Fantasy The Blackmarrow University for Bizarre Sorceries (IC)

[Mephisto]

To describe the Labyrinth Forest as anything but convoluted would be quite the feat indeed. The writhing carpet of entangled roots was only matched by the canopied ceiling formed from countless trees coiling into each other. The vegetation, thick and unforgiving, concealed all manner of horrible things hiding behind every corner. Beasts frequented the road, both living and dead, eager to drag adventurers one by one into the mist.

Few roads were fully cut from one end to the other. Even fewer were properly mapped. None were truly safe. Inevitably, this became a winding, intersecting nightmare of pathways and hidden secrets. Only the caravans taking students to the imposing Barrow Mountain knew and memorized the way.

This path was nestled between countless graveyards. Stories could be told forever of the circumstances behind them being here of all places. Some swore that an ancient evil demanded they be built and continuously filled for experimentation. Others claimed the forest grew around them, swallowing untold numbers of souls and trapping them for eternity.

Whatever the truth, the closer these caravans came to Barrow Mountain the more obvious it became just how vile the magics involved were. By this time, however, the students who answered the call could not turn back. The coachmen cracked their whips and climbed the road beyond numerous gates, all locked by spiteful sorcery.

This was a place of pure, unfiltered cruelty. Spirits howled and screamed from beyond the mortal vale. Mass graves turned into convulsing collections of bone and the caravan continued to carry on. Beasts gathered around. This mountain was more than cursed, it was a pulsating coagulation of misery and death.

Yet for all of this, a sound descended from the air. As lightning split the clouds overhead the distinct rhythm of music began to overtake the horror. The closer you observed the cacophony, the more the music wriggled into your ears.

The skeletons were dancing, pale and hollow. Their ancient joints stomped and twirled, following the joyous beat. The zombies moaned and writhed, rotten and befouled. Pieces crumbled from their decayed forms but they maintained the rhythm. The ghosts found a common note and synchronized. All of this horrid noise and movement contributed to a single unifying purpose.

They were singing.

“Hello, so good of you to make it
It’s been one hell of a ride
Trust us - we should know!

Welcome to where you can’t fake it
Where magic’s on the dark side
You’ve got tickets - so here’s the show!

It’s the horrifying world of Blackmarrow!”​

Almost on cue, the school opened up before the caravan and its academic cargo. The carriages lined up in a semicircle and the doors swung to all at the same time. In the center of the estate stood a massive fountain, decorated from base to crown with morbid carvings - some of which twitched with an unnatural life.

The main campus was nightmarishly big, greedily hoarding the mountaintop for itself. A chill wind swept across the castle-like structures, twirling banners and causing leaves to rustle and fall. But the music never ceased. The song returned

“We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him
He’s the big boss, so cruel and grim
So please give him your applause
It’s the almighty lich lord Nhumrethaz!”​

The air suddenly became inhospitable for a brief moment. Life shuddered in the blood and bone of creation. A pale green light trickled out from under the main gate to the forwardmost stronghold. With a gasp, it burst apart into a horrid shower of ghastly smoke and dead stars. Two eyes peered from the innards of the display, and the voice to come from it caused even the stalwart coachmen to avert their eyes.

“Damn it all, Mephisto!” he swirled his bony finger through the air and the undead menagerie of musicians collapsed back into the confines of the world.

“I tell you every year to not make a show of it, and yet here you are making this seem like a circus,”

The lich was unreasonably powerful, that much was for certain. He didn’t walk, more so glided across the ground. Every aspect of his being seemed mummified or freshly exhumed, yet not a speck of dust was to be found on his person. He had an air of regality despite his harsh language. His pale emerald eyes followed the expressions of the new students and he swept his arms apart in a warmer gesture.

“Ah! I see the turnout this year is rather generous,” he moved for them to follow him inside.

“Come, come. My name is… well, Nhumrethaz. I’d have liked to say that myself but - circumstances and whatnot. I am one of the three who founded this school over 5,700 years ago…”

The tour would start at the very beginning, with the various wars he and the others waged for no purpose other than to secure their own powerful empires in the vacuum left behind by their strange progenitors.

