although I'm no spellcaster, so I wouldn't know good magic from bad."
The young tiefling extracted his class list from the jumble of textbooks he'd tossed onto the table earlier. Art, advanced alchemy, higher mathematics, arcane history, concert band and choir, theological identification, and gym. "Great," he muttered, passing the slip of paper to Kelvin. "She's not on there."
"Don't worry," the art instructor smiled, standing up with the paper. "Here, just a second." He went to his desk, opened a drawer, and removed a thin pamphlet, which he thumbed through quickly. Marking a page with the class list, he brought it over to Ash. "This is a full listing of all available classes. Just change out the ones you want, and I'll turn it into the office for you. They make mistakes all the time, so they won't think anything about altering your schedule--especially not on the first day, when almost everyone will be doing the same thing." He handed the tiefling his prize, just as the bell sounded to begin the first class. "Oh! Well, we'll talk more later. I'm in and out of the room all period, too, so if you finish changing that around before the class's over, we can have you in a completely different class before second period even starts." With another friendly smile, he bustled outside into the hall.
Ash boggled. The art teacher had shown no interest whatsoever in his differences--he had befriended him almost immediately. The boy couldn't believe his extraordinary luck after pessimistically expecting his usual lot. He opened the booklet as other pupils began to file in and glanced over the list of classes. He'd already taken advanced alchemy and higher mathematics, both. He crossed them out. Arcane history held no interest whatsoever--he'd had the same class twice under a different name at the Hosttower. Gym? Right. Because of what he was--because of the ancient dragon blood that ran in his veins and made him a sorcerer--he had no need of physical diversions. The slightest bit of exercise or exertion on a daily basis was enough to keep him in perfect shape, which was why he made a point of practicing his swordplay every afternoon.
Theological identification was also out. He knew the names of all the gods and goddesses on Abeir-Toril, and the names of entire pantheons that had nothing to do with their Plane of existence, as well as where all of them went and who did what. He wasn't studying to be some celibate, silent monk or stuffy cleric somewhere. That left art and band/choir. He scanned the list again, then once more, finally jotting down replacement classes in the proper order. He would have art, evocation, abjuration, magical engineering, concert band and choir, theatre, and then finish the day with theories and applications of sorcery.
He rose and trudged up to Kelvin's desk, ignoring the other art students, who were settling into their chairs, and laid the pamphlet and his class list in plain view. The art teacher would take it from there, he supposed, as he walked back to his table. When he got there, though, he found it occupied by three young human boys. Two of them sat on one side, facing the third, and all were chatting excitedly.
Purposefully as well as apprehensively, Ash walked back to his place, and sat down, clearing his throat. The three boys stopped talking to watch the tiefling, and there was a long, uncomfortable silence at the table. Then the young man directly across from Ashnod offered his hand with a smile.
"Hey," he said, "my name's Casanith."
Ash shook the proffered hand, feeling a little more at ease. "Ashnod."
"You're not from around here, are you?" said the one next to Ash. "I'm Kendrick, by the way." He, too, clasped hands with the tiefling, a bit hesitantly at first, but it felt as though that stemmed more from natural shyness rather than revulsion or fear.
"No, I'm from Luskan."
"I've always wanted to go to Luskan," said the third member of the group, enthusiastically. "I've heard that it's so awesome!" Casanith punched him in the shoulder. "Oh, yeah. I'm J'soon."
Ash studied all of them. Casanith was shorter than the others, not much more than five inches over five feet, he thought--half a foot under his own height. He had shoulder-length chestnut hair, hazel eyes, and a bronze complexion. Kendrick was an inch or two taller than Ash, with short, fluffy black hair and eyes that were brown behind their round glasses. He was also a tad more heavyset than his companions, although not much so. J'soon was the same height as Kendrick, but lanky and pale, with blue-gray eyes and reddish-brown hair that was waxed up in a mess of short spikes and whorls.
"So--" the planetouched boy said slowly, "you guys are friends?"
"Yeah," J'soon answered cheerfully. "Since all the way back in primary. I'm a year ahead of these guys, but we still manage to have most of the same classes."
"What about you?" asked Kendrick. "Do you know anyone here yet?"
"Just the art teacher," Ash replied with a shrug.
"Well, maybe we can show you around, then," Casanith suggested. "We always have an empty spot at our lunch table every year, anyway. We can get to know each other a little better."
Ash was amazed, and offered a silent but fervent thank-you to Tymora, in case she was his benefactor. Whoever it was, he was beginning to have some serious thoughts about converting religions. "Sounds great!" He smiled fangily.
"Fine, then. Oh--here's Kelvin."
