Chapter Text
Aguefort’s Adventuring Academy wasn’t a normal school by any means.
Frankly, the only reason it still operated at all was because so much of Solace’s economy relied on adventuring, and because Arthur Aguefort was a nonsensically powerful wizard. Otherwise they’d have been shut down long ago. Between rampant faculty deaths, disappearing students, dangerous missions, and frankly ridiculous academic standards, their credibility as an actual institution should absolutely be under more scrutiny.
None of this bothered March Nettlebloom, though. She loved Adventuring School, and she was more than a little excited for her first day of Junior Year.
Summer had been something of an adventure in and of itself. The sun had disappeared from the sky due to the reemergence of the Night Yorb, which had seriously ruined her garden and her plans to spend the summer camped out by the pool. Still, she’d had fun. They’d had tons of movie nights (and days that were technically nights), and sleepovers, and March had even come up with ways to make their normal activities feasible. And they’d gotten a couple extracurricular quests in, mostly involving her and her party chasing Yorbies out of Elmville’s more populous areas. By the sixth time she’d had to defend the local library, she’d gotten it down to a science. Everyone had. It had become the new normal for awhile.
And now the sun was finally back, and after some delirious adjustment, life was back to normal. And today, the start of her Junior Year, was going to be perfect.
She’d already gotten her outfit picked out, although it wasn’t anything special. She mostly wore loose, darkly colored clothing, and she had to wear leather armor over it. Even during a normal school day, she was prone to injury. It was easier to just accept that and wear the damn armor. As soon as she was dressed and her backpack was packed, she ran downstairs and into the kitchen.
As always, the lights were already on, and there her father stood, cooking on their small stove.
Her father had been an adventurer back in his day- a brilliant sorcerer, best known for his work sealing away an ancient curse that threatened to turn the entire world into one big dollhouse. That had been with his old party, including her mother, though they rarely spoke about her these days. He’d gone into retirement once she’d been born, and now March knew him best for his pancakes and his shockingly nervous disposition. But mostly for the pancakes.
“Morning, kiddo! Pink hair today?” they said, looking up from the stove. Their eyes landed on her hair, which was indeed hot pink, still damp from her shower. Already her curls were beginning to jump from her attempts at styling them. That was probably a lost cause, but she’d never stop trying.
“Yeah,” March said, dropping her bag by the kitchen table. “I was kind of debating going for green though.” She focused for a moment, watching as out of the corner of her vision, a pink curl slowly faded into a soft green. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ll look good with any color,” her father said. March rolled her eyes. Leave it to her dad to give the safe answer.
“Come on, Dad. Honest answers only,” she said as she made her way to the fridge. It was milk time, after all.
“That was an honest answer,” he responded, rolling his eyes back at her. He looked away for a moment, flipping the chocolate chip pancake he was cooking. “You're my daughter. You could turn into a bug-infested corn-demon and I’d think you were perfect the way you were.”
“You know, I’ve never tried to do that before,” March replied. “Thanks for the idea.” She grabbed the milk carton out of the fridge and popped the cap off.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. March raised the carton to her lips, only stopping when her father’s gaze returned to her. “March Nettlebloom, you better get a glass out of the cupboard. Don’t drink directly from my milk cartons.”
“Fine, fine,” March relented. She weaved around the table and past her father, narrowly avoiding tripping on his tail. She opened the cupboard, which had most of their dishes placed as low as possible. She and her father weren’t quite tall enough for the top shelf- and neither liked to waste magic on trivial things.
Little things like that were what made them more obviously related. March looked more like her mother- at least in terms of her general appearance, the shape of her face and the smaller details of her body. The rest was an odd mix of the two; her lineage wasn’t exactly clean-cut. A lot of people in Solace kind of assumed you would have two parents of the same race- you were an Elf, a Human, a Halfling, an Orc, or a Dwarf. Maybe you were a rarer race, like a Firbolg, a Pixie, a Giant-kin, or a Minotaur. Maybe you were something like a Genasi, that could show up in any bloodline, or you were a more common mixed race like a Half-Elf or a Half-Orc. No one really thought about the more complicated mixed lineages, and it could make explaining things or correcting misconceptions very difficult indeed.
