Sigma Epsilon Chi
Nerek looked at the address he'd jotted down on a scrap of parchment, then up at the building, then back at the address. There was no doubt this was the right building... but Sigma Epsilon Chi had to be one of the most unfortunate names for a fraternity. It looked normal enough from the outside; the only thing betraying its magical nature was the landscaping. Nerek wasn't much of a gardener, but he knew enough about plants to know that trees shouldn't be growing fruit when flowers are just beginning to blossom.
Nerek strode up to the entrance and began activating the doorchime rune. After about five rings, the door was opened by a man wearing nothing but a pair of raggy shorts.
"Why are you want here?" he muttered groggily, trying to focus his eyes on Nerek's face.
"I'm the mercenary you hired," he replied.
"Oh." The lad walked away, leaving Nerek standing in the doorway.
"Well, I'll just... wait here, then," Nerek said aloud, wandering slowly into the lobby. The room was pretty barren, aside from a few tapestries and some couches; most of the floor space was filled with kegs and discarded bottles.
"Hi, I'm Jorrin, the chapter president," announced a voice. Nerek turned to look at the speaker; this man was wearing a pink tunic with its collar unfurled upward, and a brimmed hat that had been turned backwards. "You must be one of the mercenaries we hired. And you are?"
"I'm Nerek," he said, trying not to stare at the awkward fashion statement standing in front of him. "I... is this the right place? I was expecting a brotherhood of stuffy, long-lived mages, and I wasn't aware I would be working with someone else."
"Oh, sorry, brah," said Jorrin, scratching the back of his neck. "Nah, you're at the right place. There's only one job, but it has to be done in three places, and it has to get done over the weekend. So we hired multiple people."
"I...see," said Nerek, cautiously. "But I didn't think humans could take the full mage program."
"They can't. But we're not human. We're dragons, brah."
"I...sorry, what?"
"It's a common mistake, brah," said Jorrin, launching into what sounded like a frequent explanation. "Dragons are shape-shifters, so, like, it's easier to fit in if we look human. People get nerved out when animals start talking, though we look like animals, too."
"I thought that was a doppleganger," said Nerek. "Dragons are big, scaly lizards. Roost in mountains, hoard gold, breathe fire..."
"Nah, man, dopplegangers are a myth. And the type of dragon you're talking about is actually a mental defect. Those dragons go mad, shift into a powerful form, hoard gold and attack trespassers. It's a special form of dementia. You think we could be a major race if we all acted like that, brah? You gotta get out in the world, learn knowledge and experience stuff. Keep up on the latest news and technology.
"And fuck chicks," he added as an afterthought. "Can't forget that part. No sane dragon would prefer a mountain cave to the city life, brah. We're a proud and noble race- we don't do stuff like that."
"If you're such a proud and noble race, then what in the hell are you wearing?" Nerek muttered under his breath.
"What was that, brah?"
"Oh, nothing."
Nerek strode up to the entrance and began activating the doorchime rune. After about five rings, the door was opened by a man wearing nothing but a pair of raggy shorts.
"Why are you want here?" he muttered groggily, trying to focus his eyes on Nerek's face.
"I'm the mercenary you hired," he replied.
"Oh." The lad walked away, leaving Nerek standing in the doorway.
"Well, I'll just... wait here, then," Nerek said aloud, wandering slowly into the lobby. The room was pretty barren, aside from a few tapestries and some couches; most of the floor space was filled with kegs and discarded bottles.
"Hi, I'm Jorrin, the chapter president," announced a voice. Nerek turned to look at the speaker; this man was wearing a pink tunic with its collar unfurled upward, and a brimmed hat that had been turned backwards. "You must be one of the mercenaries we hired. And you are?"
"I'm Nerek," he said, trying not to stare at the awkward fashion statement standing in front of him. "I... is this the right place? I was expecting a brotherhood of stuffy, long-lived mages, and I wasn't aware I would be working with someone else."
"Oh, sorry, brah," said Jorrin, scratching the back of his neck. "Nah, you're at the right place. There's only one job, but it has to be done in three places, and it has to get done over the weekend. So we hired multiple people."
"I...see," said Nerek, cautiously. "But I didn't think humans could take the full mage program."
"They can't. But we're not human. We're dragons, brah."
"I...sorry, what?"
"It's a common mistake, brah," said Jorrin, launching into what sounded like a frequent explanation. "Dragons are shape-shifters, so, like, it's easier to fit in if we look human. People get nerved out when animals start talking, though we look like animals, too."
"I thought that was a doppleganger," said Nerek. "Dragons are big, scaly lizards. Roost in mountains, hoard gold, breathe fire..."
"Nah, man, dopplegangers are a myth. And the type of dragon you're talking about is actually a mental defect. Those dragons go mad, shift into a powerful form, hoard gold and attack trespassers. It's a special form of dementia. You think we could be a major race if we all acted like that, brah? You gotta get out in the world, learn knowledge and experience stuff. Keep up on the latest news and technology.
"And fuck chicks," he added as an afterthought. "Can't forget that part. No sane dragon would prefer a mountain cave to the city life, brah. We're a proud and noble race- we don't do stuff like that."
"If you're such a proud and noble race, then what in the hell are you wearing?" Nerek muttered under his breath.
"What was that, brah?"
"Oh, nothing."