The art professor entered the room, closing the door behind him, and walked to the front, winking at Ash as he passed. "Most of you know me, or have even had me before," he said as he turned at his desk. "For those of you who haven't, I'm Kelvin. I think you know what to do in art class, so for today, my only requirement is that your working material be clay. Pinch something out--don't use any tools to help you. I want to get an idea of your creative ability in here." He spotted Ash's class list and picked it up. "I'm going to make a short run to the office, and when I come back, we'll get started."
*Maybe,* Ash thought, *this won't be as bad as I thought.*
Chuchiru: They're not speaking to each other right now.
Morgan: (gets big shiny eyes) Eep-- (gushes tears)
Chuchiru: Bwahahahaha!
Morgan: You mock my agony? Eat pain, otaku fanboy! (hits Chuchiru with giant fish)
Chuchiru: (from floor) I am confused--
Morgan: Good!
* * *
Ashnod slipped into the room that had the number specified by his schedule, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible. No one else was inside, so he plopped down in the nearest seat angrily, letting out a sigh as he threw his books on the paint-stained table. At least he got to start off the day with art.
"It's hard the first day, sometimes," said a voice from behind him. Ash whirled reflexively, skipping his chair around in a circle.
"Whoa, take it easy!" The man was tall and had bulky shoulders, with big hands and a youthful face, dressed in rather casual clothes. He couldn't have been more than thirty, and he looked cheerfully at the tiefling. "Jumpy at our new school, huh?"
"How did you know?" Ash replied. His tail flicked nervously.
"Well, I've never seen you here before, and I think I'd remember someone like you for sure." There was no insult in his words, just a friendly invitation to talk. He had laughing brown eyes and matching hair, which was interrupted only by a small bald spot at the back of his crown.
"Yeah, I-- We just moved here a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh? Where're you from?"
Ash shrugged. "Luskan."
"That's a long way off. You go to the wizards' academy up there, then?"
"The Hosttower of the Arcane? Yeah, but-- Well, they couldn't teach me much."
"Oh, really? Regular little genius, then, eh?" The man put his hands on his hips, inserting a teasing tone into his words.
Ash flushed slightly, not deigning to mention that he was, in fact, probably more intelligent than everyone at this school put together. It was a simple fact, but he didn't like to discuss it because it seemed like bragging. "Er, actually, it wasn't them so much as it was me." He liked this man, who he already assumed to be the art teacher, and wanted to be as friendly as possible; however, spilling his guts about his past was a bit awkward when he was talking to someone he didn't even know.
The man almost seemed to read his mind. "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry!" he said, smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Name's Kelvin, Kelvin Griffinheart. I'm the art teacher here at Waterdeep High." He wiped his hand on his dungarees and held it out to the boy.
Ash took it, shaking uncertainly. "I'm Ashnod Darkling; but everyone calls me Ash." *When they call me something civilized,* he added mentally.
"Well, pleased to meet you, Ash. I hope you like art--I try to run a fun classroom, but I don't tolerate troublemakers. Not that you strike me as a troublemaker!" He added the last bit hastily. "I just want to lay down the rules. You'll have a few required projects, but most of your time will be your own to do whatever you want with. Something physical, though--save your music and your poetry and stuff for literature class."
"I don't do that much writing," Ash lied, embarrassed as he though of his own poetry at home.
"Maybe not, but if you can work clay with that tail, you'll be a star student in here." Kelvin rapped his knuckles on the table enthusiastically. "So," he said, seating himself in another chair and wrenching the conversation back around, "what were you saying about Luskan?"
"Oh," Ash answered, confused momentarily, "there weren't any skills I could learn there that really make that much difference. I'm not, um, really a mage." He bit his lower lip slightly, showing his vampire-like fangs.
"S'too bad. We don't have that many magic-users in this school, for some reason. At least, not in the last four or five years. We have some kids in the primary facility downtown who show some aptitude for the arcane, but there are only about eight high-schoolers in any of the magic classes here. Eight of our eleven wizardry instructors are on sabbatical because they're not needed. The only ones left are the evocation instructor, the abjuration master, and Mistress Enalia, the sorceress."
"You--you have a professor of sorcery?"
"Of course! Didn't Luskan?"
"No," Ash replied. "That's why I left."
"Ah," Kelvin said, understanding. "Now I see. Well, you'd better make sure that you have Enalia's class, then. She's really good at her job, I've heard, although I'm no spellcaster, so I wouldn't know good magic from bad."
The young tiefling extracted his class list from the jumble of textbooks he'd tossed onto the table earlier. Art, advanced alchemy, higher mathematics, arcane history, concert band and choir, theological identification, and gym. "Great," he muttered, passing the slip of paper to Kelvin. "She's not on there."