Her father was Half-Goblin, which already drew questions. He looked more like his father than his mother- his skin was pale white, his hair curly and grayish-silver, but his eyes were unmistakably goblin, and his sharp teeth, claws, pawed feet and tail singled him out as an Other to many unsavory people. He was very clearly his mother's son, and though her father was proud of it, a lot of people looked down on goblins. The other half of his parentage, her grandfather, was even harder to explain. One couldn’t simply say ‘yeah, my dad’s an angel’ without drawing questions and attention.
Because yes, her father was part-angel. He was also an Aasimir- technically those two things didn’t have to be linked, but for simplicity’s sake that was always how she explained it. March had never met her grandfather- he was some Elven angel that was all about ‘honesty’ and ‘clarity’ and ‘divine truth’. She didn’t really care. He certainly hadn’t tried to meet her in her seventeen years on earth, so as far as she was concerned, he was non-existent.
Her mother had been a Changeling- rare in Solace, and rarer still in Elmville. That made March Half-Changeling, technically, though you’d never guess it. She had her dad’s complexion, albeit closer to gray than most elves, and the most she could change was the color of her hair. And her eyes, sometimes, if she tried really hard. It was nothing special- something that could be said about most of her. She didn’t really care all that much. She liked the way she looked- and she didn’t really need to change it. Although not having to pay for hair dye was always nice.
Life was complicated when you were mixed like she was, but she’d gotten used to it over the years. She was lucky to not stand out too much. Her more visibly mixed friends had more issues to face.
Speaking of bloodlines… “Dad, is Grandma back in town yet?” she asked, pulling down a glass and pouring herself some milk. Strong bones were important after all.
“Not yet. She’s still getting things in order in Bastion City,” he replied, sliding a perfect pancake into the stack with all of it’s brothers and sisters. “We spoke last night. She told me she’s excited to see you.”
“Great,” she said in between chugs of milk. “I wanted to ask her about the Mountains of Chaos, since she like, grew up there. We went to- there were some feral oozes we had to wrangle, and I saw some old ruins. I figured I’d ask her what she knew.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to talk,” her father said. “She told me all kinds of stories myself growing up, you know. She was very proud of her heritage- you know, if you’re interested, we could always take a trip out there together.”
“I’ll think about it,” March said. In truth, she was more than a little nervous at the idea. Her Goblin wasn’t all that strong, and the last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself. “Breakfast almost ready?”
“Just about. I’ll make some eggs- sunny-side up?” he asked.
“You betcha,” March said. “Don’t forget you have a meeting at three o’clock today, alright?”
“I won’t, I won’t,” he said. “Go sit down- and don’t you forget, drive safely today, alright? If you get another speeding ticket, I’ll make you bike to school.”
“I’ll be careful!” March said. “And by the way- the last one was not my fault, the cops were totally entrapping me.”
“Be that as it may, I don’t want you to end up dead because you were going twenty miles over the speed limit,” he said.
March sighed. He always was a worried. And he did have a point, even if March didn’t like it. She only sped when there was danger to thwart. Saving the world had to be more important than driving by the books. Still, she wouldn’t want to worry her dad. And she definitely didn’t want to bike to school. She was tired enough after classes were over for the day.
Speaking of classes, she really did need to eat something quickly. She had a long, long day ahead of her.
Parking at Aguefort was always like pulling teeth- on the first day it was practically impossible. The only reason she got a spot at all was because her party arrived at school before she did.
She pulled up just before the spot, leaning out the window. There they all were- crowded in a circle in the middle of the parking lot where they were way too likely to be hit by a car. She sighed, before laying on the horn like it owed her money. “Oi! Get out of the road!” she shouted.
Her friends all turned to see her. Some of them immediately moved, because they were reasonable and rational people. Others did not. Well, one other.
“Make me!” Raven shouted back. She planted her feet firmly in place, hands on her hips. Behind her, Haldir rolled their eyes as they retreated back to the safety of the sidewalk. March couldn’t help but echo the motion.
Raven Onyxhammer had been her best friend since diapers. She was their party’s warlock; her patron was her mother, the enigmatic and absurdly doting Melodica, Vampire Queen and The Bleeding Rose of Fallinel. She was some cross between a lich and a fairy, and the magic she granted her daughter was absurdly powerful. So powerful, in fact, that it was definitely wasted on her daughter, who basically used her magic to pull pranks. Raven was mischievous, chronically unserious, and always picking a fight. She was also March’s girlfriend, and despite all of that, March really was in love with her.