Eventually, they came to an agreement: if they couldn’t decide on who would rule, then they would step back and let destiny sort itself out. They founded the school on the principles of this basic peace, but decided to open it to invitationals after witnessing firsthand the plight of mortals.

They feared what they didn’t understand - plain and simple. That fear usually fed into distrust and more fighting. So, the Blackmarrow school became a beacon of dark magic where the inclined and curious could congregate and learn. Now, what they did with that insight wasn’t any of the school’s business.

In fact, it took a certain measure of pride in both the famous and the infamous who walked out through their doors. Revolutionaries and dictators, prophets and liars, saints and sinners, they were all emblazoned upon the wall side by side!

As Nhumrethaz continued the tour to the dormitories that the students would be inhabiting for the duration of their tenure, a shadow manifested within the tallest tower of the central bastion. A figure emerged, framed by the barest semblance of candlelight. He watched, certain that more than a few of them wouldn’t make it to graduation, and cast a small smile.

 

[Maverick Six]

Caldur

---

CRUNCH

A short, male figure with pointed ears lounged lazily in the cabin -- his teeth biting unto an apple. Despite the casual air, his eyes seemed to never really leave from the caravan's windows, and out to various unknowns which danced about the cabin. With the apple eaten, he opened the window briefly to flick it out of the window and out onto the dirt -- where the apple might once more sift in the dirt. Surely even a place as somehow forsaken as this would yet allow some life to grow from it? At least he hoped. Cracking whips, moans of undead, and noises otherwise unknown filled the cabin for a few brief moments.

"Ugh." For the first time in his life, the forest elf had found himself in the woods, which had managed to make him feel uncomfortable.

A slight tinge of irritation hit him. He did not like this place for reasons that came across as almost hypocritical. It felt unnatural and almost dead. Ironic given his dabbling in such forbidden arts. He supposed he should get used to it, given that the path he had chosen landed him here. He had been willing to do things that the tribe had not. It was he who sought to tamper with the ecosystem to make it inhospitable to man and all manner. It was he who would make puppets of corpses using a fungus he had found that possessed an ant.

All reasons that pushed him here -- into something that somehow felt far worse than anything he could ever conjure up.

A few moments had been spent throughout the ride as he sized up his peers in search of potential allies, tools, and competition...before looking out to the window himself. The elf's expression hardly betrayed his concealed thoughts.

Caldur departed the cart with his things. He'd carried little, save for a bag filled with half clothes and half food swung over his back. He wore clothing made of cotton and wool and had a warm cloak wrapped around his body with a hoodie. In his other hand, he carried a long quarterstaff that was more durable than it looked and wore a long knife at his hip. The elf's almost bestial eyes glowed faintly in the dark.

They arrived at their destination, and in blatant juxtaposition to the ride here, they were greeted with a show the moment they'd reached the daunting, castle-like school. To which now elf's brow raised.

"You....cannot be serious." He commented, watching in dumbfounded silence as skeletons upon their arrival. Of this nigh nonsensical exchange, he extracted about two names. One was of their teacher "Nhumrethaz." And the other was a new figure "Mephisto."

The teacher's arrival was that which heralded with it an almost ominous power that radiated from him. Caldur could not say this fell outside of expectations, but soon the teacher's words began to clear up more about the school.

Upon hearing the word "revolutionaries," he felt slightly at ease. Perhaps he might yet be well suited for this school, after all. Even if it was some place that seemed, almost antithetical to those of his kind.

It seems I'll just have to get used to the nature of this....place.

