The Ossyria Hotel Owner [Quest]

The luxurious sensation of hot water streaming down a bare body was enough to make anyone weak-kneed. Alaren let the pattering droplets fall on his face, threading his fingers through his messy hair. A shower was a wonderful thing, absolutely top class. Fen would scold him if he took too many though, but the thing was Fen wasn’t here right now!. His long-suffering wyrm partner had gone off on a quick trip to somewhere ‘more natural’ as he had said, probably sneaking off to a nice, mineral water bath of his own, that sneaky bastard. Smiling to himself at the thought, the half-elf turned off the water and stepped out.

As he towelled off, he reflected on the things he’d been through since his arrival. Tons of new faces, some not exactly normal faces either, cool creatures, weird events, the lot. It was real overwhelming at first, but after awhile his basic instincts kicked in and he regarded the Academy as just a larger, more varied town. Its halls were its streets; the students its people. Thus, things settled down well for him, which was the most obvious outcome, ‘cause luv there ain’t nothing faster at adaptin’ than this street-raised half-elf right here.

“Fen ol’ chappie, could you nudge me my clothes, please? I really don’t feel like walking out in a towel, but if I do you’ll-” Alaren’s strangely accented voice, both marketplace brogue and refined elvish at the same time, trailed off. Ah. That’s right. Fen wasn’t here right now. He made a face and realized that they really had become inseparable over the past several years. As much as the wyrm grumbled about Alan, and as much as Alan returned the comments with extra snark, they both knew that-well, he felt a piece of his heart missing right now without the usual winged, serpentine figure in sight, let’s just say that.

Wrapping the now-damp towel round his waist Alan came out of the bathroom and retrieved his clothes himself. Nothing fancy today, just a shirt and some pants. He wasn’t expecting to go anywhere, maybe just wait for Fen to get back and take a walk or something. He was humming a little ditty about a snake and an angel (a popular folk poem-turned-song from his hometown) while putting on his shirt when all of a sudden-

Alan blinked. Several times. Alright. So, teleportation. Alright. Where exactly? Looked like some kind of forest or something.

“Um, wha-” For the second time that day his words stopped short. In front of him was a pretty, blonde girl who was looking all the shades of ticked off. She looked ready to just about kill someone. Alaren shivered out of hope that it wouldn’t be him. Then he came to another realisation (also that day’s second one, what a productive day!).

His shirt still hung around his arms, the teleport having whisked him away right in the middle of putting it on. He hadn’t shivered from fear. It was out of the chill. The blood rushed to his face in a flood and he started stammering. Now, Alan wasn’t self-conscious or anything, but having no shirt on in front of a girl you don’t even know in a forest somewhere…that really stretched limits. He struggled to put it on, tiny water beads scattering from his hair in his hurry.

Finally! Alaren’s shirt was properly on, and he felt safe again. Well, not vulnerable at least, but he still looked at the girl with curiosity. She seemed to be about to ask him a question, and then stopped short herself. Ah, at least he wasn’t the only one today letting his sentences fizzle out.

A flash! And an orb of fire whomped into existence between them. A voice sounded out of its depths, telling them about a quest. So! It was school-related after all. Alan nodded to himself, settling his thoughts, and examining the scrap of paper that dropped into his palm. He gave it a read-through and frowned slightly. Fen wasn’t here. How was he going to fight with his dice or games? Sure, he had his trusty attack deck, but what if they met some singular, epic monster?

And what about the-woah ok, the girl in question was talking to him.

"I would suggest you not undressing yourself during this Quest." Pfft, as if he deliberately appeared without his shirt. Alan was about to tell the chick this, but then she continued, "I don't know what I would do to you. Let's get this over with shall we?” He swallowed slightly and narrowed his eyes at her, noticing that it was her dark scarlet versus his bright crimson. What was she playing at? He didn’t even know her name, but apparently she was a student too. And not afraid of proximity either, by the looks of things.

She stalked past, taking up position as the quest leader apparently, and since she seemed to know where to go, Alan followed. After some time of walking through the forest, he felt the need to say something.

“Not t’be rude or anythin’ here, but methinks we’re lost, luv,” Alaren drawled out, shoving his hands in his pockets and fingering his deck of cards absent-mindedly. “By the by, my name’s Alaren, thanks so much for asking. You can call me Alan, though, but I don’t know what to call you yet, so unless you want some kind of nickname, you better fess up,”

Little did the blond bird know, Alan thought to himself in a singsong, narrative voice, that the half-elf knew these woods. Why, he had wandered around them himself when he was younger! Plus, the woodland elf in his blood could practically feel the layout by instinct!

The game was up, he had recognized the region as Ossyria at last. What an unprecedented advantage! A wide grin spread across his features, and he started to hum the little snake and angel ditty again.

“On the contrary, luv, I don’t mind this at all,” He cheekily winked at her. “At least the company’s quite some eye candy,”

Alaren pouted slightly when the girl refused him her name. So, she was that kind of person, was she? Aloof, prissy little girl. How old was she anyways? Didn’t look a day older than thirteen or something. Did her parents never teach her any respect? Ah well, there are many types of people in this world. He didn’t hold it against her.

Besides, there wasn’t a challenge like a social challenge! Time to try and crack this blonde’s shell!

“We-ell, if you insist on letting me take the lead, I will, Arwen en amin,” At a loss for what to call her, Alaren settled with the elvish term for ‘my lady’, the foreign words rolling off his tongue like silk. He strode forward, past her, and continued talking in an airy voice. “I grew up around here, you see. If we have to find a cave complex, it would probably be around this way, where I’m headed,”

“Ah, also,” Without stopping in his stride, the half-elf turned on his heel and walked backwards, smiling at the girl. “Since this mission has chosen two people, those two people will probably have to warm up and work together, yeah? Yeah,” Ending the sentence with a dip of his dark head, Alaren turned back to walking forwards.

They made it to the cave entrance in under five minutes. By now Alaren’s hair had dried sufficiently, but without a comb of any kind to tend to it the strands now stuck out at rather odd angles. “So! Here we are, quick as you please. Ladies first?” He struck a mock bow and gestured for his lady to enter.