Fable - Ask Cultures of Elbion (College)

[Uldyr]

The College of Elbion was changing, or so Uldyr’s captain seemed to think. Since nonhuman students were becoming more and more common a number of clubs, official and otherwise, had begun to form. This put the culture of the college at a state of flux, and there was no better evidence than the current state of the Square. Today the “Mages Without Borders” club was sponsoring a “Cultures of Elbion” event. Boothes were set up everywhere, representing many major cities Uldyr had heard of and many he didn’t. Each tent had have at least once volunteer for at least four hours in the day, had to display a map with a pushpin showing the rough location, and each booth had to serve some sort of food highlighting the cuisine of the area the booth represented.

Walking through the stands Uldyr had become accustomed to a variety of scents from the foods around. One booth to the western side held wine and cheese tasting from Oban. Another had a huge boar on a spit manned by orcish students from Bhathair while a Dornochi tent held a variety of teas. On the southern side a booth from Alliria showed a diversity of fish and spices befitting the trader’s port, while on the north side a student from Annuakat was serving the tail of a crocodile. It was a diverse assault on the senses that many enjoyed and others held their noses as they passed. Truth be told Uldyr had hoped to try the orcish barbeque, but the guardsman couldn’t eat on the clock.

Uldyr held the unenviable job of keeping magic rabble in line enough for the college to function. Normally this meant keeping frats from playing tricks, or stopping younger students from causing problems they weren’t prepared to deal with. Today however, that meant keeping these booths all happy with each other. He had to relocate a pair of booths for disputing the events of the Siege of Belgrath which was about to turn violent. A “No Politics” rule had been communicated, which Uldyr had defined as “I’ll know it when I see it.” Hopefully that was the last altercation of the day, but there had been rumors of some traditionalists wanting to break up the event.

Uldyr hoped not. He didn’t mind his job, but also didn’t believe himself paid well enough to deal with real trouble.

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OOC:

Thought this would be a good lowkey thread to show off different student’s origins and mingle a bit. I’d like to keep it more relaxed to start, but we can spice it up after folks have had a chance to get into things

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[Nilamani]

Despite not being from Alliria, Nilamani had found themself helping out at their booth that morning. This was because Thadd who was and whose house had made a sizeable contribution of goods to the booth, had a strong tendency to accidentally break things. That and his roommates complete inability to organize meant they had spent their morning acting as a go between for the servant who had arrived from house Orabela and the other students setting up the booth.

Thadd's first action had been to accidentally snapped a banister pole in half. He was then promptly banished to wander the festivities as gently as possible, as far away as possible for the time being.
House Orabela despite producing such a charming dunce was full of quite capable enchanters and had their hands in the cocoa trade. They had sent a great number of small enchanted boxes each embossed with the house crest, containing a sample of truffles. They were enchanted to play a short melody when one opened the lid. They were awfully extravagant little trinkets to be handing out for such an event. Then again seeing as the boxes themselves were of a decent quality, Nilamani supposed it was a clever bit of marketing.

Having sorted that out they were now 'walking' the stalls as a bit of a break. That and they considered it might be a good idea to just make sure the lunk head wasn't breaking anyone else's booth either.
They had chosen to attend in their true form today, these occasions had been building their confidence a bit in doing so. The art gala had been rather pleasant all things considered.
They did their best to be mindful not to let their tail trail into anyone's way or to knock into any of the stalls. It was certainly testing their grace, moving on lands wasn't entirely natural even if Nilamani's variety of Nerevyn was more capable than most at it. They had learned it with great effort.
So despite their own attempts to elegantly move through the growing crowd, they still floundered a bit. They kept getting bumped into, or their tail trod on by a stray foot.
Folks were indeed too preoccupied with the many offerings to look down after all.
Thus their usual easy going personality was clouded despite the bright sunshine.

With a small determined frown their eyes scanned for a treat which might alleviate their sour mood.

 

[Lucien Valtiere]

Lucien Valtiere did not belong here.

That much was evident in every precise step he took and in the glacial poise of his posture. He wore a doublet of storm-silver damask, trimmed with thread-of-pearl embroidery and buttons that winked like black diamonds. A cloak of charcoal velvet fanned behind him, clasped at the shoulder with a brooch shaped like the seal of House Valtiere, a falcon entwined with vines. His hair, a striking shade of moonlit platinum, had been styled back in Dalriadan fashion.

Lucien did not so much walk as glide, chin high, eyes cool and perpetually unimpressed.

His nostrils flared ever so slightly as the mingling scents of spiced fish, roasting boar, and something aggressively fried assaulted him. He resisted the urge to reach for the monogrammed handkerchief tucked into his sleeve. Instead, he offered only a tight grimace.

“Gods preserve me,” he muttered under his breath.

He was here, of course, under duress. His family had insisted. Something about goodwill between cultures. Merchant diplomacy. “Alliria’s financiers are almost tolerable,” his mother had said. “Smile if you must. And don’t say anything dreadful about their fish.”

Lucien had no intention of smiling.

As he swept past a particularly loud troupe of Bhathairkian students singing some guttural tavern song, his heel abruptly caught on something soft….firm, sinewed, and unmistakably alive. A tail. He stepped directly onto it, shifted, and looked down in annoyance.

His gaze followed the appendage to its source, a striking, aquatic-looking person (Nilamani ). He didn’t move. Didn’t offer even the ghost of an apology.

Instead, he lifted a brow and offered coolly, voice smooth as chilled wine, "This is a promenade, not a swamp. Mind that tail."

Uldyr