 

[hotsauce]

Beck had fallen asleep on the carriage ride there. Sure, the odd scenery had been something that had him intrigued at first, but he slowly got used to the steady hum and lull of the carriage as it clacked across the earth, the almost rhythmic motions something of a lullaby. Beck's friends had always teased him that he could fall asleep anywhere, at the briefest of lulls in excitement, and they were right. He was away in dreamland, mind wandering about how the school year might go. It was strange for him to leave his pack, the people who understood him more than anyone else in this world or beyond. But he had delayed an education long enough; it was time to continue his education of the magical arts. He was too gifted with runes to waste the possibility of learning more. So here he was, asleep in the carriage until the door opened abruptly, waking him to take in the fanfare in a dazed state, still groggy with the remnants of his nap.

As he watched the professors talk amongst themselves, he stretched out the soreness of sleeping awkwardly in a sitting position. As he shook his head and stretched his legs, there was something distinctly canine in his movements. He tried to stifle a yawn, feeling that would be rude. The odd atmosphere didn't have the effect on him it seemed to have on everyone else, he realized as he glanced around. The emotions he could see written on his peers' faces varied, but many looked apprehensive, nervous, or excited. Beck supposed he was all of those things, but the ambience of the strange forest didn't make him pause in awe. Instead, he merely shook out the sleep and picked up his things, curious where this adventure might lead him. He knew this place had history--he could tell just from looking (and the fact Nhumrethaz mentioned he founded the school over five thousand years ago) and he was intrigued by it, but that was something that could wait. His stomach growled loudly, making him flush as the person next to him gave him an odd look. Maybe he was a bit out of place here, having little real-world experience with the arcane, but he was determined to do his best. And wasn't that the most important part?

He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair as he took in his new surroundings. Yeah, this was going to be an interesting year.

 

[Daddy Dream]

Lauren Thelmane

Lauren was not too thrilled to be going to a school for the dark arts. She wasn't even into the dark arts, but apparently her powers were classified as such and therefore she was shipped off here without much of a say. She took only a few brief moments to look out the window and get a feel for the surroundings she was about to endure for the next few years and sighed. It was what she expected a dark arts atmosphere to be, doom and gloom and so much death. She rubbed her temples the further down the path she went, forming a headache at the amount of noise the spirits were making. It was mostly screams of pain and torment, but there was a few criers and wailers followed by a spotting of absolute rage and anger. The emotional turmoil that surrounded the school made Lauren sick causing her to lean her head back and release a heavy sigh, trying to suppress the emotions and sounds.

It didn't take long for her concentration to be interrupted by one of the passengers opening the window to toss out an apple. At that, her response was a pain filled wince as the screams were only amplified louder. If this was what it sounded like outside, Lauren was not going to be able to survive a day. She had to quickly get this under control before the carriage stopped. Closing her eyes, she ignored everything else around her and focused on minimizing the sounds of the spirits, feeling a bit guilty that it would also minimize the communication she had with her own familiars.

By the time that the carriage stopped and everyone unloaded, Lauren had gotten the spirits noise a bit more under control so that it was now just a constant humming in the back of her head. She focused more on what was being said to her now, taking note of the names and history of the school. Biting the inside of her cheek, she thought quietly about what her next move would be. The few others she came with seemed just as quite as her, well, except for an elf who spoke a couple of words. Lauren wasn't complaining much as she would rather they all just not get too close to her. As they toured into the dorms, she had this feeling of being watched, to which she looked around but spotted no one, living or dead.

 

[Mephisto]

---

The further Nhumrethaz took the new students on their tour, the more apparent it became that they were tired and hungry from their trip through the accursed forest and up the winding road of the mountainside. He knew this well, he’d had many thousands of years repeating the same pattern. It didn’t offend him that they were so predictable, and it did nothing to annoy him or perturb his otherworldly senses.

In fact, he dared to say that he enjoyed stringing them along for as much as he could before the inevitable.

At long last, he brought them to the cafeteria and dining hall. The sheer wall of aroma that would overwhelm their senses could only be described as intoxicating. Representative cuisine from across the entirety of the world of Skellbrieg could be found here, prepared by chefs in dark uniforms standing proudly behind their creations.

