Class was fairly routine yet still interesting for Hakaril. The field of conjuration fascinated and amusd him greatly—the mere concept of being able to create from where there was once nothing to see or feel had an allure he found himself unable to resist. His first experiences with the art had been in a class that was recommended for all new students: “Student Survival 101.†This class was recommended because it essentially taught newcomers the “ropes†of Gunnir, initiating them both into the Academy’s social whirl and giving them ways to live and eat on a budget, namely involving the conjuration of edible (if slightly bland) food, which tended to be a useful little cantrip even past their graduation. Hakaril figured that a mage should be self sufficient, and thusly, he took great pride in these abilities.
He wandered down the hallway, idly waving at a group of peers chitchatting about an upcoming exam in Draconic III, and shortly afterwards, found his way to his dormitory. He pulled the door open, noting that its unlocked state was most likely due to his negligence earlier as a result of being in a hurry. Shutting the door behind him, he surveyed the room.
Darin was nowhere to be found—but then, that hardly surprised Hakaril. The time mage was probably in some class, and despite having been Darin’s roommate for almost two months, he had not yet memorized the other boy’s schedule. He tossed off his hat idly, the headpiece landing on the desk atop an open book that had obviously been left there.
The dormitory Hakaril and Darin shared was an interesting contrast. Half of the room was a complete and utter wreck. Books, papers and sheets of parchment were strewn everywhere, clothes and overcoats lay hanging over the bedposts, posters of women in various sexy poses were plastered all over the walls, and the entire scene framed an unmade bed with sheets pockmarked by ink stains as a result of late night homework sessions done while the mage was lying in bed.
Hakaril flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes and weighing his options. He could go down to the library, or the lunchroom, or one of the many lounges in the Academy, and socialize a bit. He could read a book, a favorite pastime of his, so long as they were books on the subject of magical theory, or he could just stare aimlessly into space, which was occasionally good for the purposes of relaxation, especially when he had another class to go to in roughly half an hour.
However, after a few minutes, a sharp rapping at his door broke his reverie, causing him to roll over on his side and glance at the door. “Yeah? Come on in,†he called out to the visitor.
The door opened slowly, creaking loudly as it did, causing both the visitor and Hakaril to wince.
“You really ought to oil your door’s hinges, man,†a familiar voice said.
Hakaril sat up on his bed, shaking his head roughly for a moment, and idly pushed a bluish hair out of his eye, grinning at the unexpected guest. “Hey, Zack,†he said with a smile. “What brings you to my humble abode?â€
Zack grinned back, flashing a mischievous smile that would have made any nearby instructor cringe at the mere thought of what the young black mage might have been planning. Hakaril had first met Zack the day before he made it to the Academy, after he had spent a rather rough night sleeping in the mountains because he had been forced to flee from a shadow hound of some sort. He had awoken to a rough jabbing in his side—Zack had found someone who was either dead or sleeping, and the only way to tell the difference was usually to check for vitals or poke the body. Zack, being himself, had decided poking was the more amusing and effective option. Since their first meeting, Hakaril had learned that Zack was pretty much what any casual observer would expect—volatile, hotheaded, energetic, sneaky, conniving, and constantly getting himself into trouble. On the other hand, he was a good, true, and loyal friend, and an excellent sorcerer as far as the field of black magic went.
“I’ve come because…oh, guess why I’m here,†Zack teased.
“I have no idea, Zack. You know I hate guessing games,†Hakaril retorted playfully.
“We’re going to be insanely rich.â€
Hakaril rolled his eyes. “Zack, I’ve told you a half a dozen times that I really don’t care much about money.†The black mage was full of get-rich-quick schemes that never actually worked, and Hakaril was less than certain that he wished to get involved in yet another one.
“No, no, man, it’s not like that,†Zack replied excitedly. “Just hear me out.â€
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</td><td><center>The Archmage:
Sadistic GM or handsome bishounen? You decide!
RPGWW! Beware of GM!
"I disapprove of what you say, but I shall defend to the death your right to say it." ~Voltaire
"You dealt a critical hit with a book." ~LadydragonclawsEDW
"I likes the vibrating ass plug, aw right!" ~Lord McBastard</center></td><td>
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