"Don't worry," the art instructor smiled, standing up with the paper. "Here, just a second." He went to his desk, opened a drawer, and removed a thin pamphlet, which he thumbed through quickly. Marking a page with the class list, he brought it over to Ash. "This is a full listing of all available classes. Just change out the ones you want, and I'll turn it into the office for you. They make mistakes all the time, so they won't think anything about altering your schedule--especially not on the first day, when almost everyone will be doing the same thing." He handed the tiefling his prize, just as the bell sounded to begin the first class. "Oh! Well, we'll talk more later. I'm in and out of the room all period, too, so if you finish changing that around before the class's over, we can have you in a completely different class before second period even starts." With another friendly smile, he bustled outside into the hall.
Ash boggled. The art teacher had shown no interest whatsoever in his differences--he had befriended him almost immediately. The boy couldn't believe his extraordinary luck after pessimistically expecting his usual lot. He opened the booklet as other pupils began to file in and glanced over the list of classes. He'd already taken advanced alchemy and higher mathematics, both. He crossed them out. Arcane history held no interest whatsoever--he'd had the same class twice under a different name at the Hosttower. Gym? Right. Because of what he was--because of the ancient dragon blood that ran in his veins and made him a sorcerer--he had no need of physical diversions. The slightest bit of exercise or exertion on a daily basis was enough to keep him in perfect shape, which was why he made a point of practicing his swordplay every afternoon.
Theological identification was also out. He knew the names of all the gods and goddesses on Abeir-Toril, and the names of entire pantheons that had nothing to do with their Plane of existence, as well as where all of them went and who did what. He wasn't studying to be some celibate, silent monk or stuffy cleric somewhere. That left art and band/choir. He scanned the list again, then once more, finally jotting down replacement classes in the proper order. He would have art, evocation, abjuration, magical engineering, concert band and choir, theatre, and then finish the day with theories and applications of sorcery.
He rose and trudged up to Kelvin's desk, ignoring the other art students, who were settling into their chairs, and laid the pamphlet and his class list in plain view. The art teacher would take it from there, he supposed, as he walked back to his table. When he got there, though, he found it occupied by three young human boys. Two of them sat on one side, facing the third, and all were chatting excitedly.
Purposefully as well as apprehensively, Ash walked back to his place, and sat down, clearing his throat. The three boys stopped talking to watch the tiefling, and there was a long, uncomfortable silence at the table. Then the young man directly across from Ashnod offered his hand with a smile.
"Hey," he said, "my name's Casanith."
Ash shook the proffered hand, feeling a little more at ease. "Ashnod."
"You're not from around here, are you?" said the one next to Ash. "I'm Kendrick, by the way." He, too, clasped hands with the tiefling, a bit hesitantly at first, but it felt as though that stemmed more from natural shyness rather than revulsion or fear.
"No, I'm from Luskan."
"I've always wanted to go to Luskan," said the third member of the group, enthusiastically. "I've heard that it's so awesome!" Casanith punched him in the shoulder. "Oh, yeah. I'm J'soon."
Ash studied all of them. Casanith was shorter than the others, not much more than five inches over five feet, he thought--half a foot under his own height. He had shoulder-length chestnut hair, hazel eyes, and a bronze complexion. Kendrick was an inch or two taller than Ash, with short, fluffy black hair and eyes that were brown behind their round glasses. He was also a tad more heavyset than his companions, although not much so. J'soon was the same height as Kendrick, but lanky and pale, with blue-gray eyes and reddish-brown hair that was waxed up in a mess of short spikes and whorls.
"So--" the planetouched boy said slowly, "you guys are friends?"
"Yeah," J'soon answered cheerfully. "Since all the way back in primary. I'm a year ahead of these guys, but we still manage to have most of the same classes."
"What about you?" asked Kendrick. "Do you know anyone here yet?"
"Just the art teacher," Ash replied with a shrug.
"Well, maybe we can show you around, then," Casanith suggested. "We always have an empty spot at our lunch table every year, anyway. We can get to know each other a little better."
Ash was amazed, and offered a silent but fervent thank-you to Tymora, in case she was his benefactor. Whoever it was, he was beginning to have some serious thoughts about converting religions. "Sounds great!" He smiled fangily.
"Fine, then. Oh--here's Kelvin."
The art professor entered the room, closing the door behind him, and walked to the front, winking at Ash as he passed. "Most of you know me, or have even had me before," he said as he turned at his desk. "For those of you who haven't, I'm Kelvin. I think you know what to do in art class, so for today, my only requirement is that your working material be clay. Pinch something out--don't use any tools to help you. I want to get an idea of your creative ability in here." He spotted Ash's class list and picked it up. "I'm going to make a short run to the office, and when I come back, we'll get started."
*Maybe,* Ash thought, *this won't be as bad as I thought.*