Meats drawn from every walk of life, vegetables, and fruits cut, cooked, and prepared in every conceivable fashion rested eagerly to be consumed alongside fresh pastries, scores of different breads, dozens of different strains of rice adjacent to a respectively intimidating array of curries, noodles both fried and boiled, hot and chilled, cheeses, starches, sauces, culinary adornments befitting a king, and so on and so on and so on…

The lich lord, eager enough to witness the reactions of his new crop of students, stood aside and gestured for them to form an orderly line.

As he did so, he sent a minor communication spell to his fellow headmasters, the two other top professors of the school who hoisted the university from the aftermath of their various conflicts and proxy wars. They held a peace founded on a shared vision of chaos, for only through such havoc could peace and order be properly maintained. Knowledge of it worked in their favor.

It would be far easier to bring the dark into the light than drag all good into the clutches of evil. From there, the shadows could only grow.

Nhumrethaz himself took residence in the centermost seat at the far side of the dining hall. These three thrones occupied a special area of interest, for all eyes could be drawn to them at a moment’s notice. They existed merely as a formality to give the students a sense of security in that the three of the most powerful wielders of magic on the planet were all in one place for their collective benefit.

“Well well well, quite the turnout,” a familiar voice crackled next to him, despite his best efforts to ignore it.

“Mephisto,” Nhumrethaz grumbled, tapping the surface of their shared table with his bony fingers.

The Maestro of Musical Magic cascaded his fingers in greeting, his dark glasses hiding his red eyes. He leaned into his chair and crossed one long leg over the other.

“Are there any of particular interest?” Mephisto asked.

“We shall see,” Nhumrethaz snapped back.

The lich and the devil continued their meaningless squabble as the students gathered their food, formed rudimentary friendships, and started to make their little groups along the tables. Eventually, all were stationed exactly where they needed to be. When the meals were completed, that would be the time when the professors would reveal their hand.

But first…

“Where’s Professor Bongo?” Nhumrethaz inquired.

Mephisto pointed a sharp finger over towards the other side of the lich. There, having sat in place for who knows how long, was a clown. He was staring with dead eyes at the ceiling, a bead of drool rolling down his painted face. Nhumrethaz flinched.

“Ah, I see. Anyway,”

The lich stood up and raised his arms.

“Attention, students! As you finish your meals, I will draw your attention to the ceiling above you,”

When they did so, they would easily be able to see a sort of roulette wheel appearing in a cloud of pale green smoke. The options were innumerable and much too small to properly pinpoint.

“This is known as the Chaos Table! When you as students accomplish different goals, you are rewarded or cursed accordingly. Now, how this is determined is completely up to your professors. And don’t worry, this is the first and last time you’ll see it in the flesh,”

His hand burst into a ghoulish flame.

“Now, how about I give you an example?”

The wheel spun aggressively, churning out smoke and fire as it did so. It settled slowly on the number 76.

“There we go! Lunch and a show!”

He clapped his hands, dismissing the wheel to whatever Hell it came from, and sat back down. The grounds outside the cafeteria suddenly became active with groaning and shuffling. The doors snapped open with a horrifying parade of cadavers that rushed inside, but they weren’t interested in attacking the students. Instead, they were carrying instruments.

Cracking the metaphorical whip was one of the other staff members, a groundskeeping necromancer named Tobias Munroe. He took his top hat off and bowed towards the new students, his hollow cheeks depressed into a smile.

“Welcome to Blackmarrow. I hope you will enjoy your stay… despite the terrors you will inevitably encounter,”

He chuckled with a sinister intent, his undead band striking up a smooth and rhythmic chord to entertain them. While they did this, workers from within the kitchen started to march out and reclaim the trays, plates, bowls, and various utensils to clean.

Nhumrethaz grumbled.

“What’s the matter?” Mephisto laughed. “You wanted to give them a fright?”

“Too much music for one day,” the lich growled.

Professor Bongo sat motionless in his throne, his brain seemingly completely disconnected.

