My revised classifications are primal creatures, which gained access to a Font through prolonged generational proximity to a Primordial; formed creatures, which were created by sapients through magical means; and magical creatures, which were created by the gods near the end of the Age of Wonders.
Lidian’s Manual to Magical Fauna, 283rd ed
—
When Amara returned to the table, Zale preempted further explanations of runes with a question.
“So, who wants to watch the hardball match tonight?”
“No,” Rakin said, still sour.
“Oh, come on,” Zale pouted. “Kole’s coming. Right?”
“I was going to go back to the libr—“ Kole began before Zale cut him of.
“See, he has no plans. He’s coming. Amara, how about you?”
Kole wanted to defend himself. Plans to spend time with oneself were perfectly valid plans, but sensed Zale would disagree.
“Where are you going to watch it?” Amara asked, concerned. “The convocation was rather loud.”
“There’s a tavern a few blocks from campus that shows the matches. It does get rowdy, but the room is small. We could get a private booth.”
Amara looked at Kole and then back to Zale.
“I suppose if Kole is going, but I’ll need to prepare something.”
“But I never—“ Kole began once more
“Great!” Zale exclaimed. “So all three of you are in. I’ll meet you outside the southern door to the martial college at five! I’m going to go get cleaned up.”
Then she got up and left the dining hall before anyone could disagree further.
“What just happened?” Kole asked.
“That’s Zale,” Rakin said, resigned. “I guess I’ll see you two later.
Rakin got up to leave, and Amara followed, excusing herself.
“I have to go prepare something if we are going to go to a tavern.
Once the other’s had left Kole shamelessly stuffed the least chewed leftovers they’d abandoned into his bag for later.
He judged he had three hours to study and still make it to the meeting point, and he too ran out of the dining hall, with excitement that rivaled Zale’s, though for very different reasons.
* * *
Kole sat in his corner of the library frustrated. He’d exhausted all of his Will during class that day, and had little left to study. While in the dungeon, Rakin had sustained a fairly serious injury to his leg, but when they’d exited, it had already begun to heal. By the time they’d reached the dining hall, he’d be completely better. Zale had explained that the injuries sustained in the dungeon were less real and faded somehow. Will drain however seemed to be very real.
He’d almost mastered the first version of Magic Missile he’d decoded, and he might have done so today if he’d had the Will to try. He debated taking a clarity potion, but the revelation of its cost stayed his hand. Instead, he got out the reading for his history class and got to work.
Kole slammed the book shut and checked the time. The reading about the wars between the dwarves and orcs on the pre-Flood Basin had been more interesting than he’d expected. The Will drain had made it a chore, but he'd powered through. Eagerly, he ran through the library, taking a route that would bring him by the secret door. A quick crawl and a peek inside showed that the bed was still undisturbed.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Soon… He thought, staring longingly at the soft bed. The floor of the library was less comfortable than the sewers, which was no mean achievement.
Zale, Amara, and Rakin all stood waiting under a tree near the southern door to the martial college. Rakin wore a clean version of the ascetic monk's clothes he'd worn to class. Amara was dressed in the same stained overalls she'd been wearing when they parted, only now she wore two small silver earrings that looked to be some sort of runecraft. As usual, she held a wooden rod and fiddled with it nervously as she spoke, and Gus lay draped on her shoulder.
Zale stood out in stark contrast to the others. She has on a red leather jacket that was cut short on her long torso, beneath which she wore a dress of a dark emerald green that stopped just below the knee concealing the tops of riding boots. The dress was simple, free of ornamentation but made of a fine fabric and tightly tailored to her frame. Her deep black hair was up in a nest of a thing above her head, which gave Kole the feeling she'd gone to great lengths to make it look just the right amount of messy.
"You're late," Rakin said in way of greeting.
"He's always late," Zale said in a tone that suggested the habitual nature of the act excused the offense.
"You look nice," Kole said to Zale before his brain caught up to his mouth. "I mean, uh, you all look nice."
"Bah!" Rakin laughed, looking at his simple clothes and bare feet.
"Thanks," Zale and Amara said in unison, Zale with amusement and Amara with oblivious gratitude.
Fumbling, Kole tried to recover.
"I just mean, normally you don't look nice—I mean you're dressed for training."
Zale's amusement grew, and Rakin bent over in laughter.
"How about we just head to the tavern?" Zale suggested, saving Kole from further embarrassment.
Red-faced, Kole quickly agreed, taking the lifeline, "Yeah, let's just do that."
***
Zale led the group west, away from campus, through the section of the city that primarily catered to its students. The northern district housed most of the industry and servants that served the needs of the school itself, such as crafters, artisans, produce sellers, and the like, while the western district served the student body.
Amara wasn't enjoying the walk. At the campus' edge, she stopped, pensively rolling her current crafting project in her hand as she watched the milling masses. Finally, after fiddling with her new earrings, she'd nodded at Zale, and the group had made their way through the streets. The group's casual stroll quickly revealed that whatever Amara had done had made her deaf to the world. She followed them through the streets, eyes fixed on Kole's soon-to-be blasting rod as a small swarm of ants diligently crawled across it. As oblivious as she was to her surroundings, she seemed to navigate just fine, Gus on her shoulder diligently watching and somehow making her "understand" where to go and what to avoid.
They passed stores and stalls that sold everything a student could need, from boots to paper and quill, and some things they only wanted like drink and companionship.
The city on a Friday night was a chaotic hive of young academics, racing to get a start on their weekend. Kole was used to crowds from back home, but the variety of the people he saw still amazed him. Unfortunately, Kole wasn't the only one enthralled by the exotic humanoids about, and the citizens of Edgewater all gawked and stared at Zale as she passed.
On campus, Zale only brooked stares and a wide berth, the majority of the student population being at least somewhat educated, and many of them were from places that had a less fraught history with the voidlings. The student body also spread rumors like a dragon's flame to a—well, anything—so the whole campus knew Zale existed and that she probably hadn't corrupted anyone into a soulless husk—yet.
Edgewater had been the town hit hardest when the voidlings arrived, and its citizens remembered, even if most of them weren't actually alive when it happened.
Zale did her best to hide her appearance, flipping her collar up on her jacket and looking down and struggling to keep her ever-present smile in place.
The tavern she brought them to was called the Griffin's Roost. It had a wooden sign carved to depict a nested griffin, asleep. It wasn’t particularly grand looking, but it was large, taking up twice the length of the street as either tavern around it.
Zale went up to the door, and Kole faintly heard her say “finally” to herself as she pushed it open.
The door opened to a large open room with a bar on the far wall and a balcony overlooking the room. The walls were lined with booths, and the thick sturdy wooden tables typical to all drinking establishments prone to brawls filled the area between. The place was full, but not packed, most of the tables were occupied by the most diverse group Kole had seen since coming to Edgewater—and by extension in his life. Half-elves, orcs, halflings, dwarves, gnomes, iron vein giants, and humans filled the place. He spotted a booth in the corner with a horned man that had to have been a demonkin sitting next to a genuine full-blooded elf.
As varied as the races were, the outfits were on another level. Everyone had a weapon at hand, and most were wearing some form of armor—and not the simple armor you commonly saw issued to city guards and armies, but custom pieces, ranging from dull steel to colorful enameled pieces that wouldn’t look out of place on a king. While many were armed, others were dressed in expensive outfits that would be more at home at court than in this seemingly mundane inn.
“Welcome to the Griffin’s Roost,” Zale said, with wonder in her voice. “The best adventurer’s bar in all of Basin.”