(She’d gag at her own sappiness if she wasn’t frustratingly happy about it.)
“Raven,” she said, unable to make herself sound even a little bit stern. “I will hit you with my car if you don’t move.”
“No you won’t,” Raven said. “You love me too much to do that. And, anyway, your Dad will totally make you bike to school.”
God damn it. She hated how well Raven knew her. She sighed, drooping forward a little. “Raven,” she whined, looking up at her girlfriend with the saddest eyes she could muster. “Please move?”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Raven said, giggling. She rushed away to join the others on the sidewalk, and finally March could pull into a parking spot. She slipped her parking pass into the front window, and then hopped out of the car.
She was immediately greeted by an energy drink being shoved into her hand. Standing directly next to her was Sunsugar, her hair still damp, presumably from her swim lessons. “I got you the coffee flavored one,” she said, yawning.
“She was going to buy the weird one that tastes like grass and I made her change it,” Rosamunda chimed in from where she was sitting, having climbed up onto a nearby statue. (Of Aguefort, because when you got to be wizard-rich you could afford to just build statutes of yourself all over the place.)
Rosamunda and Sunsugar Lotusgarden were twins, and they were as inseparable as movies would make twins out to be. There wasn’t a day in their lives that they weren’t together- and frankly, March couldn’t imagine any reason they wouldn’t be. The pair were probably the single closest friends she’d ever met. That didn’t mean, however, that they were perfectly identical.
They looked similar enough: they were both Halflings, with darker skin and curly hair, although Sunsugar had cut hers very short to accommodate her swimming needs, and Rosamunda had had braids for as long as March could recall. They both had Pixie blood, making them smaller than most Halflings, and it sometimes made adventuring a challenge for them. Two years of experience had been enough to overcome that hurdle, however, and they were scarily competent.
Rosamunda was an incredible fighter- even for her short size, she could wipe the floor with bigger opponents, and she was probably the best monster-hunter out of their entire party. And Sunsugar was a gifted cleric. She worshiped Sule, the Halfling God of Merriment and Joy, and it made her the life of any party. It helped she was also a Bard, making her the only Multi-class of the entire party. She had a much heavier workload than the rest of them, but she somehow was always available to hang-out when people asked. March had learned to stop asking.
“Thank you, Rosa,” she said, immediately cracking into her drink. “You’re a hero.”
“You’re welcome!” Rosamunda replied. “You know I’m always happy to help. Speaking of which, I’m going to be late to our club meeting after-school. I promised my mom I’d drive one of my cousin’s to band practice.”
“You’re good,” March said. “Tell Richie I said hi.”
“Yeah, tell Richie hi for the rest of us- and that we’re excited for his next concert,” Moryore said.
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that,” Rosamunda said. “He’s really proud of the pieces they’ve been working on.”
“He’s a great musician. Even if I still don’t really get the whole ‘ska’ thing,” Moryore said. He paused for a moment, looking at his watch. Moryore was always the more punctual one out of their group, and he was also the one who was still upset they’d been late for the first day last year.
(March wasn’t apologizing for that. It’s not her fault she had to stop to coax a bear out of a neighbor’s backyard.)
“Okay, we have time,” he said. “March, how’s Uncle Byrd? Did he get around to fixing his bike?”
“Dad’s fine,” March replied. “And he did- though he’s going to end up popping the tire again by the end of the week, mark my words.”
“Yeah, that’s Byrd for you,” Moryore said, shaking his head. His expression was one of deep familiarity and a little exhaustion. He’d been privy to her father’s accident-prone behavior for long enough that it had stopped being surprising.
The two of them weren’t actually related, but Moryore’s folks had been friends with her father back in the day, and they’d grown up together. And honestly, March had trouble remembering sometimes that her own father had been just as cool as Moryore’s parents were.
His mother was a talented actress, a gifted writer, and a wondrous musician, making her a real triple-threat. She was usually away from Elmville, performing all over the world, but when she was around she kicked absolute ass. She was an adventurer back in the day, and she’d clearly instilled her son with that same tenacity and bravery. She was also gorgeous, and Moryore had clearly taken after her in that regard. He had less feathers than his mother, being only a quarter harpy compared to her half, but with his darker complexion and thick, coily hair, he was a dead ringer for what she looked like at his age. He was seriously blessed in that regard. March was only a little jealous.