Thus, the introductory portion of the tour was concluded. The students were all given rooms for up to three to share at once. The crews of skeletons leading them to their dormitories also carried their luggage, leaving behind the room keys and pamphlets for various room services.

 

[Maverick Six]

Caldur

---

For the most part, Caldur was attentive. And yet, ironically, the other students had caught something that he quite didn't: Simply put, they were being watched. Yet by what? He didn't know. Usually, he was the one watching others.

Long elven ears flicked, indicative of enhanced hearing. And his dimly glowing eyes cut through the darkness. And yet ultimately, he didn't catch wind of whatever was watching them. Paying heed to not lose too much info to his mere instincts, he decided to put his mind to what their "teacher" was saying.

Then came something that appealed to his baser desires: Food.

The elf had found himself only moderately hungry, because he'd the foresight to bring apples and general food. Given the penchant for Caldur to go skulking about in the woods and living amongst the wildlife as though he were a forest creature -- he tended to be quite prepared for these types of things. Indeed, while not the most muscular nor the toughest, tribal living had gifted the elf with a healthy amount of endurance.

And yet when food was presented, it was taken. What they had was simply far better than the minimalistic and meager scrappings of fruit, dried meats, and honey that Caludr possessed. They'd finely made meals that smelled better than most anything he could prepare by themselves. And only something from a home he was ultimately banished from could ever compare.

The proportions which he took leaned mostly to fruits and vegetables, with only a quarter of what he was offered being meat. No one was barred from sitting next to him. But he had hardly gone out of his way to make friends either. Being too recluse could make people suspicious of him. But being a chatty, social butterfly didn't come naturally to him. Particularly not when it came to interfacing with two humans.

Though one of them smelled funny he could have sworn he'd caught a smell for fur from one. Though perhaps it was just his imagination.

So Caldur would eat, inevitably, his table manners leaving a little bit to be desired despite what one might think of elf. He used silverwear, but appeared to be eating fairly quickly, stuffing his face until his cheeks puffed with hardly a car in the world. That was at least until something called to his attention.

Things had become quite confusing, and this only caused him to pay more attention as a figure appeared over by where the professor was. He recalled the name "Mephisto" had been spoken out of irritation before. It seemed like that individual was the one who was responsible for what was going on at the beginning with the dancing display of skeletons. There was hardly much to go off when it came to him. Something seemingly more important.

The chaos table.

He looked up at a giant, spinning wheel which pointed to many things too hard for him to see. Having never seen such an object in his area of the woods, he struggled to understand what it was beyond what appeared to be something which had great.

Oh great. More singing.

76. It appeared the number meant more singing, to which Caldur groaned.

If one's going to use corpses, can it not be for meaningful purpose than dancing?

When welcomed, he finally responded with actual words -- speaking the second sentence since he'd first gotten here.

"I appreciate the Welcome...given this university's reputation and the ride here, I am beginning to suspect nothing less than to be "tested." He wanted to say that, in truth, the place had proven more light-hearted and whimsical than he'd expected. But that might be taken as a challenge.

With food gone, they'd be ferried off to their rooms. Having no urge to resist, Caldur would simply go with the flow. One might notice the elf carrying all things himself -- as he carried about as many personal items on him as a hobo would.

 

[Daddy Dream]

Lauren Thelmane

Lauren made note of everything that was going on, and everyone she was around, writing it in a worn out journal that looked far older than her. She took down appearances of all the students around her, listing them in an order that only made sense to her. She then listed down locations of the areas that they visited, taking time to linger in the back and observe things around her but making sure to keep up. There were also times when she would stop and seemingly talk to herself, a serious yet curious expression on her face when she spoke to the air, jotting down what was said. However, when the conversations ended, she would hurry forward to catch up to the group.

When they approached another building, the scent of food washed over Lauren when she entered into the doors. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled as her steel blue eyes washed over the assortment of food that was displayed to them. Lauren was impressed that the university went all out to this extend for their first day in, and was eager to begin eating. When she approached the table, she held two plates full of an assortment of meats, rice, noodles, and more before she grabbed a third plate for desserts. She was not planning on getting back up multiple times to refill her plate later, and didn't mind the looks of confusion and surprise as she walked around confidently to find a seat. As she started to eat, she also found herself studying what was going on around her. The Lich professor sat himself at the far end of the table, center of three large thrones, and was accompanied by two other bodies as well, a slender twig and a brain dead clown? She focused back on her food before scanning the students, finding the ones she traveled with beforehand and eyeing their food choices.

After awhile, she she had finished her first and was halfway through her second, the lich rose and started to speak. Lauren did her best to listen, but the flavors of the food had more of her attention. She did glace up to see what was all going on, but found herself focused back on the food and her notes. When she was nearly finished with her food, another musical began to play and her shoulders tensed and her mood soured when they got close. It was interesting for the first time they came in, but if this was going to be a regular occurrence then she might just stay in her room. Speaking of rooms, now that the meal was complete, they students were being escorted into their rooms now, leaving Lauren to wonder who she would be staying with.

 

[hotsauce]

Beck Shultz

Beck was thrilled when they got to the part where they could eat. After his little nap, his stomach was growling. If there was one constant with him, it was that he could always go for food. He loved to eat. In fact, napping and eating were two of his favorite pastimes. He also enjoyed long walks on the beach. At any rate, he piled his plate high with everything that was offered, especially the meat. Being part wolf meant that while he was an omnivore, he especially enjoyed eating meat. He didn't care if it was beef, chicken, some other random magical animal or whatever, he was going to stuff his face. Beck was the opposite of a picky eater.

As he grabbed his food, having to be careful in his steps to ensure that it didn't fall on the floor as he headed to sit down, he noticed the others around him. No one seemed too keen on making conversation, unfortunately. Beck would have loved to chat. But he was hungry enough that he figured he could easily talk to his companions later, whenever later turned out to be. His number one priority was eating before whatever strange encounter the group was going to have next. He didn't even think about how awful his table manners were until he noticed the elf near him looking, and promptly gave a sheepish smile back, mouth smeared with condiments. He wiped his face on his arm, hoping that he didn't look like a complete idiot. Students were supposed to be smart and refined, weren't they? He really should have studied up more before heading straight for school. In his pack, it was first come first served with food, so he had learned to gobble it down as quickly as possible to ensure his appetite was met. Having a large number of siblings and friends whom he shared meals with did that to a person. Man, the people near him ate slowly in comparison.

Perhaps he needed to tone it down. If his appearance didn't make his lineage clear, his lack of manners or grace surely would. What would his family say? Embarrassing himself in front of more "proper" people. He suddenly felt as if he ought to be ashamed of his demeanor. Was his falling asleep a mistake too? No, no. It wouldn't be helpful to overthink everything he did. He came to this school to work on his magic, not to pretend to be some high and mighty elf or fae. Just because he did things a bit less than perfectly at home didn't mean he had to act like the people around him. He swallowed the thought down, along with a hefty helping of the dessert that he'd added onto his pile of food. Just as he was finishing up, the lich began to address the students.

Well, more music. That wasn't the worst thing. Beck even tried to hum along, trying to understand the style of music that the professors seemed to prefer. If it had been up to Beck, there would be a bit more bass and a thumping beat, but he was new here, so he just nodded along to the melody as best he could. Which was to say, not well. Beck had no sense of rhythm whatsoever, so his movements probably looked odd to those around him. Well, if the past while was anything to go by, they would think he was weird anyway. Might as well give up on being "proper" as soon as he started. Being interesting was much more fun, anyway.

As they were shown to their rooms afterward, Beck's curiosity was at full tilt. What sort of people would he end up rooming with? He didn't much care, so long as they were friendly. He would write home about his roommate(s) as soon as he could. He knew his pack would want to know how he was faring. This was going to be his year. He hoped. Beck was determined to do his best.