His father had been a similarly talented adventurer, although now he was settled down and doing work for the Council of Chosen within Solace itself. He’d been an amazing combatant in his day, and was probably the single most noble person in town. Moryore had taken after him in that regard, and as a paladin of Epiphania, the God of Curiosity and Adventure, he was doing all sorts of amazing things himself. He’d probably be actually famous if he wasn’t in the Blue Moon Buddies, a fact which the group was more than aware of.
Still, there was no use dwelling on things like that. Especially because Moryore loved their party, and wouldn’t leave it even if they tried to convince him to.
“Where’s Ven?” March asked, changing the subject as she looked around the parking lot. “Are they late to school again?”
“They texted and told me they left their backpack on the kitchen table,” Sunsugar chimed in. “So they had to run back home to get it.”
“They’d lose their own head if it wasn’t attached,” Moryore said, rolling his eyes. “They better not miss their first class. We all have to get good grades this year or we’ll be stuck doing summer make-up. And I want to enjoy the summer before Senior year, especially since this year’s summer ended up being so weird.”
“You worry too much,” Haldir said, tail flicking in the air. “Ven’s grades are never improving. They’re like, the only person failing sorcery classes right now.”
“Haldir!” March said, glaring daggers at them. “Be nice!”
“I am being nice. It’s not their fault their magic doesn’t listen to them,” Haldir said. “I keep telling them to just switch tracks to a different class. I’ve seen them practicing with a sword when they think no one’s in the sorcerer’s classrooms. They’re not half bad.”
March sighed. Haldir had always been practical to a fault. As their rogue, they’d been in the background a lot in their time here. They liked it better that way- Haldir was the one who gathered intel, learned things about their missions and assignments and peers, and kept them on track for whatever their next goal was. They could definitely be using these powers for evil. Instead, they mostly used it to give unsolicited advice.
A lot of people assumed Minotaurs couldn’t be sneaky- a fact which March knew Haldir delighted in disproving. Of course, they were only half Minotaur, but that didn’t really detract from their size. They were built almost like a Satyr, with hoofed feet and bull legs, thought their upper half was more clearly Elvish. One of their mothers was a half-elf, and another Aasimir, like March’s father. Haldir had inherited some of those divine features, but not much. Only their eyes, a clearly magical emerald green, matched those features of their mother.
Mrs. Ziasra Morose-Bearhide was a descendant of the Arastacia, a group of celestial angels who served as guardians of nature in the Elvish pantheon. She was specifically descended from the Saint of The Eldest Trees and the Growth of New Forests, which was a mouthful of a name. It meant that she had a strong connection to plant life and nature- one she used often as a druid, and one that gave her little gardening shop a magical feel. Haldir’s other mother, Teskane, was an artificer, and a competent one at that. Right now she was away for a conference involving some sort of rare metal that had been discovered in a mine in the Chaos Mountains, but when she was around, she was basically the party’s go-to for magic equipment.
Haldir had a pretty steep reputation to live up to, but somehow they kept their cool. March wished she had half their chill. Life would definitely be easier.
“We should get inside now, before the halls get too crowded,” Sunsugar chimed in. “I want a good spot in the auditorium.”
“Oh, right! Who’s ready for the first day speech?” March asked, practically jumping forward. “This is my favorite part of the day.”
“I am! I hope it’s Vice Principal Gilear,” Rosamunda said. “That dude rocks.”
“Much better than Vice Principal Goldenhoard,” Haldir agreed.
“Well, anyone’s better than Goldendoodle. He tried to kill a whole bunch of students,” Sunsugar said. “I feel like ‘actively evil’ is kind of the rock bottom for these things.”
She did have a point there. It was definitely weird how many evil ass teachers they had. It was hard to think about anything else, though. Right now she was just really excited for school to start.
“Last one inside has to lug the fertilizer in after school today!” she shouted, before promptly taking off into a dead sprint.
“Fuck! Cheater!” Raven called out, sprinting after her. She could hear her friends behind her scramble to follow, and the rush of wind in her lungs and the excitement of a good race was enough to tell her this was going to be a very good day indeed.