 

[Mephisto]

—

Whether by the strings of fate or pure coincidence, Caldur, Beck, and Lauren were to share a single dormitory together. Each unit contained three bedrooms separated from each other and leading into various multifunctional areas. Though there were clear purposes, the design was flexible enough to allow for customization depending on how and when the occupants decided to change their preferences.

The bedrooms, while cozy enough in their space allowance, were still somewhat cramped and closed off by doors that locked from the inside. There was enough space for a small personal desk, enough shelving for books and personal belongings, as well as a private closet. The rooms also each had a window looking down into the main garden area. The fountain bubbled peacefully, ringed by pale green and brilliant purple flowers.

Except… the observant few would notice… that the orientation was somewhat off.

But ultimately it wouldn’t matter. They were here now, destined for a year in the grasp of perhaps some of the most dangerous villains on the face of the planet.

What they would learn would be completely up to them, and the strange threat of the Chaos Table burned like a distant meteor.

Night fell quickly upon the campus of Blackmarrow.

—

Mephisto twirled his cane as he walked through the halls of a distant part of the school. He scaled the stairs as they broke away and coagulated elsewhere, making a path to nowhere that then opened into somewhere else. The university shifted at night, turning and twisting without care or reason.

He placed his hand on a doorknob that wasn’t in front of him before and it squeaked in surprise.

“Pardon me,” the brass handle floated away into the abyss.

The Musical Maestro chuckled softly as he continued along his way.

“Holding a meeting this late at night is considered bad manners. We’ll be haunted by ghosts, you know,”

The lich saw his equal approach, his disdain palpable even from the staff lounge which hovered independently of the swirling vortex of interlocking and interchanging parts. He took a long swig of some bitter black coffee and cradled his skull in the other hand.

“You’re burning a hole through my forehead,” he grumbled as Mephisto ascended on fluttering pieces of parchment, taking his seat amongst the other professors.

Bongo, as per usual, just stared out ahead into the void of spinning details. How he even got here was a mystery.

“And you’re testing my patience. You’ve gotten quite good at that,”

Nhumrethaz scoffed into his mug. It had emblems emblazoned on its side, a skeleton drinking its own coffee with “Living the Dream” framing the top.

“Contrary to popular belief, I am an exceedingly forgiving individual,” the lich scowled. “But last year, you got “bored” and spun the Chaos Table too many times, and now Bongo is… like this!”

He gave the clown a solid slap on the back of the head. Nothing happened, save for the bead of drool popping off his chin and onto the table.

“What’s the problem? He’s perfectly fine!”

“He hasn’t spoken at all since the incident,”

“Exactly!”

“I don’t even detect any thoughts or brain activity,”

“Even better!”

“Damn it, Mephisto, this is supposed to be a triarchy!”

“Almost 6,000 years, we have to take the training wheels off eventually,”

“Are you suggesting a takeover?”

“I’d rather a turnover,”

“What?”

“Apple turnover!”

“Oh I see what’s going on here,”

Nhumrethaz reached over the table and stuck his fingers into Mephisto’s ear, pinching something and pulling it out of the hole. The Maestro shivered and growled, hissing like an animal that just got hit with a chemical weapon. Nhumrethaz had ensnared a corporeal being, recognizing it instantly and throwing it into Bongo’s comatose body.

The clown immediately spasmed and screeched loudly, slapping his flesh with hefty motions to make sure he was real again.

“My gods and garters, bone boy, you did it! I spent the summer in that slimy ear hole whispering sweet nothings trying to get him to say the “oopsy daisy” phrase,”

Mephisto was inconsolable, grinding his teeth together and with static in his eyes. His face was skewed between calm… and completely irate.

The lich sighed, putting both hands on his temples.

“Welcome back, Bongo,”

“Oh it’s good to be back, I tell ya, it was cramped in there! Have you ever floated around in your ethereal form inside someone’s head? Sure, a person is just a bunch of tubes but goodness GRACIOUS can they get small!”

He hopped onto the table and the squeaking of his shoes sparked Mephisto to connect back to reality.

“You fool! There was a reason I tried to kill you with the Chaos Table!”

The Maestro started to throttle the Clown while the Lich just watched helplessly. He drank the rest of his coffee.

“Aguahguahguahguahguhguahg Mephisto! I said I was sorry about your song and dance number! I told you I have two left feet,”

He held up his hands, which had turned into left feet. Mephisto glared at him, but didn’t do anything until Bongo squeezed his big red nose with his new heel-wrists.

“HONK HONANGANGDAJGN-”

“Insufferable creature!! You burned down my radio station! I don’t know how you did it with a banana peel, but it’s all your fault!”

Mephisto continued to try and strangle Bongo with his bare hands. All Nhumrethaz did was go get more caffeine.

“This year is going to be… interesting to say the least.”

—

The students would be awakened by the cawing of… a crow? Except, it very obviously cleared its throat and tried again - this time louder and clearer.

Each dorm door would have fliers secured underneath them, labeled appropriately per each student inhabiting them. While Caldur, Beck, and Lauren had the same living arrangement, their classes were completely independent.

Caldur’s first period was musical arrangement with Mephisto. Beck had basic runic attunement with Nhumrethaz.

And that left Lauren at the moronic mercies of Professor Bongo’s clown chemistry class.

The fact that the times were very specific, and that the school had completely changed its own layout overnight were only the beginnings of the students' troubles.

—

 

[Maverick Six]

Caldur

---

That Night

Daddy Dream hotsauce Mephisto

The elf had walked and wandered about the maze of a school for a little bit -- long ears twitching as he heard strange and indiscernible noises all about the place. It was almost as though it was moving in and of itself. Despite his dismissal -- he still yet felt as though he was being tested. He wondered if the place was playing tricks on him or if his time in the forest had made him bad at navigating the samey-ness and uniformity urban structures tended to have.

Even finding my room might prove to be a challenge.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long. He was converging rapidly upon where he would be living.

Sniff sniff.

The smell of fur, before he'd appear. Then he saw two others. Their faces were familiar to him. One was the woman who'd covered her ears in what appeared to be fear to Caldur. And another who appeared oblivious and yet oddly calm about the whole thing.

Ignorance is truly bliss, it seems.

He kept his snide and petty insults to himself; his voice calm as he instead met them with a veneer of politeness. "Greetings. It seems we three are all in the same room. Thus it is that I should inform you that my name is Caldur." He motioned to himself with a palm before he opened the door -- motioning both Lauren and Beck to enter before him.

After a few moments, he'd enter himself and be greeted with a plain domicile. Without having much in the realm of item on his person, he simply tossed his backpack onto the bed as he walked about the room. However, he did take to one part of the room: The window.

For perhaps the first time since getting here, Caldur smiled pleasantly, as he looked. "I'll be right back."

SHWOOP

With a moment, he was simply out the window in one swift movement.

In order to prevent his fairly frail form from simply splattering all over the stone ground -- Caldur conjured the wind with the same casual grace one did as walking. Air currents slowed his descent for a moment -- allowing him to land like a cat on all fours, before he walked casually towards the garden. With a tender grasp, he plunges two hands into the soil and removes one sapling from it's roots completely randomly. He placed it in a small burlap sack, which would serve as a flower "pot"

As he stood nearer to the school, a gust of wind briefly carried Caldur like a leaf in the wind or precious pollen to another plant. His fingers appeared on the window sill once again in a moment.

Without being given decorations, he simply made one -- in Blackmarrow Flavor. Most curious as to what would grow, he'd begin to feed one of the plants. The domain of death seemed to be common in these parts. But Caldur was the opposite, controlling specific forms of life in the form of plants and those elements adjacent to it.

A crystal right in the middle of Caldur's head began to glow as though a third. It's color was amber, like glowing sap.

The plant whatever it was would begin to grow before Caldur's hands. And he'd watch. Yet having some interest in gaining insight with his roommate he'd ask them a simple question.

"Where are you two from?" He asked simply, choosing not to volunteer much information himself without prompt.